by M. J. Scott
She cocked her head, then nodded at my arm. “What happened?”
“Fell down some stairs.”
Her gaze sharpened. She wasn’t buying my story any more than Guy and Simon had. “I’ve fallen down some stairs in my time,” she said softly. She looked regretful for a moment. Then shook her head as if banishing a bad memory.
“Healer DuCaine mended my arm,” I said. “I’m fine now. I have to rest a few days until everything finishes healing.”
“Simon?” Her face brightened, her smile radiant.
The change was extraordinary and I suddenly realized who this must be. Lily. My hand curled around the top of the bench in sudden caution. Lucius’ assassin. Simon’s fiancée, if the rumors were true.
A wraith.
More dangerous than Guy, in her way. He might stop to consider the moral implications of killing me, but I didn’t think that Lily would pause for even a second to defend the man who put that expression on her face.
“Yes. He’s very good.” I fought the urge to flee, focusing on calming my speeding pulse. Wraiths couldn’t use their powers in daylight. She had no reason to suspect me of anything. I was safe.
She could still kill you with her gardening fork, a part of my brain whispered.
And therefore I shouldn’t give her any reason to want to kill me. I straightened my shoulders and lowered the arm with the unwieldy cast into my lap. Look harmless, that was the idea.
“Do you work with Simon?” I asked, seeking confirmation that she was who I thought she was.
Her smile dimmed a little, her expression suddenly wary. Her eyes were gray. A deep clear gray like light reflecting off water or the early signs of a storm rising. I hoped I wasn’t about to find out just how stormy she could be as she studied me. This woman was a trained killer. No one to be taken lightly or trifled with. I needed my wits about me.
“I work here in the hospital,” she said neutrally. “Everyone knows Simon.”
Not volunteering information. Cautious. I should go slowly. Trouble was I was running out of time. Once I was discharged, finding what Cormen wanted would become that much harder. Of course, getting killed with a garden fork because I’d aroused the protective instincts of an assassin would also be counterproductive.
“He seems a very good healer.”
That warmed her smile again. “He’s one of the strongest sunmages in the City.”
“Are you a healer too?” She wore a pale green shirt with black linen trousers. The shirt wasn’t healer green, but close. The trousers were unusual for a woman, here in the human world. I wondered if Fen had packed any of mine. I hadn’t gotten that far in the bag before Simon had interrupted me.
“No. Just a gardener. Maybe an herbalist one day.”
Lucius’ executioner was now a gardener. Now, there was a difficult concept to wrap one’s brain around.
“It must be nice to be around all this every day. Those colors are lovely.” I pointed to where she was planting out pansies. The flowers were a bright purple, blending in with the others—lavender and pale violet—to make a sweep of color shading from dark to light in a graceful arc. “I work for a modiste,” I added. “I tend to notice colors. Did you design the bed?”
Her smile widened just a little, though her gray eyes still studied me carefully. There was tension in her shoulders, and her hand shifted on the handle of the fork, easing and tightening in nearly imperceptible movements. I wondered if she was uncomfortable making small talk or still just wary. I was good at reading people, but I couldn’t decide.
Which made sense. You didn’t do anything without thinking in the Night World. Not if you wanted to survive. Anyone who’d grown up in Lucius’ court would’ve learned to control their emotions and reactions as naturally as breathing.
“Yes, I designed it. I’m still learning.” She looked down at the flat basket, still half-full of plants waiting to be settled into the earth. “But thank you.”
“It must be peaceful working here.”
“Not when the children are let loose,” she said. “But it’s nice to make somewhere for people to come and rest. The hospital isn’t always a happy place.”
“No.” I couldn’t help the reflexive shiver that slid down my spine as I remembered Cormen’s face as he left me to the mercies of his Beast.
I blinked and came back to myself as I realized I was staring into space. Lily was watching me. “I’m Holly,” I said, wondering if the obvious might just be the thing to get me the confirmation of her identity I was seeking. “Holly Everton.” The fake name was coming more easily now.
