Prism Cloud

by Jeff Wheeler

  “I know this place,” Joses whispered in recognition. He looked at her in surprise. “I used to steal from that fruit cart.”

  “I know,” she answered, emotion clutching at her heart. She gripped his hand in hers, and they walked forward hand in hand, two old friends returned to the nightmares of their youth.

  Lieutenant Fields was walking directly toward the tenement where Miss Charlotte had once lived. The one where she and Joses had taken care of the smaller children in the attic.

  “It can’t be,” Joses said, shaking his head. And yet it was. The two of them trailed the band of officers, falling in just behind Rand at the back.

  But as they drew closer to that awful building, Cettie felt a blast of icy fear that had nothing to do with the past. She could sense the Fear Liath in that tenement. There was no doubt in her mind.

  She squeezed Joses’s hand harder as the next wave of awareness struck her mind. The beast sensed her as well.

  And it was angry.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FEAR

  “Now Miss Cettie, if you get a sense of where the beast’s lair is,” said Lieutenant Fields as he and the others continued to walk toward the dilapidated building, “will you—?” He turned to look at her, and his voice cut off abruptly.

  “You sense it already?” he asked.

  Cettie raised her arm and pointed at the building in front of them. “It’s in there.”

  His bafflement was evident. He’d heard she could sense the beast, but he hadn’t truly believed. “How can you be sure?”

  “I can feel it, Lieutenant.” How had the Fear Liath ended up at Miss Charlotte’s? Surely there had been enough suffering in that abode to attract such a creature, but the coincidence seemed too great. Could it have been drawn to this place because Cettie had once lived there? Had it been pulled in by the darkness of her past?

  Rand had turned back toward her, and he came up and took her by the shoulders. “Do you want to go back to the zephyr?”

  The compassion she saw in his eyes did something to her. The old feelings started to return, welling up from where she’d buried them deep inside after her engagement to Adam.

  “I’ll be all right,” she stammered. “It’s in there. Probably the cesspit.” That was the place she had feared most while living in that foul house.

  Rand nodded firmly and then swung his arquebus off his shoulder. “Get those Leerings set up on each adjacent street. When you’re done, call Cettie to invoke them. Lieutenant, how many of us are going in to drive the beast out?”

  “I thought ten suitable. What do you advise?”

  Rand pursed his lips and nodded. “Pick your men and have them assemble at the door. Is anyone in that place?”

  “Who knows?” the lieutenant said, gazing up at the ramshackle building with a sour expression.

  “There may be children inside,” Joses said, his brow pinched with worry.

  “There probably are,” Cettie agreed. She wondered at the desolate streets, but it was still early, and most of the people who lived in the area worked at the factories.

  “Let’s get them out, then. Move!”

  Joses let go of Cettie’s hand and brought his own weapon off his shoulder.

  “Don’t go, Joses,” Cettie said, shaking her head.

  His usual smile now looked more like a baring of teeth. “Oh, I’m going. I’d like a shot at that thing.”

  Cettie stood in the middle of the street, feeling an overwhelming urge to run far away. The Fear Liath’s emotions spilled from Miss Charlotte’s house, reaching in and clutching her heart, making her dizzy with fear and doubt. The officers moved quickly, surrounding the building with Leerings. Even if they failed to slay the beast, they wanted to contain it, to prevent it from continuing to wreak havoc.

  Cettie couldn’t shake the thought that this was somehow her fault. That the beast was some sort of strange message to her. She thought again of her vision. Of the man who’d claimed to be her father hiding on the roof of that building in Kingfountain. Had he truly died at the grotto? Or had he been healed somehow? She had learned from Sera that the people in Kingfountain held magic dissimilar to theirs. Maybe it had brought him back to life . . . and empowered him to summon and control the Fear Liath. Her thoughts continued to buzz with agitation until one of the officers called her over to secure the first of the Leerings.

  The officer, a younger man with a thick mustache, had positioned it against the side of a building in an iron box equipped with a padlock.

