by Becca Andre
Closing her eyes, she pictured Lock: his soulful eyes, sweet vocalizations, and those beautiful wings. But it wasn’t the physical she focused on. It was her love for him. That was her true connection to him. Her conduit. After all, she was more human than anything, and emotion was a human condition. Her power.
She opened herself to the little automaton. “To me, Lock.”
Light glinted on her closed eyelids, but before Briar could check for the source, the legs of the table she hid beneath screeched across the floor. She gasped and opened her eyes in time to see Solon hurl the table aside.
“This ends,” he snarled the words, then flicked his fingers. A slender metal rod—a remolded part of the grate?—shot toward her. With no hope of eluding it, she threw her arms over her head and hunkered against the floor.
She tensed for the pain, expecting to be speared, but felt only a soft bump against her back, the blow accompanied by the clank of metal on metal. What—
Joy burst through her. Joy that she had been spared injury and joy that the darkness was gone.
Darkness? No, not the dimness beneath the table, the darkness within the soul box. Lock! He was free.
An answering blast of affection surged through her, the sensation so engulfing that it nearly overwhelmed her.
She shoved herself up onto her hands and knees. Silver armor covered her arms and hands, but that was just what she could see. She knew it covered her whole body.
Getting to her feet, she faced Solon. A gash just below his right eyes dripped blood down one cheek. She had nailed him good with the soul box. The now-vanished soul box?
Lock must have picked up on her question, because she suddenly saw an image of his interpretation of events. He’d felt her presence, then the darkness was split by a blinding purple flash. She had finally dissolved inanimate soul iron. Or maybe it wasn’t inanimate. Maybe Lucrezia’s soul fire still channeled through it. But those were questions for later.
“Turns out I didn’t need Lucrezia to open the soul box,” Briar said to Solon.
To her immense satisfaction, he took a step back.
She spared Grayson and Perseus a glance. Perseus was pushing himself to his feet while Grayson stared at her, a puzzled look on his face. She would bring him back in a second, but first, she would deal with Solon.
Briar walked over and picked up her discarded bow where it had fallen to the floor. The horsehair was a little tattered, but it would do.
Perseus joined her. “Shall I kill him, my lady?”
Solon lifted his chin, but surprised her by remaining silent.
“No,” she answered Perseus. Lock, be the fiddle.
The armor rolled off her, and a moment later, Lock was perched on her shoulder. He gave Solon a screech of metal on metal, then sprang into the air. He morphed as he fell, and Briar caught the silver fiddle by its neck.
“Go ahead,” Solon said. “Dissolve me.”
She held his gaze and brought the fiddle to her chin. “That would be too easy,” she threw his words back at him.
He frowned, clearly not understanding.
She started to play, wasting no time before hitting him with the full force of her soul. She heard him gasp, but ignored it, closing her eyes as she focused on her music.
In most cases, Briar had shared her soul, a giving of her essence to the person she sought to help, but that wasn’t the case this time. She shoved her way into Solon. After all, she was a soul singer. She could channel through living soul iron and every ferromancer had an abundance of that. She wrapped Solon’s soul in hers, squeezing as he’d squeezed her throat earlier.
He cried out in surprise, and a darker part of her was pleased by his reaction.
She merged her soul with his, then she reached out to Grayson via the link they shared through Lock. As she had with Tristan, she began to channel Grayson’s magic, but this time, she knew what to do. Without all the fumbling around, she worked quickly, and a few minutes later, wrapped up her song.
Solon collapsed at her feet as if her music had been the only thing holding him up.
“What did you do?” Perseus asked. He sounded more curious than alarmed.
Solon gasped, then pushed himself to his knees, his hands braced on the floor. Two hands made of flesh and blood.
“I showed him mercy,” she answered Perseus.
With a howl, Solon surged to his feet, but Perseus stepped between them. Solon eyed them, his flesh and blood hands clenched. Briar expected him to speak, but he abruptly turned and ran.
Perseus took a step to go after him, but she caught his arm.
“Let him go,” she said. “He’s only human now.”
Perseus stared at her. He knew that she had made Tristan human, but seeing it done was something else. She suspected that few things surprised Perseus, but this clearly had.
Briar left it at that and walked over to Grayson. He watched her with that cool indifference, saying nothing when she stopped before him.
She didn’t speak either. Instead, she rolled up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his unresponsive ones. Come back to me, Grayson.
Much the way she had with Lock, she fed him her soul, channeling her human soul through him. She felt it the moment he joined her, his soul twisting with hers. He took his mouth from hers and tipped his head back, inhaling deeply.
A golden glow began around the edges of his skin where it had receded to reveal the soul iron beneath. It began to grow, replacing what was lost until it covered the metal once more.
He straightened and bowed his head as the dorsal spines retreated and the wings folded away. In a matter of minutes, he was once more as he’d been after his final casting. Lifting his head, his human eyes met hers.
“Welcome back,” she whispered.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing away the tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed.
“Briar!”
