“A century ago.”
Their great-grandfather had been a notorious gambler and drinker. His many vices heralded the start of the Marechal family’s decline, but no one seemed to remember the way his debt emptied the coffers and brought the estate to the brink of ruin. Everyone fixated on the loss of one probably very fine quality but definitely not magical sword.
“No one ventures far into the West Lands anymore, and no one’s reported defeating Draven. So, when you consider the long lifespan of a vampire, then Draven could still have the sword,” he said in an excited rush. “Don’t you see?”
Solenne snatched the book. She saw many things, none of which were flattering for her younger brother. His large frame and stature often tricked her into believing him to be older than eighteen until he spouted childish nonsense.
Magic swords, indeed.
“Great-grandpapa Charles was a drunk and a gambler. He lost Blackthorn. Indeed, he lost many of our family’s treasures at the card table,” she said in an even tone that masked her fury. “There is no vampire with a magic sword. To waste our time chasing this fable when we should think about our actual problems would be the height of foolishness.”
“It’s not a bedtime story. It’s real,” he said, voice firm and his chin lifted in stubbornness.
“You should research how to contain an older werewolf and help Papa devise a trap.” And she needed to plant more wolfsbane because demand exceeded her current supply.
Luis rushed to his feet, grabbing the satchel roughly and causing loose papers and pencils to tumble out. “Pretend all you like that I’m being childish, but we have witch blood in us. You know we do.”
Solenne opened her mouth to argue, but he continued, “No. No, I will say my piece. The air hums with nexus energy. I hear it every day. During an event, I can feel it moving like a river rushing around me. That’s how Papa and I track the creatures. You might not understand because you don’t have the same talent as we do, but it’s a witch mutation. If I can feel the nexus, then great-great-so-on ancestor could have infused that energy into a weapon. And you know that our family is resistant to being cursed when we’re bitten.”
“Bite your tongue. I do not want to put that to the test,” she muttered.
“We’re not affected because we already have the witch mutation. It makes perfect sense when you think about it. When all this is over, I will find Blackthorn, and that’s all I have to say about that.” He took a deep breath, then nodded.
“Well, you sound determined to waste your time and energy on a fool’s errand.”
“Do not mock me. I’m serious.” He gathered up his book and stuffed them back into the satchel. “Miles thinks it is a good idea.”
“Then take Miles with you. No doubt he’d be ever so helpful fighting monsters.” Despite her irritation, she had to admit that the blacksmith would be extraordinarily helpful.
“As opposed to what you do? Swing platters?” Luis mocked.
Brimming with frustration, she felt her entire body vibrate with the need to shout or say something spiteful, but she was a well-bred lady and such behavior was unbecoming.
Like it mattered. The only man she wanted suffered an irreversible condition that caused him to grow fur and fangs, and no one would discuss it. Her father would never allow such an unsuitable match, and Solenne was of the mind to tell her father to get stuffed because if someone in the family should marry for money, then he could blast well do the deed.
Unable to indulge her need to vent, she chucked a handful of dirt and weeds at him, like a well-bred lady.
Luis stood in shock, his mouth gaping open, so she threw a second handful at him. “Solenne!”
A clump hit him square in the face. He sputtered, swiping away dirt from his tongue. His ears went red, and Solenne hadn’t seen her brother that angry since he was very young.
Dread washed over her. She went too far. Luis was an even-tempered fellow and hardly spiteful, but he was taller than her and he wanted her to eat a mouthful of dirt in retribution. There was nothing she could do to avoid it.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “I’m so frustrated and nothing works and everything is hard—”
He hurled a clump of dirt at her. On impact, it scattered into tiny pieces, each finding its way down the front of her tunic. She spat out pieces of dirt.
“I accept your apology,” Luis said in a magnanimous tone.
Solenne glanced at a bucket used for watering. It was probably empty, but if the bucket held even an ounce of water—
“Do not,” Luis warned.
“Do what?”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Are your witchy senses tingling? Can you feel it in the ether?” She wiggled her fingers. While Luis was busy rolling his eyes, she dashed for the watering bucket.
Luis tackled her from behind. Her outstretched hand knocked over the bucket, spilling hardly a drop of water.
How disappointing.
On her stomach, Luis sat on her back, pinning her to the ground. He shoved a handful of mulch in her face.
It. Was. Disgusting.
Laughing despite herself and sputtering out the debris, she rolled to her back. Grinning like a fool, he grabbed both her wrists. Well, at least he could shove more mulch in her mouth. She raised one hand, reached across with the other, and kicked with all her strength.
“Oww!” Luis lurched away, holding his stomach. “Are you wearing lead-lined boots?”
“A lady never tells.”
“You should have kicked the werewolf.”
Both siblings looked at each other, spattered with dirt and bits of greenery in their hair, and burst into laughter.
“Swinging the platter was clever, but my heart nearly stopped. I thought he was going to eat you,” Luis said, brushing away dirt from his shoulders.
“I thought the same,” she confessed.
“Truce?” Luis held out a hand.
“Truce.”
