by Anne Bishop
Approaching cautiously, he went down on one knee next to Faran’s shoulder.
Faran opened his eyes. His breathing was harsh, as if it took all of his will to keep his lungs moving. “Can’t feel…my arms…or legs. Trapdoor…near bridge.”
Pressing a hand on Faran’s shoulder, Dalton studied the dead spider that was as big as a dog. The hilt of a knife stuck out of its head. “Hold on, Faran. You just hold on.”
Dalton stood up. “Guy, you ride back to the city, fetch a healer and a wagon. Henley, Addison, you wade across the creek and see if there are saplings or branches over in that wooded area that we can use as poles to make a litter.”
He watched his men scatter to follow his orders. Then he tried to will his pounding heart to calm back down to a steady pace. But his heart wasn’t fooled as he walked around Faran to take a position near the guard’s leg.
Maybe the best thing would be to cut the fangs away from the jaw. That would separate the spider from the man. But that would bring his hands, his body too close to those jaws, and even though he knew the spider was dead, his body didn’t believe it.
Cut the creature in half? That would ease the weight and drag on Faran. But his hands were shaking, and there was a chance of slicing into Faran’s leg. The guard couldn’t afford to lose more blood.
He felt his courage withering, and he wanted to ride away, wanted to get stinking drunk, wanted to shrug off the weight of being responsible for other men’s lives. And he could almost hear something whispering at the edges of his mind, feeding the shame and the fear.
“Cap’n? We found a couple saplings. Think they’ll do?”
Addison’s voice snapped him back. How long had he stood there, doing nothing to help a man who had followed his orders because his men trusted him with their lives?
Dalton took a step back before turning his head to look at the two men splashing across the creek. He swallowed his fear and gathered what was left of his courage.
“They’ll do,” he said when Addison and Henley reached him.
He sheathed his sword and took the cut sapling from Addison. His heart pounded as he used the wood to push Faran’s legs apart and gingerly push the spider’s body in the space between. Then he handed the sapling back to Addison, drew his sword, and hacked at the spider’s abdomen.
The spider didn’t move, didn’t twitch.
Encouraged, he shifted position to slice the spider’s body, working carefully, always aware that a careless move with the sword could harm his own man.
Finally he stepped back and nodded at Henley, who grabbed Faran under the arms and dragged the man away from the remains. The head, part of the torso, and four legs remained attached to the guard.
Addison studied him. “It’s a hard thing, Cap’n, to know the bad things in the world are close enough to touch us. I reckon we’ve got some evil days ahead of us.”
Dalton rubbed his sleeve over his face, wiping off sweat. “I know.” Using the bottom of his jacket, he wiped off his sword, then sheathed it. “Come on; let’s make that litter.”
Sebastian watched everyone who had gathered at his command—the bull demons, who had dug the deep fire pit; Hastings and Mr. Finch, who covered the bottom of the pit with kindling; two other residents, who gingerly lifted the blanket-wrapped bundle and lowered it into the pit; Philo, who opened a jar of lamp oil and poured it over the blanket.
He watched everyone—and wondered if the people he knew were behind those familiar faces.
When Philo stepped back, Sebastian held out his hand. He didn’t see who handed him the torch. It didn’t matter. He walked up to the pit, stared at the bundle for a long moment, then dropped the torch onto the oil-soaked blanket.
Despite his efforts to keep the creature covered up, a few of them had seen its face, frozen by death in the process of change. No one had asked how the thing had died—but all of them were acting wary around him.
They had more reasons than they knew to be wary.
“Daylight,” Philo said as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “I didn’t know there was a demon that could change shape and disguise itself as human.”
You’ve known, Sebastian thought. You just never realized it.
“What kind of demon was that?” Mr. Finch asked.
Sebastian watched the fire, trying to ignore the sick churning in his guts. He had to tell them. They had to be warned. A few days ago Teaser had told him five newcomers had arrived at the Den. Which meant there were four more of those things out there, able to wear anyone’s face.