She turned at the sound of Liam’s voice. He still knelt on the floor.
“Agatha,” Briar gasped. How could she have forgotten? Agatha and Liam had greatly disappointed her, but despite it all, she still loved them. They were the closest thing she had to parents.
Briar turned and started toward them. She had taken only a few steps when a man stepped into her path. Well, what had once been a man. His hood had fallen back, revealing a face that was as badly devolved as Farran’s had been.
She started to bring the fiddle to her chin, but he lunged toward her, metal hands outstretched.
Suddenly Grayson was there. He stepped between them and pressed a hand to the man’s chest. To Briar’s surprise, Grayson’s hand sank into the ferromancer’s silver chest as if the metal was soft and pliable.
Briar flashed back to the time Grayson and Solon had fought at that Columbus foundry. Grayson had left a handprint in Solon’s construct-created armor.
But this ferromancer was too devolved to have a construct.
Grayson’s hand sank deeper into the man’s silver chest, his fingers curling as if he dug for something.
The man threw back his head and screamed, the primal sound echoing around the room and drawing the attention of all.
A flash of silver light, and the ferromancer Grayson had impaled vanished in a puff of gray powder that dusted the ground at his feet. Grayson was left holding an orb of golden light. It reminded Briar of the time he had extracted the heart from that soulless man in a Portsmouth alley.
Grayson opened his hand, and the light faded away.
Whispered comments came from the onlookers, but she didn’t catch the words.
She looked up at Grayson. Did you just dissolve him? Not unlike the Scourge.
No, Grayson answered. I recast his soul and thus broke the bonds that held it to his soul-iron body.
Briar stared at him as full understanding dawned. This was th
e magic she’d been channeling: Grayson’s ability to recast iron souls. She likened it to his ability to recast mundane iron, changing the metal’s chemical composition as he had once done with a horseshoe. But that only worked on iron, and this ability only worked on iron souls. But when she used his magic—
Briar? He pulled her attention back to their surroundings.
With the way now clear and the room oddly quiet, she continued toward Liam and Agatha.
Liam stared up at her. “Help her, Briar. She’s too weak to heal herself.”
A lot of blood covered the front of Agatha’s dress, and Briar remembered Esme in a similar situation. Ferra could heal themselves, but not when they’d expended too much of their power, or their body was too weak to support the energy drain—or however it worked.
Briar brought her fiddle to her chin. “It’s Grayson’s magic I use to heal. Good thing I didn’t let you kill him, huh?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she started to play. A few minutes later, she ended her song and glanced down. Agatha stared up at her with tired eyes. She didn’t speak. She just held Briar’s gaze.
Briar? Grayson’s mind touched hers, nudging her to notice their surroundings.
The room had gone quiet, but the conflict was far from over. The ferromancers and their soulless henchmen had gathered on one side of the room while the ferra and their half-blooded guardsmen gathered on the other side.
Briar realized that the moment had arrived. The moment her father had told her would come, but now she was ready. She knew what she must do. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted the silver fiddle to her chin and began a new song. The ethereal tone of her music filled the whole room.
Everyone turned to face her, Scourge, soulless, ferra, and ferromancer all with adoration in their eyes.
What now? Grayson asked.
We end this.
End this? Apprehension colored his question.
Decide the fate of a dying race.
And that means?
We recast souls. Her eyes held his. We make them human, as I did Solon…and Tristan.
Grayson’s forehead wrinkled as he looked over those gathered around them.
This is the only solution. The answer we’ve been seeking. Your brothers won’t devolve, nor will they retain the ability to create the soulless.
“They’ll be human,” Grayson whispered as if he needed to say it aloud to understand.
They’ll get to live.
His eyes locked with hers and just when she thought he’d refuse, he nodded. “Let’s end this.”
Chapter 20
Briar didn’t remember the details. The night was a haze of music and bleeding fingers—which Grayson healed again and again. Between the two of them, they had worked their way around the room, recasting iron souls, one by one. And they hadn’t been limited to just the ferromancers. After all, the ferra had iron souls as well.
It wasn’t as debilitating as dissolving the badly devolved, but after recasting so many, Briar’s head was pounding and she could barely remain on her feet.
“Briar, we’re done.” Grayson gently pried her shredded bow from her cramped hand.
She slumped against him, closing her eyes against the pounding in her temples. “Did we heal everyone?”
“I’m not so sure that most will view it as healing, but it is done.”
What about you? She asked, not so certain she was ready for the answer. Do you view it as healing?
As you said, it was the only solution.
That didn’t exactly answer her question, but she was too tired to call him on it.
“I’ll take you back to your boat.” He lifted her in his arms.
“I can walk.”
“And I would like to get there before dawn,” he answered, already on the move.
Maybe he had a point, but she didn’t want to admit that.
Briar woke in her own bunk around mid morning. Or that was her estimate judging by the light streaming through the open curtain of her little alcove. For a moment, she simply lay there, gazing up at the familiar ceiling. Was it really over? Had she accomplished her goal?