Chapter 14
Aleksandar
Founding
* * *
Three days to Founding.
An eternity to return to Solenne.
Alek hated Founding. The crowded city perpetually stank of stagnant water and smoke. No matter how often he scrubbed his skin, the odor never seemed to disperse. At least he wanted to believe the malaise that hung in the air was stagnant water and not something fouler.
The original settlers planned the city in a grid pattern, and they had constructed the earliest buildings from the very ships that brought the settlers to the new land. Over the next two centuries since humans spilled out of their ships, those buildings rusted in only a handful of years and were eventually covered over in brick.
The city outgrew the original grid, newer sections a free-for-all and the older quarters carved into smaller and smaller parcels. The result was a twisty maze of streets that never went where a person intended, and there were people everywhere. Too many people. Alek could not breathe for the foul air and the people in his territory.
With only the hastily drawn map Chambers gave him, Alek made his way through the city. The horse, more used to the crowded streets than Alek, seemed unperturbed by the noise and commotion. He, however, growled and snapped when the crowds drifted too close.
It took too long to find Dr. Sheldon, and then the sister, a Mrs. Parkell. He tried to wait patiently for the sister to cease weeping. Her capacity for this, he learned, was endless. Despite his urging to leave now and have someone send her a trunk, she insisted on packing herself. As a result, Alek spent an entire day in Founding.
By the time their party left in the early hours of the following morning, he wanted to claw off his skin, convinced he’d never be free of the filthy smog of the city.
The carriage made good time on the paved roads, but as they traveled farther from Founding, the roads transitioned into uneven stone, then crushed gravel, and finally dirt. Progress ground to a halt each time as the carriage got stuck
on the muddy, treacherous roads. Mrs. Parkell’s wailing that each delay kept her from her precious baby made everything worse. He did his best to ignore her while he helped the coachman free the carriage. He was thankful to have his own horse to ride and not have to share the carriage with the noisome woman.
“Do you intend to weep the entire journey?” Alek retrieved his coat from the nearby shrubbery, where he hung it to avoid sweat and mud.
“Oh, sir, how can you be so cruel? Why would my good brother send such a man?” Her hands fluttered, waving a heavily perfumed handkerchief.
“I believe he aimed to punish us both,” Alek muttered.
“Back in the carriage. We can make Fallkirk by evening,” the coachman said.
Fallkirk. Alek recognized the name. He had been attacked by two beasts near there, but he had only defeated one. The other still prowled the territory.
When they arrived at the tavern on Fallkirk, the sun had slipped behind the trees. Alek scrubbed off the dirt and the mud, and sent his clothes out to be laundered, despite knowing they would be just as filthy in a day. He requested to eat in his room. Alone. Music and laughter drifted up from the tavern through the floor, but it was better than listening to Mrs. Parkell recite her numerous complaints to Dr. Sheldon.
A knock sounded at the door, and a young woman appeared with a tray. The aroma of roast, potatoes drowning in gravy, and warm bread instantly set his mouth watering. She set the tray down on the small side table by the window.
“You’re that hunter who came through two months ago,” she said.
“I am.”
She lifted her chin, as if unimpressed. “You only did half the job. It’s not safe outside after dark.”
“It was unsafe during the day before I reduced the beast population.” A thought occurred to him. Fallkirk was near Boxon but not part of the area the Marechals guarded. “Where are your hunters?”
“All dead, three years ago. Then that thing moved in.”
“Why have you not requested Founding to fill the post?”
The woman gave him a look that suggested he was simple. “Oh, excellent idea. Why didn’t we think of it? But we’re only simple country folk—”
“I did not mean to imply—”
“You did,” she said curtly. “The mayor and council wrote, and do you know what those stuffed shirts in Founding told us?” She continued without pause, not looking for an answer. “Offer a bounty. They wouldn’t send troops to a backwater on the edge of nowhere, and the mayor can’t find anyone to take the job. Don’t suppose you’re interested in finishing what you started? That thing helped itself to my ma’s chickens. What are we supposed to do now? The ones that are left are too scared to lay eggs.”
“Have chicken for supper, I imagine,” he said, which earned him a frown and a slammed door.
As he ate, he pondered what the woman told him. The hunters were killed before the elder beast moved in, so what killed them? The beast itself? A pack that moved out of the territory?
When he had still hunted for bounties, Alek encountered many villages on the fringes of the civilized world with the same story. The local hunter families had died out, either through bad luck, poor health, or acts of monster. Drifters like himself filled in the gaps until local officials found replacements. But it sounded like no one wanted the job.
He couldn’t blame them. Hunting was all danger, little to no pay, and every resident blaming you for chickens too scared to lay eggs.
The likelihood of two older beasts, a day apart from each other, worried him. He did not like such a threat so near his territory, his home and his mate.
Huh. He guessed Godwin had been right about the territorial nature of the beasts. He hadn’t felt it before, but he had nothing he wanted to guard. Now he had everything.
And like called to like.
Alek mopped up the gravy with the last of the bread and decided.
