by Lexi Ostrow
“I would like to see to this first.”
He nodded and gestured for her to leave. “Very well then, what the lady desires, the lady receives.”
There was a comment on her tongue about her desires, but now was not the time. Walking out the door she paused, noticing for the first time the way brilliant beams of sunlight lit the corridor. It was a far cry brighter than her guild, despite the many windows in the chamber of the Steam Guild.
“The light, it’s beautiful. The way it bathes the room, one could almost forget anything is amiss outside.”
His hand found the small of her back and guided her to the lift. “Yes, there are some magical moments that nature has in store. I believe if we were to travel to certain parts of the world, we would find them unblemished and teeming with life without the aid of masks.”
The concept was splendid, but she highly doubted the existence of such a place. The lift doors slid open, and she stepped inside. As the doors shut, and the machine began to drop lower, she was not even phased by the quiet way they worked. There were benefits to steam power, and noiselessness was not one of them.
“They simply reside here?” She turned to him, shocked men of such supposed power did not have lodging of their own.
He stepped off when the door opened, leading rather than following this time. “Don’t be foolhardy. They work here.” He knocked before twisting the handle on a door. “After you.”
Stepping inside, she was prepared to meet three grizzly old, wizened men. She was not disappointed. Their work area was near identical to the one she first saw of Christopher’s, only there were three stations.
“Master Abbott,” one of the men with a long gray beard smiled as they entered. “It has been some time since you have come to us.” His green eyes landed on her, and he smiled. “Have you done it then?”
Christopher cleared his throat. “Samuel, please met Raven Nightingale, master of the Steam Guild.”
Another man, scarcely taller than she with hair as white as snow and no beard, let out a low whistle. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He took her hand and placed a kiss upon it. “It is a pleasure, my dear. Thomas De Loux, proud knight of London and mage.”
Her gasp was less than polite, but it was impossible to conceal. “You truly believe that then? That you are mages?”
Samuel chuckled, the wrinkles on his face making him appear as old as time. “I understand your skepticism. Be — ”
“Please, there is no need for formality at this moment. Refer to me as Christopher.”
Samuel’s face lost some of the laugh lines, but he merely shrugged as if he were equal to Christopher. “Very well, then. Christopher, you’ve told her then.” It was not a question, and he did not seem pleased she knew. Samuel nodded and turned to look at her.
She could feel something in his gaze, something that seemed to freeze her where she stood. She wondered if she could move. She moved her arm, yet she felt no desire to do so. It was if he was controlling her. Impossible.
“Lady Nightingale, it is an honor to meet a member of your guild once again. It has been a great number of years since our decision was made. It was made with great care and thought. Yes, I do believe myself to be a mage, and I am rather certain of it.” He cleared his throat and looked toward the third man, still tinkering with a light bulb affixed to a clock. “This is Herald. Herald is the youngest of our group, and it is he who will have to demonstrate our truth.”
“Why?”
Samuel’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Our magic is what keeps us alive. My kind are small in number, and likely only the three of us left in all of Europe. We converged upon the world when the illness took hold. Groups to major cities in order to bring our skills to help. If I were to show you my magic, I would pass onto another life. While I am not afraid, my magic is best used on helping magnificent inventions be born to stop the threats we now face.”
His words were quiet but powerful.
“Herald, please, if you will?” Thomas beckoned the other man who scarcely looked to be younger.
The final man was the tallest of the lot and had a sprinkling of black hair atop his head and a long, curled beard on his chin. His skin was darker, a deep brown that made him seem ageless. His wrinkles were less pronounced, and his eyes were as dark as his skin. His lips did not form a smile, but she did not get the sense he was not intrigued and amused as his mates were.
With his eyes still on her, he twisted his wrist in the air, and a sparkle appeared, absolutely as if by magic. The tiny spark rolled in the space of air just above Herald’s hand, and as it did, it grew. Slowly, it was the size of the man’s palm.
“I assure you, this is not a parlor trick.” With a flick of his wrist once more, Herald sent the glimmering sparks of light into the exposed bulb on the wall, and it immediately burst to life, bathing the room in a fiery glow.
“Oh, my stars.” Her fingertips rest on her lips as her eyes widened at what she saw. “It’s the truth.”
Christopher brushed her hair off her shoulder as he spun her to face him. “I wouldn’t lie. Not any longer.”
She wanted to ask if he was implying he had lied or would have lied if necessary before they’d lain together. The stroke of his finger over her chin was like a jolt through her, and she could focus on nothing save for the man touching her. She was in a chamber with literal magic, and she only had eyes for her rival.
“You won’t inquire as to why we haven’t driven back the sick and restored the air?”
She wasn’t certain who had spoken, their accents were similar, and she had only just met them. Still looking at Christopher, at the strange look of hurt in his eyes, she addressed whoever had spoken. “I would like to hear that, yes.”
“In the beginning, we sought to do that. We worked until we were near death, and many of our families lost their lives giving all their magic to our trials. Our magic can help create, and it cannot destroy. Blame our ancestors for the deal they made to gain magic – we will never know where it came from. Many of us did not believe it was with limits until we were unable to save our world.”
