by Morgan Hawke
11
Thorn climbed the rope ladder and wondered where reality had fled to. She was going up a peg-and-rope ladder toward a balloon she couldn’t see because it was enchanted. However, the fire consuming the town was more than real, just like the vampires climbing after her.
Reaching over her head for each new handhold and placing her feet carefully, she kept climbing. The overlong hem of the robe was not helpful; the wind kept blowing it under her feet. The burning ache in her shoulder wasn’t helpful either.
After a nerve-wracking eternity, the air around her chilled, and something huge seemed to loom over her head. The loud buzzing became a horrendous whirring clearly driven by some kind of engine. Thorn couldn’t resist the urge to look up.
A massive wood-planked ship floated directly above her head. The pointed prow on her far left sported a rearing winged unicorn figurehead painted in gleaming gold, the gilded and carved wings stretching out along the ship’s body. A spinning propeller whirled at the tip of the unicorn’s long spiral horn. Long, broad, batlike wings spread out from the ship’s wooden sides, clearly made of fabric stretched across a frame, very like an umbrella. The huge broad-bladed rudder sticking out far behind was made the same way.
Above the ship was the biggest and longest cigar-shaped balloon she’d ever seen. The scarlet and midnight fabric had some kind of interior structure, making the balloon pointed at either end. Thousands of ropes attached it to the wooden ship suspended below it.
She’d never seen anything like it. Sheer curiosity drove Thorn the rest of the way up the ladder.
Close to the curved planks of the hull, the ladder’s wooden pins became actual wooden steps that were pegged on the backside to keep the step clear of the ship’s hull. Thorn smiled sourly. A good thing, too, or they would have pinched her fingers and toes against the side of the ship something awful.
A bearded man in a dark navy seaman’s coat of heavy wool leaned over the brass rail along the edge and looked down at Thorn.
Thorn blinked up at him, startled. “Hello?”
He smiled. “Ah, hello!” He reached down to catch Thorn by the hand. “Welcome, fraulein, aboard the Valkyrie.” He tugged.
Thorn climbed over the brass rail and stepped down onto the polished deck of the ship floating in midair. Her legs shook under her.
The bearded man leaned over the rail to grab for the next hand.
Thorn tottered away from the rail and stared in wonder. It really was an airship, though it looked more like a carnival ride than anything that might sail on water. From the rearing unicorn prow to the raised stern deck at the ship’s rear, the ship was carved, flourished, and painted in scarlet and emerald with gilded scrollwork. Decorative, sculpted brass fittings were everywhere, all gleaming with polish. At the ship’s center was a broad brass pipe releasing gouts of steam into the chill air. The pipe was obviously exhaust from the chugging engine hidden below deck. The polished planks under her bare feet trembled with the engine’s vibrations.
Around half a dozen men in sea coats and seaman’s caps bustled about while shouting back and forth in guttural German. They tugged and adjusted the wrist-thick ropes attached to large iron rings all along the ship’s fore and aft, connecting to the monstrous net that held the gigantic balloon.
On the raised poop deck, a massive bearded man gripped the piloting wheel. Standing close by was a small and slender man with closely trimmed dark hair and gold-framed glasses. Like the rest of the crew, he wore a heavy wool coat that fell below his knees, but he sported gold buttons and braiding around his coat cuffs, with more braiding around his small billed cap.
Thorn’s brows rose. That was very likely the airship’s captain. She turned to see the last of Antonius’s black-robed men climbing over the polished rail of the Valkyrie. Two bearded men in heavy sea coats hurried to pull up the ladder.
Yaroslav stood with his hands folded behind him at the rail by Antonius. His head was tilted to the side, clearly listening to whatever Antonius was saying, but Yaroslav’s mouth was tight, and his gaze was focused on Thorn.
She shivered and folded her arms across her chest. The wind brushing her cheeks and tugging at her long pale brown hair was icy. The cold hadn’t bothered her all that much while she was on the ladder, but she wasn’t climbing anymore.
