by Becca Andre
She tried to sit up, but her head thumped against something directly above her. Biting back a curse, she noticed the hollow sound of the thump, and the faint, off-key twang of a musical instrument. The piano.
Her head pounded, and she reached up to rub the knot on the back of her head. It was fortunate the piano had knocked her through a window instead of a wall, and that the hedge had taken the brunt of the piano’s weight, keeping it from crushing her.
Suddenly, the light brightened, accompanied by the rustle and scratches from the hedge. Someone, or more likely, multiple someones were pushing the piano off her. Had Perseus or members of her crew come looking for her? Or did she dare hope that Grayson had remembered how he felt about her?
The late evening light enveloped her as the piano fell away, landing with a cacophony of sound as the strings reverberated and snapped.
Briar pushed herself to her feet, biting her lip against the pain of multiple cuts, scrapes, and bruises. She gulped as she came face to face with her rescuer.
“Master said I should protect you.” Darby’s forehead scrunched with apprehension. “Didn’t expect the other one to throw a piano.”
“Me, either,” she muttered. Her gaze moved to the house she’d been so forcibly ejected from, and she stared at the hole where the window had been. “Oh God, Tristan.”
Moving as quickly as her banged up body would allow, she crossed to the hole in the wall and tried to climb inside, her feet tangling in the skirt of her gown.
Darby stepped up and took her elbow. “Mind the broken glass,” he said as he helped her climb inside.
She resisted the urge to push him away, focusing on her desire to get to Tristan as quickly as possible.
The room seemed larger without the piano. It made the spot where Tristan lay clearly visible.
“Tristan.” She dropped to her knees behind him and reached out a shaking hand to grip his shoulder. “Tristan?” The fire poker was still lodged in his body, his blood staining the boards beneath him.
Lower lip between her teeth, she crawled around to his other side where she could see his face. His blue eyes were open, unfocused and unseeing. She didn’t need to touch him to know that he was gone. Even so, she made herself reach out and touch his cheek. His cool cheek.
She jerked her hand away and pressed it to her mouth. Tristan was dead.
Scooting away from him, she slid across the polished hardwood until her back bumped a side table. She hit hard enough to wobble the table, and the oil lamp fell off the other side, landing with a crash that made her jump. Another object fell off the table, landing with a soft thump beside her, but she didn’t look over to see what it was. Her gaze was still focused on Tristan’s body, his unseeing eyes staring at her—or so it seemed.
She fancied that she saw an accusation in that stare. Solon might have thrown the poker, but she had killed Tristan. She had made him human. He hadn’t been able to repair the damage, as ferromancers did automatically, replacing what was broken with metal.
All of this, everything she had done had been to save this boy from his fate, and just when she thought she’d found the answer, it had been ripped from her hands. Liam had been right. She was a naive child believing she could save this race.
She covered her face with her hands as the despair swelled within in her chest, threatening to crush her heart beneath its weight. What idiocy and hubris had led her to believe that her dead father had visited her in a dream, and told her that she would decide the fate of this race?
Pulling up her knees, she wrapped her arms around them and pressed her face against the fabric of her dress. The tears came, and she didn’t try to fight them. She knew Darby was somewhere in the room, but what did it matter? Why keep up this pretense of being a competent leader of men when she wasn’t? All she ever did was lead others into trouble.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, wallowing in the misery she had made, before Darby spoke. The sudden noise in the silence startled her.
“If you’re able, you need to leave, else I got to carry you,” he said.
She lifted her head. “What—”
The heavy scent of smoke filled her lungs, and she spun to look behind her. The fallen oil lamp had ignited the area rug that covered the floor on the other side of the table Briar had bumped. She had been so absorbed in her grief she hadn’t heard the flames, and with her face pressed to her knees, she hadn’t smelled the smoke.
The fire was spreading quickly, accelerated by the oil from the busted lamp. It had engulfed most of the rug and was licking at the bottom of the settee and had already caught the bottom of an upholstered chair on fire.
She pressed her palms to the floor to push herself up and felt a cloth-covered object beneath her right hand. Looking down, she saw the pillowcase that contained the soul box.
“Grayson.” She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth as she remembered his eyes, and worse, his indifference to Solon attacking her. Yet more vivid in her mind was the Grayson in her dream. The one who had told her that he was still trapped in the soul box. Had it been a cry for help that her unconscious mind had interpreted as a dream?
Grayson? she reached out to him.
He didn’t answer. The quiet felt just like the time he had locked down his construct when Lucrezia had taken him, so the crazy ferra couldn’t trace his connection to Briar.
Lucrezia. She could open the soul box and free Grayson. And Briar knew just how to force her to cooperate. But where was Grayson? Where were Solon and the others? The house was quiet. Empty.
Then Briar remembered. “The gala.” It was tonight. Had Solon taken Grayson to his gathering of ferromancers? With Tristan gone, Solon wouldn’t care if Grayson used himself up healing other ferromancers. Hell, Solon probably wanted Grayson to devolve so he could turn him loose on his enemies—like the ferra gathered nearby.