The explanation was simple, logical, and utterly outrageous. Yet, Raven had watched her world die, and the human race change into horrific beasts. If it was not magic that did that, she knew of no better explanation. And you witnessed magic, however small it might have been, it was real.
“We’ve invented a device. It requires . . . well . . . I suppose your life . . . to make it safe for use.” It felt as if she’d swallowed a rock as she spoke the statement. How can they willingly trade their life for something a small as this weapon?
“Show us,” Samuel spoke, she caught his mouth moving with the final word as she turned back around.
Christopher cleared his throat and passed their creation to the elder man. “We need to ensure the box does not overcharge, that is to say, leak electricity and kill whomever holds it.”
Samuel passed it to Thomas, who took it to a desk and placed it under a magnifying lens. A moment later, a zap sounded, and she watched as the gun displaced some of the electricity it had likely charged as they’d walked to meet these men.
“This cannot be done.” Thomas’ gaze was on the floor as he passed the device back to Christopher. “We cannot create something from nothing, and we can only aid and power what is there. While your device is wonderful, I cannot simply cast magic into more than one and protect the wielder.”
Anger bristled in the pit of her stomach, and she felt the hair on the nape of her neck rise. “Pray tell, what good are you lot?”
“Raven,” Christopher touched her shoulder. “Do not be rude. They seek to save the world as we do. They have their limits. When we create an invention that can truly be utilized to stop the creatures, they will help.”
She was shocked at the conviction in his words given their refusal or inability to help now. Her teeth ground together as she did her best to save her harsh words.
“What matters is you know the truth. You beli
eve the truth. We will bridge the gap between our guilds. If not with this invention, then with another.” He looked to the mages. “Thank you for trying.”
Her irritation grew, forcing her hand as she spoke, even if the sentiment were unjust. “You assert you wish to help, and then your gifts have limits. Why is it then, that you forced two of the world’s greatest hopes to a row betwixt themselves? Why not allow them to share your . . . whatever you blasted called it moments ago?” She shook, her chest heaving and pain splintering from her neck injury to all her limbs. “Why destroy the hope that humanity had?”
“Raven,” Christopher hissed, alarm stricken across his features.
She did not care. She answered to no man, and that is how it would always remain.
“Well? No remarks on the course the conversation has taken?”
Herald’s lips twisted into a grimace. “We had not sought to divide. Our kind, while we are human, we are also more. Our way has been to promise to the elite. We tried on numerous occasions to speak to your family, to your Steam Guild. We sent missives that were returned, burned save for the seal so we would know it was ours.” His eyes bore straight into hers. “We tried, Lady Nightingale, we failed.”
“No.” Breathing was suddenly a trifle complicated. Her throat burned with the effort to take in air to her lungs, and her chest was following down the same painful path. My family could not have been so pig-headed. A tear slipped down her face, be it from pain or hurt she did not know.
With his hand on her shoulder, Christopher pushed her gently toward the door. She wanted to stay, to understand how magic could have such limitations when it was the very definition of limitless in all the tales she knew.
“Come, let’s get you back to your home. It has been a very long week. I believe we both could use some sleep.”
They walked from the room, and she heard the door shut behind them. Her mind was racing, an accumulation of anger and confusion raging together. Sleep was pointless. She believed in magic now, and she needed to figure out how to gain at least one of the spells to make London safer.
“Raven?”
“Come home with me. We don’t have to do more than talk. My heart is heavy, and I fear I welcome your company more than loneliness after such a short time. I am not ready to sleep. Come tomorrow, and I will speak to my guild and tell them the feud is over. We need all minds working together, all hearts and souls as one if we are to gain the favor of your mages.”
Mages, bloody hell.
“Very well, but I assure you, I am going to make certain you rest. You’re still healing from blood loss, and our actions earlier could have destroyed Martin’s stitches.”
“Lord Abbott, you can be a bit of a prude.” To be certain, though, she raised her hand to her neck and passed her fingertips over the prickly stitches, pleased to find no indication the wounds wept.
He sniggered. “I’ll take that if it means you’ll rest so that next time I bed you, I don’t have to worry about breaking a table beneath you.”
She couldn’t help the lift of her lips at the suggestion of a next. Christopher Abbott had turned her life upside down near as much as the disease had – only in this instance, she was rather fond of the changes.
Chapter Eleven
Silas watched as the last vestiges of the day faded into night, and the sun’s damning rays folded away into the horizon. Three eves had passed since his warning to the king. Each night they had traveled to the center of the city and waited, hoping the threat had been taken seriously.
“This night we take the city.” He spoke to his family, the ten and twenty of the diseased who had followed him for quite some time. “I know many of you are in need of healthy blood. The king has ignored my demand, and now he will learn the truth of our affliction.
“Silas, will you take us all?” An elder voice rang out.
His eyes roamed over his family, seeking out the only being over ten and forty who had survived once the world cut them off from their treatment. “Jermaine, I swore to protect you, each of you. This night we will travel to the palace as a family. We will protect each other as a family, and we will teach the king and all of London the lesson they have forced us to teach.”
