Octavia climbed the stairs to her room in a daze. She flung herself on her bed. Khun wrapped himself into a comforting ball and slept on the pillow beside her head while she swallowed tears and stared at the wall.
Octavia reached across to Drusus, but his side of the bed was empty. Her eyes fluttered open and she wiped them dry with her hands. Lucy had been on her mind. Today was the day Octavia had to tell Drusus. She had delayed the story as long as she could because he would not understand. He would hate her. Well, he couldn’t hate her any more than she hated herself, but there was no other way. Octavia had played it over and over. Lucy was weak, Ra was strong, and the only result was Ra would wreak havoc. That could not be allowed.
She shifted, the bed creaking as she turned toward the window. The morning rays crossed her white gown and rumpled sheets. She closed her eyes. Octavia had meant to tell Drusus after their first night together as they were planning the Grand Tour. As each city passed behind them, as they moved through Paris, Rome, Firenze, and Venice, she wanted to tell him.
Lucy would never tell Drusus. She was a little mouse, tongue-tied around the Hathersage villagers, struck dumb by such a perfect figure as Drusus Claudian presented. Lucy answered what questions he put to her no more than was necessary. Drusus was a kind man who tried to draw her out, but Lucy smiled shyly and looked at her feet. Sometimes Octavia wondered if Father was right, if Lucy was a little simple.
For a short time, Octavia harbored a fantasy their Grand Tour might be typical, a new husband and wife learning about each other as best they could, given demonic curses, alliances between magical families, and the crushing discomfort of sharing a bed with a stranger. Many a marriage had started with disadvantages as serious as these and the couples had become united, happy partners. They were off to a good start. Drusus was genial, she was compliant, and they were passionate together. Today, Octavia would throw their relationship away.
Father ordered Octavia to wait for a month after the wedding for the Grand Tour. Start in September, detour to Alexandria so Lucy could visit the angel at Erasmus’ temple. Return by October’s end and come home for Lucy’s Trial. Accompanying family was not uncommon on the Grand Tour, and Lucy did have to journey to Alexandria to prepare.
Octavia had to tell Drusus about their detour. She had to tell him what a Binder Trial was and then prepare him for Lucy’s loss. She had to explain her duty, how each Binder generation solved its own problems.
Octavia lifted the nightgown over her shoulders, went to the washstand, and scrubbed off sleep, romance, and Venice. Eyes from the shadows watched her as she scrubbed over her arms and across her neck. Turning away from the shadows and the window, she shielded herself. These feelings wouldn’t do. She was married now. She threw soap at the corner, and there was a rustling in return. “I am the mistress.” She repeated the mantra. “I am the mistress. I am in control. You will stop talking to me. You will go away.”
She dressed herself as much as she could, as far as her undershift, and as she was about to ring the bell for help, the door to their outer room opened. She scrambled into her robe and peered into the sitting area.
Drusus set a tray on the table for her, laden with fruit, bread, and cheese. These Venetians had no idea of breakfast.
She shook her head. “There are servants here.”
Drusus removed his jacket. “I am your servant. Let me help you dress. Unless…?”
He crossed the room in his shirtsleeves and vest. He pulled her in and kissed her, smooth but firm, tasting like oranges.
“No,” Octavia said. “I’ve just washed. What will people think if we spend all day in our room?”
“Do you care?”
“No.” She managed a smile. “But Lucy. What will she think?”
He tilted his head, an intimate bow. “I concede it would be a miserable day for your sister to spend by herself. We would be most ungracious if we didn’t join her. Let me help you dress.”
“You don’t know the slightest thing about my clothes,” said Octavia. There was a girl who helped at the Danieli Hotel with the ladies, and even though the girl was afraid, Octavia still needed her hair done. She sat down and plucked a grape. “Drusus, we must talk.”
Drusus’ brow wrinkled. “So formal.”
“This is important.” Octavia took a deep breath. It had to be done. “I have to tell you about Lucy.”
“What about Lucy?”
