“You need to rest, sir,” Ethel said.
He shoved up into a sitting position, head spinning. Hands reached for him as he leaned on the mattress, but he waved them away. Off-white walls and the hint of elm pollen inundated him, telling him instantly that he was in Charles Dumont’s home. He turned his eyes on Miles. “Where?”
“Her room.”
“Here now, yer not goin’ alone.” Lester looped Kiren’s arm over his shoulder and hauled him up, waving the others off.
They hobbled out into the hall, Kiren gaining more motion with each step. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“Less’n a day.” Lester whispered, “Yer not goin’ to like what you see.”
Kiren tensed. “Is she dead?”
“Not least wise what Ethel can tell, but there ain’t no life in her, neither.”
Tendrils of depression curled through him, looping about his heart and squeezing it tight. He hadn’t felt so helpless since the day Bellezza’s scream nearly killed Alexia.
Kiren snapped to. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be after Bellezza.”
The runner grunted. “Damage done.”
“How much damage?”
“Wo, ‘bout fifteen dead nobles and three burnt estates.”
Kiren closed his eyes and groaned. “She got her revenge on the acquirers after all.”
His friend shrugged. “Not sayin’ you can blame her, but the thing what bothers me most is the way it were done—startin’ with that Galedrew fellow. No one deserves a ladle through the heart.”
“And the others?”
“One man were nailed to his own wall. Another were missin’ his hands—what were found as nothing but bone and ash. She’s a vixen, that one. Smart too.”
Kiren ran a hand through his hair. “All this, toying with the Soulless, launching the war, sending Alexia on an impossible mission, these were but diversions to keep us occupied?”
Lester’s mouth crooked. “You have to admit it were brilliantly played. That girl’s got some wit.” His brow crinkled. “But sabotaging them restraints what John built so careful in the below? That were cruel, that one.”
Kiren halted, turning on his friend. “In the below? In the cellar.”
“Aye.” Lester nodded. “Must be some nasty grudge what she has against these Dumonts. My guess is the wood widow irked her somethin’ sore.”
His fists clenched. “And where is she now?”
“Poof, you know how she does. Not to worry. We’ll track her yet.”
They arrived at Alexia’s door and Kiren freed himself. “Thank you, Lester. For everything.”
His friend saluted and left him to it.
***
Kiren would have been pacing at the foot of her bed if his leg didn’t feel like it had been injected with a years’ worth of wasp venom. He sat, leg propped up on her mattress, clinging to her fingers and begging her to wake.
Charles paced enough for both of them. “Tell me exactly why you cannot heal her?”
Kiren rolled his eyes and indicated his leg. “One injury at a time.”
The nobleman growled and scratched over-vigorously at his head.
Kiren sighed. “First I must purge the poison from my own system, if you have the patience for that.”
Charles tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed his nose.
Kiren didn’t blame the nobleman. His own impatience probably outweighed her father’s. “Her body must do the healing until I can aid her, but you must be prepared. There are some injuries I cannot best. The intricacies of the brain are very fine.” He leaned forward, curling her limp fingers between his and studying her still face. “I could kill her as easily as help her.”
“And if she never wakes?”
Kiren stilled. He could not even consider that possibility. She had to wake up.
89
Sacrifice
There was silence for a long time. Nothing but silence.
***
Alexia opened her eyes. Beige walls registered and lace-curtained windows.
She turned her head. Pain exploded through her brain. Something was wrong. She remembered that much, but the rest blurred in a haze.
Her focus landed on the bureau, the same as always, but dusty.
How odd.
She looked the other direction. A chair stood next to the bed, fingers clasped about her own. An amazing thrill coursed through the connection, speeding her heart.
Ginger locks hung, curtaining a mournful countenance and silent moving lips.
She took a deep breath and white agony burst behind her eyes. Yes, something had gone extremely wrong inside her, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did really. He was here!
Kiren’s lashes fluttered upward, revealing the hopeful blue of the heavens right before sunrise.
“Alexia!” He brushed the hair from her forehead. She tried to speak, but he pressed his fingers to her lips. “You are alive!” His arms encircled her.
A dull ache pulsed in her shoulder, and a throb tweaked up from her ankle, but they compared little to her head. It felt like a rake had been drawn through her brain.
He kissed her twice gently. She met his eyes questioningly.
His gaze turned down. “I cannot heal it.”
Heal it? Who cared? He’d survived. She’d survived. They were together!
“You need rest. You still do.” He brushed her cheek. “You should sleep.”
But she didn’t want to! She had him.
He tucked a blanket up around her neck, kissing her eyelids, and as he did they became extremely heavy. Maybe she did want to sleep after all.
***
When Alexia roused again, the chair stood vacant. She’d only been conscious a moment when the door fell back and in shuffled Father. His head drooped, dark circles about his eyes.
He gasped. “You are awake!”
She smiled. Even that hurt.
“Child!” He arrived at her side in a single stride, honest tears spilling over his cheeks. “I love you, Alexia!”
He placed a kiss on her forehead. A tear fell and cleared a tickling path down her temple. He wiped it up quickly and sat, taking her face in his hands.
