"Are all Great Ravens this pompous?" I asked as we neared the creek that led to Nell's oxbow lake. "Ignore my question, we near the lake. I don't want to spook her or get caught by the father."
A sudden wind came rushing through the woods, throwing my hair in my face. When it passed, I continued along the edge of the water, listening for signs above the gurgling water.
The slope turned the water to rapids, foam curling and rolling through the eddies before dipping into deeper waters. Ahead of the rapids was the oxbow lake, a curve of the creek trapped by a change in the earth.
Creeping through the trees, keeping watch all around, my sorcery at the ready, I spied movement at the edge of the water. Nell was standing in the lilies, rubbing sand on her arm.
She was much taller than I remembered, though she'd mostly stayed to the water last time. But I shouldn't have been surprised given the size of her father and brothers. She had a wide frame and her hair was thicker and longer than last time. It went down to her rear and was as lush as a mare's.
I watched for a while, hoping to learn something, and in case she'd turned wild enough I couldn't dare approach. She moved through the lilies, occasionally dipping down and scooping up sand from the bottom of the lake. She moved with a strength that seemed unlikely for her age.
When her gaze found me, it was purpose-filled, indicating she'd known I was standing there the whole time. The unexpected eye contact threw my thoughts into a heady rush. I was ankle deep in the cold brook before I realized what was happening to me, but I couldn't seem to do anything about it. Nell's gaze pulled me in like a fish on a line.
"Katerina," said Zora at my chest. "Katerina. I knew Empress Catherine before she died."
The revelation startled me out of the trance. The frigid water rushed around my thighs and hips. I averted my eyes.
"You knew her? Is she the one that sent you?" I asked, not caring that the cold was painful.
"No," said the bird-skull, "it was not her. I cannot tell you more. Focus on the girl. I just needed to free you from her spell. Nothing else was working."
"Thank you, Zora," I said, questions bubbling at my lips.
I waded out of the brook, realizing that my pistol had gotten wet, making the bullets useless. Already my teeth were chattering.
"This girl has power," said Zora. "Be careful."
"Nell," I called out, keeping my head turned. "Do you remember me from before?"
"The one who called me a water monster," said Nell. I heard the sneer in her voice. The girl wasn't but twenty feet from my location. Suddenly, I didn't feel safe.
"I never said that."
"Lies," she said. "You called me a rusalka. I know what that is now."
"You're not a monster," I said. "If you give me a chance, I can explain what's happening."
"But I am a monster," she said, the little girl in her coming through as her voice cracked. "Bram told me what it was when I asked."
My heart seized with worry. "You shouldn't talk to your brother. You don't know how to control your power."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.
Zora whispered. "Back away. Back away."
I kept my hand on my oestium rapier and my magic at the ready as I took steps backwards, trying not to trip on a water-worn tree root. I didn't want to hurt the poor girl, but I was prepared to defend myself.
Even without looking at her, I sensed her primalness. It was like hearing a herd of wild horses stampeding, hoping they didn't trample you. My skin tingled with electricity.
"It doesn't matter," said Nell, at once both fiercely defiant and broken. "I already did it. I made him walk into the water, just like I was doing to you. Except he didn't stop. He kept going until the water was over his head and then he never came back up. I carried his body up the stream and left him on the bank so they would find him. Mother and Father will never take me back now."
My heart was in my throat. I didn't know what to say. On reflex, I almost glanced up, but that would have been my death. I could feel power radiating from her naked body. Not even Chloris had that strong of a pull.
"I need your help, Nell," I said.
"Why should I? You've done nothing for me," she spat.
The girl was angry and confused. And why shouldn't she be? She'd murdered her brother out of Otherworldly instinct.
"If I can figure out how this happened, I might be able to reverse it," I lied.
"Will it bring my brother back?"
"No."
She gave a broken laugh. "Then why bother? They'll never let me come back."
"It's not your fault, Nell. I told him not to talk to you or see you. He knew the danger," I said. "It's not your fault."
