“To be clear,” Sir Balzac said, giving Dupont a pointed look over the rims of his spectacles. “You are to wait until my signal to attack.”
The plan called for them to split up.
Fort Raychester had been built atop a hot spring so that it backed up to a cliff with a waterfall that fed the river. The most obvious modification to the fort, standing out even amongst the multitude of ramshackle repairs, was a new water wheel turned by the flow of the river. That suggested that the mechanisms that harnessed the power of the hot spring had either been ravaged by time into uselessness, or the hot spring itself had dried up. It was easier to construct a new water wheel to power the fort than try to find the ancient parts required to restore Raychester’s engine. Or the hot spring might have dried up.
The water wheel was Sir Balzac’s target. The scholarly knight had reached into his bag and casually produced a lump of explosives, complete with timer and extra fuses, as if it were a pastry he’d been saving to snack on. He and his menagerie were to sneak around and blow up the waterwheel, creating a distraction and plunging the fort into darkness, at which point Dupont was to attack. He and his menagerie were ready to take out as many of the enemy as possible in the confusion that followed, creating further distraction. With he and Balzac attacking from opposite ends, and Raychester deprived of power, the brigands wouldn’t know up from down.
Which would help to cover her team’s escape with the heirs. She, Moreau, and Malin were to sneak inside and head to the quarters in the back where they’d spotted the twins being led earlier. Of the three teams, theirs was best suited for stealth and covert investigations. And of the teams, theirs was the weakest in terms of straight up combat ability.
Acknowledging that galled Loretta. But as she’d travelled with the keepers and their menageries, she’d come to understand and appreciate how the abilities of beasts were utilized. She could deal a lot of damage very quickly, but she did not have the ability to endure hits like Jagdhund or Ballista did, and Malin’s combat abilities…she glanced over at the eclipse monkey and watched her practice with her new sling.
The stone flew from the leather weapon and struck a branch some yards away, neatly snapping it and earning the young beast a sharp glance from pretty much everyone. She ducked her head. Malin was young. Capable, but young. Loretta still remembered their fight in the alley. According to Sigmund, Malin would not be able to fight like that again. The ability to turn invisible at night coupled with a ranged weapon that made next to no noise was nothing to dismiss. Unfortunately, Malin was even more fragile than Loretta.
That thought, more than anything else, was what had helped Loretta to remain as calm as she had throughout the day while they’d scouted and planned. If she grew hotheaded, Malin would be in danger. She could not allow that to happen any more than she could allow Moreau to die. If she somehow didn’t go Rampant upon his passing and run off into the woods to devour some unlucky bastard, she’d have to contend with a new keeper. One who might not be willing to listen to her, or might be less scrupulous. As awful as being a beast was, she had to admit, she had gotten lucky to have the knight keeper she did.
So, she would be swift, lethal, and direct. She would follow the plan and get them all out safely.
“I know my job, librarian.” Dupont harrumphed. “You just focus on doing yours.”
Loretta lifted an eyebrow. Librarian?
“You know, I know, we all know,” Moreau said with no small exasperation. “Let’s get on with it before you two kill each other.”
Loretta expected the other men to have some sharp words for Moreau, but instead they both chuckled. Loretta shook her head. Sometimes there was just no understanding the inferior sex.
“My signal,” Balzac said once more, looking back and forth between his partners, and then he and his menagerie hurried off, keeping low and to the trees as they made their way to the river.
Dupont tipped his hat at Moreau. “See you on the other side.”
Moreau nodded, and the three of them took off.
Every step the man took made Loretta cringe. It was not that Moreau was slow or clumsy—he moved very well, actually. Becoming a beast had simply given her a new perspective on certain skills. She and Malin moved with true stealth, not making so much as a sound. It was as if the ground welcomed her and Malin’s feet while leaving Moreau to simply muddle his way along as best he could.