“Father . . .” She groaned as the enunciation sparked more pain.
“Do not worry now, child. You are safe. I will protect you from,” and his eyes turned hard, “everything.”
What happened to her? What couldn’t Kiren heal? Had she been attacked by the Soulless? Broken by them? Permanently damaged? And what about—
“Miles?” She recalled that last instant, his fierce grip on her hand, the square set of his jaw against a nightmare foe.
Father’s brows went up. “You will see him soon enough, as soon as it is proper.”
Relief. The Soulless did not take him! But someone she loved had not been so lucky.
“Sarah?” she breathed.
Father’s mouth tightened. “Gone.”
Tears started. Her aunt’s face appeared in her mind, terror in her olive eyes as John dragged her away, as she reached back, begging for help.
Father cleared his throat, dabbing at her cheeks. “It will be all right. Hush now.”
She scowled at him. All right? Her aunt was gone, destroyed, and somehow he thought it would be all right? He was the embodiment of all things false in her life—he and his lies.
She glared at the wall. “I want Kiren.”
Father stiffened. He rose and backed away, face contorting with rage. He turned and exited the room, pulling the door shut after him.
***
Over the next many days Alexia thought about Sarah, how she had failed her. All the time, Father or Kiren—or both—remained, holding her hand, speaking to her. They spoke to one another when they didn’t think she was awake.
“We overlooked one fatality,” Kiren’s clear voice echoed.
Father cursed. “Seven now? How could we have missed one? We cleared the perimeter!”
“They hi
d the body under a hedge. Do not blame yourself.”
“How can you say that?” Father’s protest rose. “I am the one that brought this on us! If I had not . . . Dana should never have come here!”
Kiren cut him off impatiently. “There are a number of decisions that determined this outcome. No one is to blame but the assassins.”
Father pounded the wall, swearing loudly and groaning. “Did they identify the body?”
“Maurine.”
Alexia swallowed that one, trying not to think of her dear nanny.
Her father cursed again, his voice cracking. “We have been safe here so long. If you left her alone, they never would have come here!”
“Charles, it is not me.”
“Well, it is not her! She does not deserve to be one of you—and no one is destined to fall in love with . . . with a . . . ! You, you cannot have her!”
Electricity charged the air. She tensed, readying for the conflict, biting back the tears that sought escape. Why couldn’t they simply resolve their differences?
“Have you decided what to tell your servants?” Kiren asked.
Father groaned. “That we were attacked by wolves? Vagabonds? Gypsies? None of it makes sense. And now that Alexia has been seen—”
“My aids can silence them. They have done it before.” Kiren sighed. “Pick a story, Charles, and we will make it true. You cannot keep them caged much longer without trouble.”
She cringed.
Father tromped across the floor. “Bah! It has only been a week.”
She couldn’t believe her ears.
“Blame it on robbers,” he decided at last. “A whole band of them.” A momentary hush lapsed before he spoke again. “It is wrong you know, tampering with them. You will not, you will not touch my memory!”
“No.”
“And Alexia? Is that why she thinks she loves you—because you made her believe it? I will not allow you to—she is staying right here, do you understand me? You will not take her away from me!”
Another pause.
“You should compensate the families of those who have passed.” Kiren’s voice. “If you need help—”
“I have sufficient.”
“Very well.”
***
Seven—seven lost—seven dead because of her! Tragedy did follow her kind. Father never should have gone near Dana. She never should have been born!
Her sleep was empty, dreamless for the first time. It seemed like all she did, all she could manage to do.
Kiren’s leg healed from the bullet wound. The speed of his mending left them all astonished: two weeks. He insisted his injury still ached, that it always would, but he walked without a limp and hid any signs of distress.
Miles visited—at last!
“Hello.” He hovered at the door, gray eyes glittering. Kiren straightened in his seat.
“Hello,” Alexia greeted, relieved that the effort didn’t bring on more pain.
“You were really great, Alexia.” He neared. “I can’t tell you . . .” He hesitated. “You saved me.”
She glanced at both of them, waiting for an explanation. “How?”
Kiren nodded and Miles knelt, taking her hand. “I nearly gave in. I didn’t think . . .” The steadiness of his fingers washed away the last nightmarish recollection she had of him. She gasped as his memory burst over her.
The girl lay unconscious at his feet. Creatures circled, hissing.
“Miles,” they called. “Miles.”
He dove into their shared consciousness. Their hunger moaned in his belly. Their torment tore at his brain. Their pain throbbed through his muscles. He was drowning.
A new emotion pulsed through their collective veins. Hope?
Somewhere through the throng of pressing appetites, an awareness recognized that this child below him, endowed with the power to manipulate time, might ultimately bring the end to their suffering. She alone could return, could prevent, could stop their curse.
Miles gasped. No! It would kill her. He would not let them have her. He forced himself into their minds, all of them—exposing his presence, erasing her from their vision . . .
