by Kat Ross
Now he did look surprised.
“You’ve heard of it,” she said. “What does it do?”
“A drug used to bestow Marks. It induces a suggestible state akin to hypnosis. What about the other message?”
“It contained a letter and a map. The map was nothing unusual, except that the ley lines were emphasized. But the letter was addressed to someone called M.”
He leaned forward, instantly alert. “What did it say?”
Kasia recited the letter word for word.
Alexei stared at her. “You memorized it in an elevator?”
“Not intentionally. It just stuck in my head.”
“Would you copy it down for me?”
“Certainly.” She tore a piece of paper from Nashka’s sketchbook and transcribed the message in slanting script that closely resembled Massot’s. “Here you are.” She handed it to the priest. “Any clue what it means? The bit about the Marks never lie and the number is 9?”
He shook his head. “No, but I’m not very clever. I’ll need time to think about it.”
Kasia studied him. “I think you’re extremely clever. You figured me out in less than forty-eight hours and no one else ever had a clue.” She couldn’t resist a jab. “Not even my lovers.”
Heat warmed the sharp planes of his face. “How did you do this?” Bryce waved the paper.
“I have total recall of everything that happens to me.”
“Everything?”
“Ask me what I was doing on this day five years ago and I can tell you exactly what I wore, what I ate, where I went. I can recite every conversation, describe every person I spoke to.”
“You’d make a dream witness in court.”
She shrugged. “I was a poor student, but I have a phenomenal memory for the mundane. I don’t know why. It started when I was eight.”
“When you were tested.”
Kasia nodded. “Who is M.?”
“Malach is the Nightmage.” Alexei’s voice turned to ice. “Beleth is his aunt.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of either of them. I have nothing to do with it. I just happened to be there because Nashka was sick. Look, I really have told you everything now—”
“I believe you,” he said quietly. “And I swear to keep my promise. I’ll tell no one of this.”
She hugged a throw pillow to her chest. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me your reason if it’s personal.” I just want you to leave.
“No, I’ll tell you.” He laughed hollowly. “Maybe you’ll have some insight for me.”
People often confessed things to her. Maybe they sensed she was morally challenged and wouldn’t judge them. It was good for business, but more than a little awkward. Whatever secrets Bryce was keeping, she wished he’d take them to the grave. Now he was looking at her with a wary vulnerability that was hard to resist. Kasia couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss him or run for her life.
“I’m listening,” she said.
Alexei took something from his pocket, clenching it in a gloved fist. “My brother is Invertido. His name is Mikhail.”
It wasn’t what she’d expected. “Oh, Saints. I’m so sorry, that’s awful.”
“Do you think he could be the patient Dr. Massot was referring to?”
“He never mentioned a name in the letter. I really don’t know.”
“This Nightmage, Malach. He Marked my brother and then he Turned him. I saw it happen.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“We served together. I don’t know why he accepted Malach’s Mark, but he must have done it willingly. Nightmarks can’t be forced.”
“Did he never tell you?”
“He hasn’t spoken since it happened.”
“So you want revenge.”
“No!”
Kasia recoiled at the vehemence in that single word. She almost apologized again, but how many times could one say they were sorry?
“Then what do you want?” she asked.
Alexei gazed out the rain-streaked window. “I’ve been searching for Malach for years. This is the closest I’ve ever come. Misha will die if the Mark isn’t removed. I need the mage alive.”
“I thought Inverted Marks were permanent.”
“We can’t fix them, but nihilim are capable of things beyond even the Pontifex. I have to try.”
“So you think he’s here?”
“Massot’s message was meant for him. It implies that Malach is in Novostopol, or planning to come.”
“Did your brother know Dr. Massot?”
“I thought of that, but I’m sure there’s no connection between them. Misha and I served seven tours together before the Curia pulled out of the Void. I joined the knights because of him. If you’d known Misha . . .Well, I can promise you, he would never associate with a man like Massot.”
Kasia nodded, but Alexei seemed to see doubt in her eyes. “You’re thinking that maybe I didn’t know my brother as well as I thought I did. And you’re right. He kept secrets from me. But he was a good man, a loyal knight, right up to the end, and Malach’s claim doesn’t change that fact!”
“I’m sure he was,” Kasia said hastily. “Is. I suppose people could take a Nightmark for all sorts of reasons.”
Alexei shot to his feet so fast she jumped. He strode to the window and threw open the sash, gulping in the night air. Rain came in too, beading on his gloved hands, which he braced on the sill. He stood like that for a minute or so.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be.”
“No, I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”
“You didn’t shout. You only raised your voice a little.”
He turned to her. “You’re being kind.”
“Not at all.” She paused. “It’s raining rather hard though.”
He closed the window. “I’m better now.”
“Good.”
“It’s hard to talk about. I never have before.”
“Not even with Fra Spassov?”
“Not even with him.”
“Then tell me the rest,” Kasia said. “If you can.”
He nodded and walked back to the couch. It sagged beneath his weight and Kasia wondered if she might forego the waterproof boots and invest in a new sofa instead. Bryce was heavier than he looked. This triggered an inappropriate mental image, which Kasia ruthlessly crushed.
