Enchanter's Embrace

by A R DeClerck

  THE HOUSE SLEPT. BELOW stairs, the Romani men kept watch on the demons outside, but they were thinning now as they realized the Hell Gate was closed and the sun would soon be up. Corrigan knew that Lucia and Archie slept together in her room down the hall and Bastion was stretched out on a cot in the room with the Romani children. Machiavelli had chosen some out-of-the-way corner to nest and that left Corrigan alone, pacing in his room.

  He knew he should sleep, but some worry niggled at the back of his mind. It itched its way around until it was impossible for him to do more than stalk the carpeted floor and curse under his breath.

  He paused when a knock broke his half-hearted concentration. He pulled open the door with a flourish, not sure who he expected to be on the other side.

  “Oh. Hello, Trimble. Come in.”

  He stepped back to allow Atraxas inside, closing the door behind him. The other man slumped into a chair by the fire, boneless with exhaustion.

  “Brandy?” Corrigan offered.

  “A fifth, if you have it.”

  Corrigan grinned and handed the man a considerable draught in a snifter. “Long night.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I ached this way.” Atraxas threw back the whiskey with a grimace. “Maybe when I let my brother talk me into playing rugby with the local village boys.”

  “Helluva night,” Corrigan agreed, taking the chair opposite the other man. He sipped his brandy as opposed to slugging it. He needed a clear head if he ever hoped to get a hold of the twitch at the back of his skull.

  “I’m told Elizabeth will heal quickly. Mistress Conti attacked her?”

  “Not of her own accord. Dark aether can be used to control another person if the mage wielding it knows the spells to bind the victim to the aether. It’s a nasty business, but Lucia would never hurt anyone if she was in control.”

  “And she’s broken free of the spell now? She’s well?”

  “As well as can be expected. It’s a traumatic experience to be conscious of your actions but unable to control them.”

  “I say.” Atraxas stared into the fire for a few moments, and Corrigan got the idea that he was collecting his thoughts. “And what of Del and Atticus Dooley? They got away?”

  “Indeed. We’ll find them, though.”

  “I have no doubts.” The young engineer put his head against the back of the chair and let out a long sigh. “It’s really just too bad.”

  “Too bad?” The niggling had become a blaring horn in Corrigan’s head. A warning. He started to stand, but felt himself locked into position in the chair. Atraxas turned his head to stare into Corrigan’s eyes.

  “What’s the meaning of this? Let me go!” Corrigan demanded.

  “You’re a good man, Captain. A smart and resourceful man that happens to be in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time.”

  Trimble stood, backlit by the fire. Corrigan blinked as a black fog seemed to enshroud Trimble’s eyes.

  “You’re infected with dark aether, man! Fight against the control!”

  “Control?” Trimble laughed, putting the snifter on the table with a distinct click. “This is not control. This is power. This is what I was cheated out of when my brother was born.”

  “Excuses, man! Listen to yourself. You love your brother.”

  “I do. I always have. However, I hate him, too. He has everything I have ever wanted. Magic. Power. Powerful friends. Adventure. Freedom. Elizabeth.”

  Corrigan blinked hard as pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. “Jealousy? You’re in love with Elizabeth, too?”

  “How could I not be? Have you seen her beauty? Her grace? She is the pinnacle of womanhood. Everything a woman should be.”

  Corrigan grimaced. What was so wrong with the words? They sounded rehearsed, forced. As if Trimble was nothing but an automaton, recycling words he had been taught to say.

  “If I had Elizabeth I would also have Summer Ridge. When my father dies we could sell to the Lindseys and be free of this wretched life.”

  “You’ve been bespelled. None of this is truly how you feel.”

  “I beg to differ. This is exactly how I feel; I simply never had the gall to admit it out loud before.”

  “Then why come here? What is it you want of me?”

  “I want nothing at the moment. You will forget we ever had this conversation, but when the time is right, you will do something for me.”

  “I’ll die first.”

  “That can be arranged, Captain. First, I would kill your friends. Your shipmates. Every person you care about.”

  “Go to hell, whoever you are.”

  “Now, now, Captain. Language!” Trimble bent close, his eyes locking on Corrigan’s. Corrigan tried to look away, but the dark swirl in the other man’s eyes was intoxicating. He tried to blink it away but could not, and soon he was ensnared in the swirl.

  “Can you hear me, Captain?”

  “I hear you.” Corrigan tried to fight the words, tasting blood in his mouth as he bit his tongue, but they came out anyway.

