“I knew it was bad,” Ritsuko said, “but not to this extent. Where do you want us, Commander?”
Mikani wasn’t about to take an assignment when he had been offered a choice. “We’ll head for North station and see what’s making the trains sad, shall we? Maybe they just need a shoulder to cry on and a stern talking-to.”
Ritsuko laughed. “This isn’t the sort of thing they cover in the manual, is it?”
The commander looked so aggravated that he might actually burst a blood vessel, so Mikani figured it was time to leave. He took note of the huge stack of unusual incident reports on his boss’s desk on the way out.
They didn’t linger long in the duty room. Other CID personnel shared the lift with them as they headed down to the lobby. Even the guard on duty seemed harried, which was odd, as the man seemed relatively unflappable. On the street, there were less pedestrians than normal, just a few bondsmen in House colors, looking none too pleased with their assignments.
The underground was a short walk from CID Headquarters. On the way, Mikani passed the coffee stand where he always used to buy drinks from Electra, a daughter of the Summer Clan whom he had failed to save. He’d always regret that, and he knew a pang of guilt as they strode past. He hadn’t bought anything from them since.
Down in the Park station, it was quiet, no inhuman wailing here. Mikani glanced at Ritsuko. “Seems calm enough.”
“Let’s ride up to Temple and farther, see when the mood changes.”
With a murmur of agreement, he boarded the train just before the doors closed. There were a handful of other passengers, all of whom were carefully not looking at one another. And they all disembarked at the next station. Ritsuko was frowning.
“Did that seem odd to you?” Mikani asked.
“Just a bit.”
“Well, I know it was not something I said. Maybe you gave them one of your looks. The ones you give me when you accuse me of dodging the paperwork.”
He kept a straight face but could not help looking around the empty carriage. There was something definitely off about the feel of the train: in all his years of riding the underground to and from Central, he’d never felt uneasy. Until tonight. I feel eyes at the nape of my neck, and I swear someone’s whispering just outside the damned window.
Usually, his partner would banter back, but she didn’t rise to the bait this time. “It’s cold in here. Really cold.”
“I’d—wait. Yes, it is. And there’s that same bitterness in the air as in the mirror station yesterday.” Now that he was paying attention, he could make out a rhythmic pounding at his temples and an uncomfortable pressure at the center of his chest. Hells and Winter.
It seemed to Mikani as if the train was actually picking up speed. That’s not normal. The usual announcement was conspicuously absent. He shifted in his seat as they approached the Temple station to catch sight of six people waiting on the platform, but the train didn’t slow. Instead, it zoomed past, and the hammering in his head grew more intense.
Mikani had a sense of overwhelming darkness in the tunnel; strange because he’d always found the underground to be relaxing. Now, it felt like a prison entombing him, and the cries rose up as if from inside him before he actually heard them. Ritsuko pressed her palms to her ears, likely to drown out the wailing that commenced in the darkness, just as the commander had described. The sound echoed with inhuman grief, and that sense of cold chilled Mikani to his bones; it was a despair like he’d never known, that of a small, helpless creature bound in darkness.
He looked around for Ritsuko and found her huddled in a corner near the carriage door, covering her head with both arms. The wailing verged on painful, and tears ran freely down his cheeks when he bent down to curl against his partner, gritting his teeth to keep from screaming. He could feel Ritsuko flinch against his side, and he looked around, desperately trying to find the source of the sound.
Then silence fell, full of echoing cries and the sound of their ragged breathing and metal protesting in a faint echo of the howling that had filled the tunnel moments before. Mikani wiped the warm blood from his upper lip, collapsing with a groan on the floor next to Ritsuko. The vibrations gentled, so he pulled himself together enough to notice that the velocity had decreased.
“This is our stop, Ritsuko.”
She gave him her hand so he could pull her up, and he held on to it until they both stumbled out the doors at North station. Ritsuko pulled her hand back then and took a deep, shuddering breath, as if she had been running. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Something very, very bad is going on,” she whispered.
