by Karen Kincy
Wendel shouted over the noise. “Invigorating.”
“Are you freezing to death already?” Jin Hua shouted back.
“Give me a minute.”
Ardis glared at them both. “Let’s go inside this cafe. Please?”
Her mother brushed hailstones from her wool traveling jacket. “Afterward.”
“After what?” Wendel said. “Freezing? Or did you have another form of death in mind?”
Jin Hua smiled sweetly. “I intend to die in my sleep.”
“I can arrange that,” he muttered under his breath.
Ardis elbowed him in the ribs, hard enough that he flinched. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a hot cup of tea? Cookies?”
Both of them ignored her, too intent on hating each other.
“The hail is stopping.” Jin Hua shook out her umbrella and continued down the sidewalk.
After a longing glance into the cafe, Ardis followed her mother, Wendel at her heels. She wished her mother’s form of tourism didn’t involve trying to make Wendel suffer. How much more of this did they expect her to tolerate?
“Where next?” Wendel said.
“There’s the Woolworth Building,” Jin Hua said. “The tallest in the world. Though we would have to take a taxi.”
“Yes! Let’s see the Woolworth.” Ardis rubbed her hands together, praying for a long ride. She was half-frozen at this point.
“Or we could walk north, to St. Patrick’s Cathedral.”
“Mama, it’s too cold.” She touched her belly. “What about the baby?”
“Nonsense. It’s good to walk during pregnancy. Keeps your figure.”
Ardis groaned. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Jin Hua strode ahead of them, determined to sightsee and, no doubt, leave Wendel to rot. Ardis trudged through the snow, muttering Chinese swearwords under her breath. This was all ridiculous. Why pretend to be nice?
Wendel followed in her footsteps, not saying a word, until he gripped her arm. “Ardis.”
She turned around. “What–?”
“Take your mother to the cafe.” He spoke in an urgent murmur. “Get out of here.”
Frowning, she stared at him. “Why?”
“Nemesis.”
Her blood iced over. “Wendel–”
“Go.” He reached into his jacket, for his dagger. “Now.”
She didn’t ask any more questions. Forcing her muscles to obey, she ran to catch up with her mother. “Mama, let’s go back to the cafe.”
Jin Hua didn’t even glance at her. “It’s not much farther to the cathedral.”
“Mama.” Ardis seized her wrist. “We aren’t safe here.”
Jin Hua lowered her umbrella, her knuckles white, and glanced around the street.
“Where’s Wendel?” she said.
Already gone. How had he vanished without any shadows? The dull gray daylight gave him nowhere to hide, not even with the magic of Amarant. There wasn’t time to worry about it–she needed to get her mother to safety.
“Come with me.” She tugged Jin Hua down the sidewalk.
A man ran toward them, shielding his head with a newspaper, and Ardis tensed until he bolted right by them. He was just trying to escape the storm, that was all. They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting, the light red.
Maybe Wendel was lying. But why would he?
Dread gripped her stomach in its fist. She hadn’t seen him, and she should have. He wasn’t that stealthy, no one was.
“Mama,” she said, “go ahead without me.”
“But Yu Lan–”
“Go.”
Without waiting for her mother’s argument, Ardis ran back the way they had come. She searched the street, her gaze lingering on every stranger, until she saw a raven flying into an alley. Krampus. In the pit of her stomach, she knew.
She sprinted toward the alleyway, then skidded to a halt.
Wendel.
He huddled at a dead end, empty-handed, his back against the alley wall. Between him and Ardis, a gang of five henchmen brandished guns and knives. Blood dripped from his right arm; his ragged breath misted the air.
One of the henchmen, a bald giant of a man, spoke in German. “Who do you work for?”
“No one,” Wendel said.
The giant aimed a pistol between the necromancer’s eyes. “I’m asking one more time. Who sent you to fight Nemesis?”
Wendel curled his lip. “I did.”
“Wrong answer.”