  Trimble smiled. “Good. Now, repeat after me.”

  The words jumbled as the world went dark, and Corrigan fought it until the bitter end. Somewhere, deep inside his screaming brain, was a terrible secret that would hurt the people he loved, and he could do nothing to stop it as it bored its way deep, past his ability to even remember it was there.

  He woke to the sound of pounding on his door. He stretched, wondering when he’d managed to fall asleep in the chair by the fire. He stumbled over the empty bottle of brandy and figured it must have helped him on his way to slumber.

  “Corrigan!” Archimedes’ voice carried through the door. “Come along, man, Icarus and Lucan are on the line.”

  “Yes, yes!” he called out as he pulled on his jacket and smoothed down his hair. There was not much he could do about the day’s growth of beard on his face. The ladies would have to excuse his lack of toilet in lieu of more important matters.

  He pulled open the door and found Archie’s hand poised to knock again, coming as close as an inch away from his nose before he managed to reign it in.

  “Ah, Captain! Sorry to rouse you so early but the sun’s up and Machiavelli has reached Icarus and Lucan.”

  “No bother,” Corrigan said, following the man and closing the door behind him. “I am surprised I managed to sleep at all.”

  “It has been a rough couple of days.” Archie looked tired, but there was determination in his eyes. Corrigan knew the look. The man was on the prowl now that he had the scent of the dark magic that haunted Summer Ridge. The thought stirred something in Corrigan’s mind and he faltered as it raced around inside his head.

  “Are you well, Captain?” Archie took hold of his arm. “You’ve gone white as a sheet all of the sudden.”

  “Something is troubling me, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Corrigan’s gut was churning and his knees were quaking. “I feel as if I should know something important, but it remains shadowed from me in my own mind.”

  “Age and more worries than we’re built to handle,” Archie said as they headed down the stairs toward the drawing room. “We’ve all got more on our plates than we’re used to.”

  “Perhaps.” Corrigan glanced into the kitchen as they passed and saw the Romani gathered around the fireplace, eating. “Everyone passed the night unharmed?”

  “As well as can be expected. Bastion says the Romani children seem to be recovering and the demons have dispersed.”

  “And Lucia?”

  Archie winced. “She professes no ill effects but I feel she is more fragile than she wants to admit.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  They entered the drawing room to find the brothers Trimble by the fire with Elizabeth and Lucia, the tea out and poured. Lucia’s face was pale, her eyes sunken and shadowed, but she smiled when Archie pressed a kiss to her cheek. He bowed over Elizabeth’s hand and she smiled wanly, though she appeared well rested and in good health.
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  “Good, good,” Machiavelli said from the fireplace mantle where he was perched. “I’m ready to connect.”

  Archie perched on the arm of the chair where Lucia sat, and she leaned into him as Corrigan moved to take a cup of tea from Elizabeth and sip it slowly. He winced against the sudden press of aether in the air as Machiavelli called on it to help him communicate with Lucan and Icarus. The raven’s feathers fluffed out as he strutted, his head bobbing.

  “Hello, friends!” The words rang out from the mouth of the bird, but it was Icarus’ voice. “Machiavelli has filled us in on your adventures thus far. A rousing game of chase, it seems.”

  “Icarus! Be sensible. I’m sure it’s the darndest flim-flam.” They all chuckled as Cora’s voice joined in.

  “Oh, yes dear, I’m sure it is,” her husband replied dryly.

  “Perhaps we’d best discuss what we came here to discuss,” Lucan said. “Tell us of the dark magic you’ve encountered, Adept Merriweather.”

  Archie quickly recounted the whole of the adventure, from the attack on the stairs; to the deaths of Old Man Wicket, Justice and Mrs. Burch, and the attack on the Romani. When he came to the abduction of Lucia and Elizabeth, and the subsequent events, the entire room went silent.

  “Atticus Dooley was a strong mage, but not strong enough to wield dark magic in the way you’re describing.” Icarus sounded thoughtful. “He has certainly learned a few tricks since the last time we crossed paths.”

  “How is it possible that he survived a hanging?” Grayson asked from beside the fire. His eyes were wide and filled with the memories of those days when Dooley had terrorized all of Kensington, bespelling the families of those that crossed him and causing untold harm. “We were assured he was dead.”

  “I cannot say how he survived, but he was most definitely alive last night.” Lucia’s hand curled over Archie’s fingers when he reached for her. “Alive and strong.”

  “He looked the same.” All eyes turned to Elizabeth’s whisper.