Octavia played with a roll, grinding it between her fingers. “You know about our magic? When we are born, if a demon shows up during the first day, we are Binders and we enter into a contract to battle the demon.”
Drusus sat across from her. “I understand you manipulate demons and infernal magic, like I command weather magic. Your power source is questionable, but yours is not the only magical family with a dark history.”
“We are not normal demonologists, Drusus. Our ancestor Erasmus Klaereon, for reasons which are not clear to me, entered into a contract with demons imprisoned in the Abyss by King Solomon.”
“Fallen angels? Like Lucifer and his followers?”
“No. These demons were banished by Solomon. Ours is a lifelong partnership with those demons. When we are children, an aspect of those demons is present with us, like pets or familiars. They protect us until we battle them at age sixteen and they reveal their true natures to us. Lucy is almost sixteen.”
“At the end of the month.”
Octavia nodded. “On October 31. We have the same birthday as our father and his brother. All Klaereons who are Binders are born on that day.” Octavia threw the roll onto the tray. “Drusus, you have noticed Lucy is… not like the rest of us. She’s simple and uncomplicated.”
“She’s modest, Octavia. She’s brave, though, and if she’s got half your character, she’ll be fine.”
Half Octavia’s character? Drusus overestimated Octavia. She rubbed her eyes. “You mean well, I know, but you have to understand. Lucy is not a talented Binder. She has never been able to master the ritual magic needed to Bind Ra. She has no friends who will stand up with her, no Anchor who will root her to herself when Ra tries to take her over.”
“Stop.” Drusus raised his hands. “I’m confused. Ra will try to take her over?”
“When a Binder fights their demon, there are a few possible outcomes. Ideally, the Binder wins, and the demon is Bound and returned to the Abyss, only to come when we summon it for magic. The second option is if the Binder defeats the demon, but the demon is brutal or cruel, we can Banish it, severing our tie and never allowing it to return. Third and worst of all, the demon can conquer us, and we are Bound. Then we are the demon’s puppet. This is Lucy’s fate. She is ill-prepared for the Trial.”
Drusus shook his head. He placed his hand on Octavia’s arm. “This is serious. I wish you’d told me sooner. There’s very little time to help Lucy. What do we need to do?”
Octavia blinked. How to make him understand? “Drusus, there’s nothing we can do. Lucy has to do everything, and she’s going to fail. Even if there is an Anchor present at her Trial, the confrontation is between her and Ra. She is so weak a Binder, Ra will win. Then she is… a problem.”
“Octavia, we will make sure Lucy doesn’t lose.”
“You don’t understand how it works. We can’t do anything except clean up her mistakes.”
Drusus’ jaw set. “What do you mean?”
“Each Binder generation is responsible for any mistakes. When Ra possesses Lucy, I have to… that is, I must… Drusus, it won’t even be Lucy anymore. It will be Ra.”
“Are you saying you have to kill your sister?”
“My sister will already be dead.” Octavia stood, hands resting on the table, staring at Drusus. “Do you understand?”
Drusus ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Tousled hair made him look impossibly handsome. “You’re going to kill your sister. You’ve already decided she will lose and you’re going to kill her.”
“She will lose,” said Oc
tavia. “This is inevitable. This is my responsibility. Do you think I enjoy the prospect of killing Lucy? What do you take me for?”
“What if Lucy wins and she banishes Ra?”
“That’s a dream. A fool’s dream.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know anything about it!”
“Let me understand you clearly.” Drusus’ speech was precise. His eyes flashed with electricity. She had not seen him upset before, but had heard this could happen with weather wizards. “You can stand there and tell me even though you know your sister will lose this Trial, rather than find a way around this problem and help her, what you have decided is to wait until the moment of crisis has passed and then kill her. Do I understand you?”
Octavia staggered away from the table. His words had slapped her across the face. “I—there’s nothing I can do. Nothing!”
“Why don’t I give you some few moments to reconsider your statement, Mrs. Claudian? When I return after I have spoken to your sister, we will make an attempt to reshape your opinions on the matter.” He spun away. She watched him open the door. As it slammed, the frame vibrated.