She sat up, grimacing against the cuts and bruises she had sustained, as well as the lingering headache and aching hands. Glancing down, she saw that she still wore the tattered green gown.
A questioning whirr came from behind her, and she discovered Lock sitting on her pillow, gazing up at her with concerned eyes.
“Hey.” She reached over and rubbed him beneath the chin. “I’m fine. Just a little sore.”
He leaned into the caress with something like a purr, and a burst of relief. He’d been worried about her.
A shadow fell across them, and she looked up to see Grayson standing in her doorway. “You are awake.”
“Mostly.”
He smiled, though there seemed to be a touch of uncertainty to it. “I saved you some breakfast.” He offered his hand.
She held his gaze, still trying to determine if his manner seemed a bit subdued, then took his hand.
He pulled her to her feet, watching her closely as if he feared she might not be as well as she claimed.
“I’m all right,” she reassured him.
A frown creased his forehead as he looked her over.
“I know. The dress is ruined. Sorry.”
“That is a travesty, but that’s not why I’m subdued. I’m concerned about you.”
She frowned. Had he picked up on what she was thinking? She didn’t believe she had shared—
“You didn’t. You’re wide open to me right now—as well as physically battered and bruised.”
“I did get smacked with a piano. And a furnace grate.”
His brow wrinkled and a muscle tightened in his jaw. “I remember. After all, I was there, I was just too cold to care.”
She laid a hand on his chest. If she was wide open to him, then he knew that she understood. His heart had been locked away. He’d felt nothing.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better about it now,” he answered.
Even though she had expected him to pick up on that, it still gave her chills. She was also worried. What if she had somehow damaged herself by overusing her ability as she had last night?
“I’m sure it’s just fatigue,” he reassured her.
She nodded, praying he was right. “Would you give me some privacy to freshen up?”
“Of course,” he answered quickly. “I’ll send in Molly to help you with your laces.”
She wanted to tease him about him helping her instead, and immediately got a grin.
“Too tempting.” He gave her a brief smile, then he hurried away. Yes, something was bothering him.
Briar walked out into the main cabin. The movement informed her of just how banged up she was. Stopping before the table, she spied her fiddle case on its shelf. It looked so innocuous sitting there, as if her fiddle really was inside, but she remembered all too well Solon destroying it. She blinked her eyes, fighting back the swell of emotion. Uncle Charlie had given her that fiddle.
She took down the case and knew by the weight that it held nothing. She still opened it and found the velvet-lined interior empty. Not even her bow was inside. Had Grayson left it behind?
The door opened, and Briar turned as Molly stepped into the room. She eyed Briar a moment, then closed the door. “I guess you won’t be mesmerizing us anytime soon.”
Briar sighed. “I need to call the crew together and apologize.”
“Yes, you do.” Molly was disappointed in her, but no more disappointed than Briar was in herself. She had taken the easy way out and would now pay for that.
“I’m sorry, Molly, but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I’d just lost Tristan and—”
“I understand your reasoning, but to take away anoth
er’s ability to choose is not the answer. Aren’t you the one who always went on about having the freedom to pick the life of your choosing? It’s advice I took to heart.” Molly lifted her arms to indicate their surroundings and her new life here on the boat.
“I did,” Briar agreed. “And I still believe in that. Which makes what I did last night so hard to swallow this morning, not only to all of you, but to an entire race—or the remnants of one.”
Molly frowned, not seeming to follow that.
“I made them human—or something like—without their permission.”
Molly appeared to struggle to comprehend that. “All of them? The ferra, too?”
“Yes, and I gave none of them a chance to refuse.”
“It’s not like they would have gone along with you.”
“You can’t have it both ways. If I can’t decide what’s best for my crew, then how can I do that?”
“But they were murdering monsters. We’re your friends.”
Briar wanted to launch into another argument, but what could she say? She had no answer. Nothing to ease the ache in her chest. Out of excuses, she bowed her head.
Molly’s arms came around her, though Briar hadn’t heard her cross the floor. “I love your fire and your passion, but you need to stop and think things through once in a while.”
Briar hugged her fiercely. “Please forgive me.”
Molly sighed, then kissed her cheek. “I already have.” She released her. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then you can face the others, and we can put all of this behind us. And I mean all of it.” She gave Briar a bright smile. “Won’t it be nice to return to our lives on the canal?”
“I do miss that life.” But could she truly return to it? Briar gave Molly her back and she went to work on her laces.
Briar took longer than necessary to change clothes and freshen up, but when she could delay no longer, she left the cabin, determined to make things right with her crew.
She found her crew gathered in the aft cargo hold, as she had requested. Even Jimmy was present, having sacrificed another morning with his new wife to be here.
Kali and Perseus were present as well, and Briar was surprised to see Kali up and about. Had she allowed Grayson to heal her? She had clearly recovered, because she had no trouble standing and holding a revolver on a person Briar had not expected to see aboard her boat.