The area around Raychester had originally been an empty field to force enemies to expose themselves to attack. In the many years since the fort’s original construction, the woods had done their best to reclaim the land. The knights had speculated that the brigands had at least one flora beast in their ranks because the plant life should have all but overgrown the fort, but instead, the land only looked as if it had been left unkept for a few years, rather than decades. Young trees, shrubs, and plenty of places to hide, but enough space between them to make movement risky.
Which was why they kept to the forest proper until they reached a ramshackle portion of the wall where the brigands had been forced to conduct their own repairs. The wood of that portion of the fort’s wall was more alive than the rest, actually sprouting foliage of its own, further suggesting a flora beast inside. Loretta wondered how many keepers the brigands actually had among their ranks.
A horrible thought occurred to her. What if Moreau was killed and, in her Rampant state, one of the brigands managed to harvest her? The thought was ice water through her veins, assassinating the eagerness that had plagued her all day as surely as a poisoned dagger.
Moreau looked to her. Had he felt her sudden fear?
“We’ve got this,” he said. “We know what we’re about.”
For the first time in her life, Loretta wished she hadn’t been so well trained at seeing through lies and listening for what wasn’t said. He didn’t promise they’d make it out, he promised they’d do their job. They could get hurt.
Malin could die. Moreau could die. She could die, and her family would continue to be at the mercy of Lorenz Gage’s schemes. Sirena could be forced to Fall as she had been. Even her mother. The shakes grew worse.
Moreau’s hand found her shoulder. She grabbed his wrist, claws accidentally sinking into his flesh, drawing blood. He didn’t wince. She met his eyes.
“We kill anyone who tries to kill us,” she hissed. That was the only way. They would be a silent tsunami and wash through Fort Raychester like angels of death. It wouldn’t be just the men who tried to kill them that would die—it would be everyone but the people they intended to save. She could take no other chance.
Moreau grinned at her. The ragamuffin grinned! It would have looked boyish and youthened him by several years if it weren’t so feral. “What exactly did you think we were doing here, killer?”
Malin looked back and forth between them. “You know, you guys are a little scary.”
“Good,” they said in unison.
“You’re up, Malin,” Moreau said. “You get to find us the best path.”
Malin nodded and vanished from sight.
Moreau and Loretta waited, side-by-side. They’d discussed this part before. There was nothing to do but sit silently and allow her resolve to harden to iron. Malin reappeared behind a shrub and waved, indicating it was the best hiding spot. She vanished again.
Moreau and Loretta went in low and ducked under the shrub. They spotted Malin an instant later at another foliated hiding spot and repeated the process. They did this several more times until they’d reached the base of the wall, at which point they heard the sound of boots on a wooden walkway. From what they’d observed, there was a guard nearby, but she wasn’t supposed to be relieved for another hour.
“Hey, mate,” the newcomer called out. “You ready to lose your money?” There was a faint clicking sound, and Loretta recognized it as dice. The guard’s friend had come to gamble with her. That was good, it would keep them occupied and distracted. At least until the newcome
r looked down.
She glanced at Malin and felt a silent urging from her connection with Moreau. She and Malin leapt up, scaling the wall, swift and silent, then hung on to the very edge, waiting for the newcomer to pass. If he happened to look down, they’d be close enough to strike.
A bird cawed out in the woods. The newcomer stopped. Loretta tensed, readying to hurl herself upon the man. She’d have to hope Malin could put a sling stone in the guard’s mouth before she could raise the alarm. The man glanced down, eyes sweeping over them, and then continued on his way. “I was thinking sevens tonight, but since I brought the dice, I’ll be nice and let you pick first game.”
Loretta looked over at Malin, who wore a huge grin on her face. The eclipse monkey could hide more than just herself at night. Good to know.
They leapt over the wall, and, concealed by Malin’s abilities, closed on the guards. Loretta’s sword took them each across the throat in a skilled swing that sent blood flying like red leaves in a windstorm.
Malin blanched, but didn’t say anything.
