by Becca Andre
Briar gripped the handle of her fiddle case, but there was nothing she could do. Even if she tried, she couldn’t get the instrument out before Lucrezia fired.
Suddenly, Agatha stepped in front of her.
“Agatha, don’t.” Briar gripped her arm. “She’s a lunatic. She’s liable to shoot you with soul fire.”
“Calm down, Lucrezia,” Agatha said, surprising Briar that she knew the woman. Or maybe not. Agatha seemed well-known to the rest of these women.
“I will not,” Lucrezia all but screamed. “She used her vile human magic to take the drake from me.” She lifted her chin. “I will not stand for it.”
“That is not what this is about,” Agatha said.
“In a sense, it is,” the blonde woman said, moving up beside Lucrezia. “We are here to reclaim the men who were taken from us.”
“Taken from you by a ferromancer,” Agatha said.
“Whose son is now ours,” Lucrezia said. “Thanks to me.”
Briar chided herself for not suspecting her. “The chimera is yours.”
“Of course.” Lucrezia preened. “I have provided the solution. Solon will do as we command, or the son will pay the price.”
Chapter 13
“No,” Briar spoke up. “Leave Tristan out of this. I can give Solon what he wants. What you all want.”
“And what is that, human?” Lucrezia sneered.
“I can stop a ferromancer’s devolvement.”
“Not possible.”
“It’s true,” Briar insisted. “I’ve already done it once.”
Another burst of conversation followed this pronouncement.
“How is it that we’re just now learning of this when the girl is grown?” the blonde woman asked.
“We thought she was only human,” Agatha explained. She smiled at Briar. “Then she met a ferromancer.”
Lucrezia crossed her arms and gave them a glare.
“This is unprecedented,” Colette said to Agatha. “You’ve kept entirely too much to yourself.”
“As I said,” Agatha answered calmly, “we thought she was human until a few weeks ago. Liam tested her with soul iron many times over the years. She had no affinity for it. Why would I even consider testing her with a soul-iron violin?”
“This I’ve got to see.” The blonde woman crossed her arms, looking smug. She didn’t believe it was true.
“No, you don’t,” Lucrezia insisted. “She can mesmerize with that thing. As astonishing as it sounds, she did it to me.” She clearly didn’t like confessing that.
“She can affect the ferra?” another asked.
“She can affect everyone,” Agatha said. The hint of pride in her words surprised Briar. “Ferra, half-bloods, ferromancers, and even humans.” Liam really had sent her a full report at some point.
“Humans?” the blonde asked.
“She can even heal them,” Agatha said.
“I’m just channeling Grayson’s magic for that,” Briar clarified.
“Grayson?” the blonde woman asked.
“Grayson Drake,” Agatha clarified. She didn’t wait for the conversation to die down this time. “Go ahead, Briar.”
Briar walked to a side table and set down the case. Opening it, she took out her bow and her fiddle.
“No!” Lucrezia shouted. “Don’t let her play.”
“Wait.” Colette held up a hand. “As much as it surprises me to say this, Lucrezia does have a point.”
The comment got a glare from Lucrezia, but the others mumbled their agreement.
“This isn’t my idea,” Briar insisted. “I have no desire to attack anyone. We’re on the same side. I want what you want.”
“And what exactly is that?” the blonde asked.
“I told you: to stop the devolvement of the ferromancers. I’ve done it.”
“Bullshit,” Lucrezia declared.
“It’s true,” Briar insisted.
“Then let her prove it,” Colette said. She didn’t give Briar a chance to reply. She made a gesture, and one of the young women near the edge of the group hurried from the room.
“What’s going on?” Briar glanced at Agatha. “What do you want me to do?”
“You will demonstrate your talent on Leon’s son,” Colette answered.
“Tristan?” So he was on the boat. “Stopping a ferromancer’s devolvement is something that Grayson and I do together,” Briar hedged. She might be able to do for Tristan what she’d done for Felipe, but that had caused Grayson to devolve.
“By all means, call Drake here,” Lucrezia said with a smile.
Briar glared at the woman.
“If you are lying and can’t do as you claim,” Colette said to Briar, “we will continue as planned.”
“And what plan is that?”
“We will send the father pieces of the son until he turns over the whereabouts of the others.”
Briar stared at the woman. “You can’t be serious.”
“Try me.” Her cool gray eyes held Briar’s without a lick of warmth. Farran’s gaze had been friendlier. “This man has single-handedly decimated our already dying race. We will do whatever we must to stop him.”
Briar didn’t know the woman at all, but she had no doubt that she was serious. She couldn’t leave Tristan at the mercy of these women.
“All right,” Briar agreed. “I’ll try, but I’ve never done this on my own.”
“Hopefully, for his sake, you’re a fast learner.”
Briar held her gaze, then glanced down at the fiddle she held, an idea forming. Could she mesmerize so many powerful women with just her simple wooden fiddle? Even strung with soul-iron strings, she wasn’t sure.
She returned her fiddle to its case.
“What are you doing?” Colette asked.
