Myths and Mortals (Numina Book 2)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  Sherig may have been one of the most powerful women in Dresberg, and not only because she had an infamous mob at her beck and call. She was nearly twice as thick as Rone and a couple of inches taller. Most men would likely cower at her sheer size. Rone, however, held his ground.

  She pulled a flask from her belt. “Thirsty?”

  Rone moved to bat the offering away, but she was quicker and pulled it from his reach. “I half want to punch you in the gut, Jase, since Kazen got away.”

  Rone’s stomach dropped. He had gotten away, then. Words rolled over each other as they raced up his throat. “Where is Sandis?”

  Sherig shrugged. “She didn’t come back with my boys. Figured she was with you, but maybe she ran off with the vessels.”

  His skin prickled like he’d just jumped into a cold bath. “She’s not here?” He was too stunned to curse.

  Kazen had escaped. Sandis was missing.

  God’s tower, the summoner had taken her. He’d taken her again, and Rone had allowed it to happen.

  His body warped from cold to hot. He grabbed fistfuls of hair.

  Sherig slapped him on the back. “You look like you’re going to hurl.” She pointed to a corner. “There’s a bucket—”

  “Did you see Kazen?” He whipped toward her, grabbing her sleeves. “Did you see him? Does he have Sandis?”

  Sherig laughed. “Vessel means a lot to you, eh? No, he took off on his own.” She looked away and frowned. “Bastard.”

  Relief hit Rone so hard he nearly lost his footing. They’d gotten separated was all. Kazen wouldn’t have risked coming back for her after making his great escape, would he? He’d be caught . . .

  His stomach squirmed.

  Sherig shrugged again. “You can look around, but believe me, I know each and every time one of mine brings a woman in. Especially one as pretty as her.”

  Rone set his jaw. Turned on his heel and headed for the door. Paused. “I take it you’ve filtered through all the loot personally?”

  “That I did.”

  “Did you see a fist-sized trinket with a pearlescent center, surrounded by three skewed golden loops?”

  Sherig raised an eyebrow. “Something like that I would remember. Afraid you’re out of luck.”

  Rone nodded once and pushed his way back to the street just as the first work bell tolled.

  He had to find her. He had to find her now.

  She was armed, he told himself as he wandered the dilapidated ruins outside Kazen’s lair and noted a few bullet holes in the buildings. The place was incredibly quiet. Dead. He’d already picked through every lane and alley, but he had to be sure.

  She was armed. Kazen couldn’t have grabbed her, if he even saw her.

  Sandis was faster than the old man—or she had been when they’d chased each other through the city the night Rone had taken a bullet to his hip. But if the man was so slow, how had he outrun an entire mob? Had he stowed away a horse somewhere? Had he taken a vessel with him and used a numen?

  Sandis. She’d done nothing to break her script. Kazen could have summoned on her, forced her to come along . . . but if Rone’s understanding of the occult was correct, it was a bit more complicated to summon a numen into an unbound vessel. Not something Kazen could do on the fly.

  He doesn’t have her.

  Maybe she’d finally run away. Not from Kazen, but from him. She’d freed her friends. Perhaps she’d decided to take refuge with them. Maybe the idea of depending on Rone had hurt her a little too much.

  The ball in his gut burrowed down, and Rone pressed a hand to his belly to ease it. The ache radiated up to his chest.

  His legs were like marble pillars when, in midafternoon, he dragged himself back to his new flat in his old building. His body ached all over, begging for sleep, but his mind was spinning in nonsensical circles. Should he check the cathedral? The local police? What if she’d been arrested? He had money for bail, if they hadn’t discovered what she was. He could—

  The door creaked when it opened, and Sandis looked up from the couch.

  “Rone!” She stood. “You won’t believe what—”

  He crossed the room in three strides before engulfing her in his arms and burying his face into her hair. Relief trickled down his body like autumn rain. Exhaustion fled.

  She smelled like butter, rain, and smoke. It was intoxicating. How had he never noticed before?

  “R-Rone . . . I c-can’t . . . breathe . . .”

