Casting Souls

by Becca Andre

  No, we’re in this together, she insisted.

  He shared a mix of gratitude and pleasure, but also sadness and concern. Before more could be shared, Tristan asked a question.

  Grayson turned back to instructing the young man, and Briar picked up on his enjoyment. This was what Grayson was meant to do. He loved to tinker and invent and share that enthusiasm with like-minded individuals.

  She smiled as she watched him and Tristan put their heads together over that watch.

  When his shirt cuff knocked a screwdriver to the floor, Tristan took a moment to unbutton both his cuffs and roll up his sleeves. Intent on what Grayson was saying, he didn’t notice Briar’s reaction when he revealed his forearms. Both were covered in large patches of silver metal. Or more accurately, the skin had receded to free the metal beneath.

  However, Grayson caught her reaction and his awareness brushed hers. He didn’t offer pointless platitudes or tell her everything would be all right. Instead, he mourned with her over this unhappy situation.

  How bad is he? she asked. Can you sense it?

  The rest of his body is much like his arms. The visible soul iron is oddly irregular, but maybe it works that way for one without a construct.

  The notion of it being that widespread turned her stomach.

  At least, it spared most of his face, Grayson added.

  True. She watched the light glint off Tristan’s forearms as he worked on the watch. Solon wasn’t exaggerating, was he? Solon had told them that Tristan was devolving rapidly and didn’t have much longer.

  No, he wasn’t, Grayson agreed.

  To be so bad off, Tristan isn’t cold at all.

  Again, all I’ve known are those with constructs.

  Curious. She hadn’t expected there to be a difference. What did it mean, if anything?

  Movement drew her attention to the door, and she groaned inwardly as Solon stepped into the room.

  “What’s going on here?” Solon asked. He didn’t sound angry, but it was more than just idle curiosity. Briar suspected that it genuinely worried him to find Tristan alone in their company. Did he really think they would harm the boy?

  “Hey, Dad,” Tristan greeted him, not picking up on the undercurrents. Or perhaps they were so common with Solon that he didn’t notice. “I’m learning how to repair a pocket watch—with a screwdriver.”

  “Why?” Solon moved closer to the table. He didn’t seem annoyed or upset by the diversion. Oddly, he seemed amused.

  “Why not?” Tristan asked, passing the screwdriver back to Grayson. “It’s surprisingly difficult.”

  Solon grunted. “You do find some strange ways to spend your time. First fishing, and now this?”

  Tristan looked up. “Can I go fishing?”

  “There’s a chimera on the loose.”

  “Maybe someone can go with me. Your soulless?”

  “Neither the soulless nor a fellow ferromancer would fare well against one of those, as you know.”

  “Right.” Tristan looked down at the mention of the man they’d lost last night.

  “I could ask Perseus to go with them,” Briar spoke up. “I’m not that thrilled about Benji going fishing on his own, either.”

  Solon’s gaze shifted to her, a frown now conveying anger. “I will not leave my son in the company of Scourge.”

  “He’s oath-sworn to Briar,” Grayson said, his attention on the pocket watch.

  Solon’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Oath-sworn? I thought she wasn’t ferra.”

  “She still shares a lot of their abilities. Besides, Perseus already defended Tristan once against that chimera. It bolted when he displayed his power.”

  “Can I go, Dad?” Tristan asked, almost bouncing in place. “Grayson designed lures that attract the fish. I want to see how they work in the water.”

  That hint of amusement returned to Solon’s features. “Grayson has some odd proclivities for a ferromancer.”

  Tristan frowned, not catching the teasing note. “I like to design things, too.”

  Solon chuckled. “I’m well aware of that.” He held up a hand when Tristan started to speak. “We can discuss the fishing excursion later. Right now, you need to clean up for supper.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tristan brushed down his sleeves and headed for the door, a smile on his face. Perhaps Solon was the type to give in.

  Tristan closed the door when he left, and Solon’s smile vanished. He turned a glare on the two of them.

  “I do not need your assistance, Miss Rose.”

  “Don’t be sore.” She winked at her reference to kneeing him earlier.

  Solon pressed his lips into a fine line, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “It’s a good thing I find you useful.”

  “Solon.” Grayson’s voice held a warning note.

  “This is getting tiresome,” Solon complained. He eyed Grayson a moment before he continued. “Orson believes you succeeded in doing for him what you did for me.”

  “At the price of his own devolvement,” Briar spoke up. “This is not a solution.”

  Solon didn’t even glance at her. “You will, of course, repeat this for Tristan.”

  “No,” Briar said.

  This time, Solon spun to face her, and Grayson was on his feet in an instant. The pair stood toe to toe, and Briar expected punches to be thrown. Instead, they simply held that stance for several seconds.

  “I want to experiment a little more,” she said. “See if I can channel that particular power of his the same way I am able to channel his ability to heal. Maybe he can avoid the side effects that way.” If she could channel his ability to stop another’s devolvement, perhaps Grayson wouldn’t have to sacrifice more of his flesh to help another.