“I can’t do this with a mundane instrument. I need to channel Grayson’s—Drake’s magic for this.”
“What—”
Briar held up a finger, silencing her.
Lock?
They couldn’t harm him. With the exception of Lucrezia, none of them were strong enough to take him from her—and she didn’t think Lucrezia could unless Briar released him. Besides, if things went south, she stood a better chance with a fiddle in her hand.
A faint tingle against her skin was accompanied by uncertainty. He knew there were a lot of unfamiliar people around them.
I know. It’ll be all right.
The usual burst of static encircled her throat, and an instant later, Lock’s slight weight settled on her shoulder.
“Dear God,” the woman who’d opened the door for them gasped. “That is the drake’s construct.”
Lock huddled against the side of Briar’s throat.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered to him. “Be the fiddle.”
He leapt into the air, morphing as he fell.
Briar caught the silver fiddle by the neck.
“He has multiple alternative forms?” the blonde asked, her eyes wide.
“There’s no limit to what he can be,” Briar answered.
This set off another flurry of conversation.
“You wouldn’t happen to be related to a ferra by the name of Esme, would you?” Briar asked the blonde.
“Sister.” The woman sneered. “Thank you for that unpleasant reminder.”
Briar guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. Esme had been banished, after all. “You do know that Tristan is her son.”
“Yes. So?” Her cool blue-gray eyes met Briar’s. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Apparently, she didn’t care that they were going to cut up her nephew and send bits of him to his father.
“I guess not,” Briar answered.
The door opened, and a man who appeared to be a guardsman stepped into the room, pulling Tri
stan along with him. The young man wore a night shirt over a pair of too-long trousers, but he seemed otherwise all right. He held his hands behind his back where Briar suspected he was bound.
He looked up and saw her, and his blue-gray eyes widened. “Briar?”
“Hey, Tristan.” She offered a reassuring smile. “Just hang on.”
His brow wrinkled, and it was evident that he didn’t understand what was going on here. He gave the rest of the room a worried glance, and Briar noticed that several of the women had drawn their styluses. Perhaps it was out of respect for Tristan’s father. Briar didn’t see how anyone could think him a threat.
“Unbind him and remove his shirt,” Colette said to the guardsman. “That way, we can judge whether she’s telling the truth.”
The guardsman pulled a knife from his belt and stepped around behind Tristan. The young man’s eyes widened.
“I’m going to stop your devolvement, Tristan,” Briar explained. “They want to bear witness.”
“You’re working with the ferra?” he asked.
“I’m not working with anyone. I simply want to help you.” Help get him away from these women.
The guardsman cut away the rope binding Tristan’s wrists. “Remove your shirt.”
Tristan did as told, revealing a lean chest covered in a patchwork of silver. Briar was shocked by his degree of devolvement, but none of the women said a word.
“Go ahead, Briar,” Agatha encouraged her. “Show them that you are the savior of this race.” She gave Briar a teary smile. “They will follow you anywhere,” she whispered.
Briar brought the silver fiddle to her chin, but hesitated. Yes, she could turn her music on them, and incapacitate them enough to let her and Tristan escape, but what if she could get these women on her side? Perseus had suggested as much, and she had liked the idea at the time. But could she help Tristan without harming Grayson?
She flexed her fingers, then drew the bow across the fiddle strings. The ethereal sound filled the room, the tone like no human-made instrument. She heard a couple of muttered words of astonishment, but none of the women demanded she stop.
Briar turned her attention to Tristan. It bothered her to channel Grayson’s magic when he wasn’t here for her to heal afterward. What if he devolved even more than last time and she was unable to get to him in a timely fashion? He might give in to the temptation to create another soulless. That had been a real problem before he reversed his devolvement with Darby.
What if she was able to send her humanity to Grayson at the same time she used his magic to stop Tristan’s devolvement? She didn’t have to touch anyone to do this, and her connection to Grayson could span a distance. It should work.
She offered Tristan a confident nod, then closed her eyes and launched into an original song. At the same time, she opened herself completely, as she’d learned to do with Grayson early that morning. Maybe, she could even send some of that to Tristan. Could she both stop and reverse his devolvement? That would certainly give these ferra the evidence they sought.
It was surprisingly easy to share her soul with Tristan. Perhaps because she genuinely liked him and saw him as an innocent. Or maybe it was simply because she was getting better at this. Whatever the case, she felt herself merge with him. The notion reminded her of the way Lock merged with Grayson. Although in that case, it was two pieces of the same soul coming together again. This was different. For one, she was in control.
Tristan gasped, but made no other protest, neither verbal nor within the confines of their merged souls. He couldn’t communicate, but she could sense his anxiety. She sent him reassurance through her music and felt him relax. Now for the hard part.
Briar reached out to Grayson, but hesitated. Grayson wasn’t present to hear her song. She couldn’t use music as a conduit between him and Tristan. She would have to channel Grayson’s magic through the link they shared. Would that protect Grayson from any side effects of stopping Tristan’s devolvement? Her heart beat quicker with the possibility.