“I know. My favorite bakery’s a couple blocks from that last station. I’m going to have to go the long way for it.” He ran his hands over his ears, half expecting to find them bloodied, and adjusted his hat. “And, well, the train was definitely wailing.” He found he could not keep up the humor, though. “Yes, Ritsuko, something awful’s happening, and it seems to be getting worse.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with Lorne’s failed ritual? We unleashed an awful lot of magic, and we can’t know precisely what it did.”
The thought sent a hard chill up his spine. “Bronze gods, I don’t know.”
“This is too big. I don’t even know where to start.” Then she paused, and his partner got the look Mikani recognized as a dawning idea. “Maybe it’s not a bad idea to talk to Theron Nuall. If anyone could advise us if this is a potential side effect of that interrupted spell, it’s him.”
“I agree. The Architect might have some insight as well, but I don’t know if he’d see us.”
“Gunwood has to give us some clear parameters,” Ritsuko said. “Our training doesn’t cover any of this.” She sighed. “What are we supposed to do, arrest the machinery?” She sounded as frustrated as Mikani felt.
“We will need bigger cuffs. A lot of them.” He wiped at his face with his handkerchief and started toward the stairs. “Let’s go see if we can get some answers, partner.”
“I’d rather have a stiff drink,” she muttered.
“I might know a way to get both.”
CHAPTER 2
THE HOUSE WAS IMPOSING. RITSUKO ADMIRED THE immaculate lawn and the carefully trimmed hedges as she strode up the walk toward the burnished doors. She lifted the knocker and banged twice, then waited for a servant to answer. Mikani glanced sidelong at her; she’d noticed that he had gotten in the habit of checking on her surreptitiously, as if he wondered whether she was fully recovered.
A minute later, a man in House colors opened the door. “Inspectors Ritsuko and Mikani, come in please.”
Mikani often had brilliant ideas. This way, they combined the need for answers regarding the chaos in the city with checking on Aurelia Wright. The manservant led them down a spartan corridor past heavy doors leading to the Architect’s office, currently closed. Though some might disagree, Ritsuko would argue that Olrik was the most powerful of the noble houses, and that the Architect was the closest thing to a king Dorstaad had ever known. Oh, he didn’t flaunt his influence; he preferred to work behind the scenes, and his daughter, Aurelia, had chosen to remove herself from the political arena entirely.
They stepped out into a small courtyard with a fountain at its center. On the other side of the weathered stone basin sat Aurelia Wright. She wore a long-sleeved gown and a pretty lace shawl tucked around her shoulders. The last time Ritsuko had seen her, she had been limited to a sedan chair. Either someone carried her out here, or she’s doing well enough to make it on her own.
Sensing their approach, the woman glanced up from her book, but she didn’t rise. Her cheeks were wan in the winter light, and to Ritsuko’s gaze, her limbs held a frangible quality, no longer lithe with a dancer’s grace. Miss Wright offered a welcoming smile, however, and rang the bell beside her.
“It’s kind of you to come. Sit, please. I’ll have them bring refreshments.”
Ritsuko perched next to Miss Wright, as Mikani
seemed to be waiting, and he took position opposite them, in clear view of the doorway. The same servant appeared and disappeared after a whispered instruction from Miss Wright. Ritsuko wondered what hospitality looked like, offered from the Architect’s kitchen, but she guessed she’d find out soon enough.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Ritsuko said.
“I collect you have a reason for your visit?”
“As I’m sure you’re aware, there are strange occurrences in the city, more every day.” Ritsuko paused to ensure the other woman was following her, then described the crying train. “We wondered if you can shed any light on the situation, if you know why this is happening.”
Aurelia answered, “While I don’t get out much, I do hear things, but I can’t explain any of it. My father may have a theory, however. I’ll ask when I see him next and send word.”
That was more than Ritsuko and Mikani could manage. While the Architect appreciated that they’d saved his daughter, he was a busy man, and it was unlikely they could get an appointment in the next week or so. She murmured her thanks, knowing these were exalted connections that most inspectors couldn’t call upon.