  He let her go immediately, only then realizing what he’d done. He took a step back, then another, giving her space. Her cheeks were flushed. Had he really squeezed her that hard?

  “I didn’t know where you were.” The words came out too fast. “I thought you might be dead, or that Kazen had . . . I don’t know. You weren’t with Sherig—”

  Movement from the corner of his eye made him swallow the rest of his words. He looked over to see another man standing there, wearing his clothes. His shirt, anyway. It was a little too long and too tight in the waist—the guy was both shorter and stouter than Rone. He was notably Godobian, and—

  Rone blinked. “I know you. You were in the lair when I went . . . the first time.” He’d run into him, and the man had pretended not to see him.

  The Godobian looked him up and down. A small smile tugged at his mouth. “You were pretending to be a grafter.” The smile fell. “Life was hell after that.”

  “This is Bastien,” Sandis said, gesturing to him. “He’s one of Kazen’s vessels. My . . . replacement.”

  Rone looked between the two of them. “Replacement? Then—”

  “I bear Ireth’s name, yes,” Bastien answered. He started playing with his braid like it was his pet cat.

  “Oh.” Rone didn’t know what else to say to that. “Thanks for not ratting me out.”

  Bastien nodded.

  Sandis smiled. Smiled. He hadn’t seen a real smile from her for so long, and yet now it felt like a knife to his gut. A rusted knife, slowly twisting.

  She was smiling at Bastien.

  Rone rubbed his dry eyes and cleared his throat. “The rendezvous was at Sherig’s place.”

  A pause. “Did they decide that?” she asked.

  “We decided it.” He dropped his hand. “I thought something horrible had happened to you.”

  Sandis rubbed her shoulder. “I don’t know if I could find it from—”

  “And there weren’t three dozen other guys you could have followed?”

  Sandis’s expression darkened.

  “I-I’m going to use the privy,” Bastien announced, and he scuttled down the hallway. Already knew where it was, apparently. How long had they been here, while Rone frantically searched architectural graves for some sign of her?

  Sandis picked at the waistband of her dress. “Bastien and I—”

  “I’m guessing Bastien couldn’t find his way into the city, either.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Bastien spent more years underground than I did, Rone. So no, I don’t think he could have. We came here. Look, you found us.”

  “I’ve been sick all morning trying to find you!” Rone gestured toward the window, in the general direction of Kazen’s lair. Why was she getting mad at him?

  “People weren’t exactly going in and out single file. I didn’t know where you were. I was trying to follow Kazen, and Sherig was there—”

  “You didn’t know where I was because you ran off.”

  Her ears reddened. “To help people, Rone! That was the whole point of this! To rescue them and to stop Kazen.”

  “And that worked out splendidly.”

  Sandis threw her hands into the air. “What do you even want, Rone? Your business is done with me. It has been for a long time.” She pushed past him for the door.

  The tautness in his shoulders evaporated. “Sandis—”

  “My papers weren’t there.” Her voice squeaked around the words. “But this was.” She reached into her pocket, yanked her hand back out, and chucked something a
t him. He caught it with one hand and nearly dropped it.

  The amarinth. The amarinth.

  Sandis wrenched open the door.

  “Sandis, wait.”

  “I need some air.” She slammed the door behind her.

  Rone took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Nice one, Comf. You’re a moron. He looked down at the amarinth in his hands. He should feel better about getting it back. And he did. It was just . . . he shouldn’t have gotten it this way.

  Falling back onto the couch, Rone balanced the artifact between his thumb and pinky and spun it with his index finger. The loops rotated around each other, void of magic. It had already been spun today.

  Kazen had gotten away, all right.

  Next time, it wouldn’t be so easy.

  If Rone pressed himself to the wall, he could see Sandis out of one of the dingy windows. She hadn’t gone far. She hunched over the rusted railing of the balcony, staring down into the street. This flat was only two stories up, so it didn’t even have a good view, but she stayed out there a long time.

  He turned away and made something to eat. Only then did Bastien come out of the privy.

