Torchlighters

by Megan R Miller

  “You only had to say the word, doll,” he said.

  She’d hated it the first time he called her that. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that she hated it less every time he did it.

  She got to her feet and pulled him with her to the stairs after a couple of minutes had passed. She couldn’t go too quickly or it would be suspicious, but too late and she would miss hearing what she needed to.

  “Eager, aren’t you?” Dorian asked, chuckling slightly.

  Ely kept moving and glancing through cracks in the doors until she found the room the two people had gone into. She tugged Dorian into the one beside it and shut their door, slipping up against the wall. She didn’t quite go as far as to press an ear to it, but she came close.

  “…said they had an afrite for us, to replace the one we missed,” the one that had spoken before said. “The Lady is going to be angry if we take much longer.”

  Dorian leaned on her, pressing her against the wall, and she let her back fall to it as she closed her eyes to hear better. His lips met hers and she couldn’t say she was surprised. She kissed him back. Why not?

  “She knew this was going to be a process, and you know how hard nephilim are to come by.” This other voice was different now. “Bloody hard to kill, too.”

  “So are cambion,” said the first. “It doesn’t matter. Once we get this done, when we complete this summoning, we’re going to rule this town.”

  “If we don’t turn it into a crater,” the second said. There was the sound of an impact, flesh on flesh.

  “Don’t talk like that,” the first said.

  She felt Dorian’s hand snaking its way up the front of her skirt and smacked it. The sound he made reminded her of a wounded puppy.

  “Did we just come up here to neck?” he asked. She opened one eye to look at him.

  “Yes,” she said, flatly.

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said, and gave her that lopsided half-grin. Oh she could blame him for trying, alright. But she didn’t.

  “…don’t even know if it’s the real deal. How sure are you that this is the right move?” the second man asked.

  “It’s an awful lot of risk if she wasn’t sure,” the first man said. “You really ought to stop doubting so loudly, you don’t want her to hear you. She could be here any minute.”

  Ely stopped kissing Dorian for a moment and furrowed her brow. Dorian took a half step back and looked between her and the wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the look of realization cross his face.

  “You’re right,” the second man said, sighing. “It’s just, it’s been a lot of people. And now having to go find another afrite…and that meaning the first one is still out there?”

  “I know where I cut him,” the first man said. There was a cold edge to his voice and Ely felt something going very still in her. She pushed away from the wall. Dorian caught her by the arm.

  “Not here,” he whispered.

  She looked up at him. To his credit, he didn’t flinch back from her or look away. She knew the steel she felt had worked its way into her gaze; she wasn’t sure she could have kept it out if she’d tried. When she replied to him, it was in a bare whisper.

  “There is a man standing in that room that tried to kill my brother,” she said. “He might have succeeded if things had gone a little bit differently.”

  “Think on where you are,” Dorian said. His arm slipped around her waist and he pulled her close to him. She tensed for a moment before she caught the whiskey and mint smell that clung to his coat and relaxed a little under his hands. “This is neutral ground. You need it as much as anyone else does. You can’t afford to have Zenith throw you out over this. Think.”

  The first thing that came to Ely’s mind was that Zenith need never know it was her. There had to be a dozen people on the second floor. She could do it quickly, quietly, silence both of the men in the next room. If she only left bodies, if she didn’t burn them…

  But Dorian was right. One of them would call out. They had someone that was going to meet them here.

  Why here?

  She leaned up on point and kissed him, then, her hand snaking into his hair. When she broke it, there was a hint of a smile on her face and his expression melted.

  “Well now,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she replied. She settled against the wall again and shut her eyes to listen. This time, Dorian kept his hands out of her skirt. He was a quick learner, she had to admit that much. Of course, he was still Dorian and one of them slithered around to squeeze her back side, but she didn’t mind that quite so much. If someone opened the door, it would give some legitimacy to what she was doing in here. A plausible cover story.

  The voices on the other side of the wall had dissolved into local gossip. That was fine, it gave her a minute to think.

  If these men were working with the lady they were talking about, trying to summon something big and dangerous, but still felt the need to meet in a place like this and risk being overheard, it meant they weren’t a part of the same group. These fellows were like the fish nibbling on the detritus that clung to the bottom of a shark’s fins, a symptom of the bigger catch.

  If she waited, she might be able to follow the line all the way back to the shark.

  The telltale hum of a scrying mirror resounded in the room next to theirs. Whatever was said next, it was said in hushed tones. The next thing she could make out was, “We need to go.”

  The door opened and shut. She made herself wait a full fifteen seconds before she disengaged with Dorian.

  “I need to follow,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said, “I understand.”

  He offered her an arm and she slipped hers through it. They moved down the stairs into the main room of the Ninth Circle. She caught sight of the pair of men slipping out the front door. She started to follow, when Vivi Verida stepped out in front of her.

  “I really don’t have time for you right now,” Ely said.

  “Which is good, because I’m here to speak with Mr. Asteri,” she said, her eyes moving to Dorian with cold seriousness. Ely stopped in her tracks, glancing around the room. At least eight of the people she recognized in the crowd were Gaters, and probably several that she didn’t.