A cry rang up in the abandoned building they deemed a home. A smile curved on his lips that was near as wide as his face. They would rise up and take the city. Then, perhaps, they could help others in cities around the world do the same.
“Come! I will lead with whichever three of you feel your strongest. We will continue in lines of three, but directly behind myself, I want you to begin lining up based on who needs blood the most. You will make up our centerline. We will protect you, strike for you, and then take our treatment once you are well.”
“My Lord, that is not the punishment you offered the king,” Terrance spoke up from beside him.
He turned, feeling what little blood he had flowing in his veins begin to burn hot with anger. “Do not question me,” he hissed. “This is how we will start our uprising. After this night, when he is hurt and scared, we will begin the slow assault I promised him.”
His closest mate’s eyes narrowed so sharply it was near impossible to know his eyes were still open save for the sliver of blue that could be seen within them. Terrance did not speak, merely nodded.
“Follow me, family. Tonight, we will all be healed, and London will learn the true viciousness of those they deem monsters.”
Again, a roar of approval followed him as he leaped down from the upper level of the home, landing with a bone-shattering crack on the floor. It did not matter, his bones were brittle, and without blood, he could scarcely feel the pain.
***
“Take to the trees.” His voice was low as he commanded the weakest, the closet to death. “Once they are in position, all but three will ascend as well. On my mark, we shall drop into their gardens and destroy them.”
“Three seems an insufficient number. If guards are patrolling the outer wall, they will stand no chance.” Lionel, one of his newest members, spoke freely.
“Then you are welcome to stay with them and take your share of what remains.”
Lionel’s pupils enlarged rapidly, but he didn’t utter a sound.
Silas waited, watching as ten and six bodies scampered or were hoisted into the foliage. They made noise, but as the guards had not yet realized they came from above, it was unlikely they were drawing more attention than a typical puss would.
Sinking his filed nails into the nearest tree, he forced his body to climb. He was not as virile as the airs he put on led his family to believe. And that is all well and good, and you’ve been their leader for long enough for them to trust in you no matter the cause.
Taking a squat on the thick branches of the common oak tree, Silas let his eyes roam over the gardens. Night had fallen four hours prior, and none wandered the green paths. Somehow, despite the sickness in the air, certain plants continued to grow. It gave them all hope that one day the toxin would vanish, and things would correct themselves. It also meant there were often young maids and lads that would sneak out to the gardens at night, believing themselves to be safe as they took in the miracle of life still going on.
Easy prey.
“Ten and nine guards, Silas. That is nearly one per each of us.” Terrance’s tone expressed more concern than his face did.
“We will be fine.” Silas pointed at this sharpened teeth. “There are enough of us that can continue and incapacitate. We merely must avoid the firing of their guns.” He clapped a hand on the vagrant's shoulder. “This is not our first time in the game. We succeeded once, and we will again.”
Silas allowed himself to look around. His family was a band of misfits who lived on blood, but they were still his kin. They were not the monsters they had to be to feed – not his section at the very least. He would never band together with the actual monsters, the ones who killed simply to hurt the humans. His family only ever took to survive, and even now, when they would make deaths s
low, they still would only take as many as they needed.
With one finger extended, he led the count backward from three. A finger went down each second until the lot of them in the trees plunged to the ground below.
“Attack!” A guard’s shrill voice in the once quiet night.
“Show no mercy!” Silas’ cried into the darkness, slamming himself into a guard and ignoring the bite of pain as he did so. Blood, hot and thick, rushed over his chin as his teeth slashed into the first part of skin he could find – the man’s forearm.
A feeling akin to hunger lashed out and wrapped around him as the blood slipped down his throat. The man’s knee connected with his abdomen, but Silas held fast and slammed three of his claws into the side of the mans’ neck, drawing a flow of blood from three holes. There was a strange gurgling sound, and then the man went limp.
Gunfire echoed in the night, flashes of orange and pops of sound nearly blinded him in a fog of chaos. His eyes landed on a young guard’s – or so he assumed by the youthful visage behind the goggles. He was not a fan of ending a young person’s life, but this one was pointing a gun at him, though unable to fire.
My apologies, he thought as he sprung, fangs gnashing at the boy. As expected, the young guard jumped backward, his head cracking into the stone wall of the palace. He dropped to the grass like a sack, and Silas stepped around him. He had taken his share. Others would come for this young man.
“Stop this or die,” A guard, one with a thick black mustache poking out from behind his mask, spoke with a sword drawn.
Still, the small battle waged behind them. Silas heard the cries and grunts from both sides, but his focus was on the brave guard who held a sword between their bodies.
“We gave your king a chance.” Silas swiped his leg out, hooking it into the guard's ankle. It was not enough to drop the larger, healthier opponent, but when his youngest kin, Sarah, dropped onto the man from where she’d climbed up the wall, her strike was fierce and direct.
The man’s hand came up, and Silas intervened, grabbing and twisting the limb until the sickening crack sounded along with the guard’s cry of pain.