Across the mottled skin of the girls’ mouths and cheeks lay precise and terrible slashes and puncture wounds, a grisly and unmistakable cipher that weighed down Enrique’s next words:
“Those girls are the key to the treasure.”
19
ZOFIA
Three days until Winter Conclave …
Zosia,
Do you remember the chicken soup Mama made with eyerlekh? You used to call it “sun soup.” I crave that so dearly right now.
I do not wish to worry you, but my cough has returned, and though I feel weak, I know I will get better. The boy delivering my medicine left me a flower today. He’s handsome, Zofia. Handsome enough that perhaps I don’t mind having to stay in bed all day if it means he comes to visit. His name is Isaac …
* * *
ALONE IN THE GROTTO, Zofia decided to test a theory.
“Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three,” she said aloud, counting the leviathan’s teeth.
For the past three days, Zofia had tracked every movement within the ice grotto. Every day at noon the grotto moon turned full, and the mechanical creature surged out of the water, placed its head onto the ice, and opened its jaws. For sixty minutes, it would stay still before sliding back into the water.
Zofia considered the leviathan a calming presence. The machine never deviated from its schedule. It was not alive, but the quiet whirring of its metal gears reminded her of a cat’s rumbling purr.
As of this morning, Zofia’s recorded observations had convinced Séverin that the leviathan followed a pattern, and that the grotto was safe to explore. From there, Order members had removed the dead girls from the walls, leaving behind a Mnemo projection that outlined their original positioning and the symbols carved into their skin. Laila had not watched the removal process, but Zofia knew that she would be with the girls now.
The thought turned her stomach, reminding her once again that Laila could die. She couldn’t let that happen, and yet she didn’t know what to do. Lately, Zofia suspected she had more in common with the mechanical leviathan than anyone in the Sleeping Palace. She understood what it meant to be powerless, treading the same routine, the same path. She had felt it with Tristan. The night he died, she had sat in her laboratory for hours, counting all the objects that could not save him. She had felt it with Hela when she had gone back to Poland, unable to do anything but hold Hela’s hand and watch as her sister fought to breathe.
She would not do that with Laila.
Zofia reached up and held onto one of the leviathan’s fangs as she took one step into its mouth. The waters of Lake Baikal rushed around her ankles. Beneath her shoes, the surface was flat and grooved for traction.
Zofia snapped off a Forged button from her coat, and it lengthened into a small unlit torch. Ignite, she thought, and a flame rasped alive. For the first time, she could see down the metal creature’s throat. The terrain changed, opening into a flat space, then a steep drop, followed by another flat space … like a staircase. Above her, splayed against the back of the creature’s throat lay deep grooves, symbols clearly engraved in the metal—
It looked similar to the symbols Enrique had discovered on the dead girls’ mouths. Zofia pressed the record function on her moth-shaped Mnemo bug. Enrique still hadn’t cracked the code. Maybe this could help. In her other hand, Zofia drew out a pendant, Forged to detect the presence of a Tezcat door within a fifty feet radius. The pendant lit up slowly, and Zofia’s pulse kicked up.
There was a Tezcat presence inside the grotto. Where did it lead? Outside? Or somewhere else entirely? Zofia eyed the leviathan’s throat. It might even be farther inside the leviathan. She was about to take another step when someone shrieked: “What the hell are you doing?”
Enrique ran toward her, nearly skidding on the ice. Zofia paused. She’d thought Enrique was in the library. Instead, he ducked his head beneath the leviathan’s jaws, grasping her by the shoulders and tugging her out until she stumbled and fell against his chest.
“Wait!” she cried out.
The Tezcat pendant in her hand went flying, skidding across the ice and landing with a metallic chime against one of the three shields on the far wall.
Enrique’s brown eyes looked hectic, and sweat sheened his face. He was—as Laila would say—“in a state.”
“Are you all right?” asked Zofia.
Enrique stared at her. “Am I all right? Zofia, you nearly got swallowed up by that … that thing—” he said, flailing a hand at the leviathan. “Wh-what were you doing?”
Zofia crossed her arms. “Testing a theory.”
“A theory of what?”
“A theory that there is a Tezcat portal presence within the grotto. The leviathan does not stay on the ice for more than an hour, thus it was the highest priority to explore. After that, I was going to test the three metal shield plates on the back wall,” she said. “The leviathan deserves further examination. There appeared to be stairs inside it, and I plan to see where they lead.”
“I think not,” retorted Enrique. “If there were stairs to hell, would you venture down those?”
“It depends on what was inside hell, and if I needed it.”
At that moment, Enrique’s expression became unreadable. Zofia searched his features, feeling that same pulse of awareness that now followed when she looked at him too long.
“You’re something else, Phoenix,” said Enrique.
Her stomach fell. “Something bad.”
Enrique’s face warred between a scowl and a smile, and she could not decipher it.
“Something … brave,” he said finally.
Brave?
“But that’s not always a good thing,” he rushed to say. His eyes darted to the leviathan, and he shuddered. “That thing is terrifying.”
Zofia disagreed, but she understood. “Why are you here?”