Lily cocked her head. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Everton. But if you’ll excuse me, I need to get on with this.”
I knew a dismissal when I heard one. Lily was not going to be an easy nut to crack. And it was better not to push and arouse her suspicions. No. It would be better to try and work my angles with Simon than Lily.
Still, I would return to the garden another time if I could. Lily interested me. For one thing, she’d won free of Lucius and survived. Not many left the Night World, let alone the Blood Courts. I wondered how she’d managed it. Was it true what the rumors whispered? Had she killed Lucius herself? And if so, why? For Simon, or for some darker reason?
Whatever the truth, she was here now. Here with no one making her dance to their tune. Here and free to sit in the sunshine and plant a garden.
For a moment I felt a pang of envy so deep I almost gasped. I’d always told myself that one day I would retire, move away. Start again and live in peace in a little house where no one would be interested in me and where my mother could live out her days in comfort. But the reality was that, unless there was a miracle, my mother was more likely to live out her days in the sanatorium. Which meant I needed the money to pay for it. The Owl wouldn’t be flying away to a cozy fantasy nest any time soon.
Plus, to get beyond my father’s reach—somewhere where he couldn’t reach out and try to use me whenever it suited him—would mean going farther than I wanted to.
Would mean leaving everything I’d ever known, not to mention Reggie and Fen.
So there was no point sitting on a bench feeling sorry for myself. I had a job to do unless I could beat the geas. Which would require a miracle as much as curing my mother would. So most likely I would have to do as Cormen had commanded. That would at least give me some small degree of freedom until he decided to remember my existence again.
Fulfilling his wishes was the one sure way to free myself from his stinking geas. And I would make damn certain that I learned more about the disgusting things to see if there was anything I could do to avoid him trapping me with one again.
But that too had to wait until I had done what I’d come to do. I nodded politely to Lily and climbed to my feet, still feeling slightly unsteady. Time to go exploring.
* * *
Unfortunately my explorations didn’t yield anything useful. I was starting to tire rapidly by the time I’d covered most of the main wing. Still, I forced myself to try one last corridor before giving up.
I retraced my steps from the ward where I’d hit a dead end to the place where the corridor I traveled intersected with four others. I had tried four of the five now. The last one lay straight ahead. It branched around a corner not far down its length and I couldn’t see anything beyond that point.
I drew a deep breath. “One more try,” I said softly, and walked slowly into the corridor. It didn’t take long to reach the corner. So I took the turn. So far the corridor had been just that, a plain empty passage without even doors leading from it. The other corridors had held offices and wards, but this one was blank. Maybe that was a good sign.
I had walked for about five minutes when the corridor ended abruptly in a landing. A wooden staircase curled in a spiral both up and down.
Down? I peered out the window behind the stairs. I was still on the ground level of the hospital. So, what lay beneath? Laundries and kitchens and the usual, I supposed, but when
I leaned cautiously over the railing I couldn’t hear anything that suggested any such thing. No voices or water or the clatter of a large kitchen. I knew those noises well from the Swallow. And St. Giles was far bigger than the Swallow. Its kitchens and such would be massive. There was no smell of soap or steam or cooking. So, unless the hospital used magic to hide such things—and I couldn’t think of why it would be worthwhile doing so—that wasn’t what was down there in the bowels of the building. My instincts tugged at me. Down.
I hesitated. I hadn’t brought any charms with me. Nothing to disguise myself or the traces of my passing. It seemed too risky to investigate while it was daylight and the hospital still hummed busily. No. I should go back. Try again later tonight with a charm to hide me.
My stomach growled suddenly as if agreeing with the assessment. I needed some food and a nap or I would, I suddenly realized, quite possibly fall over. I was pushing too hard.
A relapse wouldn’t help me. I peered down over the railing again.
No.
Time to retreat. Tonight I could return with my charms and investigate properly. Fen had packed some trousers and shirts in the dark colors I used for runs in amongst the dresses and girl things. I would do a better job with the right tools.