“No,” Briar whispered. In truth, she didn’t care about what happened to the ferra or the ferromancers. All she wanted was Grayson, safe and whole. To that end, she would have to face Lucrezia, then Solon. She would need her fiddle, which was…
Gathering the pillowcase that held the soul box, Briar shoved herself to her feet. The fiddle case still lay on the table she had bumped. It had slid to the edge, but hadn’t fallen off. She picked it up and turned her back on the flames.
The smoke was thicker and she coughed, but she didn’t immediately leave the room. Instead, she walked over to kneel beside Tristan once more.
“I’m sorry, Esme,” she whispered, brushing back Tristan’s dark hair. “I did what you wanted. I stopped his devolvement, but…” She took a breath and released it, coughing again from the smoke.
She eyed the fire, debating. Yes, she would leave Tristan here. Let this house be his funeral pyre. It was fitting. Andrew would have nothing to sell and Solon, no money to gain.
“You can take it with you,” she whispered to Tristan. “I’m sorry I failed you.”
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn’t wipe them away. Leaning over, she kissed Tristan’s forehead. Liam had been right. Her talent was to end ferromancers.
“Are you coming?” Darby asked her.
Straightening, she didn’t look at him, but fixed her eyes on the hole in the wall and settled her heart on a new purpose. Scrubbing a hand across her cheeks, she pushed herself to her feet and walked toward the fresh air. And her destiny.
Chapter 17
The sight of the Briar Rose, moored in her usual place along the dock, was enough to return the dampness to Briar’s eyes. She clenched her teeth and blinked several times, refusing to give in to another swell of pointless emotion. She would not stand here and lament the choices she had made and the simple life she had lost. Regrets changed nothing. Only action could do that.
“There’s my boat,” she said to Darby who had quietly followed her across town. “I’m safe
now. You can return to your master and watch over him.”
Darby’s face brightened. “Yes, I will keep him safe as I have kept you safe.” He turned and hurried away.
Briar rubbed her forehead, watching him go. Gripping the pillowcase that hung from her hand, Briar crossed the gangplank and hopped onto her boat.
“Miss Briar.” Eli came to his feet from his place at the table with Zach, Benji, and to Briar’s surprise, Jimmy. Cards were spread across the table along with several, half-empty glasses of whiskey.
“What happened?” Eli closed the distance between them.
If seeing her boat had pulled her emotions to the surface, seeing Eli’s familiar face magnified that tenfold.
“You’re bleeding,” he said.
“What?” she whispered.
He reached out and touched her cheek, awakening a stinging burn, then he showed her his hand. There was a small smear of blood on his fingertips.
“That was probably from the window,” she concluded.
“What window?”
She waved away the question. “I’m fine.” She took a breath, ready to tell him about all of it when Perseus stepped out of the aft cabin.
“My lady.” His tone and expression conveyed evident relief. “You are well?”
“Is that her?” Kali’s voice carried out of the aft cabin.
“Yes, she’s fine,” Perseus called back. “Stay put.” He turned back to Briar and continued before she could ask. “Kali thought you were in mortal danger. I thought I was going to have to bind her to keep her from going after you.”
“The oath,” Briar concluded.
“She’s very sensitive, to all magic.” He smiled faintly. “I was about to come looking for you, but—”
“Oh my goodness,” Molly said. She stood outside the aft cabin door, a teapot in hand. She set it on a nearby barrel and hurried over. “What happened, Briar?” She stopped beside Eli and gripped his arm.
The rest of the crew had left the table and gathered around.
“Do I look that bad?” Briar asked, caught somewhere between wanting to laugh or cry.
“You’re cut and bruised, my lady,” Perseus answered. “There are multiple rents in your gown, and there’s glass in your hair.”
Briar glanced down at the green gown she wore. “Oh.” If she got him back, Grayson was going to be disappointed that his favorite dress was damaged.
“And what the hell is in that pillowcase?” Kali asked from the doorway. She gripped the frame for balance as she stood on one leg. A heavy bandage was visible around her injured thigh, beneath the slit leg of trousers.
Perseus muttered a curse and walked over to her.
“A soul box,” Briar answered her. “Lock is trapped inside.”
“What’s a soul box?” Jimmy asked.
“I think you ought to start at the beginning, Miss Briar,” Eli added.
Briar looked up to meet his concerned gaze. “Did Perseus tell you? I did it, Eli. I figured out how to stop a ferromancer’s devolvement.”
His mouth fell open. Apparently, Perseus hadn’t mentioned that. He’d probably been too busy tending Kali.
“Ha,” Jimmy said. “I knew if it was possible, the captain would find a way.”
“It’s possible,” she agreed. “But there are side effects.”
“What sort of side effects?” Zach asked. He watched her with an expression caught between wonder and concern.
“I have to make them human.”
Stunned silence met that pronouncement.
“How is that possible?” Molly asked softly.
“I have some thoughts on that, but at the moment, it’s not important. My first success was with Tristan.” She glanced over at Perseus and Kali. “Solon was furious.” Briar’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He…tried to kill me. Tristan interceded, and now he’s dead.”
