They got Darius inside and laid him on a table. A servant brought clean linens that they used to staunch the blood while they waited for Willow to arrive.
“What happened?” Shireen asked Orlando.
“No idea. I heard the horns and ran out to see what was going on. A few seconds later he appeared, staggering to the compound. He hasn’t said much.”
Shireen looked down at him. His eyes were closed and his breathing ragged. She hoped he made it. And if he did, she hoped he could tell them more about what happened to Samuel.
Willow arrived and shooed them away from the man. She examined the wound, closed her eyes and went to work. Under her hands the wound partially closed, and the bleeding stopped. Sweat broke out on the healer’s brow as she worked, but soon the color returned to Darius’s cheeks and his breathing steadied.
Willow opened her eyes. “He’ll live, now. That was a horrible wound. It fought against me.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Shireen said, thinking back to Solomon and his condition after fighting a Soul Gaunt.
“It was much the same,” Willow replied. “This can’t be happening again.”
“No,” Orlando said. “If it is one of those, it must be one that Solomon missed, right? Some straggler?”
“You were there,” Shireen said. “You saw the fire. Do you think he missed any?”
“What, then?”
“Maybe one that was held in reserve somewhere. When will he wake?” she asked Willow.
“Not until tomorrow. I want him to sleep for a good while. It will help him heal more quickly. I’ll send someone over to clean him up and watch him through the night.”
Shireen nodded. “Tell them to get me as soon as he’s awake. I have some questions for him.”
“Of course. There is something else, though.”
“Which is?”
“This wound is somewhat different than the ones Solomon had, or those I treated after the battle.”
“What does that mean?” Orlando asked.
“I’m not entirely sure. The wound acted the same as if it was from a Soul Gaunt, but it felt different. I’m not quite sure how to describe it.”
Shireen folded her arms as she looked down at the unconscious man. “If there’s some way to make a Soul Gaunt even worse, I’m sure Jamshir figured it out.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The knock on their door came early the next morning, and Shireen was out of bed answering it before Orlando stirred.
Darius was awake. She wanted to let Orlando sleep a while longer, but wanted him there with her more, to listen and give his council on what he heard.
“Come on,” she said shaking him gently. “He’s awake.”
Orlando was up and ready almost as quickly as she had been.
Minutes later they entered the hall where Darius still lay on a table, his head resting on a pillow and a soft blanket covering him. The healer who attended him overnight bowed to the two as they entered, then moved off to the side, giving them privacy.
“How are you feeling?” Orlando asked, his voice light.
“A lot worse than you apparently think I should,” Darius replied, a weak smile creasing his features.
“Darius,” Shireen said, moving closer. “I know you’re still in pain, but this is important. What happened? Were you with Samuel?”
The prone man nodded, licked his lips and said, “Yes. I went to find him after I rested a bit. I thought it would be interesting to compare notes with him.”
“On what?” Shireen asked.
“You.” He laughed softly, then coughed. Orlando got a cup of water and held it to his lips. He drank a few sips, then continued. “Well, you and Lady Jocasta. Nothing serious, just to introduce myself, maybe commiserate. I don’t know, I thought maybe we could help our Houses bond if we did. Silly, maybe.”
“No,” Shireen said. “It was a good idea.”
“It was exactly like you said. Out there…watching birds of all things. Heh. I have to admit, when he talked about that, with such passion, I kind of got it. I sat there with him, watching them…then….”
He closed his eyes and shuddered. Shireen waited patiently, knowing what he was going to say, but wanting to hear it anyway.
“The thing came from deeper in the forest, when it started to get dark. I was starting to say to Samuel that maybe we should go back, when we heard it. This cold, disturbing kind of laughing sound. And it started to get cold around us suddenly, like… like….”
“We know,” Orlando said. “We’ve felt it.”
“Then you’ve felt the fear, too. I didn’t know what it was. My heart was hammering and I couldn’t move, although everything in me was screaming to run. Poor Samuel seemed frozen to the spot.
“Then we saw it, or at least I think we did. Like a blacker piece of the darkness, with two glowing spots like eyes. Before I knew what was happening, it was on us.”
He shuddered again and Orlando gave him more water.
“It came for Samuel first, but I pushed him aside. Then it turned toward me and suddenly I was on the ground and my chest hurt. I could hardly breathe and felt like I couldn’t move. I heard him then. Samuel. He screamed. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t….”
He trailed off and shut his eyes. When he opened them, tears flowed out and down the sides of his temples.
“It dragged him away, making that horrible noise. Samuel was making sounds too, different ones. Like he was trying to scream but couldn’t. The temperature started to rise again, and then there was silence. I’m afraid I passed out. I don’t know why I woke up. I think I should be dead. When I came to, I was able to climb to my feet and work my way back here. I’m sorry it took so long…I had to keep stopping.”
“You did good,” Shireen said. “I’ve known many who wouldn’t have made it back at all.”
She patted Darius gently on the shoulder and motioned for Orlando to follow her. They left the room as the healer moved back to tend to his charge.
