“I’m glad you shaved the goatee off,” I said, fighting to get my mind functioning properly. I knew I had to act much braver than I felt. “It did nothing for you.”
Laufeson smiled in delight. “You are nothing if not surprising, my dear,” he said.
“I’m not your ‘dear,'” I said. “What have you done with Andrew?”
Laufeson’s smile wilted a little, a look of calculation in his eyes. “He’s here, awaiting his fate, just as you are.” He indicated the room around us. “My apologies for the sparse accommodations. Sometimes I’m too greatly influenced by nostalgia. You see, when I kidnapped you as a little girl all those years ago, this was your room.” He indicated the floor. “We scrubbed the pentagram and blood away years ago, of course.”
I just looked at him. Now I knew why the room looked familiar, if he told the truth.
“Even then, as a four year old, you were very stubborn. If I hadn’t tied you to the bed, I’ve no doubt you’d have tried to escape through the window.” He pointed at the chair. “That’s how I knew to truss you up like this.”
“Why am I here?” I asked, working hard to sound unconcerned and only partially succeeding.
Laufeson leaned back and regarded me for a moment. “Because you belong to me and I have a use for you.”
I grimaced. That answer told me nothing new. “I don’t belong to you,” I said.
My captor noticed my reaction. “I see. Your Aunt Miranda and her Pessarines did such a thorough job of erasing your memory, you don’t recall your time with me and, therefore, don’t know what your future holds.” He sighed. “I will enlighten you.” I said nothing.
“You know your mother nearly miscarried you, I assume?” I nodded, not sure where this was going.
“Your Aunt Miranda asked a Facti named Jeremiah Michaelson – Andrew’s grandfather – to heal you and your mother so she carried you to term. Obviously, they succeeded since here you are… but Facti healing magic leaves a trace behind. It marks you as special. In particular, it gives your blood a certain magical essence that, if properly employed, can be very useful.”
“You kidnapped me for my blood?” I asked. Andrew had said blood was a powerful substance, but I hadn’t realized he’d mean it literally.
“Indeed. It was here we drained your blood, healed you, and drained you again repeatedly over the course of three days. That blood has been the source of great power for me since then.” He stuck a hand in a jacket pocket and pulled out a glass vial half full of some sort of brown powder. He shook the vial thoughtfully. “I still have some left.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, slightly ill at the thought this man carried what he claimed was my blood around in his pocket.
“Once I retrieved all the blood I could, I installed several devices in your body designed to mold you to my purpose and hung you on the World Tree to attract Odin’s attention.”
I remembered what the World Tree had shown me and saw my childhood-self dangling and bleeding in its branches. Andrew had also told me about the devices. “Why?” I asked.
A head on a very thick neck popped up in the light of the trap door. The man had long dark hair pulled back in a queue, a face flattened from frequent punches and silver-orbed eyes.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Boss, but we’re ready for you downstairs,” he said in a rough voice. “I’ve told them technicians they’ll need to start the things up in the great hall, as you ordered.”
Laufeson nodded and stood up. “Quite right. It would seem duty calls. There are few minor matters to be dealt with before we begin in earnest. Thank you, Mr. Toby,” he said and pointed at me. “Please untie our guest and escort her to my office.” He tilted his head to point at Mr. Toby. “Mr. Toby used to be a boxer,” he explained as he moved to the trap door and stairs below them. “You’ll find he is the perfect gentleman, unless you don’t do what he, or I, want. I suggest you follow his instructions.”
Mr. Toby stepped up into the tower room and moved toward me as Laufeson made his way down the stairs and disappeared from view. The thug’s clothing was impeccably tailored but oddly gaudy, as if he was new to affluence. The cut of his jacket was the height of fashion. The fabrics were expensive but too brightly colored, paisleys and stripes fighting for dominance of the ensemble, but it felt like the siege between the two had been a long and inconclusive one. His hands were huge, with thick, calloused fingers. He must have been a bare knuckle fighter, I decided.
“Now, yer worship,” Mr. Toby said, looking down at me, “we can do this easy-like, or we can do this hard.”
I regarded the man. “I like options,” I said, working very hard to keep my voice even.
