by Kat Ross
Alexei took the stairs two at a time, tearing his gloves off as he went.
Chapter Four
Wood splintered.
Kasia backed against the far wall. The tip of the letter opener slid through the crack, wiggling obscenely.
Doctor Massot had been hard at work for some time, but he was finally making progress.
Kasia had an exceptional memory and recalled every detail of the study. There was a poker next to the fireplace. If she could get to it before he stabbed her, she could break his arm. She could break his skull, for that matter. The bathroom door opened outward, which was good for her because it would be easier to get past him. She was bracing herself to kick the doctor in the balls when she heard a new voice. It sounded astonished.
“Dr. Massot?”
The letter opener withdrew.
“Get away from me, you filthy rook,” the doctor growled.
Kasia swore softly. She was grateful to be rescued, but not by a priest of the Curia. She’d take anyone but a fogging priest.
“Step away from that door.” The voice was measured, in control again. “Is someone in there? Hello? Are you hurt?”
Kasia kept silent.
“I won’t harm you, doctor, I promise. Just drop the letter opener.”
A wordless snarl.
“One of your Marks has Turned. You of all people know what that means. It’s why I’m here. To help you get better.”
Oh, Saints. Kasia sank down on the toilet lid. Turned. That meant the Interfectorem. She’d be investigated. And they’d have Markhounds.
Kasia Novak rarely thought about the past or future. She arrived late to appointments and failed to pay bills on time. Lying came easily, which was fortunate since her whole life was a lie. The lack of introspection meant that few things troubled her, but priests and hounds topped the list.
Kasia flexed her fingers, admiring the freshly applied polish. Bruised plum was in fashion that season. This is the best of all possible worlds, she reminded herself. Everything happens for a reason and one must only have faith.
Outside the door, the priest was still trying to persuade Dr. Massot to drop the letter opener.
“How long have we known each other? Three years? I’m not your enemy.”
“Piss off, Bryce.”
“Just come along with me now. We’ll go to the Institute. You’ll get the best care. My partner is on the way—” The priest cut off, realizing his mistake, but it was too late. Kasia heard scuffling and a loud smash. The priest let out a yelp.
Run or hide?
For a long minute she sat on the toilet, staring at the door.
What if Massot knocked him out? Or killed him? Kasia had heard the stories. Inhuman strength. Men turned to savage beasts. It explained the doctor’s bizarre behavior, but she didn’t want to be trapped in the bathroom if he came out on top.
She definitely didn’t want that.
The other priest wasn’t here yet. Maybe she could still run.
Kasia cracked the door.
The two of them were rolling around on the rug. They both had their gloves off. She couldn’t see the ley flowing between them, but she knew they must be using it against each other. Not my business. Kasia started toward the door when she saw the two brass cylinders on Massot’s desk.
Kasia didn’t know why Cardinal Falke was using an intermediary and why it was all so hush-hush, nor did she want to know. She steered clear of Curia business and only came here tonight as a favor to her best friend. But if she returned without the papers, the cardinal would blame Natalya.
Kasia strode to the desk. The tubes looked identical. Which was intended for the cardinal? She hesitated, only for an instant, but the priest turned his head and saw her. He had thick dark brows and arresting blue eyes. They looked tired. Kasia stared back, challengingly. She couldn’t help it. Fogging priests.
His gaze narrowed. Massot used the distraction to seize the left side of his neck where the priest was raven-Marked. The priest threw an elbow. They rolled away again and Kasia grabbed both cylinders. She stuffed them into her jacket and bolted for the hall, flying down the stairs. The front door loomed ahead, but she hadn’t forgotten what he’d said about his partner. She ran to the parlor window to check the street. A large black Curia automobile was pulling up in front of the house. The kind with dark windows and acres of hood and a big chrome grill with a silver raven on the bonnet.