She had never considered she might be able to help Lucy avoid her fate. Her father had made it clear to Octavia that Lucy’s victory was impossible, but to hear Drusus speak with such conviction made her doubt. She paused. No, her father was right. There was no choice. Ra was much more powerful than Lucy. Drusus did not understand no one was able to interfere with the ritual. This was something a Binder had to see to themselves, once in the circle of power, all alone.
Octavia stepped out onto the balcony, clutching her robe. Although it was a clear morning, a frigid wind whistled down the canal between their pension and its neighboring building. Her robe flickered between the gaps of the balcony’s railing as she listened to the hollow slosh of the water threading through the narrow gap between the Danieli and the Gothic home next door. If the Venetian on the landing downstairs looked up, he would see a woman improperly dressed. If the Venetian were closer, he would see albino-white skin laced with blue veins, coal black hair, and unnaturally pale blue eyes. If the Venetian peered even closer, he would cross himself and run away.
Octavia understood these facts. Drusus understood nothing.
“Octavia!” Drusus’ voice shafted through the window.
She blinked and hoped he wouldn’t notice her tear tracks. In the main room, her husband fought his way into his jacket and pulled on his gloves. “What is it?”
“Lucy did not return yesterday.”
Octavia shook her head. “She’ll be fine, Drusus. Ra won’t let anything happen to her. We are very safe with our demons. They are like our guardians.”
Drusus stared at her. “Mrs. Claudian, do you suppose she might run away, knowing what you and your family think about her chances to survive this Trial? Does she know what you think?”
Octavia’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought Lucy would take matters into her own hands. “I’ll finish dressing and see if there are any clues in her room.”
Drusus’ nod was curt. “I will talk to the Austrian garrison.”
A few moments after Drusus left, a maid from the Danieli arrived to help Octavia prepare for the day. As the maid tried to avoid touching Octavia while dressing her, Octavia asked her if she knew where Lucy might be.
The maid shrugged. She finished lacing the dress and hurried out. The help from the Danieli did not know English. Octavia hid her less than perfect hair under a bonnet and lowered a veil across her face.
She went into the hallway, toward Lucy’s room. It was possible Drusus hadn’t seen Lucy, and Lucy had been in the dining room the whole time. She could be sitting on the window seat in her bedroom, watching Ra as he hunted. Lucy’s notebook was full of sketches of Ra, his talons filled with limp mice or sliced birds. The notebook was horrible, but Octavia had to admit Lucy had talent.
In the room, there was no sign of Lucy. Octavia chewed on her lower lip and approached two men conversing in Venetian, one lounging near the concierge’s desk, the other in a formal black suit, his hands clasped on the counter. The language washed over Octavia like a formal dance. “Excuse me. I am looking for my sister, Signorina Klaereon. She is a small girl.”
“Signorina Lucia, yes?” The concierge’s bright eyes studied Octavia over his thin mustache. His clasped hands tightened. “She left her key. She went out for the day yesterday.”
Panic fluttered in Octavia’s chest. “She didn’t come back?”
“She did not.”
“Thank you.” Octavia went back into Lucy’s room, closed the door, and leaned against it, her pale hands touching the handle’s ornate ridges. Lucy, out by herself, overnight. Octavia let her chest rise and fall, calming herself. Honestly, what hardship could befall her sister? Ra followed her and he wouldn’t allow her to come to any misfortune. Maybe Lucy needed one night alone. The Trial did strange things to you, Octavia knew. No harm done if Lucy came home. Octavia could give Lucy one day, no questions asked. One mystery to take with her before the end of her short, sad life.
CHAPTER THREE
Lucy opened her eyes and clawed the blanket off her face, trying to breathe. Sunlight speckled in from a dirty window, rays highlighting the frescoes, yellow flowers against the hallway’s green walls.
Octavia!
The room came more into focus. No, Octavia was not here. She couldn’t breathe because she had been drowning. Where was she now?
