The Key to Starveldt

by Foz Meadows

  ‘You told me you’d been locked up, once. That your Trick showed you a dark place. That you were trapped there.’

  ‘Yes.’ He gulped the word.

  ‘Sanguisidera found you. That’s what you meant.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you never broke free, did you? She let you go. Because you agreed to help her.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you know I’d come to the warehouse? All that time, were you waiting for me?’

  ‘No. Maybe.’ He dropped his gaze. ‘She told me what to look for, but you were always hidden. Until a few weeks ago. Yes.’ His voice was little more than a whisper. Evan felt his stomach churn with disgust, but Solace remained as still as if she’d been carved from marble.

  ‘When you kissed me.’ Her jaw clenched. ‘Was that you? Or did Sanguisidera ask it?’

  Silence rippled through the ruins. Glide hesitated for a moment, but it was enough. Evan felt something in Solace break, a sideways wrenching that manifested in the tremor of her throat. She stepped forward and slapped Glide hard across his left cheek.

  ‘You cowardly, selfish bastard.’ Her voice was raw. ‘Manx was right. You’re guilty. You’ve always been guilty. You let them burn to save yourself.’

  ‘They didn’t feel anything.’ Glide’s green eyes were empty, like stagnant ponds. ‘It was all I could do. I made sure they didn’t feel anything.’

  Evan couldn’t feel anything, either. He was numb. Despite all Sharpsoft’s warnings, part of him had never really believed that Glide was responsible for the fire. Until now, he hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted to think otherwise.

  Solace’s eyes flared.

  Glide began to back away. ‘Please. I can help you –’

  The vampire didn’t let him finish. Whipcrack-fast, she seized his throat with one hand and squeezed. Glide gasped and choked, scratching at her grip, but Solace was too strong, too single-minded. The violence in her was taking over, hard and animal and instinctive. Shouting wordlessly, she flung Glide against the remains of a concrete pillar. There was a sickening crunch. Already damaged, the pillarfragment groaned, then caved backwards so that Glide fell to the ground, coughing and spasming. He held up his hands in a plea for mercy.

  Solace paused, caught between vengeance and restraint.

  Evan felt her mindscent roil with confused bloodlust. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Empathy roared between them. He felt the depths of her Rarity shudder and rage, wrapped around a core of anger. It overpowered him, he was pinned beside her, powerless to move or act. But still, the words came of their own accord.

  ‘Solace. Lacey. Let him go.’

  The spell broke. With a strangled cry, Solace turned on Evan, raining blows on his chest, but there was no power to them. All at once the strength went from her legs: she dropped, and Evan dropped too, pulling her against his chest. Relief overwhelmed him. His throat was hot and tight. Solace shook, clutching at his arms, her dark head resting against his collarbone. He felt her exhaustion, the sour dregs of her wrath and, overwhelmingly, her fear that it would consume her. Evan shuddered and closed his eyes, trying to find some emotion or thought to comfort them both, but there was none.

  Nearby, Glide coughed, pushing himself into a sitting position.

  ‘I can help,’ he croaked again.

  Solace braced against Evan’s chest, exhaling slowly. ‘You’ve done enough, Glide. More than enough. The only way you can help is by vanishing.’

  Glide coughed again, deep and ragged. He stared at them through a haze of pain so thick Evan could taste it, edged with hospital disinfectant and eggshell white. Whatever Sharpsoft had done to him, colliding with the pillar hadn’t helped.

  ‘I know things,’ Glide said. ‘Working with Bloodkin. I heard things. About Sharpsoft.’

  Solace closed her eyes. ‘Shut up.’

  ‘You know he’s a vampire, right? Like you? Sanguisidera turned him. Before that, he was just like me. Stronger, maybe. But our Tricks are the same. He calls it planeshifting.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  But Glide was relentless. ‘Blood addiction. That’s what all her vampires have. The Bloodkin. Your mother wrote about it. I read a bit, before I gave them the book. She said almost no one ever recovered. Sharpsoft, though, he was meant to be a traitor. A double agent. So how does he feed, huh? You ever seen him eat people food? Forget it. He drinks blood. Like them. He thinks he’s like you, pretends he’s still on your side. But he’s one of them. Crazed as a bag-lady.’

