Enchanter's Embrace

by A R DeClerck

  “Impossible. Dark aether must be directed to do harm.”

  “Another in a long line of mysteries at Summer Ridge,” Archimedes agreed.

  “We must continue searching. Elizabeth’s solicitor will be arriving soon, and we cannot gallivant the property with others trying to tag along.” Lucia took Archie’s arm.

  “I think I’ll take a bird’s eye view of the property,” Machiavelli said, bowing. “I shall return tonight with any news.”

  “Very well. Be careful,” Archimedes warned. “We have no idea what we’re up against here.”

  Machiavelli nodded and with a twist and a pop he transformed into his raven’s form. With a flap of his wings he was gone from the same window through which he’d arrived.

  “I dislike that bird.”

  Lucia laughed at Archie’s dark mutterings. “He’s sweet in his own way.”

  “Only one with a heart as soft as yours could make friends with that scoundrel.” Archie smiled at her. “I think you like him better than me.”

  “There’s no man I like better than you,” she soothed. Her eyebrow went up. “Though the elder Trimble brother is quite a handsome fellow.”

  “I’ll gut him and make you a necklace of his entrails,” Archie growled, pulling her close. He pressed his lips to hers, unable to resist the temptation for another moment. He only had to imagine her hanging from the stair railing to get his heart racing and fear pulsing through his veins.

  “I thought you were a pacifist,” she teased some more, but she was breathless and well kissed so he ignored her jibe.

  “Not when it comes to my love,” he assured her. “I fight for the people I love.”

  “So do I.”

  “You don’t truly prefer Atraxas Trimble?”

  She laughed and took his hand. “Come along, Archie. I think it’s time we see Mr. Wicket.”

  THE DOORS TO THE ELDER Wicket’s rooms were bolted from the outside. Archimedes raised his eyebrows at the padlock. Lucia found herself sneaking long looks at him, and adoring the way his mouth puckered and his nostrils flared. She hastily looked away and bent to examine the lock, hoping he hadn’t noticed her foolish staring.

  “I can make short work of the locks, but I’m loathe to surprise the old man when two strangers appear in his bedchambers unannounced.”

  “Let’s get Justice,” Lucia said, forcing her mind back to the matter at hand. “He can announce us.”

  She turned and marched away, but she paused at the top of the stairs. Don’t be a flibbergibbet, she chastised herself, the dark aether is gone.

  “Take my arm, if you please.” Archimedes appeared beside her, and she felt the rush of warmth in her breast again. “I’ll not take any chances on this stairway again.” He grinned at her. “If I fall I’ll need you to use your grapple and pull me to safety.”

  “I shall protect you with my life,” she vowed, only half joking. He was strong, true, but he recognized that she was just as capable. A trait that made him a rare man, to be treasured. Too often in her life Lucia had been underestimated, but never by Archimedes. It was as if he saw the parts of her that no one else ever could. It was only in those moments that he put himself in harm’s way to protect her that she was reminded again of that horrible night at Club Indulgence.

  She took his arm and they hurried down the winding stair, halting as the door burst open and Corrigan ran in, his skullcap flapping.

  “Whoa, man!” Archie reached out to steady the captain as he breathed harshly after a long run. “What’s the damage?”

  “Fire.” Corrigan coughed, and Lucia noticed the soot and smell of heavy smoke that clung to him. “The damned barn where they store the wine barrels is burning.”

  “Blast!” Archie cursed. He hurried out to the porch as the fire bell began to ring out from the other parts of the estate. Lucia slipped out the door to stand beside him on the front step, looking out toward the western edge of the estate. A thick column of smoke could be seen rising from across the fields.

  “What’s happened?” Elizabeth rushed past them to the edge of the drive. She had changed after her lie-down, Lucia realized. She now sported a heavy dress of black and red tartan, her hair wild around her face. “What’s afire?”

  “The cask barn.” Corrigan wiped the streaks of soot from his cheek with a sigh. “It went up like kindling.”