Ardis peered around the corner, her heartbeat thundering. What should she do? Run? Scream? Fight without her sword?
If she charged in there now, she would just be a liability.
“You’re a traitor.” The bald giant spat on Wendel’s feet. “A Prince of Prussia?”
“Past tense.”
“You betrayed our fatherland.”
Wendel sneered. “Nemesis is run by amateurs. I only work with professionals.”
“Time for you to face the consequences.”
“What do you prefer?” Wendel replied in an airy voice, as if suggesting brunch. “Interrogation? Execution?”
“Quiet!”
The giant swung his pistol toward Wendel’s face, but Wendel dodged the blow, sidestepped, and grabbed his wrist. He twisted, hard–a sickening crack punctuated the noise of the city–and the gun tumbled to the snow.
A strangled roar escaped the giant. Wendel lunged, snatched the gun, and steered the giant by his broken wrist. He hid behind this human shield and fired–once, twice–taking out two men. The other two men returned fire. Bullets ricocheted off bricks. One hit the giant, who crumpled, dragging Wendel down with him.
Trapped beneath the giant, Wendel bared his teeth and shot him in the head. A blink later, the giant lurched to his feet, undead. The corpse lumbered toward his former comrades, who wasted their bullets on unfeeling flesh. Wendel scrambled to his feet, shot a man in the thigh, and finished him with a bullet between the eyes.
The last man pulled his gun’s trigger–an empty click.
“Scheisse.” He turned to run, his feet slipping on the reddening slush.
Wendel sighted down the barrel and shot him in the back of the head. The man fell face-down. Wendel tossed the gun away before exhaling in a stream of white–the dead giant toppled as the necromancer relinquished control.
“Ardis.” Wendel bent over a body, rummaging through his clothes. “I told you to run.”
She stared at him, her ears ringing, numbed by the suddenness of it all. Fighting with a sword wasn’t this loud or chaotic. Sulfur lingered in her nostrils. Heat from blood misted the air. Overhead, Krampus circled like a vulture.
Wendel found his dagger and pocketed it. Blood soaked his sleeve. “Ardis, go.”
She backed away from him. “The police will be here any second.”
“Exactly.”
“We shouldn’t run.” She shook her head, speaking fast. “Too obvious.”
“Fair enough.”
They elbowed past strangers peering into the alleyway. Wendel strode down the sidewalk, clutching his wounded arm to his chest. A dashed line of red crossed his footprints. The knife had cut deeper than she thought.
“Wendel.” She hurried to match his stride. “Your arm.”
“It’s fine.”
“You’re bleeding everywhere.”
He growled like an animal, stripped off his coat, and draped it over his arm. It was too cold out for it to look casual, but he wasn’t leaving behind a trail of blood anymore. He ignored the light and jaywalked across the street. A taxi blared its horn; he darted out of the way. Ardis waited for it to pass before following.
“There’s the cafe,” she said.
He nodded but didn’t go inside. “Get your mother while I stand guard.”
She agreed with the tactic, so she pushed the door open. A little bell tinkled above her head. Absurd, considering the circumstances.
Ji
n Hua sat at a table, cradling a cup of tea, though she hadn’t drunk a drop. “Yu Lan?”
“It’s done.” Her voice sounded remarkably calm. “It’s time to go.”
“What is done? Where is Wendel?”
“Outside.”
Jin Hua downed the tea in one swig before standing. She followed Ardis into the cold. When she saw Wendel, she narrowed her eyes.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
“Still?” He glanced down. Red speckled the sidewalk at his feet. “Christ.”
Jin Hua looked him over. “Who did you fight?”
“Nemesis,” Ardis said.
“I’m not familiar with them.”
Wendel grimaced. “They’re new.” He scanned the street. “We need to go.”
Jin Hua’s sigh clouded the air. “If you won’t go to the hospital, let me patch you up.” She started walking. “My hotel isn’t far.”
Ardis glanced at Wendel. “She’s not bad with a needle.”
“Delightful.” He gave her a tight smile, his eyes sharp with pain.