  “We’ll chain them up, otherwise they’ll be stolen,” he said, rising and dusting his gloved hands. “I’ve never been very good with Leerings. Glad you’re here.”

  Cettie sensed the Leering in the iron box and reached out to it with her mind. Normally, invoking Leerings came as naturally as taking a breath of air. This time, although she sensed it, it wouldn’t respond to her thoughts. Another spasm of fear went through her. She bit her lip, trying to calm herself. Her turbulent emotions were blocking her natural ability with Leerings.

  “What’s wrong, miss?” the officer asked.

  “Give me a moment,” she said.

  He nodded and walked off, leaving Cettie by herself, crouched by the box tarnished with rust spots. She closed her eyes, trying to worm her way past the awful feelings. A little light emanated from the box as the Leering’s eyes started to glow. Its reactions felt sluggish, but it did obey at last, and she felt the first part of the web of protection extend from the mouth of the alley. She didn’t know how long she had crouched there, and judging by the sweat dampening her skin, she was drained by the experience. Rising, she walked back toward Miss Charlotte’s building.

  A strange mist spilled into the street in thick, curling wisps, rising up from the gutters that dumped into the sewers. She’d never seen mist in daylight before, so she could only gape at the otherworldly sight.

  Looking around, she saw only a handful of officers. There was no sign of Rand, Joses, or Lieutenant Fields. She hurried over to one of them.

  “Where did the others go?”

  “Some of them went inside to clear the tenement,” he answered, “and the rest are waiting for you at the other Leerings, miss.”

  Cettie walked hastily to the next alley entrance. The Leering had been hidden in the sludgy waters near the base of a fountain.

  The officer who awaited her pointed it out. “It’s right there.”

  Cettie glanced back at the tenement, feeling another throb of worry and fear.

  She struggled to invoke this Leering too. The response was again sluggish and fitful, although it did finally begin to glow. Normally, she sensed the magic of the Leerings as soft, soothing sounds—as music—but this time it sounded discordant and jarring. The magic was rebelling against her. And it was because of her fear, her worries.

  The vision she’d had of Fitzroy being shot had totally jarred her. Why would the Mysteries have shown her such a thing if she wasn’t supposed to do anything about it? And if the attack were unavoidable, why would the Mysteries allow such a thing to happen? Fitzroy was such a good man, such a good maston. Her implicit trust in the Mysteries was wavering, and because of that, the tokens of its power were no longer heeding her.

  Understanding what was happening wasn’t keeping it from happening.

  A few children were starting to emerge from the tenement, all of them with mussy hair and smudged faces. They looked terrified and clung to the hands of the officers escorting them. There was Joses, coaxing along two at once, reminding her vividly of the times they’d both tried to calm children who were starving and afraid while their guardian, Miss Charlotte, raged below.

  She felt the Leering shudder.

  The mist had risen higher, and it swirled down the street, obscuring her vision. A woman was shouting at the officers, demanding to know why they were being evicted. Her screams reminded Cettie of Miss Charlotte, although the voice was quite different. She felt the Fear Liath’s glee, its power growing as the fog
began to shield the light of the sun.

  It would try to escape. She could sense its intention.

  There wasn’t time to dither. Cettie called to one of the officers nearby and asked where the other two Leerings had been concealed.

  “There and there,” said the officer, pointing at the two other alleyways.

  “Lieutenant!” Cettie cried out, and Fields turned sharply to look at her. She met his gaze. “It’s coming.”

  “Get them out, now!” shouted Fields. The children were picked up and carried away, the older woman shrieking at the officers as she followed them. She even started to pummel one of them with her fists, spewing hatred at him.

  Cettie rushed to the next Leering and hurriedly knelt beside it. Her arms shook as she tried to summon the Leering’s power. Maybe it was because she was desperate to save the children, but this one responded more quickly. The eyes began to glow immediately, and she felt it connect with the other two, forming a barrier that would prevent the monster from passing.

  The cold that settled upon her was so severe mist rose from her mouth. It was too late in the spring for that. Those who dwelled in the tenements were coming out into the streets to see what was happening. The officers barked at them to go back inside, that there was danger, but many didn’t listen. Cettie felt the Fear Liath begin to move through the bowels of the tenement.

