by Lynn Viehl
“Oh, I would, if you still had something to use. Too bad all you can do now is talk. And drip.” I rammed my knee into his groin, delighting in the shrill squeak he uttered as he sank to the deck. I shoved him inside the scale shack atop the dead woman, mentally apologizing to her spirit as I did for the indignity. Even with his stones bruised Montrose could come after me when he recovered, which I didn’t need, so I used Hedger’s spike to jam the door latch.
I wouldn’t need the spike for my plan to work; all I needed was to get close enough to Zarath while making him believe he’d already enchanted and enslaved me. I didn’t expect it would be difficult. Spirit that he was, the warlord was still a male, and he had been very interested in my body. Finally I could make useful the ridiculous ways in which men regarded my sex.
I straightened my skirts and smoothed my hair before I hurried to the cargo house. I made no effort to be stealthy or silent as I hurried inside, putting on my best loon face as I looked about. “Lucien? Lucien, where are you?”
Celestino showed himself first, and held a pistol that he pointed at my chest. “Do not take another step, miss.”
“Where is Lucien?” I demanded, striding toward him as if I didn’t see the gun. “I have escaped those who tried to keep us apart, milord.” I raised my voice and called out his name several times, wringing my hands as I did. “Please, Lucien, I need to see you so desperately.”
Dredmore stepped out of the shadows, his head tilted back as he surveyed me.
“How did you evade the authorities?” Celestino demanded.
“Lucien.” I ran to Zarath as if he were a great pile of prezzies on Christmas morn and threw myself at him. “Thank heavens you’re safe.”
The warlord held me at arm’s length. “The last time you saw me, you called me a monster.”
“I didn’t understand, Lucien. That awful inspector person had me terribly confused.” I smiled up at him. “I’ve been so lost and frightened. Finding you is such a relief.”
He didn’t look convinced. “So happy you tried to put a blade in me.”
“I was wrong to do that, and I don’t know why I did. I’ve been in such a muddle—or at least I was, until I found this.” I ducked my head, searching through my pocket until I produced the blue stone Dredmore had used to bespell me, and hoped Zarath wouldn’t be able to do the same. Holding it made me want to weep, and to add to the effect I let the tears well up into my eyes. “As soon as I picked up the stone everything became clear again.”
His eyebrows rose. “The stone made you think clearly.”
“Oh, yes.” I pressed myself against him. “It made me remember what was important. You, Lucien. I would do anything for you. Anything at all. It’s just as you’ve always said. I belong to you. I love you.” I ran my fingertips along the front seams of his jacket. “Please, let me show you how much.”
“Show me.” His black eyes glowed red, and he latched on to my wrist. “Yes. I would enjoy a show.”
“My lord,” Celestino said, “this is a charade. The only reason this female came here is to harm you.”
“Perhaps she did. It matters not.” Dredmore lifted my chin to study my face. “Did the old one not tell you, woman? Your power cannot drive me out. I am tethered by the spirit stone.”
The damn stone they’d made Lucien swallow; I’d forgotten about it. “I don’t understand your magic, Lucien. I never have, and don’t need to. I only want to be with you.”
Behind my simper I thought frantically. There was one more thing I could do, and I wasn’t even sure it would work. But it was that or have relations with this thing, and I’d stab myself in the heart before I did that willingly or otherwise.
Dredmore dragged me back to the cargo master’s office, where he closed the door in Celestino’s face. “Take off those rags. From this day forth, when you are with me you will wear nothing but your skin.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Nothing would make me happier,” I cooed as I reached behind me. “I’ll never again have to launder anything but our bed linens. Unless you hire a laundress for us. That would give me more time to attend to your every want and need, you know.”
Undoing my buttons also gave me time to tear open the packet I had tucked in the back band of my waister. I filled my hand with the powder, closing my fingers over it as I shrugged out of my bodice and let it fall to the floor.
“You are taking too long.” His gaze dropped. “Undress faster.”