  ‘Shut up!’

  Solace moved so quickly that Evan was powerless to stop her. Grabbing a brick from the rubble, she lunged for Glide, arm raised to bring the weapon down on his skull – arcing, so fast – and the traitor just sat there, wide-eyed, a blank smile on his face. At the last minute, Evan realised what Glide wanted, what he’d always wanted since the moment he’d first emerged. He wants to die. He wants us to spare him the choice.

  Too late, Evan started to move, but with the brick a hairsbreadth from Glide’s right eye, Solace stayed her hand, arm jerking to a halt. Glide didn’t blink. He hadn’t even flinched. Panting, Solace lowered her hand, the brick dropping from her grasp.

  ‘No,’ Glide rasped. ‘Do it. Please.’

  Solace swayed backwards, knees to ankles to standing, fluid as ribbon. Evan followed suit.

  ‘I don’t owe you anything,’ said Solace. Her voice was flat. ‘We’re done.’

  He betrayed me. I almost killed him. Part of me wanted to kill him. What sort of creature am I?

  Over and over, Solace replayed the confrontation, unable to change direction. She walked quickly as night fell, oblivious to everything but the scuff of asphalt under her feet and Evan’s quiet presence. It wasn’t for some minutes that she realised they hadn’t planned their return to the Rookery. The thought brought her up short, stopping so suddenly that Evan ran into her. Where their arms touched, a flash of apology passed between them. It unnerved her, this new connection – thrilling and frightening all at once.

  ‘Sharpsoft,’ she said. The name seemed to hang on her tongue.

  ‘What about him?’

  Evan’s voice was soft. Solace looked away, not trusting herself to meet his gaze. He called me Lacey. Twice. Through their bond, she knew that he neither hated nor feared her for what she’d done, and while she was grateful, she wasn’t yet sure she deserved it. Shame swirled through her; she pushed it down.

  ‘Do you think Glide was telling the truth? About how Sharpsoft feeds?’

  Evan paused, then shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Let’s try not to worry about it. We’ve got enough to think about.’

  ‘Yeah. I guess you’re right.’ Solace mustered a watery smile. ‘Like how to get back. I’m not even sure the key will take us there, with everything Liluye said about intruders.’

  ‘Oh, it won’t.’ The voice came from behind them: dark and curling, like campfire smoke. ‘The Rookery is defended against such come-as-you-please magic, even one as strong as yours. As well I know.’

  They turned.

  It was Mikhail Savarin.

  In another life, he might have been handsome. In contrast to the ginger hair, affable mien and bulbous stare of his cousin, Professor Lukin, Mikhail had a lean, expressive face and rich, dark eyes. His shoulder-length hair was wavy brown salted with grey, complementing skin that had long since weathered into a uniform tan. His hands were raw, still shiny with burns from Grief’s summoning experiment, and when he smiled, the effect conspired to be both rageful and melancholy. I’d rather not hurt you, his expression said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy it.

  ‘What do you want?’ Evan asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

  ‘Many things,’ replied Mikhail. As though in mockery of Electra’s Trick, he started to glow, a haze of purple energy crackling around him. ‘Not all of them easy to obtain. Right now, –’ he raised one hand, a whip-tongue of purple lightning
forming in his grip, ‘– I’d settle for the two of you!’

  He lashed at them with his magic. Solace shoved Evan with such force that he fell to the ground, but wasn’t quick enough to spare herself. The whip coiled around her right arm, sizzling against her jacket. It was like being held against an electric fence; painful shocks coursed through her whole body, rattling her teeth and vision. She tried to jerk away, but the whip only tightened. The stench of burning leather filled the air as Evan struggled to his feet, eyes darting wildly between them.