I made my way back the way I had come, walking slowly to ease the slightly woozy feeling in my head. When I met Simon coming the other way around the corner, I jumped like a startled cat.
“Miss Everton?” he said, eyebrows shooting upward. “What are you doing here?”
“I got turned around,” I said. I’d thought of my cover story before even setting out. “This place has so many corridors, and they all look the same. Still, I knew I’d gone wrong when I reached the staircase. So I turned back.” I smiled up at him, doing my best to charm. “Can you tell me how to get to my room? I think I need to lie down.”
By the time Simon guided me back to the ward, I wasn’t pretending any longer. I did need to lie down. In fact I fell asleep and didn’t wake for several hours. My dinner was cold on a tray by my bed when I woke, but I was hungry enough to eat it anyway, stuffing roast lamb and vegetables into my mouth and slathering bread with a thick layer of butter and jam.
I felt somewhat better after I’d devoured the last of the food.
But after finishing the meal, I knew I had a choice to make. It was late now. There was no clock in my room, but the sun, which stayed high for longer this time of year, had vanished a while ago and the sky outside my window was true night dark. The hours for visitors were well and truly over and the hospital was growing quiet. Well, quiet as a hospital got. It was never completely silent, but that didn’t bother me. I’d grown up sleeping above a brothel. Compared to that, St. Giles was silent as a grave.
And I was wide awake.
There was nothing for it. If I was going to go risk those stairs and whatever lay below them, it should be now. I fetched the charm pouch from where I’d carefully wrapped it in the folds of one of the dresses Fen had brought, and upended its contents onto the counterpane.
Fen, it seemed, was to be thanked. There were not one but two invisibility charms bundled up with three hear-mes, a look-away, and a forget-me. I picked up one of the invisibility charms, feeling the faint buzz of it, waiting to be sparked to life.
I laid the charm in my lap and reached for the cutthroat. As many times as I’d pricked my fingers to draw blood to feed a charm, I’d never quite gotten used to the sensation. But I gritted my teeth and made the tiny cut. Blood beaded on my fingertip and I pressed it into the charm, feeling the sudden spark as it flared to life while I sucked my finger waiting for the cut to stop stinging.
When it did, I slipped the charm around my neck, threading the leather thong around the gold links of the chain holding my pendant where it hung, vibrating silently to my senses.
I pulled my hair back and tucking it around itself into a loose knot . . . the best I could do with my arm in a cast. The lock pick pins slid into place more easily and I felt the familiar sense of calm settle over me as I readied myself to work.
I touched the charm again to activate it, felt the edges of the world fizz and sparkle slightly as they always did before the sensation faded to the merest tickle in my skin. It was always somewhat eerie to see myself fade from view, but I took a deep breath, tidied everything away, messed the counterpane up so it looked as if I had just risen to perhaps use the facilities, and then slipped out the door.
I rapidly found my way to the staircase and, as I had earlier, stood for a moment trying to listen for anyone approaching. The stairs were narrow and I was invisible, not incorporeal. Anyone brushing past would feel me.
But it seemed for now, the stairs were deserted, so I took a last deep breath and headed down.
The stairs took me down three levels before they came to an end in another anonymous empty corridor leading straight ahead. At least it made deciding which way to go a little easier. I walked slowly down the tiled floor keeping close to the left-hand wall.
I reached the end of the corridor. This time it led off in two separate directions. If my sense of direction wasn’t letting me down, then one ran back toward the front of the hospital and the other across the grounds. That way, my sketchy knowledge of the area told me, lay the Templar Brother House, though I wasn’t sure why there would be a tunnel between the two.
So, where did the other branch lead? St. Giles was made up of seven or eight large buildings, so there were quite a few possibilities.
I hesitated. The corridor leading toward the hospital felt as all the others I’d traversed. Smelling faintly of hospital smells and the strange hot and cold mix of Fae and human magic. But the other direction . . . it felt different. Nothing I could put my finger on but somehow muffled.