  “I’m guessing you’re hungry,” Rone said without turning around.

  “I had some bread, thank you.”

  Rone pulled the diminished loaf out of the cupboard. “I see that.”

  He heard the vessel drop onto the couch. The ensuing silence was awkward.

  “I’ve got some raisins,” Rone said.

  “Do you think they’ll look for us?”

  He paused. “Kazen or the Riggers?”

  Bastien looked at his knees. “Both?”

  “I don’t think so.” He couldn’t guarantee that, but this guy seemed especially jumpy, and Rone would rather he not piss himself with worry. These floors were a pain to clean.

  He put the raisins back onto their shelf.

  “Raisin’ the raisins.”

  Rone crooked an eyebrow. “What?”

  Bastien shrugged. “It’s a joke.”

  Rone hesitated before saying, “That . . . was a really bad joke.”

  He started manhandling his braid again. “I know.”

  Quickly losing interest in the conversation, Rone smeared the last of his butter onto a piece of bread. He took a bite and studied the guy. He was closer to Sandis’s age than his. Maybe nineteen? No older than twenty. For some reason, that made Rone feel slightly superior.

  That, and he could definitely kick this guy’s ass if he wanted to.

  “You don’t see a lot of foreigners around these parts,” he noted.

  Bastien dragged his toe across the carpet. “I don’t remember Godobia. I vaguely remember my parents.”

  Rone thought of his own mother. “You miss them?”

  “They’re the ones who sold me.”

  “Oh.” He took another bite of bread. “That’s rough.”

  Bastien gave him a pointed look that made Rone feel like a stranger in his own flat. Granted, it hadn’t been his flat for very long.

  He swallowed. “You can rummage through the cupboards if you want. I’m going to take a nap.”

  Bastien nodded.

  “Keep an eye on her.”

  He nodded again.

  Bread still in hand, Rone strode into his bedroom and closed the door. He heard Bastien open the front door and tried not to think of the Godobian and Sandis together, alone, out there.

  Rone plopped down in his desk chair and set his food on the desk’s corner, ears pricked for sounds of Sandis. He doubted Kazen would try to reclaim Sandis at this point, but he wanted to play it safe. He certainly wouldn’t be able to sleep so long as she was exposed, so he might as well find some way to stay busy. Opening a drawer, he retrieved his emigration papers. The tiny date in the corner stared back at him.

  Seven days. He still had time. Plenty of time. She clearly didn’t want him here, so he should leave. Soon. Just not . . . yet.

  Slipping the papers away, Rone snatched up his meal and shoved it in his mouth before lying on his bed and kicking off his shoes. He stared at the ceiling, feeling the ball in his stomach draw slow circles, around and around, always in the same direction.

  The front door opened again, shut. Bastien was saying something too quietly for Rone to make out. His body sank into the mattress, his eyelids wavered, but his attention focused solely on the room beyond his door.

  Their plan had failed. But Rone still had cards he could play. Engel did, anyway.

  It was time to pay a visit to the police. More specifically, to crooked Thamus Dakis.

  Sandis shifted on the couch, glancing periodically at the bedroom door. Her emotions danced into knots inside her. Anger at Rone’s accusations. Surprise at his worry. Sadness that she couldn’t talk to him, the way she might have, before. Half of her wanted that door to open. The other half wanted to bar it shut and set a match to the entire flat.

  The thought of fire brought her attention back to Bastien. He’d shown her Ireth’s name on the back of his neck, printed just as it was on hers, minus the missing corner. But of course the fire horse was bound to someone new. Kazen wouldn’t let such a powerful numen go unchained. Ireth was sitting right next to her . . . yet he was just as far away as before. She had no connection to him anymore . . . and neither did Bastien. At least, not like the one Sandis had once possessed. When she’d asked if he felt Ireth—the warm pressure of his presence—and experienced dreams about him, he’d given her a confused look, much like the other vessels had done. Things like that just didn’t happen. Not for them.

