Burning Blood: Bonds of Blood: Book 2

by Daniel De Lorne

  “I will see you again soon,” she said softly. Her fingers shook as she pressed them against her lips, the pressure enough to hold her together and gather enough strength to face Olivier, who hovered nearby like a wasp. She spoke a few choice words to him, barely concealing her contempt, but he rebuffed her.

  She gave Thierry a farewell look, then climbed into the coach, and it drove away. She leaned out the window and waved to Liesel as long as she could, until her vision clouded, and she collapsed against the leather seat.

  Most people walked past Georg’s workshop, already accustomed to the sight of a burned shop on their street. The place was as charred as Aurelia felt while standing opposite. The rooms above and the shops on either side stood largely untouched. For them, a new coat of paint and all would be well, but the clockmaker’s shop?

  “You were here the other week, asking about poor Georg, weren’t you?”

  She stirred to see the dressmaker. Her face was carved with the lines of a person who ached to tell the world its ills.

  “Yes, what happened?” she asked, knowing full well that whatever she heard from this woman would be anything but the truth she sought.

  “He’s dead. Gone up in smoke.”

  “How awful. Did anyone see it?”

  “No, no.” The dressmaker thought over her story. “Middle of the night; midnight. You see, I had woken up, being such a warm night and all, and my bedroom window was open to let in what meagre breeze we had. My lord, hasn’t it been an awful summer? Quite honestly, the worst we’ve had in years.”

  The woman droned on. Listening to this fool natter made her long for the inanities at Liesel’s. Charcoal, scratchy and caustic, coated her tongue, and she had to swallow hard to dispel the taste. She couldn’t think of Liesel.

  “So, you saw…?”

  “Well, I opened the window a little wider, and began to hear the chiming of Georg’s clocks. Surely you noticed how precise all those clocks of his were. At midnight they make quite the sound, let me tell you. All going off together.”

  “And then what?”

  “Well, I listened to the chimes, counting them down. Despite the racket they make, sometimes it can be wonderful, especially Georg’s clocks. I’m sure you’d agree. Just one look at those pieces and you can’t help but feel all is right in the world. Oh, listen to me ramble, well, I counted eleven and then BOOM!”

  Aurelia flinched.

  The dressmaker cackled. “Oh, dear, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It burst into flames?”

  “Him, his whole shop, all up in a blaze. The glass shattered and you could hear the wood crackle. My husband and I ran to see—we were the first people to arrive—but there was little we could do. Standing as close as we dared, we tried to see Georg, but there was nothing but an inferno.”

  “Did anyone find his remains?”

  “Oh, what a horrid thought!” The woman gasped with anything but horror. “We searched but could not find anything of him to bury, not even a foot.”

  “Any idea what might have caused it?”

  She shrugged. “A candle falling over perhaps? He was always falling asleep at that bench of his. I’m surprised something like this didn’t happen sooner. Still, poor Georg. What a way to go.”

  The dressmaker waved at someone down the street, quickly made her goodbyes, and toddled away. It was still possible that Georg had combusted, even if Hame insisted Xadrak hadn’t returned to the astral. It would make things far easier if he had. She sought more gossip and hopefully a lead.

  The salons proved useless, the fops inside were either safely tucked into their beds at midnight, or else drinking in some parlor until the small hours. No one had seen anything, and more to the point, they couldn’t have cared less about some old shop.

  She tried the seedier establishments next, where there was a little less forced gaiety. She asked inside a tavern if anyone had seen the fire, and the owner jerked his head in the direction of a drunk in the corner.

  Hunched over a cup, the man, with hair on the sides of his head but none in the middle, peered into nothing with a look in his eyes usually reserved for soldiers who came back broken from war.

  “I’m told you saw the clockmaker’s shop burn.”

  He started, and his eyes locked onto hers. He lifted the cup to his mouth and drained it dry. When he put it down, he twitched.

  “What did you see?” She sat on the bench opposite. She prayed he was just another drunk with a mind full of holes, but the scratching at the back of her neck told her otherwise.

  He struggled to speak, first opening his mouth then closing it, coughing and caving in his chest as if to activate his vocal cords. She wanted to grab him by the ears and hold him still, but that approach would not work here.

  In his own time, minutes during which he signaled for another drink and it came, and he drank again, he finally found the ability to speak, even if he slurred.

  “The fire…I was. I was in the street. Late, I can’t remember what time.” He winced. “I’d been…I hadn’t been here.” A moment of clarity came as he looked at her, wanting to stress that this was not who he was.

  She gave him a sympathetic smile, while drumming her fingers on the table.

  “I’d been visiting friends and my home is down that street. I knew Georg, you see. Everyone knew him. Hiding in that shop all day.” He took another slurp from his cup. “And I saw a glow and knew it would be him, sitting at his work. I was going to knock and speak to him, speak at him really, because Georg didn’t speak to many people. But then the glow grew brighter and brighter until the window exploded.”

  He stared straight ahead; his eyelids wide like they couldn’t open enough to see everything. His mouth shaped into a quivering O. A sudden chill had Aurelia rubbing her arms.