“The buttons are so small and slippery, and the excitement is making me all thumbs. Could you help with the rest?” I presented my back to him. “Pretty, pretty please?”
I felt him approach, but instead of unfastening my waister he grabbed a fistful of my hair and used it to drag me back against him. “I will fill your belly with my seed,” he muttered against my ear. “Again and again, until you swell like a ripe, fat date.”
Cloaked as he was in Dredmore’s body, I should have felt some small comfort. Over the last few days I had become embarrassingly fond of Lucien’s touch. Yet even the brush of this impostor’s breath on my skin nauseated me. I didn’t bother to suppress my shudder, knowing that Zarath’s ego would have him assuming I was shivering with delight or some other such nonsense.
“I can hardly wait to see myself become so, ah, figgish.” Of course if I turned and vomited all over his chest, he might begin to doubt the veracity of my ardor. “I have something for you, too.”
He jerked me round. “I need nothing from you but silent obedience, woman.”
Emphasis on silent, naturally. “Of course you don’t. But this is something that you wanted from me that should keep me quiet for a time. You remember, you wanted me to . . .” I let my voice trail off as I brushed my knuckles lightly over the front of his trousers and artfully puckered my lips. “Now close your eyes, my love.” When he didn’t, I pouted. “Lucien, please. I can’t do it if you’re staring at me like that. I’m a good gel.”
He smirked a little before his eyelids dropped.
I held my breath and flung the powder in my hand directly into his face. With my clean hand covering my nose and mouth I scurried backward until my shoulders slammed into a wall.
Dredmore coughed and choked, swatting at the cloud about his head. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I forgot to mention, I borrowed some sleeping powder from that awful inspector.” I watched him stumble. “Which means you’re going to have a nice, long nap.”
He fell to his knees, and tears rolled down his cheeks from his reddening eyes.
“Followed by a very massive headache,” I added, feeling quite satisfied to see him slump forward into a limp mound.
My suspicions proved correct; Zarath might eat spirits, control armies, and command an invasion, but Dredmore’s drugged body was as good as a gaol cell. I took the dagger he carried and looked down at his still form. Trapped as he was, I could kill Zarath now. Cut him open, reach into his belly, rip out the stone, and it would be finished.
Lucien could rest in peace.
Lucien.
I crouched down beside him, pulling his shirt free of his trousers to bare his flat, hard belly. I lifted the blade—
Which decided to fall out of my hand. I couldn’t do this to Lucien. I’d held his body in my arms; I’d covered great stretches of it with my kisses. Stabbing him in the heart would be like doing it to myself. Somehow I found my cheek pressed against his skin, and tears rolling over the bridge of my nose to plop down and slide into his navel.
Behaving like a silly female cost me as soon as I took in my first shuddering, sobbing breath, and a lungful of sleeping powder along with it. In one corner of my heart I knew I’d done it on purpose. The sad truth of it was that I couldn’t stop Zarath because I didn’t really care anymore. Now that Lucien was dead, the world no longer held anything of interest for me. I reached for my pendant, for the comfort it gave me whenever I touched it, and then I went still.
The pendant. Lucien had never giv
en it back to me.
I staggered to the door and fumbled with the knob until it opened. Outside the office Celestino came at me, and in a dreamy haze I saw the blade fly from my hand and bury itself in his shoulder. I wandered past the writhing, shrieking mound of him on the floor, and shuffled my way down a long row of large crates. One stood open, half-filled with straw, and it looked so comfortable that I chose it as my hiding place.
I had enough sense to pile the straw atop me and pull the slatted lid back in place before I closed my eyes and surrendered to a sleep from which I might never awake.
I dreamed of the maze at Morehaven, where I walked through the hedges looking for my pendant and my lover. I had the notion that Lucien had hidden it somewhere there, as I could feel it, like him, very near to me. Yet no matter where I looked neither he nor the pendant were to be found.
I gave up the search when I reached the center of the maze, where his mechanized statues lay in pieces round the reflecting pool. Sitting down in the exact spot where I had given him my virtue, I thought of all that had happened since I’d come to Rumsen.