Enrique sighed. “I can’t crack those symbols. I’m sure it’s a coded alphabet of some kind, but I thought perhaps leaving the library for a change might give me a burst of divine inspiration.”
Zofia lifted the Mnemo bug: “I found more of those symbols inside the leviathan’s mouth.”
“You did?” asked Enrique. He glanced at the leviathan and back, then stood straighter. His brows pressed down and he pursed his lips. Zofia recognized it as the expression he assumed when he was about to do something he didn’t want. “Can I see it—”
Just then, a huff of steam escaped through the leviathan’s gills, and Enrique jumped back with a squeak.
“And my sense of self-preservation reasserts itself once more,” he said, crossing himself. “Please tell me you recorded the symbols? And, hold on … wait.” Enrique paused, staring at something just over her shoulder. “What’s that?”
Zofia followed his gaze. On the ice lay the Tezcat pendant. Only now, instead of its dim glow, it had turned brighter, like a beacon. Which was something it only did in the direct presence of a Tezcat portal. She turned from Enrique, walking toward the pendant and the three shields still covered in ice.
“Zofia,” hissed Enrique. “The leviathan is right there! Get away from it!”
She ignored him, walked past the leviathan—but not before patting its jaw and hearing a muted whimper from Enrique—and headed to the wall of ice. The three shields in the wall had a radius of at least ten feet each. Ropes of thick ice splattered across the front, but she could see a pattern under it: the metal beneath was not smooth. Zofia bent to pick up the Tezcat pendant, still glowing brightly before the first shield. Enrique’s boots crunched on the ice as he joined her.
“Once you get that pendant, can we leave? We’ll tell the others to join us after that creature disappears in the water,” he said. He had his shoulders hunched up around his ears. A pattern of fear. When he looked once more at the metal shields, his shoulders dropped and he frowned. “There’s something written under here. Or drawn? I … I can’t tell.”
“You can go because you are frightened,” said Zofia. “I�
��ll stay.”
Enrique groaned, glancing at the shield and then the leviathan before letting out a sigh.
“I am frightened,” he said quietly. “It’s a constant state of being I have yet to make peace with.” The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “Perhaps constant exposure will help.”
“You’re not leaving?” asked Zofia.
Enrique squared his shoulders. “No.”
She liked that Enrique could say he was scared and still be brave. It made her want to be brave too. When she considered this, an unfamiliar warmth curled through her belly.
Enrique tilted his head. “Hello? Phoenix?”
Zofia shook herself, then turned her attention back to the glowing phosphorous pendant in her hand.
“My inventions haven’t been wrong before,” she said. “If this is glowing before that shield, then it’s a Tezcat. In fact—”
She crossed the length of the wall, passing each of the three shields as she held up the pendant. Not once did the glow fade.
“All three of these shields are separate Tezcats,” said Enrique, his jaw falling open slightly.
“What do you think is behind it?” asked Zofia. “The treasure?”
Enrique made a face. “I don’t know … why would it be behind a portal? That would mean it wasn’t actually in the room but somewhere else, and after all the symbols and the girls … something about that doesn’t seem … appropriate. Maybe the symbols on the metal will tell us more, but we need to melt the ice. Perhaps I can ask the matriarch for one of her heat fans or … oh. Well. I suppose that works too.”
Zofia had pocketed the phosphorous pendant and reached for a heat-radiating locket from her necklace. She slapped it onto the shield. The ice glowed orange. With a sound like a faucet slammed to full blast, melted ice puddled to the floor. Zofia repeated this method with the two other shields, until they revealed a set of images engraved in the metal.
Enrique stared at her. “Don’t take this the wrong way … but you strike me as dangerously flammable.”
Zofia considered this. “Thank you.”
“Why not,” said Enrique, before turning his attention to the Tezcat door.
The circumference was entirely smooth, with no hint of a hinge or anything that might be twisted or pinched to open it and reveal what lay behind the shields. A grooved design stretched across the metal. When Zofia touched it, a familiar buzzing gathered at the edge of her thoughts, signaling the piece was Forged.
“The metal is designed to absorb something,” she said, frowning. “A liquid. But not ice. Although, perhaps something that could also be present in ice, judging by the small pockmarks in the metal. It looks like it reacted to something.”
Enrique pulled out a notebook and started to sketch the design.
“This symbol…” he said, holding it up to her. “It’s weathered down quite a bit, but I recognize this.”
“Why does it look like a lion with a glass?” She squinted. “And … an urn?”
“Because it is a lion with a pot … and a wineglass,” said Enrique. “It’s showing an Egyptian god that I haven’t seen depicted in ages.”
Behind them came the sound of metal on ice. Zofia whirled around to see the leviathan close its jaws and slide back into the water. She glanced at the Forged moon in the grotto.
It was exactly on time.
The moment it slipped back into the water, a new sight came into view: Hypnos and Eva, standing in the entrance. The redheaded girl was holding a platter of food in her hands.
“I was looking for you both!” said Hypnos. He cast a glance at the oval of water where the creature had disappeared. “But then I was waiting for that”—he gestured in the direction of the leviathan—“to leave. What are you doing? Why didn’t anyone invite me?” He tilted his head to one side. “Why is that lion holding a wineglass? Also, Eva brought food.”