  “Of course it did.” Elizabeth turned wide, serious eyes to them. “The barrels are all aged and dried, soaked in emollients to enhance the flavors of the wine. One spark would send it all up in flames.”

  “What have you done to your hand?” Lucia asked, noticing the smear of blood on the young woman’s fingers. She picked up Elizabeth’s hand and stared down at the long cut on her palm.

  “I was trimming a bit from my hair, and when the bell rang the scissors slipped.”

  Lucia closed her eyes, calling for the aether to assist her. It came willingly and rushed into the wound, closing it and leaving only a thin, pink scar of newly healed skin. Elizabeth smiled and flexed her fingers when Lucia opened her eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Lucia looked over her shoulder at the men on the steps. “I suppose we’d best investigate the fire.”

  “Madam!” Justice hurried onto the porch, his eyes wide and his thin face pale. “Madam Elizabeth!”

  “Yes, Justice. What is it?” Elizabeth hurried to the man as he stumbled toward her.

  “Mr. Wicket, madam!”

  “What’s happened,” Elizabeth demanded, taking his arm. She shook him. “Did Mr. Wicket escape his rooms?”

  “No madam.” Justice’s voice went soft, his pallor growing. “Mr. Wicket is dead.”

  A Deathless Death

  Lucia was worried that Elizabeth would faint as she paled and swayed in response to Justice’s words. She hurried to the young woman and put her arm over her shoulders.

  “Died?” Elizabeth murmured. “Oh, no.”

  “What happened, Justice?” Archie demanded.

  “When the bell began to ring I knew that Mr. Wicket would be in a right state. He hated the noise, you know. So I prepared his tea and took it to his rooms. But when I unlocked the door...” The poor butler’s lips trembled and Elizabeth buried her head against Lucia’s shoulder. “I found him.”

  “Do not elaborate.” Archie’s lips thinned and Lucia knew he was angry. Two twin spots of color brightened his cheeks. “Perhaps you’d best escort Elizabeth inside, Justice. We will see to Mr. Wicket.”

  “Very well, sir.” Justice took Elizabeth’s arm and she allowed him to lead her inside the house, her eyes wide and filled with shock.

  “This just gets better and better,” Archie murmured, rubbing a hand across his chin. He cursed low and paced, his metal hand clenching and unclenching. “Only one day and already there’s been a murder.”

  “We don’t know that it’s a murder,” Corrigan said, but even the slight tilt of his head said he didn’t believe it either. “Maybe the old man just died. Or killed himself in his grief.”

  “And my mother was a nun.”

  Lucia knew very well that Archimedes’ mother had been a femme galante in White Chapel, his father one of her customers whose name and face she never could remember. Her hand on his arm slowed the pacing. “We will discover the truth of this place, Archie. Don’t give up yet.”

  “I’m not giving up,” he assured her, his hand closing over hers to squeeze softly. “But I am getting worried. It’s not safe here at Summer Ridge, that much is obvious.” He explained to Corrigan about the attack on the stairs.

  “Bloody hell.” The captain tugged on the flaps of his hat. “I went for a walk with Draco, one of the farm hands. There’s been some ritual animal sacrifice near the Belvedere border. We found the chicken bones and the pieces of the altar.”

  “Where’s Bastion?” Lucia felt her heart leap in her chest as she realized that her old friend was not with them. “He went out with you.”

 
“There’s a sickness among the Roma. He went with one of the healer women to see to the ill.” Corrigan smiled, a hint of mischief lighting his eyes. “He was keen to follow Stella.”

  “Perhaps I should go help. If there’s an illness that’s where my talents lie.”

  “No.” Archie looked up at the windows that were old man Wicket’s only outlet to the world in the last few weeks. “We need you here. You are the only one who can tell us how he died. We are going to need you more than Bastion. If there’s more than he can handle he’ll come for you.”

  Lucia nodded and Corrigan sighed. “I suppose this means we’re off to see the body now, then?”