They dropped a rope to Moreau and had him over the wall in short order. He glanced at the dead guards, and a pulse of satisfaction came through their connection. Loretta nodded in acknowledgement, and they hurried on.
The first room they checked was being used for a storehouse of basic supplies, mostly salted meats, pickled things in jars, and cans sealed up tight with paper labels. The scent of the salted meat momentarily overwhelmed Loretta’s sense of smell. Her mouth watered, and she momentarily found it difficult to focus on what she was doing as they left to make their way to the next room.
The twins weren’t there either. Nor had it been converted into a storage facility. It was an office of some kind. An organized office with a work desk, neatly stacked documents, and a leather embossed folder. An old-fashioned oil lamp burned low on the corner of the desk. A small shelf with books had been situated against the wall, accompanied by a comfortable armchair.
Not a speck of dust lay atop anything, and Loretta smelled some kind of spice that mingled with the scents of parchment and burning oil. Whoever this office belonged to was no mere brigand. This was the workspace of a meticulous and educated woman. One who enjoyed her luxuries if she’d gone to the trouble of having the room scented.
“We have to move quickly,” Moreau whispered, hurrying to the table. “They’ll be back soon.”
“How do you know?” Loretta asked.
“The oil lamp,” Malin said, pointing.
Of course, Loretta thought. She had grown so used to electric lights that the idea of needing to monitor fuel for her light had slipped past her. She clenched her teeth and hurried to Moreau’s side to gather up whatever documents they could, as much to hide her embarrassment as to vent her frustration by making herself useful.
Moreau began sliding as much as he could into the leather folder with no regard for how it swelled. Loretta handed him a stack of papers and froze with the parchment halfway to Moreau. She could not read them, but the seal placed upon the upper right corner of the topmost document she had no trouble with.
“The merchant guild,” Loretta whispered, the words slipping out.
Moreau took the documents, shoved them into the folder, and forced it into his bag. “Something to investigate after our mission,” he said.
Loretta could not move. Lorenz Gage was a merchant. Lorenz Gage had been daring enough to attack her in her own home and had transformed her into a beast. Was he here? This could very well be his office. She should not have assumed that the merchant would be a woman. Her gaze flew to the door. If Gage was here, she would find him. She would force him to undo what he had done to her. Then—voices.
Two male voices were approaching, each accompanied by footsteps. Too many footsteps. There were at least four, maybe five, approaching the door.
The group gathered close, Malin moving to the front to conceal them. Loretta drew her sword and Sigmund his firearm. It would be better if they could kill without needing to use it and risking giving away their position to the rest of the fort. Not so much better that they would all bet their lives on stealth.
“—didn’t plan on the brat getting sick,” a nasally voice whined. There was something about it that suggested it had once been deeper. “Between that and the Swords finding out, maybe we change our plans. All I’m saying.”
The voice that answered was cultured, deep, and stern. “We hold the course and simply move up our timetable. There’s no helping the heir getting sick, and it will take any men The Company of Golden Swords sends at least a week to locate this fort.”
“Just saying they wasn’t supposed to find out at all,” said the nasally voice. “Not suggesting you didn’t do your job or nothing like that, but wasn’t your people supposed to keep that part covered?”
Silence fell. The door opened, revealing two men and the forms of several beasts behind them. Either one of them was as good as a knight and able to manage three beasts, or they were both keepers.
One man was powerfully built, armed to the teeth with belts and bandoliers covered with weapons and ammunition, and a face that made him look as if he had once been dragged down a rough road behind a horse. His nose had clearly been broken so many times that it had come to affect his speech. Despite his imposing physique, he seemed to cower beneath the gaze of the other man, the one who had opened the door.
That man was well dressed in a tailored coat of fine make. He was dark haired, tall with a lean face and physique offset by a proud nose and cheekbones that gave him a sense of imperious strength. The lamplight glittered off his manicured nails and the golden rings on his fingers, one of which bore the crest of the merchants.