  ‘Right,’ Solace muttered. Instead of pulling, she rushed at Mikhail. The energy-whip went slack. Surprise showed in the Bloodkin’s eyes, but before her body could connect with his, the magic surrounding him solidified, so that she slammed up against a wall of energy. Stunned, she staggered back – just as Evan entered the fray, grabbing Mikhail’s unshielded whip-arm and biting the back of his hand. With a shout, the Bloodkin’s magic faltered. The whip unwound with snake-speed from Solace’s arm, shooting back into Mikhail’s hand. The Bloodkin ripped out of Evan’s grasp and backhanded him hard across the face.

  ‘Son of a bitch!’ Evan yelped, backing away as the Bloodkin straightened.

  ‘Pesky.’ Mikhail leered. Twin globes of purple fire burned around his hands. ‘But manageable.’

  Faster than Solace or Evan could blink, a crackling, electric noose formed around each of their throats, connected to Mikhail’s hands as if by poles, like a dog-catcher’s tool. Choking, Solace clawed against the restraint, but the shocks were more savage this time, and the magic burned her bare skin fiercely. Beside her, Evan whimpered.

  ‘Now then.’ Mikhail’s tone was calm, reasonable. ‘The pair of you can come with me.’

  Through the jolts paralysing her system, Solace saw that the mage was straining. Sweat beaded his skin as a tear in reality started to open up, its edges lined with the same purple-black magic that bound them. She started struggling again, and had the satisfaction of seeing the gateway falter, but the magic ringing her neck only grew tighter. Black spots swam in her vision; every breath was stunted and painful. She tried to move forwards again, but whatever Mikhail had done wouldn’t allow it. Inch by inch, the portal widened, showing only desolate rock on the other side.

 

  Duchess? Solace couldn’t speak. A green glow covered everything. Lungs screaming for air, she felt something yank her up and away.

  Mikhail swore. Everything vanished.

  13

  Overload

 

  They were back in the kitchen of the Surrey Hills house, standing shamefaced as Duchess berated them from the bench-top. Solace rubbed her neck, still rattled by the sudden turn of events, and translated for Evan.

  ‘She wants to know why we left.’

  ‘To find Glide,’ he answered promptly. When the imperious cat narrowed her eyes, he launched into a longer explanation: Solace’s Castalian vision, the subsequent group discussion and what had occurred in the ruins prior to Mikhail’s arrival.

  Solace felt a wash of gratitude. Through the bond, she could tell that Evan’s throat was just as raw as her own, though Mikhail’s magic had left no marks, and so occupied herself by pouring him a glass of water. He took it gratefully, gulping the whole thing down while Duchess, now seated primly on her hindquarters, glared at the pair of them.

 

  ‘She sees,’ said Solace, with only marginal sarcasm.

  the little cat said again, but this time, there was some softness. She yawned and stretched her forepaws.

  ‘Why not?’ Hearing this relayed, Evan looked genuinely outraged. ‘It’s the truth! We’ve all been lying to each other too much as it is, and one more secret –’

  Duchess hissed and the empath stopped midsentence. When she spoke again, Solace echoed each word as it came.

 

  ‘A minute ago, you were angry we left,’ Solace pointed out, but she felt too tired to argue. The encounter with Glide and their tussle with Mikhail had put her body on alert. With that adrenaline fading, she was feeling raw, sore and in need of quiet.

 

  ‘Whatever,’ said Evan, when this was relayed. He glanced warily around the house, as though expecting attack. ‘We’ll keep quiet, okay? Just take us back. Being here feels creepy.’

  Duchess blinked, apparently satisfied, and leapt from the counter onto Solace’s shoulder.

  There was no time to brace. Another violent midriff jerk, a flash of green, and they were back in the parking garage where they’d originally entered the Rookery, blinking in the fluorescent lights.

  ‘Oh,’ said Solace, who’d been expecting to be taken straight inside. ‘I guess Mikhail was right about one thing, then.’

  A brush of whiskers against her ear.

  Solace paused with her hand halfway to the handle. ‘When we go back in, Liluye will know, won’t she? The key will set off the alarms, just like it did the first time.’

 

  ‘Yes,’ Solace murmured. She felt like laughing, or crying, or both. Liluye had instructed them to learn who they were, but she had never felt so uncertain in her life. ‘I guess I can.’