“Just before our last deployment, Misha went on a diplomatic mission to Kvengard. This was about four years ago. I know he didn’t have the Nightmark before he left because we’d gone home for the Liberation Day weekend. Misha had an argument with my father and went outside to chop wood. It was his way of letting off steam. I joined him. It was hot, so we both took our shirts off.” Now it was the priest’s turn to flush. “There was no one about. They live in Arbot Hills.”
Her eyebrows climbed at the mention of the wealthy enclave on the east bank of the river. Tessaria Foy’s family had an estate there and she’d taken Kasia once for a picnic. The dachas were all old and grand, with acres of lush lawns.
“You come from money,” she said.
He shrugged the comment away. “My father does, yes. Anyway, I think he might have met Malach during that trip. Kvengard stayed neutral in the conflict. The mages were permitted to keep a consulate there, with a legat.”
She frowned. “What’s a legat?”
“A diplomatic attache. The peace talks always failed, but it was the only formal channel we had with the mages. I can’t say for certain that Misha met with the legat, he wasn’t allowed to talk about it, but I do know that Cardinal Falke headed the mission. He was our commanding officer.”
Falke again. “Did your brother seem different when he returned?”
“Not at first. But over that last year, he grew distant. Guarded. When we were on leave, he’d disappear for days and refuse to say where he’d gone. Once, I followed him from the barracks. He went to a brothel in Ash Court. One that catered to . . . exotic tastes. I’m not a prude, but th
at wasn’t like my brother. He’d be much more likely to attend a lecture on metaphysics or spend a weekend browsing the stacks at the Lyceum.”
“He was an intellectual.”
“At heart, absolutely. Mikhail always had a strong . . . physicality, I suppose you’d say. A natural athlete. The arts of war came easily. But more than anything, he liked to talk, to think, to debate. He lived in a world of ideas. That was his true passion.”
“He sounds like an extraordinary person.”
“When I confronted him about the brothel, he flew into a rage and told me to mind my own business. Again, it was not like Misha to lose his temper, not even over the smallest thing. He took after our father that way, priding himself on control. When he calmed down, he apologized and said the stress was wearing on him. But we saw no real engagement on our final deployments. Not until we were attacked in Bal Kirith and Malach turned his Mark.” Alexei held out a small copper coin. “This was Misha’s.”
She squinted at the tiny print. Mikhail Semyon Bryce. And on the Raven side, a motto: Foras Admonitio. In the old tongue, the phrase meant Without warning. “What is it?”
“A corax. Every knight is given one before being sent to the front. They’re used to identify bodies burned or mutilated beyond recognition.”
The civil war had always seemed far away. Dry lectures in history class. She remembered the teacher talking about sacrifice and heroism, but only in general terms. “Did it happen often?” she asked.
Blue eyes gazed straight through her to some distant place beyond. “On my fourth tour in Bal Agnar, the field artillery unit made a mistake with the coordinates and shelled our position. Misha and I were the only survivors.” Alexei sounded indifferent. “They gave us Marks for bravery, but all we did was get lucky. The commanding bishops offered us both an early discharge. Misha refused, but he pressed me to take it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t leave him.”
“And then?”
“We were deployed again. They said it was to inspect the stelae.” He sighed. “You have to understand, at that time we all believed the war would drag on forever. The mages were scattered, but not broken. We’d dig them out of the ruins and they’d be back as soon as we left. Cat and mouse, though sometimes I wondered which side was which. Then it happened.” His face betrayed no emotion. “Three weeks later, the Curia declared victory.”
She returned the corax, placing it gently in his palm and folding his fingers around it. “I’m glad you told me. I wish I could be of more help.”
He looked at her strangely. “Do you dream, Kasia?”
The priest sounded so very tired.
“Sometimes. They don’t often make sense though.”
“I can’t.” He blinked. “I can’t even sleep anymore. Something’s wrong with me.”
She glanced at the window seat, then perched next to him on the edge of the couch. “You’re under stress. I’m sure—”
“I’ve been losing time. Just a few minutes here and there, but I can’t remember what happens. I’m afraid . . . .”
“What?”
He rubbed his forehead. “That one of these days, when the Markhounds start to howl, it will be for me.”
Kasia had no idea what to say.
Alexei slipped the corax into his pocket. “I should go,” he said. “I’ve bothered you for two nights in a row. At least one of us can still get some sleep.”
But he didn’t stand up and neither did she.
“I’m not tired,” Kasia said. “We could talk some more.”
“What about Domina Anderle?”
“She’s out late tonight.”
Alexei cleared his throat. Silence stretched between them. His eyes flicked down to her black lace gloves. “Those are unusual.”
“I only wear them for show.” She smiled. “Not like yours.”
He flexed his fingers—a bit nervously. Kasia crossed her legs, brushing a stockinged knee against his. “Would you like a reading?”
He looked startled. “Now?”
“Unless you have someplace to be.”
Alexei hesitated. “I don’t.”
Kasia shuffled the deck. She fanned it on the coffee table. “You choose the first one,” she said.