"Go away. Just go away," she said, sounding like a little girl again.
"I need your help," I said as I was backing away. "Please. Je t'en supplie. Can you tell me anything about why you might have changed? Did you meet anyone?"
Even though I couldn't see her, Nell seemed to shrink away. Something was diminishing her.
Zora whispered so only I could hear. "Yes, that's it. She met someone."
Nell started crying softly as if the memory was too much. After a good couple of minutes, the crying subsided to sniffles. She almost seemed like a normal girl by the end, ignoring that she was naked in the middle of autumn, hip deep in an oxbow lake surrounded by lilies.
"Late in the summer, a costermonger came down the road one day in his wagon. He and father had words, but father didn't buy any fruit. Said the prices were too high and that he could get better in town. I overheard the exchange from my bedroom on the second floor. From my vantage, I saw he had oranges in the back of his wagon. I loved oranges. Always have. So when no one was looking, I ran out the back and met the costermonger at the corner up the road with a handful of pennies. I waved him down and asked how much an orange was. He told me it cost as much as the pennies in my hand, even without seeing them. Hungry for the sweet fruit, I handed over my pennies and took the orange. No sooner had the costermonger snapped his reins and moved on, I was tearing into the delicious fruit as if it were the last orange on earth. When it was gone, I licked my fingers clean and returned home," she said.
After a bit of silence, I asked, "Did you change that night? Is that how you knew it was the orange?"
She shook her head, or at least Zora told me she did. "Oh, no. The change didn't happen until a week later, though I knew something was wrong the next day."
"And the orange? How did you know it was the orange?" I asked, desperate to find the link.
"I just do," said Nell. "I was fine until I ate that orange. Something seemed wrong that night. I took a bath and didn't want to get out, even when the water had gone cold. Mother came in to tell me I was done, and I barked back at her. She turned right around and left, as if I were the mother and she were the child. I was changing already."
"What about the costermonger?" I asked. "Anything unusual about him?"
Nell paused. "I remember the smell of jasmine and loamy earth. And he was tall. Though he was sitting in the wagon, I could still tell how big he was. Otherwise, his face eludes my memory."
"Thank you, Nell," I said. "That helps."
"What about me?" she asked. "You said that you could help. Find a better place to call home. Please. I'm afraid I'll drown the others if they come to my lake."
I nodded, feeling her anguish keenly. "I know a place. Hot springs that will keep you warm all winter. No one lives there, so you won't put anyone in danger. If you want to go there, I'll arrange it. Might take a little time to figure out how to do it safely, but I'll come back. Soon."
"Hurry," said Nell. "I dream about calling my brothers to the water. I think I could make them come down from the house if I wanted. I don't want to find out if I can."
"Farewell, Nell," I said. "Be strong for them. I'll hurry as fast as I can."
Before Nell could turn on me, I moved back through the forest towards the steam carriage. The air was cold
and I shivered as I made a stiff-legged march back.
"Well, that was disappointing," said Zora.
"No, it wasn't," I said.
"It wasn't? She ate an orange. What's significant about that?" asked Zora.
"The jasmine and earth smell. And the unremembered face. I doubt that was a man in that wagon. I think it was Matka in disguise. And I think I know how she's doing it. Transforming them," I said.
"How?"
"Alchemy," I said. "That's the link. Professor Walker had piles of notes on alchemy and had been tinkering with something when he changed. Somehow he'd gotten a hold of the recipe, while Nell was given a potion through the orange."
"That seems like a flimsy link," said Zora.
"It is, but I know how to check. If someone's going to transform the city, they'll need lots of materials. We'll make a few stops on the way back. If someone's made large orders of any of the materials on Professor Walker's notes, we'll know for sure how it's going to happen."
Chapter Twenty-Three
It took three stops to verify my suspicions, using Zora's magic to keep my identity hidden. There were no "alchemy" shops, but the materials could be found at grocers and farm stores. I asked about jasmine oil at the Handsome Traders and learned that a huge order had been picked up only a few days ago.