He quirked a smile. “My my. Aren’t you cool as a cucumber. Easy way is I’m going to untie you, and we’re going to walk down to the great hall, no fuss, no muss.”
I looked down at the ropes that held me to the chair. “And the hard way?”
“I knock you into next week and carry you unconscious downstairs.” He brought his hands up and cracked his knuckles, evaluating me. “Should only take one punch, but I do like to be thorough.”
“You’d hit an unarmed girl?” I asked, feigning shock. He’d probably done much worse.
Toby chuckled. “I hit who the Boss tells me to hit.”
“Hmmmm…” I said, thinking. “Good to know.”
I certainly didn’t need my brains addled any more than they already were. To escape, I had to get out of the chair, and it seemed foolish to provoke an attack when playing along would get me closer to my goal of finding Andrew and getting away.
I sighed. “Let’s do this the easy way,” I said and waited as he freed me from the chair.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Heading downstairs to Laufeson’s office was not quite as easy as Mr. Toby had thought it would be. My legs were stiff and sore from being cold and tied to the chair, making the walk down the stairs of the tower an awkward operation. Mr. Toby gently, but firmly, gripped me by the upper arm and helped me make my way. I took in my surroundings as we moved, keen to keep track of where we went. We were in a castle, obviously. The stairwell, cut from grey granite, curved down twenty worn steps to a landing, which led into a grey stone corridor. I used a hand along the wall to help me move down the stairs, my feet clumsy as we descended despite Toby’s help.
“Down the corridor, to the left and down another corridor is the great hall,” Mr. Toby told me, pointing. “Off that room is the Boss’s office.”
“What’s in the great hall?” I asked, starting to feel the muscles in my legs loosen up a bit.
“Diabolicals, yer worship,” Mr. Toby said.
That didn’t sound promising. “Diabolicals?”
“Fancy machinery and magic all mixed up. They turn blokes Enhanced. Sometimes they come out dashing and dapper, like myself. Sometimes the poor sods come out thick as two planks…” he paused, “...or mangled and horrible… brains in the armpits, or missin’ spines and hands and such. Don’t know why that is, but it don’t seem to bother the Boss none.”
I gaped at him. “That’s horrible! Why would anyone willingly submit to something like that?” I asked, rubbing my wrists and taking care not to toggle my bladed bracelet.
Toby laughed. “The Boss don’t tell chaps that beforehand, o’ course,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “Otherwise he don’t get any volunteers.”
That really didn’t sound promising. “That doesn’t bother you?” I asked. “These people don’t even know about the possible unpleasant outcomes?”
Toby shrugged philosophically. “’You pays your money, you takes your chances,’ my Ma used to say. Most of the chaps who go for the transformin’ ain’t got nothin’ to lose anymore. That was the case with me, and no mistake. As it is, workin’ for the Boss you get fed regular and a decent wage besides without bravin’ the Diabolicals. Those who do and come out the other side improved and useful –like myself and those fellows riotin’ in London and Birmingham - get loads m
ore.” He waved a hand over his eclectic wardrobe. “Fancy togs, fancy meals, money in our pockets and birds, if we want ‘em. It’s a fair cop, so long as you does what the Boss wants.”
“And that’s enough incentive to risk body and mind?”
“I ain’t a philosophical type, but seems to me that kind of choice is just the consequences of livin’, your worship,” Toby said. “You took yer chances tryin’ to keep outta the Boss’s hands, and what I hear is you done a pretty good job of it until the Boss called out the dragon on you. Can’t say as I like yer odds of getting’ outta here intact, but you made yer choice. For you, it just didn’t work out so well, is all. The Boss had his eye on you for years without you knowin’. It was only a matter of time before you came into his possession.”
I nodded, acknowledging his point. “So you say,” I responded, sounding braver and calmer than I felt. “I’m counting on a different outcome.”
Mr. Toby gave me a pitying look. “Ain’t we all, yer worship,” he said, “ain’t we all.”