“I knew something was wrong.” Kali cast Perseus an accusing stare.
“Where was Grayson through all of this?” Eli asked.
Briar looked up, meeting Perseus’s gaze. “Grayson wasn’t himself. There were no wings or dorsal spines, but his eyes were ferromancer’s eyes, and he was completely cold. He wouldn’t even,” she stopped to swallow. “He wouldn’t help me against Solon.”
“Because the soul box cuts him off from his heart,” Perseus said.
Chills crawled up Briar’s spine as she remembered Grayson implying something similar in her dream.
“It gets worse,” she continued. “I think Solon is taking advantage of Grayson. The gala is this evening, and I found the house empty when I woke up.”
“What do you mean woke up?” Eli asked.
“Solon threw a piano at me. It knocked me through a window and out into the garden. I must have struck my head. When I came to, it was later and the house was empty.”
“A piano?” Benji looked incredulous.
“Yes.” She turned back to Perseus. “What happens if Solon forces him to stop the devolvement of others?”
“It won’t be pleasant. A devolving ferromancer is a horror, but one forced to devolve without the ability to absorb his construct…” Perseus shook his head. “It’s not pretty. They often go mad.”
She took a step toward him. “Can you help? Soul fire won’t kill you. Could you dissolve the box?”
“You are correct, the soul fire won’t kill me, but Lucrezia’s soul fire would render me temporarily unconscious, as it does you. I would not be able to dissolve anything in such a state.”
“What about one of your quarrels?”
“If it pierces the box, it could strike the construct. That wouldn’t end well.”
She cringed. “Right. We won’t try that.”
“You could try your fiddle,” he suggested.
“I can’t affect inanimate things.” She met Perseus’s gaze. “That’s why I’m here. I need your help. I’m going to make Lucrezia open the soul box.”
“Who happens to be on a steamboat full of ferra,” Eli said.
“Yes.” Briar walked over to a nearby barrel. “Let me show you something.” She set her fiddle case atop the barrel and unlatched it.
“We’ll go with you,” Eli continued.
Briar took out her fiddle and bow. “I knew you would insist.”
“We’re crew, Captain.” Eli’s eyes met hers.
“Aye,” Jimmy and Zach added.
Briar neither agreed or disagreed. She brought her fiddle to her chin and started to play. Not a one of them attempted to stop her. Their trust made her heart clench.
She launched into a song of confidence and control, mesmerizing her crew with the power of her song. Briar’s stomach twisted at the blatant disregard for their free will, but she wasn’t going to lose anyone else tonight.
Briar lifted her eyes to Perseus. He dipped his head in Kali’s direction. He wanted Briar to take her, too. Apparently, Perseus didn’t mind subverting the will of friends.
Redirecting her song, Briar did as he requested.
After a few minutes, she finished her song and silence greeted her. Fighting back the urge to vomit, she faced her crew and Kali. All were staring at her with wide, adoring eyes.
“You will carry on with your plans for this evening,” she told them, her voice soft. “I don’t need your help.”
“Yes, Captain,” they said in unison. Their eager acceptance reminded her far too much of Darby’s or Andrew’s eagerness to serve their masters.
She packed her fiddle and bow in the case, then picked it up, along with the pillowcase containing the soul box.
The crew had returned to their card game while Kali and Molly retreated to the aft cabin.
Briar considered taking a moment to change out of the green gown and into her trousers, but she didn’t know how long the mesmerism would last,
and she really didn’t want to play for her crew again. Watching them obliviously return to their card game, she didn’t know if she could. Besides, she sarcastically thought, trousers weren’t appropriate for a gala, and once Lock was free, that was her next destination.
Perseus stood a short distance away, buckling on his short sword. He wordlessly followed her across the gangplank, and with a couple of long strides, fell in beside her.
“I assume she is still on the steamboat?” he asked, his attention on their task and unbothered by what she’d just done.
“I assume.”
“Do you know the location of the gala?”
“Yes.”
They walked for several minutes in silence—until she could stand it no longer. “That was so wrong of me,” she whispered. “When the crew realizes…” She shook her head. “It made me physically sick to do that, but if something had happened to any of them because of this mess I got us into… I would have had a hard time living with myself.”
“You don’t have to explain your actions to me.”
She glanced over.
“It is a hard thing to live down, especially when you have no choice but to live with it.” He gazed ahead of them, but she suspected he wasn’t seeing their surroundings.
“Do you remember everything you’ve experienced?”
“I’ve forgotten more than other men will ever know,” he added, his voice soft. “But memories from my youth, and those who have touched my soul—those stay with me.”
She considered the curse of his never-ending existence. “Ironic that you wish to escape what those like my cousin crave. Then too, my cousin grows more mad by the day.” She studied the man walking beside her. “How have you maintained your sanity?”
“I’ve had my dark moments, but ultimately, I’ve convinced myself that my existence must serve some higher purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“To keep my race in check and cull the monsters it produces. It was the first task I was given.”
“Monsters. Like dragons and chimera?”
“Yes.” He paused, seeming lost in memory. “The worst were the gorgons.”