The storekeeper had seemed aghast that anyone could use that much oil, but the fee had kept him from asking too many questions. When I inquired about a description, I was met with a blank stare and eventually an admission of "I cannot rightly recall."
Afterwards, I sat in the steam carriage on the corner of Eighth and Market. My clothes were still damp from the near drowning at the Warmond place, but I wanted to confirm my thinking before I returned to the estate, so I explained my conclusions to Zora.
"So the traders have sold large quantities of jasmine oil, myrrh, gold dust, and other alchemy ingredients. It's a big city. How can you be sure these aren't being used in local industry?" asked the bird-skull.
"Seems possible, but unlikely. I've acquired these materials aplenty myself. The amount of jasmine oil alone couldn't be used by a city this size in a hundred years!" I said, banging my fists on my thighs to warm them.
"So you believe Moist Mother Earth, the fertile goddess, is purchasing these items to transform the city? Why not bring them from her realm? Seems a bit trivial for a goddess," said Zora.
"Maybe it's such a large amount that it's not practical. Or some materials cannot be found in her realm. I don't know," I said.
"What about some other agent of chaos?" asked Zora. "Maybe it's that witch-woman I overheard you and Voltaire speaking about."
"Why are you being so difficult?" I asked, lifting the skull up to stare into its empty eye sockets. "Are you trying to divert my suspicions?"
"No, no," said Zora. "I'm merely acting as your companion, since the others are otherwise occupied."
"I don't trust you enough to call you a companion," I said. "Since you haven't been entirely honest with me, withholding the identity of the person who sent you here."
I sensed that if the bird-skull could have looked away in hurt, it would have done so. Instead, its beak jawed up and down a few times.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you anyway," said Zora quietly.
"And it's doubtful that it's Neva behind this. She has nothing to gain, and I don't imagine that she's one for wasteful efforts," I said. "She's taken no sides in this battle between Perun and Veles and is only looking to profit on our need for Morwen Hightower's help."
"I wouldn't know these things because you haven't told me," said Zora, sounding miffed.
"Look," I said, frowning, "I'm willing to admit that my evidence isn't as firm as a Puritan's bed, but so far everything points to Matka. Though I'm not sure it matters, since we haven't figured out how she, or whoever else, is going to start the plague, other than she's going to use alchemy."
I let the bird-skull rest against my chest and leaned my chin against the steering wheel. Steam carriages and horse-drawn wagons moved past in both directions, leaving hazy smoke and manure respectively. Market Street was a busy thoroughfare that went the length of the city and I could see all the way down to the Water Works. Its white dome gleamed in the late afternoon sun. I could almost hear the rattling of the pipes as the fresh water was transported to the many homes of Philadelphia...
"Merde," I said, sitting up.
"What?" asked Zora.
"I know how it's going to happen," I said, pushing the lever forward to make the steam carriage engage the pistons. "Matka's going to put the potion in the pipes. Anyone who has an Otherland heritage who drinks the water will be transformed."
I left the steam carriage on the lawn near the Water Works and went in to investigate. A mustached man in a worker's outfit stopped me right inside. He had dark smudges on his arms and neck.
"Madam, I'm afraid this area is closed off to the public," he said, glancing disdainfully at my attire.
"Apologies, sir," I said, holding a hand to my chest. "I'm new to town and wanted to see how these great machines I've heard so much about work."
The worker puffed up his chest. "They're not as big as you think. But they're quite remarkable. I tend the engines, keeping the water flowing."
"It comes from the river? What keeps the fish from swimming up the pipes and flopping out into our baths?" I asked.
"Grates keep anything from coming down the main pipes, and the water is filtered with overflow pools," he said.
"So someone could put a fish into a pool and it would swim up the pipes?" I asked.
"I suppose, but no one would do such a thing," he said, frowning.
"Could I see the pools?" I asked.