Redirecting her song, she imagined herself channeling Grayson’s magic, and using it to—how did he describe it?—change the properties of Tristan’s soul.
Time passed and Briar played, focusing like she’d never done. Before, it had all been on instinct, but the more she did this, the more she began to understand. She could feel the differences between what was human and what was not. The question was whether she could truly do anything about it.
A thump sounded, and Briar suddenly became aware of excited voices. Her fingers were aching, and several strands of broken horsehair hung from her bow. She ended her song and lowered the fiddle.
Opening her eyes, she saw Tristan lying on the ground at her feet.
“Tristan!” She dropped to her knees. Setting aside the bow, she gripped his shoulder. His skin was cool, but not truly cold. His chest rose and fell with his even breathing as if he were only asleep. But that wasn’t why Briar stared at him in wonder.
There wasn’t a bit of soul iron visible anywhere.
Gripping Tristan’s shoulder, Briar gave him a gentle shake. “Tristan?”
“She actually did it?” a voice asked from above her.
More voices joined in, expressing surprise and wonder, but Briar wasn’t listening. No one else had ever passed out after she’d healed them. Had she overdone it in some manner?
“I don’t even feel the soul iron in him,” another woman said. “What did she do?”
Tristan groaned, then blinked his eyes, squinting at the ceiling above them.
“Hey.” Briar squeezed his shoulder. “Are you back?”
“Where did I go?” he asked, his voice a little rough.
Briar smiled. “You passed out.”
“I did?” He looked genuinely puzzled by this.
Briar? Grayson’s mind brushed hers. What was that? Had he felt her draw on his magic?
Her heart began to pound. Are you all right? If she had hurt him…
I’m fine, he said.
Relief washed over her.
Why? he asked. What happened?
A miracle, I think.
Puzzlement answered her.
Give me a few minutes, then I’ll tell you everything.
He wasn’t pleased to be put off, but he reluctantly withdrew.
She helped Tristan sit up.
“I feel…odd,” he told her.
“Look at your chest,” she whispered.
He did as told and gasped. “What—” He ran a hand over his unblemished skin, then reached up and touched the side of his face. His wide eyes met hers. “What happened?”
“I stopped your devolvement.”
“I think you did more than that, Briar,” Agatha said from above her.
Patting Tristan on the shoulder, Briar picked up her bow and rose to her feet. “What do you mean?”
“He no longer feels like a ferromancer,” Agatha said softly, confirming Briar’s suspicion that she wasn’t human.
“What?”
“He feels…human.”
Briar stared at Agatha, trying to make sense of what she was telling her. “How can he be human? I just—”
“No!” Lucrezia lunged toward Briar, her stylus in hand. “She will destroy our race!”
Well aware that a blast of Lucrezia’s soul fire would knock her out, Briar brought the fiddle to her chin and sawed the bow across the strings, directing a full blast at the charging ferra.
Lucrezia cried out, and her lunge became a stumble. She fell to her knees, the stylus falling from her fingers.
Briar lifted her eyes to the others. Many had pulled out their stylus, several of the slender soul-iron rods glowing at the tip. Briar’s fingers flew across the strings as she tried to transition back into her song of confidence and mesmerize the others.
Lucrezia screamed so
mething in Italian, and suddenly, four different bolts of soul fire were streaking Briar’s way.
Agatha shouted, but the words didn’t register. The bolts struck Briar’s body, leaving cold in their wake. Before she could do anything about it, darkness rose up and swallowed her.
Chapter 14
Briar woke to a pounding headache and an ache in her shoulders. A groan escaped despite her efforts to remain silent.
“Briar?”
She recognized Tristan’s voice. “Hey,” she mumbled. “Are you all right?”
“I didn’t get shot with soul fire, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She blinked her eyes, struggling to focus on the room around her. It was a bedchamber. The small space dominated by a double bed. She sat in a straight-back chair, and by the feel of things, her hands were tied to the rungs behind her.
Tristan sat facing her, bound to a chair of his own.
“Have I been out a while?” she asked.
“No, not long.”
Briar sighed. “I hope Grayson hasn’t been trying to communicate with me.” That would really upset him if she didn’t answer. He might fear it was Newark all over again.
“Can’t you communicate with him?” Tristan asked.
“I don’t want to call him into a nest of ferra.” She wanted to rub her temples, but couldn’t.
Tristan grunted. “Good point, but I meant can you. They took the construct.”
Briar straightened with a gasp, suddenly on full alert despite her pounding head. Lock?
Nothing.
“Lock!” She strained against her bonds, but got nowhere—with the ropes or touching her consciousness to Lock’s. Grayson? She wouldn’t tell him her problems—she certainly didn’t want him showing up here—but she wanted to reassure him she was all right if he’d been trying to reach her.
He didn’t answer either.
“Neither Lock nor Grayson are answering me,” she told Tristan. “Why? What did they do? Did Lucrezia take Lock again?”
“Wouldn’t you have to release him first?” Tristan asked. “That’s how it works, right? It’s either that or kill you.”