Whatever it takes to get the job done. But she couldn’t just dodge out, now that she’d asked her favor. “How are you feeling?”
“Incomplete.” Miss Wright looked away. “Like I’m piecing myself back together from the inside out and finding bits missing.”
Mikani fumbled in his pockets, then he came up empty-handed. To Ritsuko, he seemed nervous, and she imagined he didn’t call on infirm females too often. He might also be uncomfortable if he could sense Miss Wright’s infirmity.
Then he said, “Don’t dismiss this as empty reassurance, but . . . it will get better. I can’t predict how long recovery will take, unfortunately.”
Miss Wright studied Ritsuko’s partner incredulously. “How can you know that?”
Mikani frowned and clasped his hands. “I hear it. The old you, like a whisper in an empty room. Getting stronger, slowly. It’s hard to describe.” He looked over to Ritsuko, silently requesting corroboration.
“He’s got powerful Ferisher blood,” Ritsuko said. Usually that was enough to convince people that Mikani wasn’t a confidence man.
Miss Wright glanced between them. “Right now, it’s exhausting to make my way from one chair to the next. My very bones ache. And I no longer know whether people are lying to me, even when I look them in the eyes.” She leveled a hard look on Mikani. “Please don’t tease me with false hope, sir. I dream of dancing when I can no longer even run.”
“I assure you that we didn’t cross the city to tease you with false promises. We went through too much together for such casual cruelty.” Mikani paused, tilting his head toward Ritsuko. “Not to mention, she’d have my hide if she suspected I was toying with you.”
“The doctors talk endlessly of mineral waters, chalice applications, and special infusions to restore my stamina. Yet you claim the cure is time? If that’s true, it is a commodity in which I am wealthy enough.”
Ritsuko hoped her partner was right, though the water elementals bound to the chalices often produced miraculous healing. “You seem a bit better.”
The other woman lifted a shoulder, seeming unsure. “Right now it seems as if everything is on hold: my work, my goals, my . . . personal life.” A tinge of color flared in Miss Wright’s cheeks as if she couldn’t believe she had almost introduced such a subject in mixed company.
Mikani stifled a smile, and Ritsuko wished she was close enough to nudge him. “Have you seen Mr. Leonidas or Mr. Nuall recently?”
“Theron came two weeks past. He often sends flowers.”
To Ritsuko’s right, a soft tone sounded. It was faint enough that she sought the source across the courtyard, only to note that Mikani seemed puzzled. He was watching her confusion with a raised brow.
“Something on your mind, partner?” He followed her gaze.
“Did you hear that?” she blurted, before she could stop herself. Ritsuko had been coping with the issue alone. Probably she shouldn’t have brought it up, but it was too late for regrets now.
He stood and cocked his head. “Someone gardening nearby, I think, and a couple of trolleys heading downtown. What did you hear?”
Before Ritsuko could reply, the servant returned with a silver tray laden with tiny sandwiches on wafer-thin bread, cream cakes, and an ornate tea service. It wasn’t the strong drink she’d requested after the weeping train, but tea could be bracing. The footman poured, and Miss Wright thanked him with a warm smile. The man offered a half bow in reply, then departed the courtyard, closing the door behind him.
Ritsuko sipped her tea, which tasted expensive, certainly richer than anything that ever graced her cupboard. But she was aware it was a delaying tactic at best. A logical CID inspector did not care to admit she was hearing noises nobody else could. She traced a fingertip around the delicate porcelain rim of her cup, aware that Mikani’s frown had deepened.
“It was . . . like a bell, only not quite. It didn’t sound like the one Miss Wright rang for service, more distant, but also mellifluous.”
Miss Wright seemed startled. “When did you hear that?”
“After you said Mr. Nuall came to see you two weeks ago and that he sends flowers.”
“Bronze gods,” the other woman said. Her next words seemed inexplicable. “I intend to kill Inspector Mikani.”
Mikani seemed nonplussed. “I don’t usually get that reaction from women I haven’t been involved with.”