That way. I followed my gut.
About a minute later I wished my gut might have had the foresight to warn me that I was about to run into three Templars walking in the other direction.
I froze in place, pressed against the wall, willing myself to breathe silently. All three of them were dressed in full mail and white tunics emblazoned with a red cross. Two of them half carried the third, a younger-looking man with deep brown skin whose tunic was covered with more red than just the cross. He’d been hurt, a rough bandage binding his right arm. It too was stained red. Bright, bright red. Rapidly spreading.
He looked as though he was half-unconscious and the two men escorting him looked grim, their clothes also spattered with blood.
I felt an instant of guilt. This was what Guy was facing every night. Danger. Injury. Death perhaps. All because they tried to keep the peace.
But keeping the peace wasn’t my business. No, I was more concerned with keeping me and mine in one piece. Still, my gaze followed the Templars, as they passed me, wondering what they’d come up against.
I didn’t take sides in Night World politics. I couldn’t afford to. Another Blood Lord would rise to take power and fill the void that Lucius had left behind. It was hard to believe that whoever it was could be any more vicious than Lucius himself. The main issue would be whether they were progressive or one of those who thought we should return to the old days before the treaties. The latter seemed unlikely despite Guy’s concerns.
The Blood had it good with the laws that allowed them free rein to drink amongst the Nightseekers—the humans who sought them out to chase the addictive pleasure of vampire blood. Hells, they weren’t even punished if they killed Nightseekers. Why would they want to stir up trouble with the humans? Humans might be physically weaker, but they still had magic. And they had the Templars. Warriors prepared to defend their race unto death.
It was the Templars who’d helped win the battles that had led to the first treaty negotiations, leading attacks into the Blood and Beast territories until all parties were forced to negotiate. Once they’d won their way that far, the Fae queen had lent her support to the process.
As for the Beast packs, well, they varied. Some allied themselves with
the Blood and some were more distant. Some just wanted to live their lives like the rest of us. I couldn’t see that they would want war with the humans either.
None of this political musing was helping me fulfill my current mission. I schooled myself to silence and stillness until the Templars vanished around the corner and then set off again.
Luckily no more Templars appeared to give me further heart palpitations. There were, however, seemingly never-ending tunnel branches. I took the simple approach of choosing a right, left, right, left pattern. That was easy enough to remember and I could try other variations later if I needed to.
I was beginning to think the tunnels must run halfway across the City when I turned down another branch and the unexpected smell of iron and magic prickled my nose like a handful of black pepper.
My stomach tightened. Iron? Down here? Under a hospital half-full of Fae? That was something out of place.
Something hidden.
And I was looking for hidden things.
I set off down the tunnel. It was darker than the others, fewer torches lighting the way, but my eyes adjusted and I continued forward, the peppery, spiky taint of magic—human magic—and iron growing stronger in the air. Along with a gradual feeling that I was doing the wrong thing.
I ignored that.
Most likely, if there was something hidden down here, then there would be keep-away spells, designed to make anyone who stumbled upon the tunnel turn away. But they didn’t stop me as I moved through the dim light until I came to an abrupt halt.
A massive door barred my way. A massive iron door. The air fairly reeked of it. If I were full Fae, I’d be feeling ill and heading rapidly in the other direction by now.
But I was a half-breed and immune to iron. Not that that meant I was getting through the door. The iron might not hurt me, but the wards shimmering over its surface almost certainly would. The colors of them swirled and sparked, interlocking lines of magic that spoke of protection that was beyond my abilities to defeat. Simple wards I can get around easily enough—I wouldn’t be much of a spy if I couldn’t accomplish that much—but these were far from simple. If I wasn’t mistaken, both Fae and human magic had raised the layers of defenses and I didn’t even know where to begin to unravel them. I clenched my hands, resisting the urge to pound on the door in frustration.