Kasia stuck her head into the hall. The front door handle jiggled violently for about ten seconds, then stopped. She waited for a minute, then shot open the deadbolt and cracked the door. As she’d hoped, the second priest had gone around back. Rain fell in torrents. She stepped outside, gently closed the door behind her, and descended the slippery steps, the click of her heels echoing on the slate.
She almost tripped over the Markhound.
It sat at the gate, ears perked, watching the night.
Kasia cursed her luck. There was no other way out. Back through the garden maybe, but she’d seen the wall out the kitchen window. Too high to climb. Rain trickled into her collar. How long before the front door opened and they came looking? She didn’t know much about Markhounds, but in theory . . . .
It can’t see me.
The Markhound snuffled. Kasia studied the creature, her pulse slow and measured. Markhounds were supposed to be invisible, but this one seemed solid enough. Gleaming dark fur with a tawny muzzle. Hip-high on her—and it was sitting down. The close-set eyes looked belligerent.
Kasia stepped through the gate.
* * *
Things were not going as planned.
Alexei could feel the ley surging through his hands. He tried to use his own Marks to calm it, to make the doctor pliable, but the instant the power passed into Massot, it became wild and unruly. An ember spat from the fire and set the rug aflame, stoked by the breeze from the broken window. Somehow, he’d become tangled up in his cloak. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ferran Massot crawling for the letter opener. The doctor’s nose dripped blood. A tongue crept out and licked it. He made a smacking noise.
“I’m going to cut your heart out, rook,” Massot said. “Then I’ll feed it to your dogs.”
Alexei got a hand around his ankle. Massot kicked violently. His dress shoe came off, hitting Alexei in the forehead. An eye-watering stench came from the doctor, sweat mixed with urine and something worse. The seat of his pants was wet. He’d almost reached the letter opener.
Alexei was about to give up and whistle for the hounds when the door flew open.
Spassov burst into the study, a crossbow in his hands. His bluff face registered a look of surprise upon seeing Ferran Massot, but it didn’t slow him down. He aimed the weapon and Alexei dove at his partner’s knees. Spassov stumbled. The bolt flew wide, burying itself in one of the doctor’s framed degrees.
“Don’t!” Alexei panted. “We need him alive.”
Spassov rolled his eyes, but he walked to Massot and kicked the letter opener away from the doctor’s grasping fingers. Spassov planted a knee on his back. Massot writhed and spat, but he was pinned beneath ninety kilos of Curia muscle. “Glove him,” Patryk grunted.
Alexei pulled out a pair of mesh-lined gloves and forced them onto the doctor’s hands, snapping thin metal circlets around the wrists to ensure they didn’t come off again. Massot stopped struggling. Alexei stamped on the rug, smothering the flames.
“There was a woman,” he said, pulling his own gloves back on. “Did you see her?”
Spassov shook his head. “Injured?”
“I don’t think so. She was hiding in there.”
They both looked at the bathroom door and the deep gouges around the knob.
“Hold on,” Alexei said, sprinting for the stairs.
* * *
Walking past the Markhound was not the most pleasant experience, but it was undeniably exciting. If she was wrong, the beast might tear her throat out. But its head never turned though it sat a meter away.
Once across the street, Kasia started running. She wasn’t particularly athletic so jogging on wet cobblestones in spiked heels, at a steep downhill grade, required all her concentration. At the bottom of the hill, she caught her breath and looked back. No signs of pursuit. They must have their hands full with Dr. Massot.
Then she hit the washed-out bridge at Kopeksin Square.
It meant she would have to walk all the way through the dark, deserted campus of the Lyceum and cross the Liberation Bridge on the western bank of the Montmoray to get home. Unless she managed to find a cab . . . Kasia swore softly. Her purse was in the doctor’s study. She would have driven her own car if the rear tire hadn’t gone flat.
At least she had the papers. The priests would track her down, but it would take them a while. In the meantime, she had only to walk four kilometers through the pouring rain with no umbrella. Kasia jammed her hands into her pockets. She felt naked without her gloves, which were also back in the study with her best oracle deck.