  Chaos and commotion were like sugar to it.

  “Rand!” Cettie shouted in worry, unable to see him. “Rand, it’s coming!”

  She hurried to the next Leering, but bystanders had filled up the streets surrounding the tenement. Fog in the midst of the wrong season was a spectacle to behold, and a seemingly safe one. And it was unnaturally cold too.

  Then the Fear Liath roared.

  The sound was familiar and terrifying. She’d heard it in Dolcoath, but hearing it in the broken streets of the Fells was a thousand times worse. She covered her ears as the people around her started to scream and flee. Someone bumped into Cettie, spinning her around, and she lost her bearings.

  Cettie couldn’t see well and stumbled toward where she thought the Leering was. The hiss of an arquebus sounded from the mist behind her.

  “It’s out! It’s—!” yelled one of the officers before his voice was cut off by a scream. There was a pattering sound of wetness on stones that made Cettie shrivel inside. Where was the last Leering? She could barely sense the others, their sound a scratching, discordant wail in her mind.

  Then she heard Rand’s voice. “On my mark. Ready, aim, now!”

  Multiple arquebus shots sounded at once, and she heard the bullets thud into something solid, something impossibly firm. Before she could even think to hope, she saw the Fear Liath’s shadowy bulk in the mist. Saw one man soar through the air before crashing onto the cobblestones.

  Children screamed in horror as the monster attacked the officers. She saw claws. She heard snuffling grunts, and her mind went black with fear and despair. The Fear Liath was the master of the moment, not them. Where was the final Leering?

  Cettie realized she was on her knees, crawling, weeping, unable to master herself enough to stand. Where is it? Where is it?

  “Back, you devil!” she heard Rand shout, and she feared for him. Would they all be killed?

  Then she sensed the Leering right in front of her.

  A spark of hope lit inside her.

  Cettie’s dress tore at her knees, but she pulled herself forward. Her mind was blank with fear, her fingers hardly more than crooked roots, unable to unclench. But she reached the Leering and pleaded with the Mysteries that the monster’s threat might be contained within the boundary she’d created. They could come back with more soldiers, with Aldermastons and dragoons, and . . .

  She heard the soft padding of the monster, its claws ticking against the stones.

  Cettie flung herself onto her back and saw its shadow rise up over her. It was everything dark and savage. Its power was primal and ancient. It felt oddly familiar to her, as if she were somehow a part of its magic. She’d felt this way before with dark things, with the Myriad Ones who’d clung to her when she was a child and on her other encounters with the Fear Liath. It alarmed her that the old, shameful feelings were still rooted inside her.

  The beast lowered its massive snout, snuffling at her. One bite of its awful teeth or swipe of its razor-sharp claws would end her life. It reeked of blood. Her mind was a clot of darkness, and she shuddered as it smelled her. She had never been so close to death, not even when she’d dangled from the roof at Fog Willows in her attempt to escape Mrs. Pullman.

  She sensed the Fear Liath liked her scent. It raised a massive paw, and she shut her eyes, knowing she was about to die.

  It flicked the Leering near her away, shattering it against the wall opposite. Then it breathed into her face with its horrid, noxious breath, and bounded down the fog-shrouded street, seeking other victims.

  The strain had been too much. Cettie fainted.

  She didn’t know how long she’d lain in the street, but most of the mist had vanished by the time she roused, save for a few stray wisps. Struggling to sit up, she gazed at the scene on the street full of tenements. Several bodies lay still. A few officers had survived and walked in confusion from one body to the next. Then she saw Rand crouching over one of the bodies, one hand holding his arquebus, the other covering his face.

  Cettie blinked, trying to see, trying to understand, and then realized that he was hovering over Joses.

  A groan escaped her mouth as she got up, her legs trembling, and hurried over to them.

  Rand looked at her, and there was no hope in his expression. She saw the pain twisting his features. But he had the hardened look of a soldier who had seen many previous deaths.