  “They didn’t talk to me much,” Bastien said, picking at a cuticle as he spoke about the other vessels. “I mean, as much as they talked to each other.”

  Sandis shook her head. “I wish I had given them a meeting point. Anything.” It had all happened so fast; she’d wanted the others to be free. And they had gone. There was that, at least. And yet . . . fear wasn’t the only reason none of them had tried to run off before. They had nowhere to go but the streets. Sandis had only felt empowered to escape after finding Talbur Gwenwig’s name in that gold-exchange record. She had thought she’d found salvation.

  Thinking of her great-uncle now made her heart ache. But there was a strange comfort, knowing he was still out there. If she returned to him, would he be happy or angry?

  “I wouldn’t worry about them.”

  She refocused her attention on the Godobian. “What makes you say that?”

  He shrugged, elbows on his knees. “Dar is so independent. Fearless. Big. He’ll find a job or something soon. Rist and Kaili seem to be closer than anyone. I bet they’re together, figuring things out. They might have family in the city. Did either of them ever mention . . . ?”

  Sandis shook her head. “I don’t know anything about their families.” Except that wasn’t true. Alys had told her about her background once. She’d lived with an aunt in a town west of Dresberg. Then she’d gotten very quiet, like whatever had happened during her capture was too sad to voice. Sandis understood. It had taken her a long time to mention Anon to anyone.

  “Alys?” she tried. “She wasn’t with the others.”

  Bastien’s lips formed a thin line as he considered. “I haven’t seen her in . . . four days, maybe? But I’d been in solitary for . . .” He shuddered. “I-I don’t know. A little over a day, I think.”

  Four days? But she’d gone as long without seeing one of the others before. Depending on Kazen’s work schedule or his punishments. She’s fine. “Why were you in solitary?”

  He frowned. “Kazen was pretty ruthless with me. I don’t know if that’s how he was with all his recruits, but if I stepped even a little out of line, it was solitary. Sometimes for three hours, sometimes three days.” He closed his eyes for a moment—perhaps the memories were too strong. Sandis hated solitary, too, but mostly because it was dark and lonely, not because the space was tight. “Dar said he used to have an assistant who dealt other punishments, but Kazen got rid of him.”
/>
  “He killed him.”

  Bastien blinked. “I-I’m not surprised, honestly. He killed one of my old master’s men when they traded me. I don’t know exactly what the bargain was, but they got into a big fight right there in the hallway. It was . . . terrifying.”

  That perked Sandis’s interest. “In Kazen’s hold?”

  He nodded.

  She remembered a fight drawing Galt out of his office before Ireth was taken away from her. A fight that had left her handcuffed to his desk, allowing her to find Talbur’s address and her own citizen record, which she’d foolishly left behind and now was lost for good. Could that fight have been between Kazen and Bastien’s old grafters?

  “Kazen went back on part of the deal,” Bastien continued. “Oz wasn’t happy about it. But Kazen never did keep a contract.”

  Sandis knit her fingers together. “I hope she’s okay. Alys.”

  “Me, too. She was nice. She talked about you. I mean, they all did, from time to time. The one who got away. The one who broke Kazen.”

  “Broke?”

  Humor glinted in Bastien’s blue eyes. “Apparently he was much more levelheaded before you walked out on him. You could say you really sanded him down.”

  “I . . . what?”

  “You know.” He twisted the end of his braid around his index finger. “Sandis. Sanded.”

  Sandis almost smiled at that. She would have, if only Kazen had been killed, captured, anything. But he was still out there, somewhere. Hurting, yes, but nothing could keep that man down for long.

  “You’re sad.”

  She looked back over at Bastien. “I’m worried. He’s going to find a way to summon Kolosos, I know it.” She’d told Bastien about Kolosos earlier, after they got back to Rone’s flat. Not about the visions, the nightmares, but the facts. The things she understood. Bastien had confirmed that newcomers came in every now and then, went into the summoning room, and never came out. There was a lot of screaming at night, but Bastien had assumed that was normal. Normal. Had their lives really devolved so much?

  “Do you know where he might go?” he tried.