Salvation

by Tanith Frost

  I force a smile that’s probably not as persuasive as I want it to be. “Maybe you could do it and blame what they feel on a miracle?”

  “That would be…” Gideon trails off, looks past me for a moment, then smiles. “Brilliant.” He scoots sideways on the couch, rises, and heads to the bookshelves.

  “What’s brilliant?”

  He pulls a book from the shelf, flips through it, and reshelves it before pulling another down. I take a few steps toward him, but his attention is all on the huge, leather-bound volume. He closes the book and puts it away before returning to me. “I can’t amplify the light myself, but if we give humans a miracle, a reason to focus their attention and deepen their connection to it, they’ll do the work themselves.”

  I gape at him. “You just said that you can’t—”

  “Oh, Aviva. Not a real miracle. Not an out-of-the-blue, truly inexplicable event of clearly supernatural origin. They just need a little prompting. Something to marvel at, something to open their eyes to the possibility that there’s more to life than their day-to-day concerns.” His fingers twitch as if he can barely contain his excitement. “And there’s your amplification. If I were there to offer a little additional encouragement, no one would be the wiser. If we played it right, we might just get enough to reduce an army of vampires to ash.”

  He sounds far more excited than I feel at the prospect of being in the presence of that kind of light. So much will depend on Odette keeping us safe.

  “And you can do this?” I ask. “Set up a miracle, I mean.”

  “I can’t do it myself, but I have someone near Twillingate who owes me a soul.”

  “Gideon!”

  He flashes me a charming smile. “Don’t be a killjoy. He’s asked me for an additional favour but needs a way to pay for it. You both benefit.”

  I turn away and resume my journey through the room, running my fingers lightly over shelves, tables, and the objects that cover them—strangely shaped stones, a glass doorknob, a large white feather, more books stacked near the fireplace. “That covers our power source. We still have the problem of getting the enemy onto the property. They’ll stop as soon as they feel light’s effects.” I look back at Gideon, who’s watching with great interest. “You’re good at keeping the light in you contained so it doesn’t hurt vampires. Could you do it with power outside of yourself? Keep it trapped inside a church building, maybe, until we need it released?”

  He presses one hand to his chest, doing a terrible job of feigning shock. “A city set on a hill cannot be hidden, Aviva. I know it’s been a while since you picked up a holy text, but really—”

  “Can you do it?”

  “It could be imprecise. You’d need protection, and I couldn’t hold it down forever. But if we planned carefully, it could work.” Any pretense of humor fades as he stalks toward me, eyes locked on mine. “This is going to be quite difficult even for me. Between my involvement with containing the light, the ‘miracle’ that would make such measures necessary, and what I did for you the other night, you’re asking for quite a lot.”

  Impossible though it seems, I swear my heart trembles as he approaches. I have to remind myself that I haven’t agreed to anything. I could still walk away. “Name your price, then.”

  He stops close enough that he could reach out and touch me, but far enough away that I can still take all of him in at a glance. It’s hard to resist that temptation. I don’t know what my problem is, why I so often desire those who I also have reason to fear.

  “Your freedom.”

  I can’t move for a few seconds. “My—I don’t understand. You want to lock me away until my debt is paid?”

  “That would be useless, wouldn’t it? You will become my servant. I ask, you obey, and the arrangement remains in effect until your debt is paid in full.” His voice has dropped low. No hint that he’s in any way joking. “You’re asking me to meddle in human spiritual affairs, to plant the seeds for what amounts to a false revival—something that will have lasting effects on the humans involved, no matter how it turns out. You’re asking me to bend light itself to your will. You, a creature of the void, will have the power to suppress it through me, if only temporarily. You threaten to upset beings with more power than even I have, and who will bear the brunt of their disapproval?”

  “You,” I whisper. “Then why risk it at all?”