  “I…I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t scream for help. Oh God, the horror of it, because I knew, I just knew he had been in there when it happened. I was about to run to him, but I stopped.” He swallowed with his whole body. “Something emerged from the blaze.”

  “What was it?”

  He looked at her and she saw the depths of his terror.

  “A demon.”

  XVI

  “It’s not possible,” Aurelia whispered.

  “I’m not lying.” He wept, grabbing at her hands and pleading with her. “Please, please, I’m not lying. I saw it. He had horns and a tail and these black wings, and eyes of fire.”

  “I believe you, shhh, calm yourself, please.” She waved away the tavern owner. He scowled but left. “Then what happened?”

  He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I hid around the corner but kept watch. He stepped out of the shop’s ruins, opened his arms wide, and roared silently into the night. Then his horns, his tail, his wings all sucked into a human body. He examined himself, like he couldn’t believe what had happened. Then he must have heard someone for he ran down the street, right past me.”

  “Where did he go?” Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

  The drunk sobbed, his head resting on his arm on the table. She shook him and repeated her question.

  He shrugged at her. “He ran towards the river. I left as soon as I could.”

  “Can you tell me what he looks like?”

  He mumbled a description that could have been anybody in Salzburg. Georg had changed into a young man with long brown hair, a muscular physique, a pointed chin and a bump in his nose. But it wasn’t what he’d become that troubled her. His demonic form had broken through, though it seemed he couldn’t maintain that body and had been wrestled back into a human shape.

  But now that he’d changed, how aware was he of his past? How much did he remember of her and the plot to banish him? She had to slay him before he caused any lasting problems.

  She left the drunk to his babbling and rushed back to the workshop. Without knowing exactly where he’d gone, she needed a way to locate him. She couldn’t scry for him, not having seen him in pe
rson. Hame would have directed her if he could, but he had nothing new for her. She walked through the burned-out insides of the shop, the ash stirring into a low cloud around her feet as she kicked clock faces and kindling. The smell tanged at the back of her throat. There was nothing to show where Xadrak had gone, but perhaps she could find him another way.

  She summoned a ball of energy only visible to her and tasked it with following the path of any who’d been in the building. Smaller orbs broke free and drifted out the shattered window. There were far more than she would have expected from Georg’s little shop, but that was probably due to gawkers rather than customers. Most were dim, attuned to how much of that person’s essence had been in the shop, the largest being that of Georg.

  The orbs drifted, a faint one attaching itself to her dress. She wrapped her hand around it and reabsorbed the power. The largest and brightest orb floated down the street in the direction the drunk said Xadrak had fled. She drew the rest of the orbs into her and followed the one tracking the demon. She urged it on, far enough away that if it stopped, she could prepare for danger.

  It flowed down through the streets towards the river. She crossed the bridge and followed it into another part of town, twisting and turning as Xadrak sought whatever it was he needed—a place to hide or someone to do his bidding. The orb rarely stayed in one spot for long. It darted down one street before shooting out the other end, lingering a moment outside a door or a window.

  The orb steered her into the darkest part of town where the light struggled to touch the ground. She did not fit in here, her clothes too well made, too rich for the rags clothing the poor. She shrouded herself to avoid attention but couldn’t shake the feeling of drawing nearer to Xadrak. It clung to her like oil and spread when the orb hovered outside a church and went no further.

  She had found him, but she didn’t hurry inside. What creature had Xadrak become? How much power did he have? Who had he already drawn to his cause?

  She wrought a shield that hugged her skin, making her invisible and masking her magic. It took her ten minutes of focused concentration to weave the spell correctly, wrangling her fast deteriorating patience in line. Haste would only lead to mistakes. Finally, the shield locked in place with a click that resonated in her breast. She urged the orb forward and followed it into the church.

  Being far from the wealthy part of town, the parish church was decorated more simply than the cathedrals patronized by the aristocracy. Whereas the Salzburger Dom was garish and bright, decorated to the full glory of God in His Kingdom, this church was barer and gloomier. Empty of any worshippers or priests, she stuck to the sides, uneasy about walking down the aisle even though no one could see her.

  The tracker continued up to the altar then floated to the left, stopping again, this time at a door. She ran her tongue over her parched lips. He couldn’t be far now. She banished the orb, approached the door, and turned the handle.

  Steps descended into darkness. Murmured voices came out of the deep. She stopped with her foot hesitating in mid-air, enough time for her to force down the fear bubbling inside her. She climbed down into the black, taking each stair carefully, her hand sliding along the cold, damp stone wall. The voices grew louder and, as they formed recognizable words, the darkness lightened. A dim glow permeated the black, and she reached the bottom to see five men standing at the back of the crypt.

  She glided from the doorway and crouched behind a tomb. Of the five men, one stood in front of the altar, while the other four knelt in a semi-circle before him. This Xadrak wore a face she’d never seen before. This incarnation had a wide brow, a nose to rival Caesar, and an arrogance Olivier would be hard pressed to match. He flinched every now and then, his head jerking from side to side as if trying to catch whispers on the wind.