“I want you to put together a bigger party,” she told Orlando. “Scouts and soldiers both. Make sure everyone has torches and swords. Go back to that clearing and spread out from there but stay within earshot of each other. Look for signs of either Samuel or that Soul Gaunt. If you find it, kill it if you can, come back for help if you can’t. If you can get Samuel away from it, do that first.”
“You think he’s still alive?”
“Maybe. Remember that human, Luke? How long did one keep him?”
“Good point. All right, and what will you be doing?”
“The same thing. Only my party isn’t going into the woods. We’re going to Glittering Birch.”
Chapter 26
The healer concerned him. He had been warned about her by Malachi. Willow was the greatest healer in the Greenweald, comparable in her field to Solomon in everything else. If anyone was going to see through the ruse, it was going to be her.
Which was why the wound needed to be real and duplicate an actual Soul Gaunt injury as well as it could. A short time ago, that would have been easy. Subtle Hemlock had their very own Soul Gaunt, one who hid when Solomon rampaged through the Rustling Elm tree. Who would have thought one of them smart enough to do that?
Then Thaddeus, turned to the House by Darius’s old tutor, had burned it to ash. Darius was impressed with that in spite of himself. Soul Gaunts weren’t easy to kill, and for someone to have done it like that…well, they were someone to watch for.
Instead, Malachi himself had done the deed, after praising Darius for bringing the Towering Oaks aide in.
“Well, well,” Malachi said, “this is unexpected.”
Samuel was still out, a fact that made dragging him there more difficult. Portals weren’t always easy to use, not for Darius anyway, and trying to hold one open while dragging an unconscious man tested his ability.
It was worth it when he saw the expression on Malachi’s face when he told who it was and how he took him.
“And you?
” Malachi asked. “What are they expecting from you?”
Darius laughed. “The fools think I’m going to have dinner with them.”
“And when you don’t show up?”
“Who cares?” He shrugged and walked to a side table. He poured himself a glass of wine and raised the bottle to Malachi.
“No, thank you,” the Head of House Subtle Hemlock said. “And I do.”
“Do what?” Darius drank his wine and gazed out at the stunning view from the windows. Now that he had performed such a service to the House, he was sure to get access here more often, perhaps even quarters.
“I care.” Malachi’s voice took on an edge that was hard to miss.
Darius swallowed and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t follow.”
“I care what those ‘fools,’ as you call them, think.”
“Oh. Well, I just meant that it doesn’t matter if they—"
“Silence.” Malachi spoke softly, but Darius’s tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth.
“You are the fool,” Malachi said. “Taking half-measures and not thinking things through. When you don’t return, what will they think? They’ll think you had something to do with this man’s disappearance. And they’ll ask your Lady Jocasta, who in turn will come to suspect you. They are aware of us now after Jamshir’s bungling. How long do you think it will be before they come to the conclusion that we were responsible?”
Darius tried to answer, but he still couldn’t make a sound.
“No, you’ll need to go back.” Malachi took the glass from Darius’s hand and set it carefully back on the sideboard. “We’ll need a convincing story….”
He came up with it on the spot, telling Darius his plan.
Darius’s eyes widened and he tried to move. Leave the room, leave the House and maybe become Jocasta’s aide for real. When he tried, his legs obeyed him no more than his mouth now did.
Malachi went to the door and summoned two servants, who removed the unconscious Samuel. Then he turned back to Darius, and with a sudden downward slash of his hand and a growled word, cut him open from shoulder to stomach.
Inside, Darius screamed. The pain was horrifying.
“Now. We need to make it more authentic. Willow is at Towering Oaks, and she will know this wasn’t made by a Soul Gaunt. The wound needs to be more…vile? Evil? Well, no matter, whatever word you want to use, it needs more.”
He smiled as he approached Darius, and Darius realized that Malachi was enjoying this.
“Let’s see…” Malachi mused. He put his finger at the top of the wound and began to trace it. If the gash felt like fire before, it was an inferno now. It blazed with agony and Darius was sure that he was being opened up like a pheasant at dinner, but he couldn’t move his head to see.
“Almost done,” Malachi said, then he stepped back, raised his hands and pushed them toward Darius. Darius felt his heart stop, the room started to grow dark and his eyes fluttered. Something was wrong. His torso felt…strange…like it didn’t belong to him, even though the pain from it was still sending shockwaves through his mind.
If he had could have moved he would have thrown himself from the windows or found a sword and cut out the foreign presence in his body. He would have stuck his fingers down his throat and vomited until it was gone, no matter how many times he needed to do it.
But he still couldn’t move.
“Now, that will take a while to settle in. When we’re done, even Willow will have a hard time telling that apart from a wound by a Soul Gaunt. Stay put, I’ll be back later.”
He left the room, leaving Darius frozen in place, able to feel the pain and the wrongness, and do nothing about them.
♦ ♦ ♦
When Malachi returned the next morning, he made a motion and Darius was free to sink to the floor. The front of his clothes was shredded, and he was covered in blood.
“Go back now,” Malachi said. “Tell the story as I told it to you. Convince them of it. Let them draw what conclusions they would. I suspect Jamshir will be getting a visit. Then, you may return to Whispering Pines.”