Eva gripped the platter so tightly that her knuckles looked white.
“Ruslan asked me to check on everyone’s progress,” she said, glowering. “I won’t leave until that is done, so don’t waste your time asking.”
Zofia was still mentally sorting through Hypnos’s questions and only nodded at Eva. Beside her, Enrique rubbed his temples.
“Yes,” he said.
“Yes to what? To the food? The questions?” asked Hypnos. “Because ‘yes’ does not explain why that lion is holding a wineglass.”
“Definitely yes to the food.” Enrique gestured them over, and they crossed the grotto to stand before the ice wall.
Hypnos smiled at Enrique, and Zofia noticed that he did not return it. Instead, he turned toward the shield, his face blank.
“See how the symbols stretch across all three shields? They represent a god.”
Hypnos frowned. “There’s a god of lions and wineglasses? That seems incredibly specific.”
“This god is Shezmu,” said Enrique, rolling his eyes. “He’s seldom depicted, perhaps because he’s at such odds with himself. On the one hand, he’s the lord of perfumes and precious oils, often considered something of a celebration deity.”
“My kind of god,” said Hypnos.
“He is also the god of slaughter, blood, and dismemberment.”
“I amend my original statement,” said Hypnos.
“Technically, the ‘blood’ translation might also stand in for ‘wine.’ I’m not quite sure,” said Enrique. He eyed the platter of sandwiches and started to reach for one. “Either way, I’d bet he’s critical to understanding how to open these Tezcats.”
“Opening them?” repeated Eva.
The platter dropped from her hands and hit the floor.
“The sandwiches!” moaned Enrique.
“Why would you open it?”
“We’re here to find the Fallen House’s treasure,” said Zofia. “That means opening things that are closed.”
Eva narrowed her gaze, while Hypnos rubbed Enrique’s back.
“Now about the treasure, mon cher,” said Hypnos.
“You can’t eat treasure,” said Enrique, staring mournfully at the sandwiches.
“Yes, but we can still find it.”
Zofia touched the metal shield once more. Through her metallurgy affinity, she knew the artist had fused together the properties of corkwood and metal … but there was a specific metal that affected the shield most. Something that was also present in ice, apparently, considering the minimal damage done to the original structure.
“The door wants something,” said Zofia. “The metal had absorptive properties, so it seems as though it wants a liquid.”
Hypnos sighed. “The longer I stare at this, the only liquid I want is wine.”
Enrique snapped his fingers. “What if that’s it?”
“Can’t be,” said Zofia. “There’s no wine in ice.”
“There is ice wine, though,” said Hypnos. “Very sweet. In fact, they make an excellent vintage in Russia.”
“You said he was a god of celebration—”
“And blood,” said Enrique. “Or wine.”
“Blood … or wine.”
As far as she knew, there were no metallic properties in wine that someone could manipulate with an affinity.
“It’s blood or ice,” said Eva.
All of them turned to face her. Eva flexed her hand, and for the first time Zofia noticed a strange ring she wore on her pinky. It was curved like a talon.
“All blood Forging artisans are well versed in matter and mind, but we particularly excel at ice because of its metallic content.”
“There’s iron in both ice and blood,” said Zofia slowly.
“Naturally occurring ice, at least,” said Eva. “Boiled water left out in freezing temperatures isn’t nearly as receptive to my affinity, but ice from lakes and oceans? Very rich in metal.”
Enrique inched away from the shield. “So you think the door wants … blood?”
“Only experiment confirms hypothesis,” said Zofia.
“It’s y
our hypothesis. Might as well commit to it,” said Eva. She uncurled her hand, her metal talon glinting. “I can make it painless.”
Zofia swallowed, then held out her hand only for Hypnos to step between her and Eva. He gently pushed down her arm.
“I cannot see you hurt, ma chère,” he said softly. “Allow me.”
“Allow” was a strange word. Zofia had never considered that she might grant someone permission to protect her, and a feeling of warmth—like gulping down not-too-hot soup—settled into her chest. She stepped back wordlessly.
“You look like you have practice in such recreation, Patriarch,” said Eva.
Hypnos merely held out his hand. Eva slashed her taloned ring across it, leaving his palm bloody. Grimacing, Hypnos pressed his hand to the metal. A moment passed, then two …
“I hope I did not ruin myself for nothing,” muttered Hypnos. “That was my favorite palm, you know.”
But a moment later, a change took place in the metal shield. The edges of the metal lit up, making a small puffing sound of release as it broke away from the ice wall. Enrique moved closer, and the three of them formed a tight knot as the metal door swung open like a lid covering a tunnel to reveal—
“A boarded-up brick wall?” demanded Hypnos. “I wasted my blood on that?”
Enrique got close to the wall, scratching at it with his nail.
“It smells awful,” said Eva, recoiling.
“It’s been boarded up for a long time,” said Enrique, pointing to the fine trellis of moss that had broken up the brick.
“Let’s try the other doors,” said Zofia.
Clutching his hand, Hypnos walked to the second door. Again, he placed his palm against it. Again, the portal opened.
The Silvered Serpents Page 17