“Sebastian?” Philo shifted his feet, then glanced at Hastings and Mr. Finch. “What kind of demon was it?”
He had to tell them. But it would change things.
He turned away from the fire and looked into Philo’s eyes. “It was an incubus. A pureblood incubus.”
Koltak let the horse wander. Maybe the animal would have better luck finding its way out of this thrice-cursed landscape. Where were the towns, the roads, even a farmhouse with some doltish landgrubber who might have enough wits to point him in a direction?
How many miles had he traveled? How many hours had he wandered around these green, rolling hills?
He should have made some inquiries in Wizard City. There were bound to be a few citizens who knew how to find the Den. Of course, none of them would have been willing to admit it to a wizard, but if he’d sensed any evasion, he could have brought them up to the Wizards’ Hall for questioning.
Too late for such thoughts. He had to find his way, alone, and bring Sebastian back to Wizard City. And once he’d accomplished his part of the plan to save Ephemera, the wizards in the council wouldn’t look at him as if he’d stepped in manure and hadn’t wiped all the stink of it off his boots.
The horse snorted, pricked its ears, changed its stride from an amble to an active walk.
Koltak tensed as he gathered the reins, then relaxed again when he spotted the black horse standing at the top of a rise, just watching him. He’d seen a handful of these horses since he’d crossed the bridge. The first two times he’d expected to find a farmhouse or some kind of estate, some indication that the animal belonged to someone. After that, he’d come to the sour conclusion that whoever lived in this landscape just let their animals run wild.
Or had already been crushed by the monsters Belladonna had unleashed in the world.
Prodding the horse with his heels, he deliberately turned away from the wild horse standing on the rise—and from the west, where the sun was making its journey toward the horizon. He had a bedroll and some food, and there was grain for the horse, but he hadn’t considered that he might not find the Den quickly or, barring that, find accommodations in a village. He didn’t want to sleep out in the wild.
Shelter, he thought. An inn with warm food and a bed with clean sheets. That’s all I ask. All I ask.
A few minutes later he found a bridge. Not just planks over a stream, but a proper wooden bridge wide enough and sturdy enough to take a farm wagon.
Which made no sense, since there was no road leading to it or away from it. But he wasn’t about to ponder the logic of a bridge that had no purpose. It was the first sign of civilization, the first hint that he might find a place to stay before the sun went down.
The horse crossed the bridge…and stepped onto a dirt road that followed the curves of the land.
Koltak jerked the reins, bringing the horse to an annoyed stop. Twisting in the saddle, he looked back over the bridge. The dirt road continued on the other side.
But it hadn’t been there before.
He’d crossed over into another landscape. But he hadn’t felt the warning tingle of magic, hadn’t had any warning that the bridge was more than a bridge.
His heart raced as he straightened in the saddle, wincing at the protest of muscles that had spent too many hours riding.
Urging the horse to a trot, he followed the road and felt relief when, a few minutes later, he caught a glimpse of roo
ftops and the smoke from chimneys.
By the time he reached the village, the shops had closed for the day, and most of the people had gone home to have their dinners, but he followed the sounds of voices and laughter to what was, undoubtedly, some kind of inn.
He groaned when he dismounted, then felt a flash of annoyance when no one hurried out to take his saddlebags so he wouldn’t have to carry them himself. Leaving the horse tied to a post, he hauled the saddlebags over his shoulder, stepped into the main room, then walked up to the bar, bumping into people who didn’t have the sense to step aside for him, as was proper.
The man behind the bar gave him a hard look and a cold smile. “Good evening to you.”
Koltak grunted. “What’s the name of this village?”
“Dunberry.”
Not a familiar name. “Give me a glass of your best ale.”
The man drew a glass of ale and set it on the bar. But he didn’t release the glass. “Let’s see your coin first.”
Deeply insulted, Koltak gave the man his most formidable stare. Then he tapped the badge pinned to his robe. “You dare insult someone who wears this badge?”