  What followed was a blur.

  Re-entering the Rookery, Solace and Evan were accosted by a furious Liluye, demanding to know the reason for both their departure and sudden reappearance. True to her word, however, Duchess leapt neatly from Solace’s shoulder to the proprietor’s, communicating explanations that, for once, had no need of repetition. Mute, the pair of them were left to trail in Liluye’s wake, walking back through the lobby, up the stairs and through the hallways until, finally, they were delivered to their suite.

  ‘We’ll leave you here,’ said Liluye, with a flash of asperity. ‘I trust, this time, that you will stay out of trouble?’

  Neither answered.

  Inside, they were bombarded with questions. Solace fumbled for words, but as he’d done in the kitchen, Evan stepped smoothly in to explain.

  Listening to this second retelling, Solace felt like a sickness was growing inside her. I nearly killed him. I wanted to kill him. For all Glide’s words had shaken her trust in Sharpsoft, her guardian had been right about one thing: she was turning into a weapon. Loa or hounsi? A human upbringing and sheer good luck had seemingly concealed her nature for most of her life, but the more she came into contact with Rarity and danger, the more she wanted to fight. And the more she wanted to fight, the more she craved what she couldn’t have.

  Blood. Now that she’d calmed down, her memories were heady with the scent of it, clogging her nostrils, lighting on her tongue. Whether through her own actions or someone else’s, Glide had been bleeding, and even once she’d dropped the brick, the temptation to bend down and bite had been stronger than she’d ever known it could be. The attractiveness of the desire nauseated her. Bad enough you attacked Harper and laughed with the Bloodkin. Bad enough you attacked Glide. You can’t help being a weapon, but that’s no excuse to stop being human.

  Even if you’re not really human at all.

  With a sigh, Solace opened her eyes, unaware of having closed them, and tried to pick up the conversation. Evan had finished explaining, with the merciful omission of her near-homicide and the advent of Mikhail Savarin. The others were registering Glide’s slander of Sharpsoft with varying degrees of horror and scepticism.

  From across the room, Paige caught Solace�
��s eye.

  ‘Thanks for beating him up,’ she said. There was an unnerving glitter in the short girl’s eyes. ‘Sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of that, lately.’

  Too tired to contradict her, Solace only nodded.

  ‘Well.’ Jess leaned back in her armchair and made a show of studying the ceiling. ‘Where do we go from here? It seems like we’ve done everything. Or at least, Solace has. Visions at the Castalian spring, a chat with Glide, a brush with Grief, a spot of lunch – ooh, there. Look! I contributed. All that’s missing is a trip to Paris.’

  There was an odd note to the seer’s voice. Evan frowned, walking over to crouch by his sister’s arm.

  ‘Jess? You feeling all right?’

  ‘Not particularly.’ She maintained her ceiling vigil. ‘We’re drifting, is all. So, I mean, great – we have new information that Sanguisidera is a crazy lady and Glide was guilty and Sharpsoft exists in a moral grey area. Whoop-de-la. But what about interpreting the prophecy? What about finding Starveldt?’

  Silence greeted this remark.

  Electra broke it. ‘We know Laine’s the Watcher,’ she said. ‘And I was thinking that maybe – I mean, assuming not every line in the prophecy is literal, but maybe I’m the Bright One. Because, you know. Of the glowing. Not that I know about listening to the dead, but –’

  ‘Lex!’ Jess sat bolt upright, grinning. ‘Yes! That makes perfect sense. See, people? Progress! This is what progress looks like! Any more revelatory contributions?’ She looked at them all, eager as a birthday girl for presents.

  Solace found that she was smiling. She hated being melancholy, and Jess in a good mood was hard to resist.

  ‘Shadowfriend. Is me.’

  Everyone turned. It was Harper, hanging in the doorway and looking only slightly worse than if he’d been hit by a piece of heavy construction equipment and inexpertly buried in a chalk pit. At their expressions, he managed a grin, which made him look a little less cadaverous.