But Ritsuko barely heard him. Her left ear rang with a discordant note, and this time, she felt sure it was coming from her head, not an external source. “What . . . ?”
“My dear Inspector Ritsuko, it seems as if you’ve acquired what Lorne Nuall stole from me.” Ritsuko had no idea what the other woman was talking about, and it must’ve been obvious, as Miss Wright clarified, “Before I was taken, I could always tell fact from fiction. This is how.”
With a pang of horror, she recalled how Lorne Nuall had stolen young House scions and strapped them into his murder machines, siphoning off their power and storing it in some kind of battery. When she’d pulled Miss Wright out of the tube, she was near death. And then I stabbed the device and all of that stolen energy passed through me. Remembering the agony made her jaw clench, and with some effort, she put the memory aside.
Whether purloined or borrowed, the truth-sense held much promise. It was likely to be damned distracting, if helpful during interviews and interrogations. I suspect it’ll also complicate my relationships immensely. Misgiving rattled through her; Ritsuko didn’t want a Ferisher gift. If she could give it back to Miss Wright, she’d do so immediately. At the moment, she felt like a thief, though she hadn’t set out to steal power.
“I owe you everything, Inspectors, and if you ever have need of me again, only call. I’ll contact you when I know something.” Miss Wright’s mouth curved in a wistful moue.
Mikani smiled. “We’re glad to have been of service and to hear that you’re recovering.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ritsuko put in. “If I could give this back—”
“In a way, it’s a relief. I wish you more fortune and joy of this ability than I had, Inspector. You may find it a lonely burden to carry.”
That sounds right. Though it might help in her work, she had a dark feeling that the gift might cost her a great deal. Her hands trembled. Ritsuko shivered and set down her dainty teacup, afraid that she’d drop the china.
“Why do you think it’s come to life now?” Mikani asked.
Miss Wright lifted a pale shoulder in a half shrug. “Perhaps because of me? I may have closed the circuit somehow.”
Ritsuko stilled her shaking hands. It had been working before now; she just hadn’t known exactly what she was hearing or why. It’s a good thing we came to see Miss Wright about the train, or I never would’ve understood what was going on. She hadn’t wanted to say anything to Mikani because since sh
e’d gotten out of the hospital, he’d had a tendency to hover.
He nodded. “Is there any way to, ah, sidestep this gift? I’m only asking so we know what to look for in suspects, of course.”
“Actually—” But before Miss Wright finished her reply, the doors to the courtyard opened, and the servant stepped into view.
“Pardon the intrusion. Mr. Leonidas has arrived and is asking for you, my lady.”
Miss Wright stifled a sigh. “It’s to be expected. He practically lives here. I’m sorry, Inspectors, but our visit appears to be at an end.”
They said farewell and followed the footman through a different arch. As they turned the first corner, Ritsuko mustered up a normal response and let Mikani step past her so she could punch his shoulder. “A way to sidestep, huh?”
He smirked, rubbing his arm. “Just trying to understand your new talent, Ritsuko. From all angles.”
As she stepped out the front door, a raucous tone jangled in her left ear. So that’s not why he was asking. She winced and touched it gingerly. “So you know, you’re likely to deafen me if you continue with business as usual.”
“Would that keep you from hearing that tone, you think?”
“Probably not. It’s a Ferisher power, not a physical one. Also? You’re a bastard.”
“My word. Already so uppish, Ritsuko.”
She offered her best smile. “Not at all. Only think how much this will help us, Mikani . . . and how our relationship will be improved by complete honesty.” Ritsuko left him pondering that as she hurried toward their parked vehicle.
• • •
MIKANI WOUND THE heavy red cruiser, its paint still chipped from gunfire, into the afternoon traffic. Buses and carriages labored along the broad avenue, heavy traffic reducing their advance to a steady crawl as they navigated past several construction and repair crews. In the four weeks since they’d killed Lorne Nuall and rescued Miss Wright, a strange atmosphere had descended on Dorstaad.
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