  “Because I have ambitions. Plans. The trading of favours is small business for now, but it will lead to great gains for me in the future. If I’m to do it while playing by the rules—and I don’t care to consider the consequences if I don’t—I’ll need creatures like you owing me favours on the mortal plane.”

  My voice seems to have abandoned me. I have to choke out my next words. “But you’re not asking for a favour. You want… you want to bind me to you, to take my freedom like every master you’ve hated has done to you.”

  “Want is a strong word,” he says, and to his credit, regret hangs heavy in his voice. “I know what I’m asking. But because you ask for much, I have no choice but to demand much in return. I’m bound by rules and laws as much as you are. Perhaps more so.”

  “But surely there’s something else—”

  “No. I’m sorry, Aviva. I truly am.”

  His gaze is too much. All of this is too much. My knees tremble, and I stumble back until I hit something soft to sit on.

  His bed. Great.

  He follows, but leaves a bit of breathing room between us. “I know how hard this decision will be for you. You cherish your freedom even if learning its value has been a hard-won lesson. So yes, that is what I must ask of you. But I promise you’ll have more than any master ever offered me. You’ll remain in your own world, your own life, such as it is. But when I want you for something, you will do as I ask without question or hesitation.”

  I’ve frozen. I can’t answer.

  “Come, now,” he says. “It’ll be fun.”

  I glance down at the bed. “You mean…”

  I expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. He does smile, though, so seductively that I can almost taste it. “Not sex, no.” He steps closer and leans in to whisper in my ear. “That will be far more satisfying when you choose it freely.”

  The room is suddenly way too warm. I clench my fists, digging my fingernails into my skin, grounding myself.

  He said when, not if. I wish I could say that was a sign of overconfidence and not of how well he knows me. Goddamn me.

  “I want death, Aviva. Pain. Fear. Chaos and destruction. The other things you were made for. That’s how I’ll wish to use you.”

  “For how long?”

  He tilts his head slightly and regards me with curiosity. “That’s the question, isn’t it? You’re asking me to help you save vampires. How many years of existence would be lost collectively if I didn’t help you?”

  “Not a fair question.”

  “I knew that would be too easy. In any case, it’s out of my hands. Come look at this.” Gideon heads for the bookshelf again and crouches to select a tome covered in pale, thin scraps of leather. He sets it on a display table against the wall and motions for me to come closer. “There have been cases where my kind have made deals with humans whose souls were unavailable. Rare cases—it’s quite uncommon for a true mortal to have anything else to offer.”

  The page he’s opened it to shows a drawing of a grotesquely cartoonish demon and a human. The demon has a knife in one hand and is carving into the skin on the human’s ribcage. Text follows, written in a language I can’t begin to understand. The next image makes everything clear, though. The human now stands alone, bearing a strange symbol on his skin like a trio of black slashes enclosed in a triangle. A collar around his neck is attached to a chain that hangs down to his ankles.

  “The chain is metaphorical, of course,” Gideon says as though this will make me feel better. “As is the knife. The marking on the human’s flesh is real enough, though, and symbolizes his debt. It’s unique to the being
who places it, and it fades as the debt is paid off. So the answer to your question is that you’ll serve me until the scales are balanced. If I ask more of you, the debt will be repaid more quickly. And if you ask more of me…”

  I shudder. “I get it.”

  He’s watching me carefully, gauging my reactions. “It’s the most objective way to measure it that I can think of.”

  I try to wet my lips, but my mouth is too dry. “Can Maelstrom survive if I don’t do this?”

  “I don’t see it as a possibility, no.”

  “And if I do?”

  Gideon scratches the back of his neck, looking as uncomfortable as he did when he confessed the extent of his betrayal not so long ago. I hope that means he’s being honest even if I don’t like what he’s going to say. “It depends. I’ll set up the circumstances and do everything in my power to make my part of things go as planned. What you do with it will be up to you and the others. You’ve all fucked up so many times that I’m inclined to doubt things will go smoothly… but yes. You’ll have a chance.”