  “What if you absorb those side effects instead?” Grayson asked.

  “My Scourge ancestry will protect me.” After all, Scourge were immune to a ferromancer’s ability to turn their flesh to metal.

  “We don’t know that,” Grayson insisted. “As I’ve told you many times, you feel human.”

  Briar sighed at the exact same moment Solon did, though his eye roll suggested that he was annoyed rather than frustrated, as she was.

  “You will stop Tristan’s devolvement,” Solon said.

  “Of course,” Grayson agreed.

  “Eventually,” Briar added, then held up a hand when Solon started to speak. “Think about it. If I can get this to work, we can help more than just Tristan. Maybe we can help everyone. But we lose the opportunity if you push Grayson too far.”

  “You can command him,” Solon suggested.

  “Actually, once he gets too far gone, I can’t. I’m not truly ferra, remember?”

  Solon frowned. “Then he can make a few soulless and continue.”

  “No.” Grayson beat her to the objection this time.

  “Not even to spare your brothers their fate?” Solon asked. “I bet we could locate a few miscreants who would deserve such treatment.”

  Grayson shook his head. “I won’t do it.”

  “That’s your decision.” Solon folded his hands behind his back. “The gala is tomorrow evening. You better have it figured out by then.”

  “But—” Briar began.

  “No more excuses.” Solon started for the door. “Dinner will be served in ten minutes. I expect you to be on time for that as well.” Without waiting for their response, he left the room.

  Chapter 9

  Briar clenched her fists. “That arrogant son of a bitch. It isn’t like we’re not going to help Tristan. We just need a little more time to figure this out.”

  Grayson turned back to the table and began to pack away his things. She thought he might comment on the situation, but he kept his attention on his tools, securing the small black bag a moment later.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.r />
  He shook his head. “I do not see a good end to all of this.”

  “Not unless we create one.”

  He looked up.

  She stepped closer, then rolled up on her toes to kiss him. Which he had no problem responding to. He pulled her to him, deepening the kiss.

  A throat cleared from the doorway, and Briar stepped back quickly. To her relief, it was only Andrew.

  “Master Solon directed me to come fetch you, Mr. Martel.”

  “He told me ten minutes,” Grayson answered, his tone cool.

  “Yes, sir,” Andrew agreed, then turned a frown on her. “It shames me to see you acting the harlot, Bridget.”

  “Harlot?” Grayson demanded. He took a step toward Andrew, but Briar grabbed his arm.

  “Please tell your master that we are on our way,” Briar said to Andrew. “I’m sure he is anxious to hear such a report.”

  Andrew straightened. “Yes, of course, and I shall be the one to tell him.” He turned and hurried away.

  Grayson’s angry gaze left the doorway for her. “I won’t have him speak that way about you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. That is no longer my cousin—aside from occasionally sounding like him. The Andrew I knew is gone.”

  Grayson’s frown softened. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “It’s of no matter. I never really liked him anyway.”

  “But you wished that perhaps he would come around. Be the family you lacked.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t hide anything from you.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “If you know anything, it’s because I shared.”

  “Or I understand you.”

  “I’m just glad you don’t think me crazy for wanting a relationship with my cousin.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. I understand what it’s like to long for family.”

  “Are you saying my world is as screwed up as yours?” she teased.

  “Maybe it’s not that bad.”

  She smiled, but the teasing didn’t relieve her embarrassment. Grayson might understand, but she still felt stupid for wanting a normal relationship with Andrew. Rather than discuss it, she changed the topic. “Shall we show up late and annoy Solon, or go now?”

  Grayson sighed. “I’m tired of conflict. Besides, I’m hungry.”

  She laughed. “Me, too.”

  He returned the smile, and they left the library hand in hand.

  It turned out that Orson and Felipe weren’t the only ferromancers staying in the carriage house. Another man showed up after supper. He wore a hooded cloak, which he did not remove.

  Upon arriving in the parlor, he greeted Grayson quietly, then retreated to a chair in the corner. Briar could tell by the expression on Grayson’s face that he knew him, or had known him once.

  Brandy glasses were filled, and talk turned to old friends and events in distant parts of the world. Even Grayson joined in.

  Feeling very much like an outsider, Briar was considering an early retreat to her room when Tristan approached her, a deck of cards in hand.

  “Would you care for a game, Miss Rose?” He gestured with the cards.

  “Certainly.” She smiled her gratitude. “I’m afraid I can’t add much to the conversation around here.”

  Tristan shrugged one shoulder. “Most of the time, I just sit and listen.”

  “But I bet you follow the conversation better than I can. I’m not all that worldly.”

  “We moved around a lot.” Tristan took a seat across from her at the table. “But for most of it, I was too young to understand what was going on, or where we were.”

  “How long have you lived in this country?”

  “Almost three years.”

  “Huh.” He’d been here as long as Grayson. He was probably here because of Grayson.

  He began to shuffle the cards, the movement sure and born of much experience.

  “You play cards often?” she asked.