  “The attacks are growing bolder. Someone set that fire to distract us and pull us away from the house. If it wasn’t to kill Mr. Wicket then we’ve a duty to figure out what they’re up to.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Lucia swallowed down her fear and breathed in deep. She was not an offensive Adept, but she knew how to protect herself, and the people of Summer Ridge were in terrible danger. If they did not put an end to the black magic quickly, everyone on the estate could die a horrible death.

  The doors to Wicket’s chambers were unlocked, cracked a bit to show a sliver of flickering light from within. Archie felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He did not like the overwhelming press of the dank air, or the smell of feces and urine that floated out from the rooms beyond.

  There were many things about life that Archimedes had forced himself to accept. Men were cruel to other men, often without reason or cause at all. They did terrible things in the name of rage, greed or grief. He’d chosen to try to protect those who could not protect themselves from all the evils that might befall them, and every time someone under his protection died he felt the pain deep in his gut. He had been that dying boy once, lying in the mud as his life’s blood bled out all around him. Icarus had saved him, making him promise to do the same when he could, and Archimedes wondered if he was failing his vow.

  “This is not your fault.”

  Luci’s words warmed his cold soul, but he wasn’t sure he believed them. “We should have warded the rooms.”

  “We were never worried for the safety of Old Wicket,” Luci reminded him gently. Her hand was tight against his forearm. She tilted her head so that her eyes stared directly into his. “The only person to blame is the dark wizard we seek.”

  “We’ve more work to do,” Corrigan reminded them, his eyes hard. He was not a cruel man, Archie knew, but he was bound to duty as much as any of them. “We cannot waste time castigating ourselves for our failings. We can only try to learn from our mistakes.” He removed an electric torch from his pocket and clicked it on.

  “A wise course,” Archie agreed, trying to put aside his raging guilt. He bent at the locks, staring at the mechanisms again. “There does not appear to be evidence of tampering.”

  “A dark mage would not need to break a lock.” Lucia narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, removing her wand from the narrow inner pocket of her skirt. She waved it, concentrating hard on the words to incite the aether to act. Since Icarus and Cora had discovered that the aether was sentient, and that it worked under the constraints of self-imposed rules, their ways of contacting it had become much more specific.

  The air around them lit with the slightly greenish glow of Lucia’s magic. There were no telltale reddish orange sparks to indicate that dark aether remained in the air around them.

  Archie pushed open the doors and stepped inside. Once the suite had been elegant. Now the rooms lay in shambles, broken furniture and other items strewn about in chaotic abandonment. “What type of evil is this?” he wondered aloud. The walls were covered in excrement and blood, smeared together to paint symbols he did not recognize. The smell was horrific, and he covered his mouth and nose with his arm.

  “I have never seen anything like this,” Corrigan agreed, covering his own face with his handkerchief. “These symbols are strange.”

  “Archaic.” Lucia’s own lightly scented handkerchief was pressed against her nose and mouth, leaving only her eyes exposed. She leaned closer to the wall to examine the writings. “I have seen something like this before.”

  “Where?” Archimedes moved around the room, trying to make some sense of it all.

  “Longmoore.”

  He froze. Longmoore was a nightmare he was still trying to forget. A battle with dark wizards had taken place there, nearly costing them all their lives to win.

  “Grayson drew these symbols when he worked his magic.”

  Archie recalled the young mage’s unusual power, channeled through symbols he’d drawn on the ground.

  “Pardon me,” Corrigan called out from the next room over, “but I think you’d better see this.”

  The captain was standing at the end of a massive bed, shining a light from his electric torch at whatever lay beyond the shredded bed-curtains. He motioned them closer and pulled back the curtain.

  “Dear Lord!” Archie had never seen anything like the shriveled husk of Old Man Wicket’s body, laid out as if by an undertaker, on top of his coverlet. The old man’s skin was as dry as parchment paper, laying over his bones like a hastily wrapped mummy. His cheekbones were shiny white where they poked through the skin on his face.

  “That man is not dead.”