A crooked smile played on her lips.
All things considered, a small price to pay.
* * *
The front door of Massot’s house had been left unbolted. A quick glance up and down the street confirmed that Alexei’s quarry was gone. Alice trotted to his side, gazing up at him alertly. He scratched her behind the ears.
“How’d she get past you, eh?” The hound snuffled and nosed at his crotch. Alexei pushed her head away and gave her a gentle slap on the rump. “I trusted you,” he said accusingly. “Now I find you sleeping on the job.”
Alice yawned.
He’d only seen the woman for an instant. Mid-twenties with long black hair and one of those jackets with epaulets on the shoulders. Pretty, but it was the haunted look in her eyes that left an impression. Understandable considering her ordeal, yet he’d had the feeling it was him she was most afraid of.
Alexei headed upstairs to the study. Spassov was still kneeling on the doctor.
“She’s gone,” Alexei said.
His partner arched an eyebrow. “We’ll find her. At least we made it in time. That’s a refreshing change, eh? Let’s get him into the car.”
Dr. Massot had gone quiet, though his eyes glittered with malice. They walked him outside. The hounds started barking savagely when they saw him.
“Hush,” Alexei snapped. The dogs shot him baleful looks but obeyed. He pushed Massot into the back seat and secured his hands to Warded rings. Spassov tugged a glove off and gripped the rings. They flared with blue fire. Massot wouldn’t be touching the ley anytime soon.
“You’ll be safe,” Alexei said. “The dogs won’t trouble you.”
Massot didn’t reply.
Once back inside, they performed a quick search. No one else was home. Alexei lingered in the study, collecting the cards scattered about. The pictures resembled Marks, painted with a skilled hand. Some of the figures he recognized. The Pontifex, for example. And the Knight. Others were inscrutable. A disembodied hand offering a gold chalice to a youth sitting cross-legged beneath a tree. A man with a bandaged head holding a stave. A nude woman pouring a jug of water into a pool beneath a black sky studded with stars. A heart pierced by three swords.
“Ironic, da?” Spassov said, sticking his head into the study. “He’s the first one I know personally. I suppose we should be grateful it happened at home.”
Alexei showed him the cards. “Ever seen this before?”
Spassov shook his head. “A game?”
“Maybe. I think they belonged to the woman.”
Patryk shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“Probably not, but I’ll hold onto them anyway.”
He took a quick look in the bathroom. No blood or signs of a struggle. His impression that the woman had been unharmed appeared correct.
“Time?” he asked Spassov.
Patryk took out his pocket watch. “11:53.”
Alexei jotted it down in his notebook. “She lasted almost an hour.”
“Lucky,” Spassov muttered.
“Or smart,” Alexei said. “Let’s go.”
Once outside, he whistled for the Markhounds. Alice, who possessed both dignity and discipline, had resumed her post at the gate. The others were trotting around, peeing on Massot’s shrubbery. Spassov slid into the passenger seat and unrolled the window to light a cigarette.
“Ite domum,” Alexei commanded. Go home.
The dogs gave a final growl at the car and vanished into the rainy night.
Chapter Five
Invertido.
Kasia had never expected to witness the moment of Turning. She didn’t know a great deal about Invertido, only that the condition was rare. The cards had warned her, but by then it was already too late.
As she hurried home through the rain, she reconsidered the cards she’d dealt for Dr. Massot. The Mage, upside-down. Well, that one was obvious. It signified forbidden impulses and secret desires. The Knight could be the priest. Half of them had fought in the war at some point. But the Martyr? It usually meant suffering for a cause, but Massot didn’t seem the type. She wasn’t sure about the Slave, either. Or the Fool.
This last card intrigued her the most.
The Fool was a wanderer, moving at whim between the civilized realms and the wilds of night. He liked to upset the established order, more trickster than jester. Some decks showed him with a small dog nipping at his heels. His temperament combined wisdom, madness and folly. Mixed correctly, these qualities could produce wonders. They could also lead to disaster.