  “You have given me your word,” he intoned in a voice that expected trees to bend at its command, “and in turn I have granted you power beyond the reach of ordinary men.”

  Little differentiated one man from another; most had brown hair, one had black, none were well dressed or groomed. She realized that wherever the orb had stopped, Xadrak had recruited someone new, or attempted to.

  “You have been charged with a task. Franz is already searching, and you shall enhance his efforts.”

  “We are honored to be chosen, Lord,” one said.

  She wanted to attack now. Yet five against one, no matter her power and skill, or how drained Xadrak might be, was unlikely to end well. And there was the missing acolyte, Franz. She’d have to kill them one by one. She’d wait until the chosen four departed, and then dispatch the demon as quickly as she could.

  Awareness bloomed inside her mind, and she leaned into Hame’s familiar touch.

  I’ve found Xadrak.

  He’ll have to wait. You must return to your brothers tonight, or they’ll kill each other.

  A spike jammed itself into her stomach. I’ll go now.

  You can’t. It’s not time.

  She held her thoughts back. She was in danger of losing control and the barest slip might alert Xadrak to her presence. She retreated from the crypt and out of the church. Only when she had walked far enough away from Xadrak’s lair did she throw off her shield and connect again with Hame.

  Who has to die? she asked.

  Don’t worry; it’s not Liesel.

  Small mercies.

  Tell me about Xadrak.

  He’s working fast. He’s got at least five acolytes already, and they’ve all been given his power. I think…I think there are too many of them for me to fight all at once.

  Use Carn.

  No! He’s untested. We barely know him.

  This is what he’s here for, Aurelia. If you don’t use him, you’ll lose him, and there will be consequences.

  What have you seen?

  Nothing that can’t be changed if you learn to be a little more giving.

  I’m sure you’ve been giving him plenty. The boy could do with some denial for a change.

  You know I’m right. Get back here, give him his dues, and USE HIM!

  He left her mind abruptly. Hame was right. Carn could be put to use with the proper instruction. At the least he could watch what happened here.

  She had to hurry. She’d gotten the impression from Hame’s thoughts that the time of her intervention neared. Seeing Liesel again… She banished her worries. They would all come to fruition in time. Right now, her focus had to be on Carn.

  If Aurelia had expected Carn to be pleased at the added attention, she was wrong. He had a scowl on his face the moment she arrived outside Hame’s cottage, displeasure so apparent she almost despaired of the whole thing. She bristled but Hame spoke first.

  “He’s mastered the task you set him. Show her, Carn.”

  Without removing his glaring eyes from hers, Carn raised three stones around himself and made them circle slowly. She was impressed. Many weren’t able to grasp the concept, but he had. Of course, Hame’s beaming face told her it hadn’t been all Carn’s doing.

  She opened her mouth to chastise him on his inability to master the skill on his own, but he summoned another handful of rocks and arranged them in multiple lines, alternating their directions as they circled around him, forming a shield beautiful in its symmetry. And with each passing second, another stone rose and merged with his creation. He gave no sign of strain.

  “Astounding.” And she meant it. Whether he took it for sarcasm, she didn’t care.

  The stones lowered with minute control, and he dipped his head a little to show his gratitude, grudging or otherwise.

  “I need your help,” she began, “and I’m willing to unlock as much of your power as I can to get it. What say you?”

  His voice sounded flatter than ever. “What do you require of me?”

  “I need you to watch someone. You do not have to do anything—just sit and pay attention.”

  “Who am I watching?”

  “One is a demon, and the others are fools who know not what they
do but will pay the price for it.”

  He spluttered. “A demon? You’re mad.”

  “I wish that were the case, but I assure you it’s true.”

  “I can’t face a demon. I’ll be killed. How will I avoid detection?”

  “A shield of invisibility. I can train you. But I must have your word on this, Carn. You are there to aid us in our mission. I need a scout, not a hero.”

  “And I’ll be safe?”

  “I promise.”

  He bit his lip and looked at Hame, who nodded gently. If Hame hadn’t been there, Carn might have walked away.

  “I accept,” he said to Hame, not to her. She took his agreement anyway.

  “This will probably sting.” She stepped forward with an open palm, but he retreated.

  “You’re not putting your hands on me again, Aurelia. Last time was lesson enough.”

  “Fool. You think I do this for my own amusement?”

  “I’m sure you derive a lot of pleasure from torturing those you consider your inferiors.”

  She ground her teeth, and the pressure chipped her jaw like a pickaxe. There were others in this world she could count on, and if she couldn’t find them in time, then she’d work alone. She didn’t need this insolence, and she didn’t need Carn Gwyn.

  But before she could let her displeasure really be known—she considered reducing whatever manhood Carn had between his legs to the size of an acorn—Hame interceded. Gradually he turned Carn’s head. She noticed the way he caressed Carn’s cheek, and how the Welshman leaned in like a cat being scratched behind the ears.

  “She won’t hurt you.” Hame’s eyes fixed on Carn’s. She could see the intimacy between them, the curve of their bodies as they mirrored one another. They formed two halves of the one whole, and she didn’t want to witness it.

  “Will you, Aurelia?” Hame repeated.