A loud bell echoed across the airship’s broad, polished deck, accompanied by shouts and whistles. Men scrambled for the ropes, adjusting God knew what. The rhythmic chugging of the ship’s engine became louder. The deck gently tipped up, and the tiny ship held in midair by its monstrous balloon rose higher into the sky.
Thorn was finally leaving the town behind on a ship that flew. She moved toward the brass rail of the ship and looked down. Beneath the rippling pool of magic, monstrous fires raged all across the town with flames that leaped nearly as high as the tall brick chimneys of the factories.
A fist tightened around her heart, and her eyes burned. Only a short while ago she had run down those streets and across those roofs…. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest. If Max hadn’t driven her out into the snow, she would have been down there still. A sound like falling leaves hissed in her ears, nearly overwhelming the sound of the ship’s toiling engine.
Yaroslav pressed his hand on her shoulder. “The Russian army has indeed been enthusiastic.”
Thorn started. She hadn’t heard him approach. She scrubbed her hands across her damp cheeks and turned to look at him. Her throat was too tight to speak, her heart too shocked. The Russian army had done this? How could they burn a whole town—with people in it?
“It is not quite so bad as it seems.” Yaroslav set his arm across her shoulders and turned her away from the rail. “While it is true that much of the town burns, the entire town has not been set alight.” His smile was slight, and his gaze weary. “Master Antonius told me that with so many towns infected with the walking dead, the Russian tsar has come to an agreement with the Penumbral court. Together both courts are working to save as many people as they can.”
Thorn frowned up at him. “By setting towns on fire?
Yaroslav sighed. “The fires are to draw out the dead and those they have infected. The untainted will flee.”
Thorn tucked her hands under her arms. She couldn’t stop trembling. “The dead are drawn to fire?”
Yaroslav nodded. “Rather like moths. They need only set the fires, and the unclean fly from their hidden places to destroy themselves.” He swept a hand down her hair. “The survivors will return and rebuild anew.”
“You sure about that?” She leaned against him. He was warm, and his scent familiar. Her head settled against his shoulder. “You’re sure they’ll rebuild it?”
Yaroslav sighed. “I have seen many cities fall, and always a new one follows.” He tightened his embrace. “Thorn, you are trembling.”
“Yeah, I know.” She gripped her arms, but she couldn’t stop shaking. “So, where are we going?”
“We are going to the winter palace of Prince Rafael.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” She looked up. Yaroslav’s face seem to be going away, as if down a long tunnel. The rushing sound in her ears escalated. The voices of the men working around them began to fade under the loud windstorm in her head. She didn’t quite notice when her knees buckled. One minute she was swaying on her feet, and the next, the nice comfortable hardwood deck was under her back. She blinked up at the dark sky full of roiling clouds and watched them fade down a long black tunnel.
Someone was speaking. She could barely hear them through the loud rushing wind in her ears. “What?” She was in some-one’s arms and sprawled across their lap. It smelled like Yaroslav. Her cheek was against his silk shirt. God, he smells good….
Fingers pressed into the hollow under her jaw. “Her pulse is weak.” It sounded like Yaroslav.
“Too weak and erratic.” That sounded like Antonius, from somewhere past Yaroslav’s shoulder. “I can barely hear her heart beating.”
The arms arou
nd her tightened. “I should not have let her climb.”
Thorn opened her eyes. She didn’t remember closing them. They were still on the deck of the airship. She must have been out for only a few seconds.
Antonius snorted. “How else was she supposed to get on the ship. Fly?”
Yaroslav turned to deliver a tight smile over his shoulder at Antonius.
“You’re not serious…?” Antonius leaned over Yaroslav’s shoulder, his lips curling slightly. “Count, I am centuries older than you, and I can’t fly!”
Yaroslav rolled his eyes. “I am a magus, did you forget?”
Thorn blinked. Yaroslav could fly?
Yaroslav frowned down at Thorn and swept his thumb across her bottom lip. “Her lips…they are blue.” He scowled. “This is silver poisoning….”