She couldn’t interpret more without Massot’s active participation and that wouldn’t be forthcoming. Kasia hoped the priest was unharmed, but his partner was only seconds away when she’d fled. She wondered what would happen to Dr. Massot. He’d seemed normal earlier in the evening. The famous actress, attractive and bitingly funny, had been the center of attention at the party. Massot was a practiced host, affable and charming but never outshining his guests. Kasia had caught him looking at her several times but didn’t think much of it. Now his attention took on a sinister cast. She remembered the way he had greeted her at the door, an odd little smile on his face.
He planned it all along.
Kasia shoved the thought away, uneasy. It wasn’t entirely Massot’s fault. If the Interfectorem came, it meant his Marks had reversed. He wasn’t himself, was he?
She froze at swift footsteps behind her, but it was just a young couple, holding hands and laughing under a shared umbrella. The distant tolling of bells from the Arx signaled midnight. A few blocks later, she reached the busier section of town, where the cafes stayed open until two and merry voices spilled from the open windows.
Her flat was at the top of a six-story walk-up above a popular curry restaurant. By the time she reached her door, Kasia’s feet were begging for mercy. She knocked until she heard footsteps. Tumblers clicked and Natalya opened the door.
“Kiska, you’re soaked!” Her bleach-blond hair was rumpled from sleep, though she looked a bit better. “What happened to your key?”
“I forgot my purse.”
“You walked the whole way?”
Kasia nodded.
“Why didn’t he call you a taxi? Never mind, I’ll get a towel.” Natalya headed for the bathroom.
Kasia sank down on the couch. She unlaced her boots and rubbed some life back into her toes. Then she took the brass cylinders from her jacket and stuffed them under a pillow. She hadn’t the least desire to examine their contents, not even to figure out which was the right one. She wanted nothing to do with cardinals or priests ever again. Nor psychiatrists, either. But they had to be hidden. She was looking around the tiny, cramped flat for potential places when Natalya reappeared.
“Come on,” she said. “I’m drawing you a hot bath.”
Another person would have asked about the papers first, but Natalya wasn’t like that. Kasia followed her friend into the bathroom and stood while Natalya toweled her hair.
“How are you feeli
ng?” Kasia asked.
“The fever broke.” Natalya studied her in the mirror. “But you look awful.”
“I know, my makeup ran—”
“Saints, I don’t mean your makeup. Did something happen?”
“Massot attacked me.”
The brisk rubbing ceased at once. “What?”
“His Marks Turned. When we were alone together.”
“I can’t believe it!” Natalya held her at arm’s length. “Did he. . .?”
“No. I locked myself in a bathroom.” Kasia stared into the mirror. She could still smell the cloying lavender potpourri. “And then the Interfectorem came—”
“Flay me! They rescued you?”
“Just before the doctor broke the door down.”
“I’m so sorry.” Natalya looked stricken. “This is all my fault.”
“Of course it isn’t.” Kasia leaned on the edge of the sink. “I got the papers, Nashka.”
“Oh, Kiska. I don’t care about that!” But her friend briefly closed her eyes, face flooding with relief, and Kasia was glad she’d stopped for them even though it meant the priest saw her face.
“How soon can we get rid of them?” she asked. “I’m afraid they’ll come looking for me.”
Natalya hung up the towel. “Why would they do that?”
“Because I ran.”
Now that she was thinking more clearly, she realized just how stupid her actions had been. It made her look guilty. If she had stayed and answered their questions, leaving out Cardinal Falke, they would have let her go. She had a legitimate reason for being there. The other guests would confirm it. She could have said she went up to the study to get paid for her work that evening. The priests might even have called a taxi for her. But instinct was a powerful thing, especially when one had so much to lose.
“Ah.” Natalya drew a steadying breath. “Well, you were scared. It’s quite natural to run.”
“I wasn’t scared. I just didn’t want to be there anymore, so I left.”