Chapter Forty
The great hall was the size of a small church, lit with phosphorite glass bulbs attached to two banks of rectangular machinery. The walls were the grey stone I’d seen everywhere else though large, but worn and faded, tapestries covered the walls and the floor was made of wood rather than stone. A fireplace sat at the far end of the room from where I’d entered with Mr. Toby. Above it there was a massive wooden mantle and a family crest of some sort carved into the stone of the chimney. The space felt old and fatigued, like a second rate residence for a very minor and unsavory noble family.
The machines, cobbled together from a variety of other devices, were steel silver and golden bronze mishmashes as big as hansom cabs. Their more modern – if haphazard – look was a direct and startling contrast to the Old World nature of the great hall they sat in. Next to the huge machines stood two man-sized rectangular chambers with windowed doors. The chambers connected to the machines with coiled wires, long quartz crystals and copper pipes. One of the machines glowed with green magical energy, obscuring the occupant of its accompanying chamber. Two Enhanced men with silver eyes observed the process, watching the gauges and dials of the green-lit machine carefully. The charge in the air from the odd energy made the hair on my neck stand up and my wrist blossomed with a steady ache that ran up my arm. What I sensed rang all sorts of alarm bells in my brain, though from the outside I couldn’t actually see that the man was in distress. Every fiber of my being screamed that this was not somewhere I wanted to be.
I looked left and right, eager for an escape. Mr. Toby still held my arm in a firm grip. There were two other exits from the room I could see beyond the machines by the fireplace, but I had no idea where they led. I also didn’t know how many other guards or Obscurati cronies there were in the castle.
“I see you thinkin’, yer worship,” Mr. Toby said. “I don’t recommend your tryin’ anythin’.”
From the entrance to the left side of the fireplace, another Enhanced thug brought Andrew into the great hall.
“Ah. I see Mr. Silas is escortin’ the other guest,” Toby said.
Mr. Silas, hearing his name, found us in the hall and dragged Andrew over toward us. I gasped. Andrew looked exhausted. His coveralls were torn and stained and as he approached, I saw dark circles under his eyes and the haunted expression on his face. He looked at me and I could see the fear and anger in his eyes: fear of what Laufeson would do to me and anger that he’d failed to keep me safe. He made an effort to break away from his captor and come toward me, but his struggles only amused Mr. Silas.
“I think Moon Boy here has a thing for the guest of honor,” Mr. Silas said, giving Andrew a good shake.
Like Mr. Toby, Silas had the silver eyes of someone Laufeson had altered, but his body type was much different. His short black hair was peppered with grey and his complexion was swarthy, like he’d worked on boats most of his life. He was not a big man, but he seemed heavy in an oddly physical sense. From the way he held Andrew it was evident he was extremely strong, but that strength didn’t come from human muscle if his size was any indication. I blanched when I saw sinuous things undulate under Mr. Silas’s well-made but garish clothing. He’d obviously taken fashion advice from Mr. Toby. The fabric of the sleeves of his mint green and yellow striped coat moved in short jerky movements, as if he had toads trapped in the coat and they were trying to escape.
“Andrew – are you all right?” I asked. I tried to move toward him, but Mr. Toby held me fast.
“None o’ that now, yer worship,” he warned.
Mr. Silas snorted. “Touchin’, ain’t it?” he sneered. “Like somethin’ out o’ one o’ those romance whatsits.”
Andrew looked up at Toby. “If you hurt her, I swear I’ll – “
“You’ll do nothin’,” Silas sneered.
Andrew tried to pull away again. “Ari, are you –“ he said, looking me over. “Have they—?”
Mr. Toby tutted and shook his head. “None of that now, Mr. Michaelson,” he said. He lifted his chin at Silas. “Mr. Silas, can you make our guest here more cooperative?”
Mr. Silas smiled wickedly. A silver worm slithered out of the sleeve of his coat and touched the back of Andrew’s neck. Andrew stiffened, his eyes going wide with fear.
I struggled, kicking whatever limbs or other parts I could reach on Mr. Toby in an effort to get away so I could stop whatever Silas was doing, but to no avail. I tried to reach my left wrist and the bracelet there, but Toby took full custody of me, holding me by both my upper arms so I couldn’t move and squeezing so hard I had trouble breathing.