  “Usually solitaire.” He tapped the deck on the table to straighten it, then began to deal. “It’s nice to play with someone else for a change.”

  He dealt the cards, and for a few minutes, they focused on the game.

  “Dad said that Grayson stopped Orson’s devolvement—or so they think.”

  “That’s the belief, but I guess only time will tell.” She shrugged, trying to pretend that all had gone well. She didn’t want to burden Tristan with her troubles.

  Tristan glanced over at the others. “I know Dad made him come here to help me.”

  “Your father is concerned about you, yes.”

  The others laughed at some joke, Orson the loudest. He’d been all smiles this evening, and had even been polite to her. He must have gotten over his guilt at making Grayson devolve.

  “I wish Dad wasn’t so concerned,” Tristan muttered. “He’s always so overprotective.”

  “Like your request to go fishing?”

  “Exactly.” He turned back to his cards, a frustrated scowl on his features.

  They played a couple more hands, and Briar was just starting to feel comfortable when the cloaked figure joined them. He stopped beside the table, but remained silent.

  “You need to speak, Urs,” Tristan said. “Standing over someone and just staring makes them uncomfortable.”

  “My apologies,” the cloaked man—Urs?—said in a cool voice, the metallic resonance reminding Briar far too much of Farran.

  “This is Urs, Miss Rose.” Tristan looked up at the man. “Would you like to join us?”

  “I do not see the point.”

  “It’s a distraction,” Tristan answered.

  “From?”

  “Dull conversation.” Tristan gave her a wink, and she chewed her lip to keep from laughing. He seemed so at ease this evening. Perhaps he had simply gotten used to her, or the half-empty glass of brandy at his elbow had loosened his tongue.

  “I do not need conversation to be entertaining. Merely, informative,” Urs said.

  Tristan shuffled the cards, then tapped them on the table. “So do you want in, or not?”

  “I wish to witness Miss Rose’s ability. It shouldn’t be possible that she can channel through music.”

  Tristan’s attention turned to her, his expression hopeful. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that myself. Or hearing it, I guess.”

  “I don’t mind, if no one else is opposed,” she said. Solon might not be too keen on the idea since she had kneed him the last time.

  Tristan nodded and rose to his feet, then walked over to his father, who was deep in conversation with the others. Briar knew just when Tristan asked the question because the others all turned to stare at her.

  Briar got to her feet, half tempted to flee, but an encouraging look from Grayson kept her in place. He picked up her fiddle case that still lay were she’d left it that afternoon, and carried it over to her. “A little after-dinner music?” he teased.

  “I’m used to it. The crew often asks me to play after supper.” She went along with the joke, trying to hide how nervous she was.

  He set the case on the table where she and Tristan had been playing cards and opened it for her.

  “What am I to play?” she asked.

  Grayson addressed the others. “What sort of demonstration would you like?”

  “Shall we see what she can do for Felipe?” Orson suggested.

  Felipe stood straighter, excited by the opportunity.

  Briar turned to Solon. “I thought we discussed this.”

  “We did,” Solon answered. “You said you wished to try channeling Drake’s gift. Here is the opportunity, and a willing test subject.” Solon clapped Felipe on the shoulder.

  “Very willing,” Felipe agreed. “She d
id me no harm earlier—aside from wanting to follow her around like a lost puppy for about half an hour.”

  Orson chuckled. “You do that around every pretty girl you meet.”

  Felipe’s cheeks turned red, and he swatted Orson on the arm. The banter was so human it surprised Briar. She could easily envision her crew having this conversation. She was beginning to think that most ferromancers really were like other men.

  The thought had no sooner crossed her mind, when Andrew stepped into the room, carrying a fresh bottle of brandy.

  No, ferromancers might seem human, but they truly weren’t.

  “You may begin,” Solon said to her.

  Briar wanted to protest that she didn’t need his permission, but decided she didn’t want to start another fight.

  She glanced over at Grayson and found him removing his coat. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to spare my wardrobe.” He tugged loose his tie.

  “But—”

  “I had to change to do this before.”

  “Shall I merge with my construct?” Felipe asked.

  “No,” Briar quickly answered. “At least, I don’t think so.” Merging would cause him to devolve, if she failed to help him, she didn’t want to leave him worse off.

  Grayson removed his waistcoat and pulled his shirt tails from his pants.

  “It’s fine if you want to spare your clothes,” she said. “But don’t do anything else. Let me try first.”

  “Of course,” he said easily.

  She rosined her bow while he worked on his shirt buttons. God, she hoped this worked. If she could stop the ferromancers’ devolvement, maybe Solon would leave them in peace. And if she could stop Grayson’s devolvement as well…

  Grayson pulled off his shirt, then turned to drape it over the chair that held his coat. The newly exposed metal winked in the lamp light. Even if she stopped his devolvement, he would have to create another soulless, absorbing that one’s humanity, to remove all that metal.

  Grayson faced her, and she was glad she’d learned to control her ability to share her emotions. She didn’t want him privy to those thoughts.