“Silver poisoning?” Antonius frowned at Thorn. “I thought she had only a graze?”
Thorn sucked in a small breath. How could silver be poisonous? She shuddered hard, and it hurt all the way to her bones. She clutched at Yaroslav’s shirt, but there seemed to be no strength in her fingers. She closed her eyes, and a small whimper escaped. It hurts….
Yaroslav leaned forward and rose to his feet, cradling Thorn in his arms. He turned to face Antonius. “I need a place of complete privacy to work without hindrance.”
Antonius dropped his chin and glanced around. “There’s only one place like that on this ship.”
Yaroslav’s arms tightened around her. “Take me there.”
Antonius looked Yaroslav in the eye. “You won’t like it.”
Yaroslav held the other man’s gaze. “Now, Master Antonius.”
Antonius hunched his shoulders and turned away. “Follow me.” He strode across the deck, with Yaroslav in his wake. Antonius opened the double doors by the ladder to the poop deck and led the way down into the ship’s warm bowels.
A dark and very narrow wood-paneled gangway passed by Thorn’s eyes in a blur. A doorway on the right opened onto a narrow downward ladder lit with flickering light. Heat poured up from below.
Yaroslav followed Antonius down the steps to a narrow cross-hallway that led left, right, and straight ahead. Every available inch was lined with steaming pipes, fluttering gauges, and huge snakes of wires. Light came from a wire strung overhead that had glowing embers within fist-sized glass bulbs. The overwhelming pulsing chug of massive machinery hammered in Thorn’s temples. The sound practically beat against her skin.
Antonius pointed straight ahead. “That passage leads to the ship’s engine room.” He gestured to the left. “We’re going this way.” He led them into the narrow walkway. “The spells they’re using aren’t exactly stable, so don’t bump into anything. You could get a nasty burn.”
Thorn frowned. Magic? It all looked like normal hot-water piping to her.
Antonius stopped at a closed iron door and turned the heavy wheel. The door clunked heavily and swung in, revealing a huge iron-walled chamber. Glowing bulbs occupied all four corners, shedding dim light among deep shadows. A gigantic cage filled the space, leaving maybe an arm’s length of clearance all the way around it. He turned to Yaroslav. “This is only place where I know you won’t be disturbed.”
“A cage?” Yaroslav raised his brow and delivered a tight smile. “Dare I ask?”
Antonius snorted and folded his arms. “This is actually a small cargo hold. The cage is for the plague beast. We’re supposed to bring it back alive.” He shrugged. “There’s a freight door directly overhead. Once we get it in there, we can hoist the cage straight from this hold.”
Yaroslav sighed. “Open it.”
Antonius rolled his eyes but stepped toward the cage’s door. He pushed, and the door swung in. “It’s open.” He turned to face Yaroslav. “Do you need anything?”
Yaroslav stepped past Antonius and into the cage. His boot heels thunked on the wood-planked floor. “How long until we arrive?”
Antonius looked down at his boot toes. “We’ll clear the mountains in less than an hour. We should reach the palace by dawn.”
Palace? Thorn blinked. Oh, that was right, Yaroslav had mentioned a prince and a palace.
Yaroslav nodded. “This should not take so long. We will need a place to rest afterward.”
Antonius nodded and folded his hands behind him. “I’ll put you in my berth.”
“Thank you.” Yaroslav raised a brow at him. “You may go.”
Antonius snorted and smiled. “Possessive bastard.”
Yaroslav raised his brow. “And you are not, over your Sophia?”
Antonius chuckled and turned away. “All right, you win.” He took the few steps to the door and turned back. “I’ll set a guard to make sure you’re not disturbed.”
Yaroslav nodded gravely. “That would be most appreciated.”
Antonius stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him.
Thorn looked up at Yaroslav. “Now what?”
Yaroslav let Thorn slide from his arms, setting her on her bare feet. “Now I take a close look at your aspect to see what damage has been done.”
“What?” Thorn’s knees wobbled under her. “Again?”