The man leaned a little closer to get a better look, then shrugged. “Could be a family trinket, for all I can tell. If it’s not but brass or copper, it might fetch enough to equal two glasses of ale and a plate of whatever is left in the kitchen. If it’s gold, it’s worth that and a room for the night, plus stabling for your horse, if you have one.”
“You think I would barter this?” Koltak shouted. “I am a wizard!”
The man cocked his head to one side and considered. “A wizard, is it? And what would that be?”
Koltak stared at the man, then turned and studied the other men standing at the bar and sitting at the tables.
“A wizard,” he repeated, growing uneasy when the blank looks didn’t change. “A Justice Maker.”
“Like a magistrate, you mean?” someone asked. “You set the fine if someone’s pig gets out of the pen and tramples the neighbor’s garden?”
“How dare you insult me?” Koltak whirled toward the sound of the voice but couldn’t tell who had spoken. “I am a Justice Maker. I can call down the lightning of justice and kill you where you stand!”
“Well, Mr. Wizard, sir,” said the man behind the bar, “around here we call that murder. And we don’t care if you do murder with a knife or with this lightning of yours. You kill a man here, we’ll hang you good and proper.”
A sharp-edged ball of fear rolled in Koltak’s belly. Not his part of the world. Not any of the landscapes he knew. He was powerless here, because any use of the power he controlled would have them hunting him like a common criminal.
“I have some money.” He fumbled with the money pouch tied to his belt and put three gold coins on the bar.
The man behind the bar moved one coin away from the others. “This will get you a meal, two glasses of ale, and a room.” He moved another coin. “This will get you a bath and stabling for your horse.”
“Yes,” Koltak said softly, humbly. “The horse is outside and…a bath would be welcome.”
“Most likely you’d like to have the meal in your room.”
Most likely you’d prefer me out of the way. “Thank you.”
“I’ll show you the room.” The man went to the open end of the bar. “Patrick! See to the gentleman’s horse.”
A youth, who looked enough like the barman to be family, stepped forward and shot Koltak a cold look. “I’ll see the poor creature gets a good feed and is tended properly.”
As Koltak followed the barman up the stairs to the rooms, he heard a man in the room below say, “That one thinks well of himself, doesn’t he?”
“That he does,” another answered. “And there’s no kindness in him. You can see it in his eyes.”
“That you can,” the first one replied. “Has me thinking that no one would miss him if a waterhorse took him for a fast ride and a long sleep.”
Then the barman opened a door and entered the room to light a lamp. “I’ll bring up your dinner as soon as it can be put together. Bath is down the other set of stairs, along with the indoor privies.”
Koltak set the saddlebags down at the foot of the bed and waited for the man to leave before sinking down on the bed.
They didn’t know about wizards. Did they know about the landscapes? If they didn’t, how did they survive?
They had no respect, no courtesy. They treated him like some common traveler.
He hadn’t felt this lost, this lonely, since he and Peter made the journey to Wizard City to become apprentice wizards. But he’d had his brother then, even though they hadn’t liked each other much. Now he was far from home, and the status that made even the wealthiest gentry careful to show respect meant nothing to anyone.
And that was another stone he would hang around Sebastian’s neck when the time came.
All the way back to the bordello, Sebastian told himself to expect any kind of reaction from Lynnea, to accept any disgust or revulsion she might feel toward him after seeing that thing. He’d prepared himself for any kind of response—except to have her throw her arms around him as soon as he walked into their room.
“You’re all right?” she asked, squeezing him hard enough to shift his ribs. “You’re not hurt?”
He didn’t complain about his ribs or the feeling that he couldn’t quite breathe. He just held on to the warmth of her, the love inside her—knowing he couldn’t hold on to it much longer. That was something else he’d prepared for on the walk back to the bordello.
“I’m all right,” he said, finally shifting her back enough to give himself breathing room. “How’s Teaser?”