"I'm afraid that would be difficult," he said.
"Did I mention I'm from the New York Observer? I was going to write a piece about Philadelphia's utilities, but I guess I'll just have to make things up. My working title is 'Philadelphia Water Works is for the Fishes,'" I said.
Begrudgingly, he gave me a tour below. The pools and steam engines were exactly as I expected, but I used the visit to examine the area for signs of tampering. It would be frighteningly easy to dump the transformative potion into the water supply, though getting it into the lower level would be difficult in the quantities I assumed it would take to affect so many. A task not too difficult for a goddess of Matka's size and power.
After the tour, I bid the worker farewell, promising I would go easy on the Water Works, due to his kindness. The sun had set by this time and the spark boys hadn't lit the nearby gas lamps.
As I walked to the steam carriage, I felt the itch between my shoulder blades of someone watching me. Without making too much fuss, I removed the bird-skull from beneath my jacket and faced its empty sockets towards the location I sensed the watcher.
"Do you see anything?" I mumbled under my breath in case of magical hearing.
"A figure in the shadows beneath the trees," said Zora.
"Anything particular about this person?" I asked.
There was a pause before Zora spoke again. "Do antlers count?"
It took all my self-control not to spin around and confront Matka's henchman, but I decided that it was better she didn't know that I'd noticed. I got into the still warm steam carriage and headed back to the estate and called a meeting with Djata, Voltaire, Brassy, and Aught.
Once there, leaving Zora beneath my jacket, I explained the situation. It didn't take much to convince them of my suspicions. We formulated a plan to guard the Water Works around the clock.
Before the following day was over, a contingent of soldiers stood guard around the building. It had only taken a request to Simon Snyder, explaining only that saboteurs planned on poisoning the city's water, which wasn't far from the truth.
With the Water Works protected, I threw myself back into my reading. Both to continue my education and to distract myself. The third contest was only a few days away and I was going to have to come to terms with t
he fact that my son was going to try and kill me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The journey to Gastonia and eventually Kings Mountain was a lonely affair, even though I brought Zora. Neva had warned against assistance for the third leg of the contest, but I didn't count Zora as a "person," circumventing the rule. I needed all the help I could get. I knew Pavel would be looking for every advantage, too.
Zora was strangely quiet during the trip, especially when I tried to quiz her about who had sent her to assist me. I tried the whole way up the mountain, but the bird-skull was maddeningly unresponsive.
After we entered the clearing with the hazy other-world light and the hut came lurching out of the trees on two bony chicken legs, creaking like a rocking chair as it crouched down to accept us into its dangerous bosom, I whispered to Zora.
"Do you know this place?" I asked.
"I cannot say," said the bird-skull, which was an answer in itself. I didn't know if Zora was held by some magic or was purposely obfuscating the truth, but I wondered if I'd made a mistake in bringing her.
I tucked the bird-skull into the inner pocket on my leather jacket and climbed onto the porch. The door opened without touch. The waiting room was the same as before with the partition and hookah pipe.
Neva wasn't there to greet me, and I felt a moment of vertigo as the hut began the journey to our final destination. I tried to sit on the bench, but I couldn't seem to find a side to comfortably lean on. Eventually I gave up and circled the room, wishing I knew how long it would take to arrive.
I found myself at the door that led deeper into the hut without thinking about it. I turned the handle, letting the door swing open. Neva didn't appear to strike me down with her magic, so I stepped into the hallway. With the end of the Nightfell Games at hand, I had to know that I wasn't making a mistake.
I moved down hallways, touching each door as I passed, keeping a mental image of the layout. Before long, I found myself before the stone archway with the raised blue symbols. I had the sudden urge to enter.
The call was strong and my hand rested above the stone handle. What would be the harm of taking a peek? It would only be for a second, to open it and look in. Beyond was a feeling of vastness, of standing on the edge of a cliff. Surely I could do that one little thing. Neva would never know.
Nightfell Games (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 5) Page 18