Darius groaned as he climbed to his feet. When he looked up, Malachi was smiling.
“Yes, like that. Very convincing.”
Darius had stumbled past him, managed to conjure up a portal and returned to the Greenweald. He’d returned to a place near the clearing, deeper in the woods, in case anyone was there. No one was, so he’d made his way back to the Towering Oaks compound.
♦ ♦ ♦
After Willow was done, Darius didn’t really care about the danger she posed to his story. He felt so much better. His wound still ached, the edges itched, and that sense of something being wrong was still with him, though all of it greatly diminished from what it had been when he first returned.
It was a shame they couldn’t convince Willow to join Subtle Hemlock. But Malachi had determined that she would never do so and forbidden anyone from approaching her with the idea. A pity. Someone of her talents could do truly amazing things with the right training and focus.
“How do you feel?” the healer asked him when Shireen and Orlando departed.
“Better,” he smiled. “Thank you.”
“Good enough to try to get up?”
“I think so.”
She put an arm under his shoulders and helped him to a sitting position, then to his feet. He took a moment to steady himself, then smiled again.
“A miracle. Towering Oaks is lucky to have you.”
“Towering Oaks doesn’t have me. Healers work for any House. You know that.”
“Then why do you live here?”
She shrugged. “They offered. And from here, I can go where I am needed.”
“Well, Towering Oaks, independent, or anything else, I’m glad you were here.”
He shuffled across the room and back under her watchful gaze. “What do you think? Am I ready to get out of here? Go back to Whispering Pines?”
“No, but soon. Another day or two of rest. Somewhere more comfortable than this. Then you’ll be ready.”
Darius smiled at her. “More comfortable, huh? Got any ideas in mind?”
To his surprise, the Healer blushed. “No. I think you’ll be fine in the quarters that Orlando showed you to. That will be comfortable enough.”
Inspired by her reaction, Darius decided to push it. After all, the Healer was beautiful, if aloof, and if he needed to be here anyway. “I might need more attention. Later.”
“Of course, I already said. Oh, I see.” She looked away. “I’m afraid you’ve misread my intentions. It happens sometimes when—"
Darius laughed. “My apologies, Healer. I’ve been told I have an inappropriate sense of humor at times. Usually, I restrain myself better than this, but perhaps my ordeal caused me to drop my guard. I know what you meant.”
“Good. Then I will summon someone to help you to your quarters, and I will stop by later. Only for healing.”
He gave her a half bow. “Thank you again. I look forward to it. I’m anxious to return home.”
And that wasn’t a lie. But first, he needed to spend more time at Whispering Pines. Maybe then he’d earn a place in that building with the view.
Chapter 27
Celia continued to watch the manor. There was no further sign of activity; it was as dark and still by night as it was during the day. Around her, she could sense the city starting to come to life again, the dangerous, vile life that it spewed when it was dark.
Since she wasn’t sleeping, or trying to find a place for it, she wasn’t as concerned. As long as she kept her wits about her and stayed aware of her surroundings, she’d be mostly safe. Most of the gangs preyed on the defenseless.
Besides, she didn’t intend to be out there much longer. She had learned what she came for. The hunters were coming from the manor, as everyone suspected.
Only…why? What was inside there? According to Friedrich and Greta it was the home of the Minister, nothing more. Until something
happened anyway. And what about the Minister himself? Was he in there, still running things? Was it he who brought these things to Dunfield? Or was he the first victim?
Her mouth twisted as she examined the place, slowly moving closer to it. The feeling of nausea started to return, but she fought it back. If it intensified, let it come. She’d vomit and then continue.
There was more here to find out.
Pushing through the sickness and unease, she made it to the door. It was thick dark wood, solid without any windows. The brass handle on it was tarnished and when she put out a hand to try it, frozen in place.
She tried the latch again, pushing against the door. There was no give to it, but that sick feeling was fading. Maybe because she was concentrating on something else, or because she worked through it. Regardless, she stepped back, frustrated.
Then, she stepped forward and pounded on the door with her fist. The booms echoed out into the quiet streets.
“Open up!” Her yell did no more than her pounding. The manor stayed dark and silent.
There was a sound from the street behind her. People whispering. She turned and saw a small crowd had gathered, down the street, halfway back to the fountain. They whispered to each other as they watched her. Then, one of them pushed through the others, limping forward.
She recognized him as the man who tried to attack her in the alley a few nights ago. Now, only one boy trailed him. He glared at her hatefully. For a moment, she looked back at him, then dismissed him from her thoughts and turned back to the door.
She thought back to Greta and Friedrich and their little girl, Lyssa instead. She could be in there still. The vile man from the alley now only had one boy behind him. Was the other in there as well?
If Greta and Friedrich were any indication, there were still good people in this town, trapped by whatever was going on behind this door. Enough was enough.
She backed up and kicked the door as hard as she could, near the latch. The door shuddered but held firm. Grimacing, she did it again, and again. On the fourth kick, she felt something give. One more, she thought, and summoning every ounce of strength she had, she kicked it again.
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