  No one was willing to pick a fight in Zenith Haywood’s bar, but she wouldn’t do anything about it if one happened to break out just outside. If Ely walked out those doors, odds were good someone was going to follow her. She felt the weight of Callum’s gun in her pocket.

  She liked her odds in a fight. But if she walked out there and let that happen, she’d be leaving Dorian at Vivi’s mercy. With a resigned exhale, she met Vivi’s eyes.

  “Whatever you have to say to him you can say in front of me,” she said, and slid her arm through Dorian’s again.

  “We had a deal, Asteri,” Vivi said. Her voice was honey sweet. “I don’t have to tell you what a bad idea it is to go back on Gate Street.”

  “You know how business is,” he said. “I take care of the people that take care of me.”

  “Oh, we’ll take care of you alright,” Vivi said, eyes darkening.

  “Not here and not now you won’t,” Dorian said. He looked around the bar, at some of the people that were starting to look over at them. He made it a point to nod to Uther, who was leaning against the wall by the door and nodded back to him with a solemn expression. Then, he returned his gaze to Vivi. The entirety of the gesture spoke of control. It would have been impressive if Ely didn’t know how much of it was bravado.

  “You have to leave sometime,” Vivi said.

  “Look, there’s no reason for all of this,” Dorian said. “Once these things start getting into the hands of people they’ll be easier to get a hold of. You’ll end up saving money in the long run.”

  Vivi smiled, a cruel curve of her lips.

  “You and I both know how hollow that is,” she said. “And everyone here knows what kind of care young miss Trezza is tak
ing of you. Word gets around. And apparently so do you.”

  “Apparently? And here I thought my reputation had preceded me,” he said. Ely couldn’t help her little snicker.

  “Watch yourself, Asteri,” Vivi said. She turned and walked for the door. For a moment, Ely considered following, but she knew if she did she’d be swarmed. She didn’t have enough bullets and as much fire as it would take… No. This wasn’t the time. She wasn’t about to pick a losing fight.

  “Well,” Ely said. “Seems we’re not going anywhere for a while. Want to go back upstairs?”

  There was a beat of silence and Dorian raised an eyebrow at her.

  “You know I do,” he said, as if the sheer idea that he might not have was unthinkable. She chuckled, slid her hand into his and headed back that way.

  Corvin could hear his mother crying in the kitchen. In a lot of ways that was even scarier than when she would shout. He sat on the first stairway landing and willed himself to move. It didn’t work.

  He’d been worrying himself sick for a little over a day, waiting for shouting. They should have realized their prisoner was gone by now. His chest had been tight with the worry that they were going to realize he was the reason why.

  Lissel shut the kitchen door behind her. When Corvin realized how red and puffy her eyes were, he knew something had gone very wrong.

  She started up the steps. His first instinct was to clear out, but she stopped next to him and took a seat.

  “Has anyone told you?” she asked.

  “Told me what?”

  Lissel took a breath and reached out to take Corvin’s right hand in her left one. She wasn’t looking at him, instead keeping her gaze trained on the criss-cross of the carpet.

  “Dad is dead,” she said. “Ophelia Trezza got him.”

  The words didn’t feel real at first. Corvin and his father had never been particularly close. Alric would come home in a storm more often than not, grab a beer and slam the icebox door. Corvin spent most of his time avoiding the man.

  There had been moments, though. Alric had taught him how to shoot. He’d have never let anyone hurt Corvin while he was around to do something about it. Everything shook on the inside and he couldn’t just land on an emotional response.

  Lissel reached around and hugged him. He hugged her back. She felt like she was made of wood.

  Corvin thought of his father’s gruff humor, and then how he was never going to hear him again, and finally the tears came.

  They had a few hours. He and Lissel sat on the stairs for a long time just holding each other and crying it out. She went the rest of the way up and he made himself walk down and join his mother in the kitchen. Rorik was sitting with her, holding her hand across the table, but when she saw Corvin coming she stood and crossed to him, and pulled him in.

  Vivi’s tall lithe body folded around him and he hugged her back. Her ribs were too thin. He felt like he might break something if he held on too tightly. He didn’t cry this time.

  Instead, he made eye contact with Rorik from around her and Rorik shook his head. His hand was still on the table, knuckles bruised and bloody. Everyone handled grief in their own way. Rorik handled it by hitting things.

  Things seemed to calm a little at a time. They gathered around the living room and slowly the mood turned from grief. It was like someone had spread sand across their interactions.

  By the time the sun started setting the tears had all dried up and Vivi was starting to sound rough.

  “They’ll have to answer for this,” she said.

  “Let me do it,” Lissel said. “Please. I have good informants. I’ll be able to find their other boy. Succeed where Corvin failed.”

  It took him a moment to realize she was talking about Sam. His ears were ringing.

  “Do it,” Vivi said.

  “Don’t you think a kneejerk reaction is a bad idea right now?” Corvin asked, before he realized he had started speaking. Eyes started to fall on him. He got to his feet. “Nevermind, I need to take a walk and clear my head.”

  He put bitterness into his stride. Let them think he was angry because of the comment Lissel passed.