“You can’t leave us unprotected,” Mrs. Parkell wailed far too loud for so early in the morning. She did not take too kindly to Alek’s change of plans. “I can’t imagine what my brother was thinking, sending you as his errand boy.”
Alek wondered about that himself.
“I’ve encountered this beast before. It will follow me. You’re safer without me. Dr. Sheldon was a military man. He’ll keep you safe,” he said.
Dr. Sheldon nodded. “I know my way around a pistol. Never fear, Mrs. Parkell. We’ll be in Boxon by mid-afternoon.”
Alek didn’t linger while Mrs. Parkell’s considerable luggage was packed into the coach. He saddled up the horse borrowed from Chambers and took off on a smaller, less traveled road that went through the heart of the forest.
He’d use himself as bait and lure the beast back to Boxon. With any luck, the two beasts would tear each other apart.
Solenne
Boxon
The Wodehouse Home
* * *
Charlotte barely left Jase’s bedside, despite him being abominably rude to her at the dance.
Solenne felt for her friend, who was kind, clever, bookish, and forever being passed over for ladies who came with a fortune. Charlotte was too kind and forgiving. Jase did not deserve the care Charlotte gave when his leg became infected. She sat by his bedside with cool water and cloth.
“Father is making noise about sending me to Aunt Tessie in Founding for the winter. He thinks I’ll have a better chance of catching a husband there,” Charlotte said as she carefully poured the tea.
They sat in the garden behind the Wodehouse’s home, tucked into a shaded corner nearly hidden by large, flowering bushes heavy with vivid blossoms. The arrival of Colonel Chambers’ sister prompted Charlotte to give up her bedside vigil and limit herself to daily visits. Apparently, Mrs. Parkell had the bearing of a military commander and none of the charm.
“You’ll have more variety and parties to attend,” Solenne said.
Charlotte pulled a face. “I’ll spend my day in the library, you know, and Aunt Tessie will despair that reading will give me lines around my eyes.”
Solenne didn’t bother to hide her smile or her titter of laughter. “Oh, the tragedy.”
“Frankly, I’m too eccentric,” she said, looking over Solenne’s shoulder to some point in the distance. “I don’t have a large enough fortune for those eccentricities to be overlooked, and I’m too plump and not pretty enough to compensate for the lack of a fortune.”
“I disagree on all those points,” Solenne said in defense of her friend. Charlotte was more plump than fashionable, but they lived in a village on the fringe of nowhere. Who cared about fashion? And she’d stab anyone who claimed Charlotte’s russet curls and open smile were not attractive. Well, perhaps not stab; just a gentle poke, enough to draw a little blood and make a point about being rude.
“It will be a waste of time, but if Father insists, would you come with me?”
“To catch a husband?”
Charlotte raised a brow. “Unless you believe you have better prospects here.”
Rather than answer, Solenne busied herself by refilling her cup and measuring out a spoonful of sugar. “No, there’s no one.”
“Really? Because I saw how protective Aleksandar was of you at the dance.”
Right before he rushed off.
“No. You misunderstood.” Solenne thought back to the night of the dance and the perpetual glare on Alek’s face.
“Now you’re going to spout some nonsense about duty and how you’ll learn to find satisfaction in that, rather than the man you love, and I won’t tolerate it. You deserve to have who your heart desires. And if it’s money, well,” Charlotte waved a hand as she spoke, “I imagine your situation won’t improve, but it will not deteriorate.”
The cup rattled on the saucer. “I would not say any such thing,” Solenne weakly protested. “And I’d rather not discuss Alek.”
A satisfied grin spread across Charlotte’s face. “Very well, but only because you don’t deny that you love him.”
“What would be the point? My feelings for him have not changed since I was sixteen.” As much as she wished they would.
“So you never felt an attachment to another?”
Solenne shook her head. “Only friendship.”
“Not even Colonel Chambers?” Her eyes gleamed with curiosity.
“No. My father seemed more enthusiastic about a match than either of us.” Solenne relayed the events from the night of the dance.
“I had wondered. He used to lavish attention on you and then, suddenly, he was distant.”
“I wouldn’t say lavish—”
“But he wasn’t cruel about it? He does not seem the sort.”
“No. The conversation was very businesslike and straightforward,” Solenne said.
“Perhaps I can walk with you when you return home? Colonel Chambers wanted to borrow some of Father’s books, and I thought of delivering them.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t mind? If I deliver books to Colonel Chambers?”
Solenne paused before answering, wondering what her friend was trying to ask. “You didn’t volunteer to nurse Jase because you feel affection for him, did you? He was a beast to you. To us both.”
A pretty blush spread across Charlotte’s face. Rather than answer straight away, she stuffed a cookie in her mouth. “The starberries are very sweet this year, don’t you think?”
“Charlotte—”
“Colonel Chambers is interesting.” Solenne opened her mouth to protest, but Charlotte continued. “He is. He’s traveled and seen much of the world. He’s interested in pre-colonial and early colonial history.”
“He is.” She knew of his collection, though she had not had the opportunity to admire it. Several pieces were removed for the dance.
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