“Gloves on or off?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Alexei fumbled to draw a card with his gloves on. Two came out at the same time, stuck together. “Oh,” he said. “Shall I try again?”
“No. When that happens, it means something.” Kasia turned them over.
The Lovers. And The Fool.
“Interesting,” she said, heart thumping. “Let’s start with the first one.”
Kasia had drawn the same card herself from another deck. This image was also designed by Natalya but had subtle differences. The man’s Mark, for example. It began at his hips and rose up to frame the groove between the muscles of his back. Alexei leaned forward.
“The Towers,” he said in astonishment. “That’s mine. Except they’re burning.”
Tiny flames leapt from the upper stories. And the woman . . . Well, she still had long, dark hair, but her face was sly and foxlike. Kasia had used the deck countless times. She’d never noticed that before.
Her eyes locked with Alexei’s. Kasia would never know what might have happened next because the buzzer sounded, breaking the spell.
“Are you expecting anyone?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Answer it.”
Kasia rose and went to the intercom. “Hello?”
The voice was garbled. She caught the words “curry” and “delivery.”
“It’s probably for Domina Federov down the hall,” Kasia said. “She’s always ordering in. Half the time they buzz the wrong flat.”
“Maybe.” Alexei rose to his feet. He looked different. Cold and lethal.
“Should I let them in?”
He nodded and pulled his gloves off, his gaze never leaving the door.
“You don’t think . . . . Only Massot knew I had the papers. And the cardinal, of course.”
“Massot was murdered.”
“Saints!” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you just use me as bait?”
“No! Buzz him in, Kasia.”
Him.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Alexei said, a naked plea in his voice. “I swear. But you said you’d help me if you could.”
Kasia cursed under her breath. Then, much against her better judgment, she stabbed the button to unlock the outside door.
Chapter Sixteen
Alexei took out a set of Warded manacles. Adrenaline coursed through him. They had less than a minute before Malach was at the door—if it was Malach.
“Does your bedroom have a lock?” he asked.
Kasia gave a curt nod. “I didn’t see your car out front.”
“I parked around the corner.”
She stared at him accusingly. “So you wouldn’t alert the mage.”
“So I wouldn’t alert you.” He stuffed the gloves in a pocket. “I didn’t know about those letters until a few minutes ago. I couldn’t possibly have known he’d come after you. But thank the Saints I’m here, Kasia.” A shadow crossed his face. “You don’t know Malach like I do. Just lock everything. Don’t come out.”
He moved past her and stepped into the hall. Light footsteps were coming up the stairs. They moved at a swift, steady pace with no pause for a breather on the landings. The mage was fit, but he already knew that.
Alexei surveyed the battleground. He’d hunted nihilim in a thousand buildings just like this one. The only difference is that it wasn’t an abandoned husk. People lived here. He had to contain Malach before he used the ley. If it came down to which of them could wield more raw destructive power, Alexei didn’t stand a chance. And he didn’t want collateral damage.
To the left, the stairs continued up to the roof. With the bulbs burned out, it was dark as pitch and the only place to hide
. Alexei went up five risers, holding the manacles tight so they wouldn’t rattle. He pulled his cowl up, blending with the shadows, and pressed a palm to the floor. The ley was thin so high up. His Marks ignited with painful slowness.
Think only of Misha and how I want to help him. My intentions are pure. By the Grace of the Pontifex and all the Saints, help me remember that.
A man appeared, moving down the hall. His hands were empty and loose at his sides. No box of curry. He paused in front of Kasia’s door, so close Alexei might have reached out and touched him. A brisk knock.
“Domina Natalya Anderle?”
The voice raised the hairs on Alexei’s neck. He’d heard it before in the ruins of the basilica at Bal Kirith.
“She’s not here,” a voice said calmly from the other side of the door. “So fog off.”
Alexei bit his lip.
“Open up.” The mage’s voice had a hard edge to it now.
“I’m calling the gendarmes.”
“They won’t get here in time.” Malach kicked the door. It shivered in the frame. Abyssal ley swirled at the mage’s feet. A pool of chaos. Malach swung his foot back for another blow. The instant he was off balance, Alexei leapt from the shadows. He snapped a manacle around Malach’s wrist and activated the Ward. The mage winced in raw agony. He twisted like an eel, fist connecting with Alexei’s nose. Pain exploded in a white starburst. Malach slapped his free palm on the wall. It flared a fiery red. The surface ley fueling the manacle clashed against the abyssal ley in pulses of deep violet.
In the end, as always, the abyssal ley won. The Ward winked out.
Blood flowed from Alexei’s nose. He danced back out of reach before Malach could touch him. He didn’t care to have all his Marks reversed, or to be turned into a ravening, mindless beast.
Alexei braced a hand on the stair railing. Ley burned a blue trail across his skin. Malach laughed. “What do you plan to do with that, rook?” He flicked a finger. Every bulb in the hall shattered, showering bits of glass. It crunched under Malach’s boots as he stepped forward. The mage’s eyes were bottomless wells in the darkness. “You,” he said.
Malach’s Marks blazed. All of them. Alexei could feel it, a rasp drawing across his bones. The air felt heavy and charged with potential energy. He braced himself for something nasty.