They followed Jin Hua down the street. Ardis flinched at the oncoming wail of sirens. An ambulance rushed past, tires spitting slush, followed by several autos from the NYPD. She forced herself not to break into a run.
Wendel spoke as the sirens faded. “It’s too late. They’re all dead.”
“Don’t say that out loud.”
He said nothing, his eyes hollow, focused somewhere faraway.
They arrived at the Grand Hotel, a grimy brick structure that filled the narrow space between neighboring buildings. Ardis wondered if her mother was running low on money, then blinked away the thought. Her mind always drifted in the silence after a battle. Not that she had fought this time; she hated being so helpless.
She followed Jin Hua down a hallway wallpapered in an ugly burgundy, last fashionable in the Victorian age. It smelled of mildew and cigarettes. Now she definitely felt guilty about her mother’s financial situation.
Jin Hua unlocked a door at the end of the hall. “Don’t bleed on the carpet.”
“I’ll try,” Wendel said.
“Bathroom.” Jin Hua jabbed her finger at a door, then lugged her suitcase to the bed.
“Let me help you,” Ardis said.
“You’re pregnant.” Her mother looked daggers at her and dropped the suitcase. “You shouldn’t lift heavy things.”
Her face burned. “I know, but–”
“Shame on you, arguing with your mother.”
“Sorry.” Ardis felt like a child.
Jin Hua rummaged through her suitcase and found a sewing kit. She brought it into the bathroom, where Wendel waited. She rolled up her sleeves, lathered the soap, and scrubbed her hands in the sink. “You’re too tall.”
“Pardon?”
“Kneel.”
He obeyed, his black hair shadowing his eyes, and dropped his coat from his arm. Blood soaked through the sleeve. He unbuttoned his shirt, wincing, and peeled the cotton from the wound. The blade had cut to the bone.
Jin Hua swore in Chinese. “Yu Lan! Bring me the bourbon.”
Ardis spotted a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and brought it to her mother. “Here.”
She knew her mother liked a drink now and then, but she hoped it hadn’t become a habit.
“That looks expensive,” Wendel said.
“Don’t remind me.” Jin Hua poured alcohol over the wound.
He sucked in his breath in a hiss, clenching his trembling hands into fists. “I’m more of an absinthe man, myself.”
Jin Hua swigged straight from the bottle. “I hate absinthe.” She took out a needle and thread. “Silk should work.”
He nodded. “Better than catgut.”
She glanced at the scars crisscrossing his back. “You’ve survived worse, haven’t you?”
“Indeed, I have.”
Watching them, Ardis felt lightheaded. Nausea rose in her throat, filling her mouth with saliva. She retched, bent over the sink, and vomited.
“Ardis.” Wendel tried to stand, but Jin Hua nudged him down. “Are you all right?”
After twisting the tap, she rinsed out her mouth. “Morning sickness,” she said, which was only halfway a lie.
Jin Hua shook her head. “Eat more ginger.”
“Do you have any?”
“Not at the moment.” She threaded the needle. “Wendel, try not to pass out.”
“Don’t worry.” He smiled grimly. “I’m Prussian, remember?”
“Prussians are crazy people.” While Jin Hua spoke, she started to suture the wound. “Too obsessed with the military.”
Wendel kept his eyes on her face. “Actually, I agree.”
“You do?”
“My father expected me to serve in the army. He disinherited me first, thank God.”
A wrinkle appeared between Jin Hua’s eyebrows. “But you became an assassin.”
“There aren’t many paths open to a necromancer.”
Pursing her lips, Jin Hua concentrated on the sutures. Her fingertips brushed his wrist. “That must be magic in your skin.”
“Correct.”
Ardis coughed, a sour taste in her mouth. “I’m so glad the two of you are bonding.”
Jin Hua shrugged. “I’m still tempted to kill him myself.”
Wendel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re going to make me vomit again,” Ardis said.