It should have taken some time for my life to parade before my eyes, but it had gone so quickly. I’d only lived a handful of years, years I’d spent as quickly and recklessly as my lost childhood. Now that I faced the end, I could only imagine how disappointed in me my mother would have been. I had survived losing her and my father, my home, and nearly all that I had owned in the world. I’d tried to spit in the eye of fate by helping others, and perhaps I had, but in the end I had nothing left to show for it.
I might have another chance when the powder wore off. If I survived Zarath and the Reaper invasion, I might flee Rumsen and start over somewhere else, but I would do it alone.
All at once I understood how wrong I had been to spare Zarath.
“Lucien,” I said out loud. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t . . . If I have another chance, I’ll try again.”
The reflecting pool began to bubble, and from it a column of water rose and shaped itself into Dredmore’s form.
“You were fated to be the end of me, to release me,” the man made of water said. “I saw it over and over in my dreams. Now that you have defied the portents, I am neither alive nor dead.”
Even in spirit form he was annoying. “I did say I was sorry.”
He sloshed over to the side of the pool and sat down on the edge. “If you hadn’t been so damnably stubborn, Charmian, I might have prevented this and saved us both.”
“If I’d been a docile, obedient gel, you’d have never looked twice at me,” I told him, ignoring the way his face was dripping onto my shoulder. “So here we are. I’m a failure and you’re a fountain. The city is about to fall to the Reapers. Everyone I care about will die.” I glanced at him. “Why are you still here? Zarath said you’d gone over to the netherside.”
“I have not gone, not yet, but it is a struggle to keep myself . . . intact.” He glanced at his broken mechs before he reached out as if to touch my face. “As I am I cannot be with you in this world or the next. Nor can I escape my prison. I would bear it for you if I could.” He drew back his shimmering hand. “But you must release me.”
I nodded. “Tell me what to do.”
“That can wait. Come here.” Dredmore offered me his hand and drew me down into the pool, where he melted away into the water. I lay back, floating on the surface, and the soft coolness sank into me, permeating every corner of my mind and spirit with all that had been Lucien. I saw his life, how dark and cold it had been. His mind power to charm had appalled his parents, who had sent him away to spend his entire childhood at the strictest of schools. Upon gaining his degree, Dredmore had been given a small fortune by his mother, on the condition that he leave England and never return.
Making the crossing had been a wretched ordeal for Lucien. He feared the sea, for it was his only weakness. It prevented him from using his mind power, but worse, it terrified him. He couldn’t even swim.
Once in Toriana, a spiteful relation had made public his illegitimacy and the name of his commoner father, rendering Lucien an instant outcast among the blues. He might have used his gift to make a place for himself among the ton through his ability to charm, but instead he walled himself up in Morehaven to learn all he could about the dark arts. For ten years no one but his servants had even acknowledged his existence.
Becoming a deathmage had gained him the entry into society that his unfortunate birth had denied him, and his grateful clients had certainly made him rich, but behind his practiced cynicism Dredmore remained a lonely, wretched pariah. Until the day Connell had driven him through the market and a shaft of sunlight had illuminated the face of a common gel buying peaches. And in that moment, the torrents of passion and longing had flooded Lucien Dredmore’s cold heart, bringing with them the first hope he’d ever known.
It seemed ironic that for all his magic he had been made powerless against me, thanks to my pendant.
The pendant.
Something Harry had said the first time he’d appeared echoed through my thoughts: After twenty years of waiting and watching, I’m here. I’m free. And the curious thing Hedger had spat at him: Without that ginny bauble hanging about her neck she glows like a right black beacon.
If Dredmore were to be believed, I was a spell-breaker. Which meant magic had no power over me, nor could it be used in my presence. It explained why Rina’s teller had been powerless to read for me. The snuffmages’ balls had been rendered useless the moment they came near me. I’d kept Liv from strangling, not by slapping her, but by touching her. By sitting on the bench next to Bridget’s Charles, I’d broken the no-love spell placed on him in France by his mother.