  Archie looked at Lucia in astonishment. “Darling, I’m afraid he’s no more than a dried out husk.” Archie shook his head. “There’s no life left in the man.”

  Her eyes were narrow as she moved closer to the bed. “And I’m the Apothecary, in case you’ve forgotten.” She removed one dainty lace glove and held her palm over the body’s chest. “I can assure you, this man is not dead.”

  Archie had never been trained as a healer, but he did not detect the rise of the chest or the beat of a pulse in the old man’s neck. “How can that be?”

  “Something horribly wrong has been done to this man.” Lucia backed away, swallowing hard. Archie reached for her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know how or why, but someone has bound his spirit to his body. He cannot live, but he cannot die. Not fully, anyway.”

  “Monstrous.” Corrigan let the curtain fall, blocking the old man’s body from view. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

  “It’s not the aether. Not in any way I’ve ever seen it used,” Lucia agreed, still pressed close to Archie’s chest. “This is some kind of spell I’ve never encountered. Only the darkest of mages could do this.”

  “Is there anything we can do for the poor bloke?” Corrigan shook his head and shined the torch around at the rest of the room. “More of the same writing in here.”

  The torch flickered, and the outer doors slammed shut. Archie felt Lucia’s hair whip around his face as a sudden whirlwind danced around them. Corrigan cursed as the torch was ripped from his hand and dashed against the wall, the glass shattering as it fell.

  “Hold tight to me!” Archie said loudly into Lucia’s ear. “Don’t let go.”

  She pressed her face against his chest as the raging wind blasted around them. Archie lunged as a lamp flew at them, crashing against the wall directly behind his head. Corrigan was struggling to stand, holding to one of the old man’s bedposts. Archie roared as the captain was picked up, bodily, and thrown against the wall across the room. He slid to the floor, limp, and the brunt of the dervish focused on them.

  Please, Archimedes thought to the aether around them, stop the wind. Protect us. Ein diogelu.

  We will try, metal one.

  As the concentration of the aether around them grew heavier Archie pressed Lucia against his body, shielding her with his arms as best he could. He felt pieces of the room that were not secure flying about, striking his back and head as they were whipped by the wind. He winced against the sting, but did not allow any of the debris to find its way to Lucia.

  “You’re going to get hurt!” she cried, trying to push him away.

  He gritted his teeth as something sharp glanced
across his human shoulder, cutting deep. “I’ll be fine. Keep your head down.”

  The aether began to encircle them, shielding them from the anger of the magical wind. Within moments they were completely encapsulated by a bubble of densely woven aether particles. Archie could see Corrigan, still unconscious, protected by the same type of bubble. He let Lucia move back, and he pushed away the strands of hair that clung to her cheeks. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m ducky, but I think you’re ready for the nut hatch!” she fumed. “You can’t keep risking your life to protect me or save me, Archimedes!”

  “I promised you once that I would never let anything hurt you again,” he reminded her, trying to ignore the steady drip of blood running from his shoulder to his fingers. “It’s a promise I intend to keep.”

  “This is precisely why I have to fear losing you.” Her eyes went to the steadily spreading red stain on his coat. She held her bare hand over the wound. “You will forever risk your life for mine and I’ll forever be reminded of the times I could not save myself. Someday, you will risk too much and leave me.”

  Archie was surprised by her words. He didn’t speak as she bent over his shoulder where some sliver had sliced deep into the muscle. He could feel her magic working inside his body, repairing first the tiny capillaries and then the vessels before moving onto regenerating the shredded tissue. It was a pleasant tingle that reminded him of fog settling lightly on his face on early spring mornings. Outside their protective bubble the angry magic was wearing down, whatever spell that caused it fizzling out.

  He had never considered that his protective nature might make her feel less than capable. Hell, he respected her strength and courage more than most men he knew. Still, she was partly right. Whenever he feared she might be in danger he thought not of the strong woman he knew now, but of the broken and bleeding girl he had promised to protect all those years ago. “I did not mean to make you feel that way.”