A dog bounded from the floor and jumped on her. Her heart thumped. Its paws pressed down on her ribs.
“Peppo!”
Beyond the small dog, a young man in shirtsleeves and suspenders, rough and gangly, stared at her from the doorway. His shirt’s open neck made her look away. The dog jumped to the floor and ran over to the boy. Lucy thought of Khun wandering to Octavia when she was small and his aspect was a puppy.
She inched up to sitting, her body stiff and bruised, and pulled the blanket to her neck. It would not be appropriate for the boy to see her in this nightgown. Of all the things she could have expected if she had failed, Lucy had never considered the idea she might fall into the clutches of a Venetian.
“Do not be afraid,” the boy said. At least he could speak English, even if he didn’t have enough breeding to know he shouldn’t stare at her.
“Who are you?” she whispered. She meant to speak up, but her voice wouldn’t cooperate with her.
“Carlo Borgia. This is my family’s home. You are safe.”
There had to be more to this than there appeared. No person would want to bring a Binder home, and yet here she was.
“Your bird,” Carlo Borgia continued, “he is here, too. My grandfather is an apothecary and believes you are well, although you have damaged your throat, and no doubt your ribs and lungs are in pain. We can bring a doctor here, if you like, or contact your people. You are English? Maybe you are traveling with your family?”
Borgia. Borgia. One of the old European magical families? She tried to hide further under the blankets.
“Your clothes were very ruined,” said Carlo Borgia. “I can get you some other clothes, but in this neighborhood, they will be child’s clothes. And you are not a child?”
“No.” Lucy blushed.
Carlo reddened in return. His eyes moved away from her and toward the ceiling. “It was the clothes you were wearing. Not children’s style. So, where is your family staying?”
Lucy tried to sit up more and little brown dots danced before her eyes. She lay down and covered her eyes with a forearm. “I am traveling by myself.” Her voice grew stronger.
“Please excuse me to be doubting an English lady, but you are not by yourself.”
“Where is Ra?” Her crackling voice hurt her ears.
“Ra?”
“The bird,” she said. She uncovered her eyes.
“He is outside.”
Lucy fought her way to sitting again. “We will be on our way, then, if I can have some
clothes.”
“No,” said Carlo. “I don’t think you should go just yet. You almost died.”
Lucy smiled at him. He wasn’t handsome like Drusus. He felt comfortable, though, which puzzled her. Usually talking to other people made her voice squeak. She had little practice. “If I learned anything last night, I found I’m not allowed to die.”
The silence became awkward. Carlo tried again. “Do you want something for pain? Are you thirsty? My mother wants you to have some soup. You want some soup? Grandpa has put things in it that are good for your throat. Or I could make you some tea?”
“Aren’t you afraid of me?” Lucy asked.
“Che cosa?”
Lucy had startled him into his own language. “You know what I am?” Her throat ached.
Carlo scratched his head. “Ah,” he said. “Everyone else seems to, but they’re keeping it from me. You should stay. Maybe you want to try to kill yourself again?”
“No. I don’t want to kill myself again.”
“Si. You jumped into the canal. Yes, I think so. Last night was a surprise. Your bird wants to kill you. Maybe you don’t want the bird to kill you. Maybe you don’t want to fight the bird, so you want to kill yourself, because you don’t want to be killed by a demon?” Carlo leaned against the doorway.
“How do you know about demons? You said you knew nothing.”
Carlo blushed. “My grandpa and my mama, they spoke. I eavesdropped. Why did you jump?”
“I will lose,” said Lucy. “I would rather die than lose.”
“Let me help you.” Carlo stood up straighter. “I am a magician.”
Lucy bit her lip. This lanky boy did not look like a magician.
Carlo scratched his neck. “Maybe I should say I think I am descended from magicians. Right now, I am an apothecary in training, but I did rescue you. I am responsible for you.”
“You rescued me?”
“Yes. Sorry. I mean, not sorry. You rest and things will be better. My grandfather and I, we might be of some use to you.”
The Vessel of Ra Page 3