Could it be that simple?
Without that ginny bauble—
Dredmore had been wrong. My parents hadn’t created the pendant to protect me against magic. If I were a spell-breaker, I’d never need that sort of protection.
—ginny bauble—
Something hurt my face, hitting me so hard my teeth chattered.
“You’re not dead,” I heard a hard voice say. “Do you hear me, Kit? Open your eyes this minute, or I swear I’ll kill you.”
I opened one eyelid to see Carina standing over my crate with a lantern. Her hair fell in a tangle about her dirty, bruised face, and blood trickled from a nasty cut across the swollen bridge of her nose. She wore some sort of rough, ragged cloak covered with filth and soot.
As she raised her hand to wallop me again I raised an arm to shield myself. “Stop hitting me, will you?”
“Mother of Christ, you deserve a proper thrashing. And you will get one, the moment we’re out of this mess.” The ferocious anger on her face twisted into grim satisfaction as she put aside the lantern, shoved her hands under my arms, and hauled me out of the crate. “Wrecker’s outside with a cart. Come on.”
The air smelled hot and smoky, and made me cough as Rina dragged me through the darkness. “What’s on fire?”
“Anything that isn’t warded,” she snapped. “So shake your ass.”
As we emerged from the cargo house, I saw three things I couldn’t quite comprehend: Wrecker dressed in soot-stained yellow; a gravecart filled with dead harlots; and the Hill on fire.
“No time to gawk.” Rina jerked my arm as she marched to the back of the cart. “We’ll be lucky to make it out of the city alive.”
I stared at the corpses of a dozen battered gels. All of them I recognized from the Eagle’s Nest. At the top of the pile lay Almira, her apron spattered with blood round a gaping black gash in her abdomen.
I shook my head. “We have to go to the police. We have to tell them—”
“The coppers are busy with the blues,” Rina said as she climbed up and wedged herself in a corner before offering me her hand. When I didn’t take it, she swore. “Kit, I swear, I’ll tie you to the back and drag you by the rope—”
“She’s scared,” Almira said, lifting her head a little to glare at me. “We’re not
dead, you goose. It’s a ruse—tar and tomato juice—and it itches like sin.”
“Least you’re on top, old woman,” a younger voice complained. “Ouch, Jude, that’s my tit. Get your knee off.”
I climbed up and curled into the corner opposite Rina. “Why are they pretending to be dead?”
“Bunch of Talians locked us up in the Nest before they set fire to it,” she said flatly. “We got out through the old sewers, but if they see any of us I’ve no doubt they’ll try again. Little bastards are nothing if not determined.”
So Rina and the gels had been fleeing for their lives . . . and had ended up at the docks. “How did you know where to find me, and why did you bother to look?”
“An old tunneler met us in the sewer. Said you were in trouble and directed me to the cargo house. I almost didn’t come, you know.” Rina turned her head toward Wrecker. “Take the road that runs through the teller’s quarter. They’ve not burned anything there.”
Setting fire to the great houses on the Hill would have diverted the militia and the police there to do whatever they could; the ton represented Rumsen’s wealthiest and most powerful families. That had left the rest of the city vulnerable. I could even understand why the Reapers had tried to incinerate Rina and her gels; they probably thought I had gone there to seek haven.
But why set the other fires? Why burn the unwarded?
When I asked Rina that, she made a bitter sound. “Sorry to say they’ve not stopped to have tea and chat about it. Too occupied with torching houses and slaughtering innocents, I expect.”
“ ‘They’ve gone after anyone what don’t have them wardlings, Miss Kit,” Wrecker said over his shoulder. “They’re checking every door and neck.”
“You’re sure that they’re sparing anyone with wardlings?” When he nodded, I felt my stomach clench. Dredmore had been shocked by something Walsh had said about the popular talismans. Something about dreamstone. I looked over at Rina. “We have to stop. I need to find a charm maker.”