  A chance. Not just for me, but for all of Maelstrom, all of the werewolves, all of the other powers on the island and in the world.

  “Is it a good plan?” I ask. That’s not what I mean, though. I want to know whether it will be worth the cost to me, but I can’t bring myself to ask.

  He smiles down at me. “Given the limitations on what I can do, I don’t think you could have chosen better. May I offer a piece of advice?”

  “Please.”

  “Let your enemy keep thinking he’s got the upper hand. And don’t make it easy for him. He’ll see right through it.”

  Advice Miranda has likely already thought of, but I appreciate it anyway. “Thanks, Gideon.”

  “Of course. I now have ample reason to want to see you succeed.”

  I scowl at him. “You didn’t before?”

  He chuckles. “Additional reason. Do we have a deal?”

  I swallow back the lump in my throat. It’s just a little business deal. Death. Chaos. I can handle that, unless… “Not yet. I want a clause in this verbal contract that says you won’t use me in ways that go against my interests—my clan, myself, whatever. I don’t want this debt to fuck me over in the rest of my existence.”

  Gideon’s eyes narrow. “The tasks I assign to you may be dangerous, and your safety will depend on how you approach the task. The best I can offer is this: I won’t ask you to work against your clan or its members in any direct way.”

  I take a long breath, forcing the air past the tightness in my chest. Angles, considerations, and doubts roll about in my head. There’s too much to consider. But we’ve covered the main problem, and there’s no point stalling.

  “Okay, then.”

  His eyes light up—literally—for a second. “Say it.”

  “We have a deal.”

  Nothing changes. The ground doesn’t shake. The fire doesn’t go out. But something in me changes. The sensation that passes through me is cold and hot at the same time, freezing and burning over my skin before concentrating itself beneath my ribs on my left side. I wince, then gasp as the pain intensifies. And then it’s gone.

  I lift the hem of my pyjama top and find a mark, but not ink like Imogen gave me. It looks as if I’ve been branded, the skin burnt and charred to black ash. Gideon leans down and blows gently on my skin, then brushes away the last few cinders to reveal a smooth scar the size of my palm, shining skin tinted to charcoal grey in an outward-trailing pattern of gently twisting, feathered lines.

  Gideon tilts his head to one side as he steps back and looks it over. “Not bad. It will fade as you pay back what you owe, but this one could take a while.”

  “I hope it’ll be worth it,” I say under my breath and let my shirt fall back into place.

  “You’ll get what you’ve paid for.” Gideon waits for me to look up at him. “Believe it or not, I don’t want this to be a burden for you. Think of it as a job, one you’ll have been paid for before I call on you to do it. The work won’t be easy, but it will be satisfying and well suited to you. And you could do far worse than me for a boss.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” I rub the scar. The pain is gone, but I can feel the raised skin beneath the thin fabric. “I guess I’d better report back to Miranda.”

  As Gideon sets the book aside, I catch sight of a greyish marking on the leather of the front cover. I grab his arm to stop him so I can take a closer look. It’s faded and smudged, but it’s the same symbol the human in the picture carried over his ribs. The leather feels cold and a little greasy when I touch it. “Gideon?”

  “Ah, yes.” He pulls the book away and sets it aside. “That human thought he could run away from his promise, escape the obligations he’d agreed to. It didn’t end well for him. Shall we get you back?”

  I don’t answer. The room vanishes again, fading into darkness this time before it’s replaced by the covered walkway we left behind—no sign of Clark now.

  The wind is still blowing, the snow still falling outside, but I hardly notice.

  I’m already chilled to the bone.

  26

  “It’s done.”

  Miranda opens her eyes at the sound of my voice. I found her sitting with Eoin when I returned, keeping watch over the healing vampire. Eoin hasn’t opened her eyes since our arrival, and I don’t think Miranda has left her side.