“Don’t.” Jin Hua angled the needle through his skin. “Now explain Nemesis.”
“They fear America will help Germany’s enemies,” Wendel said, “and have been sabotaging shipments of American weapons.”
“Aren’t Prussians the rulers of Germany?”
“Yes.” Wendel stared at the checkerboard floor tiles. “I attempted to help Nemesis, until I… had a disagreement with them.”
Ardis shivered. The lies fell so smoothly from his lips. He was the one who came back in time to quit Nemesis; he was the one who kept killing without mercy. This wasn’t self-defense; this was a battle of his own choosing.
Jin Hua knotted the last suture and trimmed the ends of the silk. “Done.”
Wendel glanced at his arm. “Much appreciated.” He pushed himself to his feet.
“Will Nemesis find you again?”
He washed his hands in the sink, his head bowed. “If they do, I will kill them.”
Jin Hua stared at him for a long moment, her face unreadable. “Keep my daughter safe. You understand the consequences.”
“All too well.”
Eight
Wendel lingered in the hallway. Shadows darkened his eyes, and he wouldn’t look at Ardis. “I have to go.”
“Where?” she said.
His jaw tightened. “To discover what Nemesis will do next.”
“Wendel…”
“You know I won’t stop.”
Her breath escaped in a ragged sigh. “What if they come to Hotel Donovan?”
“I will make sure that they don’t.”
“You sound so confident,” she muttered.
“Meet me there tonight.” He curled his hand behind her neck and kissed her on the lips, but it was fleeting. “Goodbye.”
Before she could think of more questions, he was gone.
Ardis inhaled slowly, then grimaced at the stink of cigarettes and mildew. She glanced at the door to her mother’s room.
She needed to talk to her. Not about Wendel, not about Nemesis.
When she knocked, the door opened right away. “Mama?”
Jin Hua peeked out. “Still here?”
“We need to talk.”
Jin Hua’s mouth soured, but she opened the door wider. “What is it this time? Worse than being engaged to a necromancer?”
Ardis let out a bleak laugh. “Maybe.”
Her mother sighed before she stepped away. “Don’t
loiter out there.”
Ardis crossed the threshold and sat in a threadbare armchair. Her fingers strayed to the chain at her neck, the brass locket still warm from her skin. She slid her thumbnail into the locket and pried it open. A pair of tintype photographs faced each other. Her mother looked so young in this picture, no age frosting her hair. Her father, a blond man with a devil’s beard, had the same pale intensity she had witnessed herself.
“When did you have these photographs taken?” Ardis said.
Jin Hua locked the door and busied herself with tidying her sewing kit. “Before you were born, in San Francisco.”
“How long did you know him?”
“I told you already. Two months. He was in America for work.”
“What kind of work?”
Frowning, Jin Hua glanced over her shoulder. “I wasn’t foolish enough to ask questions. His scars said more than his words did.”
Ardis fidgeted, uncomfortable in the chair. “What did you know?”
“He knew I ran a brothel. I knew he fought for a living.”
“How did you meet him?” Her mother had always evaded this question, in the past, no matter how many times she asked it.
Jin Hua latched the sewing kit with a decisive click. “Yu Lan, enough.”
Ardis wished she would stop calling her that. “His name isn’t Leo.”
“What is it?” Her mother said it like a joke.
“Thorsten Magnusson.” Memories drifted across her skin like spiderwebs, making her shiver. “I found him in Vienna.”
Jin Hua’s shoulders stiffened. She lowered herself to the bed. “Thorsten,” she repeated.
“Why did he leave you?” Ardis’s eyes stung. “Did he know you were pregnant?”
Jin Hua matched her stare. “No.”
“But you did?”
“I knew he couldn’t stay. He wasn’t the kind of man who would play husband and father. Besides, I wasn’t interested in remarrying.”
Ardis rubbed her temples. She had never met her mother’s first husband. That man had brought Jin Hua from China, beating her when he lost his temper, until she killed him with his ancestral sword–none other than Chun Yi.