He exhaled, releasing her from the vision. “You gave me strength. You would have given your life for me.” He licked his lips, preparing to continue, but Kiren cleared his throat. Miles looked down, his grip loosening on her hand. He stood. “Goodbye, Alexia.”
“Goodbye?”
He smiled sadly and exited.
Kiren seized the hand Miles had released, studying it disquietingly. She watched until she could stand it no longer. At her impatient jerk, he looked up.
“I have never witnessed it before.” He breathed at last. “Yours is the rarest of gifts.” His fingers slid over her cheek, causing her to shiver. “The state I found you in, it was like, like the night you were born.” He hesitated.
She curled a hand over his, drawing him back to her. “My mother, I know.”
Puzzlement filled his marvelous eyes. “How?”
“I met her in the absence of time.” She smiled, wincing. He blinked back at her. “And I will see her again, soon.” She attempted to shift off her sore shoulder and groaned.
As he rubbed the joint, a flood of warmth softened the muscles. “When I tried to heal you I came across blistered wounds on the brain, abrasions that were ripe and ready to burst. I think you almost killed yourself.”
She gawked.
“It has been known to happen, persons with extreme abilities who push themselves too far too fast. These things develop with time, like strengthening a muscle.” He leaned in, his pendant pressing at the front of his shirt. “Please, Alexia, promise me you will not do that again?”
She nodded. Sparks of pain shot from the back of her skull, but they did not blind her. “What is it?” She pointed. “When you used it against the Soulless it felt like redemption.”
He straightened up, folding his arms. “Alexia, I cannot . . .” She waited for him to finish, but he cleared his throat, eyes flitting to the exit. “Your father will be here soon.”
She frowned. Another forbidden subject.
He grunted and took her hands. “It works, that is all that matters. They step into the dynamic willingly and leave their tortured corpses behind.”
“But the amulet—?”
His head shook, eyes lowering.
She stored that one on her mental shelf for future investigation. “What task have you sent Miles off to?”
His eyes closed.
“Kiren?”
His fingers squeezed over hers. “He let the taint take him.”
Horror swelled through her. “He what?” She pushed off her mattress, forcing her way through the black spots. “What happened to him?”
“In exchange for you, he gave them a link to his own mind. It is the only way he could have shaded you from them, and now . . .”
“Now what?”
He grimaced. “They will chase him every moonless night. If captured, all the secrets he comprehends will be at their fingertips. The things he perceives inadvertently through other’s minds will aid their hunt, fuel their determination.”
Tightness seized her throat. “There is no way to—?”
His head was shaking. “His memories will be taken, but he can no longer serve under me.”
She swallowed, fresh tears emerging. She reached to brush them away, but he beat her. Miles gave up his home for her? He gave up Kiren, Nelly, Edward, Ethel, his barn, his life for her?
A sob escaped. Kiren lifted her gently against his chest, pressing his lips to her hair.
She moaned. “It is not fair! This should not have happened. Send me away instead!”
Father entered. His face contorted first in disbelief, then in rage. He pushed Kiren away and took his place, holding her while she wept over what she’d done.
The world was all wrong: The deaths. The suffering. The loss. The sacrifices. Father’s arms about her rather than Kiren’s. She wanted to wipe his
tory clean and start again. Unable to battle the sorrow eating her soul, she sank into silence.
90
Flower
Alexia found it difficult to smile, even as Kiren did his best to renew her spirits. Being back on her feet, albeit limitedly, helped. She welcomed Edward and Ethel’s visits as they took her on short walks, telling her stories that won her first true laughter in weeks.
Edward licked his lips. “It was only my second mission on the master’s behalf and this bloke I sought had the uncanny ability to put one to sleep while still on their feet. As it happened, he was not too keen on being brought in for questioning. I recall speaking with him briefly and then I woke in front of Westminster Abbey wearing nothing but my undergarments.”
At the image of this dignified fellow in the heart of London clad only in his unmentionables, Alexia burst into laughter, quickly clamping both hands over her mouth.
Edward chuckled with her. “Spent the better part of a week trying to clean it out of people’s memories, and to this day I refuse to step foot in London.”
“He is a stubborn one,” Ethel agreed, slipping her fingers about the gentleman’s arm. His clear eyes turned on the woman, filled with adoration.
The connection warmed Alexia’s heart. There were still good things in the world, even within the dangerous realms of the Passionate.
***
Dressed as a servant, Alexia strolled through the gardens with Father. He had explained his devotion toward her by the similarity she bore to his late daughter. The help had accepted his story readily. Edward made it so.
Though she loved him as a brother or uncle, Edward’s gift left an uneasy twist in the pit of her stomach. He took away the terror. Not hers. Not Father’s. She felt strange when looking into the servant’s eyes, knowing how their lives could so easily have been forfeit as they chattered timidly about the band of thieves Edward had fabricated.
Would it be better if she could forget? This was what it meant to be one of the Passionate, to possess secrets her human counterparts did not want any part of. How had Dana done it?
She sighed.
“Are you tired?” Father halted. “Do I need to take you back in?”
“No, no, I—” She took a deep breath. No more postponing it, she had to tell him. “I dreamed of her.”
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