Andrew stood in Silas’s clutches, standing ramrod straight as the worm appendage slithered around his neck like a collar. Once the collar settled in place Andrew’s muscles relaxed to a parade rest sort of stance, his mouth moving without sound, while his eyes burned with equal parts defiance and fear.
Silas chortled. “Never thought I’d be walkin’ a Facti like a bleedin’ dog, and no mistake,” he said, grinning. “Do you think the Boss’ll let me keep him? Always wanted a dog.”
“What’re you doing to him?” I said, wriggling in Toby’s grasp and trying to kick him in the legs.
Toby leaned down, unaffected by my attempts to injure him. “Mr. Silas is currently in control of Mr. Michaelson’s motor functions,” he explained in my ear. “Now, if you come along nicely, Mr. Silas will allow him to breathe and move without hurtin’ him. If you make a fuss, Mr. Silas will do bad things to your young gentleman friend, like,” he thought for a moment, “...stop his breathin’ or force him to put out his eyes with his own thumbs.” Mr. Silas smiled. Andrew’s eyes took on a frantic cast.
I stilled immediately, fearing for us both, but mostly for Andrew. “Please. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just don’t hurt him.”
“Much better,” Toby said. “Now, your worship, let’s take you to the Boss.” He let go of my right arm and guided me by my left. Silas moved Andrew’s body. Together we turned left and moved away from the Diabolicals.
Andrew’s gait at the end of the leash was stiff and awkward. Whatever control Silas had it clearly wasn’t precise, and it looked uncomfortable for Andrew. I mentally cursed my inability to help him.
Behind us, I heard the hiss of steam and the sound of a door opening. What followed was a blood-curdling scream of anguish and agony that sounded vaguely human but mostly something else, cut off by the report of a gunshot that echoed around the great hall. Cold horror climbed up my spine and rang panicked warnings in my head.
“Poor sod,” Toby muttered, shaking his head. “Best thing to do is kill ‘em straight off.” I looked up in alarm at Mr. Toby.
“The Boss don’t play around, yer worship,” he said. “He wants to remake the world and he’ll do whatever it takes t’ get the job done. Best you keep that in mind.”
I nodded, stunned. I’d thought the stakes were high, but now I saw that notion was an epically bad miscalculation. The stakes were
… everything. The people I cared about, millions of innocent people…
My heart sank. I was a seventeen-year-old math student and aeronaut, not a diplomat or general. Cora was the strategist, not me. I had no experience with these sorts of situations and no idea what to do. Andrew had told me I’d been thrust into a conflict between two supernatural forces. He’d been right. With next to no familiarity dealing with magic, little to no active memory of stories and myths that might help me and no way of knowing what was to come, I was at a grave disadvantage. If I made a wrong move or said the wrong thing, I could easily get Andrew or myself killed – or worse – get us put into one of the Diabolical machines and made into participants in Laufeson’s world domination scheme.
The only person I could think of who would know what to do in such an impossible situation was Great Aunt Miranda. I smiled wryly for a moment despite my fear and worry, thinking of what she’d tell me if she were with me right now: “Buck up, pay attention, trust your instincts and do your best. This is no time to fall apart, my girl.” I took in a slow, even breath, let it out and prayed I’d at least be able to get Andrew to safety.
Chapter Forty-One
“Here’s the Boss’s office,” Toby announced, indicating a heavy oak door to the right, inset in the right hand wall of the great hall. He knocked and I heard a muffled ‘Come’ from behind the door. Toby turned the knob and pushed the door inward, then pulled me in behind him as Andrew and Silas brought up the rear. Silas shut the door behind us.
We stood in a rectangular room that had a vaulted ceiling made of old, slightly charred wood, with grey stone walls and a flagstone floor. Candles in massive candelabras illuminated the room. Bookcases sat along the walls stuffed with ancient looking tomes. Laufeson sat behind a white Louis XIV desk on a light blue oriental rug in an opulent desk chair of the same period. He seemed to be reviewing paperwork on the desk, an oddly merchantile sort of activity in the midst of opulence and malice.
The Odin Inheritance (The Pessarine Chronicles Book 1) Page 29