  Cettie knelt beside Joses, her eyes wide and burning with tears. Her friend’s jacket and shirt were soaked in blood, and more of it trickled from his mouth as he gurgled for air. His eyes were wide with panic.

  “Joses,” Cettie croaked in misery, touching his cheek, smearing his blood with her fingers.

  He nodded at her eagerly, still fighting for breath. Cettie was a maston. She had always been strong in the Mysteries. If she believed, she could heal him. Doubts swarmed her mind like ash-colored moths, but she laid her hand on the crown of his head, willing the Medium to heal her childhood friend. Its power over life and death was immutable. It could heal his wounds. It could grant him his breath.

  It had done so once before. Fitzroy had saved Joses’s life years ago, in a tenement in the Fells.

  She bowed her head and tried to utter the words of a Gifting. Her throat clenched. She was unable to speak.

  She tried again, tried to use her will to force the Mysteries to obey her. Her intention only made the power flinch away, moving totally out of her grasp.

  Her friend was dying in front of her. Was there nothing she could do to save him?

  Please, let me heal him. Joses, why didn’t you stay behind?

  Hot tears seeped past her lashes and scalded her cheeks. Her shoulders shook violently. She willed the Mysteries to heed her plea, to save her friend’s life, but nothing happened.

  A being of evil had spared her. Why wouldn’t the Mysteries spare Joses?

  She felt fingers grab her wrist and opened her eyes, her blurry vision seeing Joses staring at her in desperation. He was trying to say something, but he couldn’t speak. She leaned closer, her tears splashing against his chin.

  She would have done anything to save him, but she could only watch as her friend’s life force ebbed away, his grip on her wrist going slack. Then his head lolled to one side, his eyes still open. The battle was over. He had died in the Fells after all, on the very street he had always tried to escape.

  Cettie’s grief came out in a pent-up flood. She sobbed and sobbed, clinging to Joses’s bloody jacket with her fingers, mourning a life extinguished so young. A life snuffed out because of her lack of faith. The agony of her loss was unbearable, especially since Fitzr
oy might yet be taken from her. How could she even breathe with so much pain in her heart? A dagger plunged into her chest could not have hurt more. Tears wrenched from her eyes as she began to wail. The sounds that came from her seemed to come from a stranger. She had never felt such misery before, such loss. She couldn’t endure it. Rand enfolded Cettie in his arms, pulling her to him, but she struggled away, wanting, begging, to die on the street next to Joses.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LADY CORINNE

  Cettie sat on the sturdy plank seat of her zephyr, exhausted from weeping, yet still unable to doze, as Rand piloted her back to Fog Willows. She felt drained, so utterly spent that she lacked the strength to sweep the hair from her eyes. Night had fallen. The monster was still a threat to the Fells. She had failed—not only Joses, but everyone who lived below. She doubted she could make a Leering glow to the brightness of a candle. She worried she might never be able to use them again.

  The Mysteries had forsaken her. There was no beauty in the music she heard emanating from the zephyr. It was an eerie sound to her now, the discordant hum of a machine.

  She was alone with Rand on the zephyr, but the impropriety of that—she, a woman engaged to another man; he, a man who’d once courted her—felt flat and hollow. She didn’t care about customs or propriety now. Her friend lay dead along with many officers, including Lieutenant Fields. So much death . . . so quickly. The corpses were being examined by a doctor in the Fells, and then Joses’s body would be sent home for the rites. He had no other family. But she would mourn him the rest of her life.

  She had also failed her father, who had sent her on this task. He’d trusted her to defeat the Fear Liath, but she’d made everything worse.

  “We are almost there,” Rand called to her from the helm.

  Cettie’s eyes felt like leaden balls. Her neck muscles ached from her rigid posture. It was still early in the evening. She saw the manor in the distance, the radiance of the Leerings illuminating the sculpted grounds. The lights within the manor would still be aglow. Cettie longed to see Lady Maren, longed for a mothering embrace. She wanted to be coddled like a child, comforted and kissed and told that her heart would heal, that the pain of losing a dear friend would eventually ebb.