12
“Is…this…really necessary?” Her arms flung out to her sides, Thorn stared at the plank floor three feet below her and swallowed. She was floating naked, and facedown, in thin air. Yaroslav’s fur coat and her backpack had been dropped by the cage’s open door. “You didn’t do…this…last time.”
Standing at her right side, Yaroslav unbuttoned his snug cuffs and shoved his full sleeves up to his elbows. “Last time, you had not been struck by a silver bullet.”
“It’s only a graze, a scrape; it should have healed already.” She tucked her chin, clenched her hands into fists, and strained against the invisible bonds until her toes curled. Her thoughts scattered under a wave of dizziness, and her sight darkened. She stopped, gasping for breath. That was the sum total of all she could move. Damnit….
Yaroslav stepped before her and went down on one knee. “Thorn.” He cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “The harm that silver causes is deeper than your flesh.” He spoke that incomprehensible word she’d heard before and touched her brow. He rose to his feet and strode along her right side, his fingers trailing down the back of her neck and down her spine. An electrical current shimmered along her skin, following the path of his fingers.
A strong shudder took her. Thorn looked over at her arms and watched the blue streaks of light bloom under her skin. Heat spilled through her, and then sharp needle stabs erupted between her shoulder blades. “Ow, shit…!” Fur spilled across bare skin with tiny electrical shocks. She winced and hissed. Her teeth lengthened, making her jaw burn and ache. She moaned, and blood dribbled from her mouth to the planks below her. Her gums were bleeding from her teeth. The base of her spine ached with the extension of her tail. Her claws extended like knife stabs, and her hands and feet burned with the pads that formed on them. The change ended, and she moaned in relief. “Oh, god, that stank….”
Yaroslav rose and stepped to her left side. “It is as I thought.”
Thorn sucked in several deep breaths, drained. “What?”
Yaroslav leaned close, peering at her shoulder. “A part of your aspect has been damaged.”
She closed her eyes and tried to shift her stinging shoulder. “Is that what hurts?”
“Correct. The magic that allows your transformation has begun to unravel.” Yaroslav moved before her and knelt. He cupped her jaw in one palm, again raising her gaze to his. His mouth was tight, and his gaze steady. “I am going to separate your spirit from your flesh. Please do not resist.”
“Huh?” Thorn stared at him, not quite sure what he meant by that. “What for?”
With his free hand, he brushed her hair from her brow. “I am going to attempt to rebuild the damaged parts of your aspect. I do not wish you to feel discomfort while I do so.”
Thorn swallowed. “It’s going to hurt?”
Yaroslav closed his eyes briefly. “A great deal.”
A great deal? Thorn winced. Terrific…. She licked her lips. “It won’t heal all by itself?”
He held her gaze. “It is not your body that has been harmed, but your aspect. If left too long, it will fall apart completely.”
Thorn frowned. “Will that make me human again?”
Yaroslav shook his head slowly. “Once, that might have been so, but your body has since become reliant on that which binds your two souls, and your two bodies, together.”
Thorn shivered. “That’s bad?”
Yaroslav sighed and smiled just a little. “It is not bad that you have become accustomed to your dual nature. What is bad is that the original making was improperly crafted and is therefore weaker than it should be.”
Thorn bit down on her bottom lip. “A bullet graze really did that much damage?”
Yaroslav sighed and shook his head. “It was not that you were struck by a bullet, but struck by silver. A silver knife would have done the same.” He raised a finger. “Silver can be charmed to craft spells or to cut them. The silver in this bullet was charmed to cut, and it has succeeded far better than it would have if your making had been done properly.”
“Oh….” Thorn swallowed. “So, you’re going to put it back together?”
Yaroslav smiled. “After a fashion. However, it is not a comfortable process, therefore I am going to pull out your spirit, leaving your body to sleep.” He lifted his chin. “Are you ready?”
Thorn really did not like the idea of being asleep when someone was messing with her body, but she liked the idea of “a great deal of pain” even less. “All right, fine, do what you need to do.” She glared at him. “But make it quick!”