  The shoes he put on weren’t made for winter. That was fine. He could find Sam and get him somewhere safe. That would be easier than talking his family down, right now.

  Joey was on his way out the front door that morning when Elysia came in. There hadn’t even been time to properly enjoy the headline in the paper that day about Julianne Geist being arrested for insurance fraud.

  “Dad,” she said, “I need to talk to you.”

  “There isn’t time,” he said. “Your mother just left to find Callum and I got a scrycall from Darven Baker that Alric Verida is causing trouble. She didn’t take her gun.”

  Ely didn’t bother to feign surprise at Callum’s name.

  “Give it to me,” she said. “I’ll catch up with her much faster than you could if I fly. But Dad, this is important, can you wait for just a minute? I heard something while I was out with Dorian.”

  “He’s Dorian now, is he?” Joey asked, raising a brow.

  “Dad,” Ely said. “Focus.”

  She smiled, and he smiled back.

  “What did you hear?” he asked.

  “We were at the Ninth Circle. There were cultists there, ones that work for Vivi Verida. I overheard the man who stabbed Callum talking,” Ely said. “They mentioned some Lady and I was going to follow but Gate Street had the place swarmed and Dorian and I had to wait it out before we left. Her guys finally started leaving and I’m starting to think this attack might have been why.”

  “Did you get a name?” Joey asked.

  “I didn’t,” she said. “They just called her a lady. We have confirmation that they’re orchestrating some kind of sacrifice and one of them said it might turn the city into a crater if they don’t pull it off. They said they might have a replacement afrite. We don’t have time to wait, we need to find out what they’re doing in the catacombs.”

  “Orthodox Cathedral, right?” he asked.

  “That’s where the door is,” Ely said, nodding. Joey pushed his jacket back and drew his gun out of its holster, offering it to her butt first.

  “Go take this to your mother,” he said. “Back her up if she needs it. I’m headed to the catacombs.”

  “I thought you didn’t want me getting involved in the fighting,” Ely said. There was a hesitance in her voice, and barely restrained excitement.

  “You’re ready,” Joey said. “You’ve been ready for a long time. If your mother has a problem with it she can take it up with me later, but for now, go.”

  Ely nodded, and, not needing to be told twice, walked right back out the door.

  “Danny!” Joey called up the stairs. There were a couple of heavy foot falls and his brother leaned around the banister to look down at him. “Come on, we’re going out. Bring a gun.”

  “Got it,” Danny said, disappearing into the hallway above.

  It felt like it took too long for Danny to come back down the stairs. It took effort not to pace.

  “You alright, Joey?” Danny asked. He folded his arms and stopped just short.

  “Ophelia’s about to get into a fight and I just sent my daughter to back her up,” Joey said.

  “Ely is the last person you need to worry about,” Danny said. “Where are we going, though? And why not follow her?”

  “She came back with information and we need to act while the blood is still warm,” he said. “We’ll be heading to the orthodox church of the veil. I have it on good authority there’s a door to the catacombs down there.”

  Danny nodded.

  “Alright,” he said. “Whatever we need to do. I’ve got your back.”

  Joey reached out and clasped his forearm. The two of them headed out together. Joey shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “You’re still thinking about it,” Danny said.

  “I’m thinking about a lot of things,” Joey said.

&n
bsp; “I’m about to make it worse,” Danny said. “I saw Callum last night.”

  Joey looked up at him sidelong.

  “And you didn’t tell me this when you got to the house because?” he asked.

  “I was trying to wait for Ophelia to get home,” Danny said. “He was at my place last night and he would have run if I’d called you.”

  Joey furrowed his brow.

  “Why is he doing that?” he asked. “Did he tell you?”

  “As far as I can figure he’s afraid of what you’re going to say,” Danny said.

  “He should be,” Joey said, then sighed. “He worried his mother half into her grave.”

  “Do you remember when Mama flew into a rage and told you if you went out that night you shouldn’t bother coming home?” Danny asked.

  “Yeah,” Joey said. “That was the night Rico Verida was going to set all those fires.”

  “You went out anyway.”

  “You came with me.”

  Danny spread his hands as if that were the point.

  “Going home that night was harder than the fight itself,” he said. “We didn’t want to disappoint our Mama.”

  Joey sighed.

  “I kind of get it,” he said, “but at the same time, the docks might have burned to the ground if we hadn’t gotten the boys together to do something about it. We didn’t go alone.”

  “We don’t know for sure he did,” Danny said.

  In fact, Joey knew for sure he hadn’t. Joey had brought Danny with him that night. Callum…Callum had gone to Sam and Ely.

  He slowed as the cathedral came into view and tapped Danny on the upper arm.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” Joey said. “I’ll talk to him about it when he comes home. All I can do is trust him to have himself together until then, and right now we’ve got work to do.”

  “What’s the plan for getting in there?” Danny asked. “Orthos aren’t really too keen on outsiders in their church.”

  “They can try and stop me,” he said, walking. Danny chuckled and followed. His shadow stretched along the lawn, cutting off at a hard angle when it reached the door.

  The sanctum was quiet as the pair of them entered. The only person inside was the old reverend, Blackwater, and he started toward them as soon as the door clicked shut.