Not Gage then. Someone else. Was this man secretly a wizard as well?
Behind them, one of the beasts let out a low hiss and the brigand’s knees buckled so that he barely kept his feet.
“J-just saying,” the well-armed, cowering brigand said.
The group stepped into the room, led by the merchant. Their eyes slid right over the intruders, and Loretta was able to catch a glimpse of the beasts for the first time. It was obvious that two of them, a feline with flesh like a craggy, dark mineral and a canine covered in green foliage, belonged to the brigand. They wore leathers, carried cutlasses at their belts, and were decorated with scars.
The third, on the other hand, just as clearly belonged to the merchant and she was terrifying.
She was garbed in cuts of silk that were clearly as much fashion pieces as they were functional, allowing her limbs and long tail the freedom to move quickly. Her lithe form was pebbled with dark, scaly flesh, her fingers tipped with long, hooked claws that rivaled Gigenteil’s, and a forked tongue flicked out from between her fangs. Her eyes and mass of blonde curls gave off a faintly greenish light.
Every instinct Loretta possessed told her to run. They spoke to her of a predator, of venom, and power. They screamed at her of sickness, force, and death. Whatever kind of beast she was, Loretta had found an opponent she had no desire to fight.
“A new shipment of battle-ready beasts will be delivered within the next two to three days,” the merchant said without looking at his partner. “Your keepers will be well equipped to handle any mercenaries who….” He trailed off, eyes alighting on the desk, where a sizeable portion of his documents were missing, along with his leather folder.
Loretta lowered herself, ready to spring forward. Moreau had instructed her and Malin to always go for the keeper first, that without him, the beasts would become Rampant, and their savagery would be undirected. She did not do that, instead focusing on the reptilian beast with the glowing hair. That one, she did not want to run Rampant.
“Someone’s been here,” the merchant said, dark eyes narrowing as he whirled to stare down the brigand. “And they have taken items of great import.”
“It weren’t my people,” the brigand said, holding up his hands as if the merchant’s words might cu
t him down and flinching when the man’s beast hissed.
“They were here recently,” she said, flicking out her tongue. “They’re still nearby.”
Her sense of smell must be incredible, Loretta thought, thankful for the scent boxes the merchant had positioned around the room. Were it not for them, her party most certainly would have been discovered.
“That’s right,” said the leafy canine beast with a nod, nostrils flaring. “They’ve got to be close.” She sniffed the air several times, sweeping twice over them, then settling upon Loretta. She narrowed her eyes and took a long inhale, as if trusting her nose more than her other senses. Loretta tried very hard not to make any noise.
A scream rent the night.
Both men exchanged glances, then hurried from the room, followed by their beasts.
The scream had come from nearby. The heirs! The men had said one of them was sick. Loretta felt Moreau’s mental readiness, and took off through the door—only to nearly have her head taken off by the stroke of a cutlass.
Loretta’s heightened reflexes only just allowed her to react in time to the glint of lamplight on the blade. She twisted backward, letting herself fall to her knees, momentum carrying her forward so that she slid into the hall. She transformed her slide into a neat recovery, raising to her feet and pivoting in the same fluid motion, which she used to draw her saber.
The leafy dog beast who had been hidden behind the edge of the doorframe could not react in time. The beast spun, bringing her cutlass around in a chopping motion that Loretta easily avoided before she opened her enemy’s throat in a spray of blood. Up close, she twisted her blade back into position and slid it through the beast’s gut to kill her quickly. Just because she was dying did not mean she wasn’t dangerous. Dead was better.
Loretta glanced over just in time to find the brigand keeper raising a pistol at her. She leapt forward and slashed his wrist. The blade was not the kind meant to cleave bone, but it severed the artery and tendons in his wrist well enough. The firearm fell to the floor with a clatter, and the man screamed. Or tried to. Loretta had never stopped moving and lunged forward, clamping her fangs on his throat.
Beautiful Beasts Page 18