  Miranda stands and closes the office door. “The other power is at our disposal?”

  “It is, and I think I’ve got a plan that will work. I just need to choose the right location. Then we need to lure Lachlan out here.”

  Miranda smiles grimly. “I doubt that will be a problem. If Lachlan isn’t already on his way here, he will be as soon as we’re on the move and I have to set everyone free to take care of preparations. I can’t keep our mole silent forever.”

  “Maybe that’s okay,” I say, remembering what Gideon told me. “It’s important that he’s hunting us. If he so much as suspects that it’s a trap…”

  “I know. Better that he brings his full army, intending to wipe us out in one go. We’re taking risks. We just have to hope he is, too.” She gives me a questioning look. “I hope the cost wasn’t too high.”

  “It will be fair enough if all goes as planned.”

  A shadow darkens the frosted glass of the office door. “I’ll need to know the details soon,” Miranda says, her brow furrowing, “but it’s best that we don’t speak of it here or now.”

  Clark knocks softly as he opens the door. “Everything all right?” He’s about to close the door behind him when Daniel appears and stands in the doorway, listening.

  Miranda gestures toward Eoin. “No change so far. Any sign of trouble?”

  “None.” Clark stares at me, almost through me, for a second, looking confused. Then it’s gone—he doesn’t remember anything.

  The scar below my ribs tingles, then warms, then burns, bringing with it an urge to escape the confines of this building. Fantastic. I may not be chained, but it seems I am effectively leashed.

  When I speak, my words come out short and clipped. “Miranda, I think I need to go.”

  “Very well. When should I expect you back?”

  “Wait,” Clark says. “No one is allowed to leave.”

  The pain flares again. I can’t help wincing. Miranda frowns, but doesn’t ask why.

  “She’s going on my business,” she says. “There’s no need to worry.”

  Clark crosses his arms over his chest. “I think there is. She could tell Lachlan where we are. No one can be allowed to go out without close supervision.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Daniel says.

  Clark turns to him. “No one’s crazy enough to trust you if we can’t trust her.”

  Daniel shrugs at me. Worth a try, I guess.

  “It’s fine, Clark,” Miranda says. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

  “I do,” he mutters. “It’s hard when everything is so secretiv
e, though. Where’s she going, anyway?”

  “Everything will be clear soon.” Miranda’s phone—apparently the only one secure enough to remain in use—buzzes. She pulls it from her pocket, flips it open to read the message, and smiles. “In the meantime, you can help me prepare. We’ve got two more teams coming in, but we’ll need to meet them at the bridge and collect their phones before we reveal more about our location. Ryder is on his way from town with stock to keep us going.”

  “Hallelujah,” Daniel mutters under his breath, and Miranda smiles.

  I step toward the door, and the pain abates slightly as if the tension has lessened on my tether. “If I could just—”

  “Go, yes,” Miranda says.

  The pain eases further as I leave the office and hurry across the warehouse floor, ignoring the curious glances of the others, all of whom look either bored or anxious.

  I turn left at the end of the outdoor walkway. My side burns.

  “Fucker,” I mutter, almost hoping Gideon can hear. When I turn around and head the other way, toward the street, the burning cools again. This game of hot and cold had better not last all the way to wherever he wants me.

  A car sits idling at the curb. The passenger side window rolls down as I approach.

  “Took you long enough,” Gideon says. “Get in. You’re going to love this.”

  After a longer drive than I’d expected, Gideon pulls into the gravel parking lot of a little red-brick building set in the middle of nowhere surrounded by rocky hills and scrubby bushes. It’s not overtly churchy save for the discreet cross set over the door in pale grey stone and the lit-up sign by the road, but appearances hardly matter. My chest tightens instantly.

  “Gideon?”

  “Oh. Right.” He parks the car, then sits with his eyes closed. For a second, the crushing sensation increases, and my mouth dries out as if the light is fighting back against this oppression, but then the sensation is gone.