Lynnea looked back at the door that led into the bathroom. “He said he wanted to be alone. Wouldn’t let me sit with him in his room, and he didn’t want to stay in here. I think he’s drinking.”
Giving her a light kiss on the forehead, Sebastian stepped aside. “I’d be worried about him if he weren’t trying to get drunk.”
Lynnea narrowed her eyes. “Is that your way of telling me you’re planning to get drunk too?”
“I guess it is.” He edged toward the bathroom door. “I’d better talk to him.”
Since it hadn’t occurred to Teaser to lock anyone out from that direction, Sebastian simply walked through the bathroom and opened the other door. He found Teaser sitting on the floor, back braced against the side of the bed, cuddling a half-full bottle of whiskey.
Settling on the floor next to his friend, he took the whiskey bottle, helped himself to a long swallow, then handed it back.
“That’s not me,” Teaser said. “That’s not me.”
Feeling like he’d aged a decade in the past few hours, Sebastian rested his head against the bed. “Yes, it is.”
Teaser looked at him with wounded eyes. “You think I’m like that? You think this is a mask I can take off? You think…” He raised one hand to his forehead, his nails digging in as if he could peel the skin off.
Sebastian grabbed Teaser’s hand and pulled it away from his face. “It’s what we are, Teaser. That’s what’s inside us. You know it is. When our power unfurls, that’s the feel of it. Diluted, but that’s the feel of it.”
“I know,” Teaser whispered. “I wanted…When it was on her, it made me so hungry, I wanted…And then I saw its face. My face.”
“It wore my face for a little while, too.” And he would never forget the fear that had filled him when it had looked at Lynnea.
They passed the whiskey bottle back and forth a couple of times.
“Then that thing really was…”
“An incubus.” Sebastian sighed. “A pureblood. The real thing.”
“Then what are we?”
“Mongrels.” Sebastian forced himself to smile. “The result of incubi and succubi mating with humans and having the seed take hold.”
Teaser stared at the whiskey bottle. “So…I’m part human?”
“Looks
like it.”
“Do you know why I wanted to be your friend?”
Sebastian shrugged. “When I first came to the Den, there weren’t many incubi and succubi here, and you and I were the youngest ones. Since we liked each other and had fun trolling together, I didn’t give it any thought.”
“I wanted to be your friend because you knew how to be human,” Teaser said softly. “We learn how to imitate humans in order to blend in enough to stay in a place for a while and hunt, but you knew. The first time we ate at Philo’s, you said ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”
He shifted, feeling embarrassed. “Well, my aunt is a stickler for good manners.”
Teaser nodded. “You knew those things. You knew how to do more than hunt. You knew how to have fun living in the Den. I wanted to know those things, too. Not that I didn’t like you,” he added, letting his head roll so he could give Sebastian an earnest look, “but you were more than any incubus I’d run across. And the times when Lee came to visit, and the three of us would strut on the streets…I saw how it must be for humans, having friends, being foolish, just having fun.”
“Were you lonely before you came to the Den?” Sebastian didn’t expect a reply. Teaser never spoke of where he grew up or what it was like or how the incubi and succubi lived, or even if there was some landscape that was “home” for them.
“Lynnea hugged me,” Teaser said softly. “I’ve never been hugged before, just for a hug.”
If it wasn’t for the times he’d lived with Nadia, he wouldn’t have known the warmth and comfort of a hug, either. What kind of man would he have become without Nadia and Glorianna and Lee?
“One day soon I’m going to have to take you to my aunt’s house for a couple of hours.”
Teaser’s eyes were filled with a blend of panic and hope. “Your aunt? But I’m…and she’s…Won’t she mind?”
Now he could smile and mean it. “Aunt Nadia has a soft spot in her heart for bad boys. She’ll put you to work and make you feel human in no time.”
Teaser chuckled. His eyes started to close.
Sebastian stood up, put the whiskey bottle on the table by the bed, and hauled Teaser to a somewhat vertical position. “Go to bed and get some sleep. You won’t wake up happy if you end up sleeping on the floor.”