  “So it seems that Atticus Dooley and Delbert Wicket have been colluding in order to bring about some nefarious end.” Lucan’s voice was quiet. “They both blame Mrs. Wicket for their misfortunes and sought revenge.”

  “The machines in the laboratory are for more than getting revenge on Elizabeth. They are designed to destroy any mage who gets close enough to them. That speaks to a more elaborate plot than we’ve considered thus far.” Archie turned an apologetic eye on Elizabeth. “No offense intended, but the lost love of one woman would not be the cause for all this. If revenge was the end result then all they needed to do was kill Elizabeth.”

  “Perhaps we’d best return to London to assist,” Icarus said, but Cora’s voice cut in before he could finish his sentence.

  “No we absolutely will not return early. Archie and Lucia are perfectly capable of handling this.”

  “Darling—-“

  “I agree with Cora, Grand Adept Kane.” Lucan’s voice was stern and stopped all argument. “Adept Merriweather and Lady Conti are capable of seeing this through. I would offer some advice, however. If I may?”

  “Please,” Archimedes invited. “We will take any advice at this point.”

  “Watch each other. Trust no one. There is a strong possibility that Dooley has been able to infiltrate the mind of someone in your company and will seek to use them to gain access to his end game.”

  “We can close up the house. Return to London immediately.”

  “No.” Lucan’s voice became thoughtful. “Go about your plans as if nothing has changed. If there is an infection among you it will show itself only when Dooley requires it.”

  “The ball is tonight.”

  Everyone looked at Elizabeth and her cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry, I forgot to cancel it. I’ll have to send out notices immediately.”

  “On the contrary, the ball may be the stage you need to unmask your mage’s true intentions.” Lucan sounded thoughtful.

  “That sounds dangerous, Lucan.” Cora’s voice went low with worry. “Are you sure this is wise?”

  “Wise is not always the path to results, dear Cora.” Lucan’s voice took on an air of authority that had them all straightening in their chairs. “The ball will go as scheduled. Keep your guards up and watch one another and the guests.”

  “Yes, Grand Master.” Archie looked at Corrigan, and the captain nodded. Lucan was right. If they wanted to expose the dark mage’s plans, and fast, they would need to give him the opportunity he was seeking.

  “Very good. Machiavelli will keep us informed of events as they unfold. Be careful, everyone.”

  “Archie, please take care of yourself,” Cora said, and they all smiled. “All of you. I couldn’t bear it if any of you got hurt.”

  “Never fear, my dear, we shall all persevere,” Archie assured her.

  “And Captain?”

  “Yes?” Corrigan answered.

  “Protect them, would you? Use science to combat the magic, I know you can do it.”

  “I will do my best, Mrs. Kane.”

  “I am sorry to miss the action,” Icarus said, and they laughed before he went on, his voice serious now. “My dear wife is correct. Be careful. If anything happens to you I will have to return to London, and I will rain hell down upon any who dared to hurt you.”

  “We shudder in our boots,” Archie said with a smirk. “Now be off to honeymooning with you, we have a ball to prepare for.”

  “We’ll talk soon,” Cora promised, and the connection was severed. Machiavelli raised his head and shuffled his feathers.

  “What must be done to prepare the house for guests?” Lucia asked Elizabeth.

  “I have decorations to hang, food to prepare, and....” Elizabeth trailed off, a lost look on her face.

  “If I may...”

  They all turned to the door where Stella and several of the Romani women stood.

  “We could help. Mama Roseanna can cook; she knows several decadent French dishes. Gabriella and I will begin cleaning the house and Josef and Karl can hang your decorations.”

  “I...thank you.” Elizabeth stood and Grayson rushed to her side to take her arm. “I’ll show you where everything is stored.”

  Corrigan did not miss the sudden narrowing of Atraxas’ eyes, and the way his gaze followed Elizabeth and his brother from the room. However, when the man saw him staring he only grinned. “I’ll go back to the machinery upstairs and see what else I can learn,” he said.

  “Very good,” Archie agreed. “Bastion will watch over the children and the house. Corrigan, Lucia and I will make a trip to the back forty acres. I’d like to speak to the tenant farmers while the sun is up.”

  When Atraxas was gone, Corrigan crossed the room and folded his arms as Archie helped Lucia from her chair. “What do you hope to learn from the farmers?” he asked.

  “Something is going on here at Summer Ridge, something we are missing. No one pays a simple farmer any mind, but they have eyes and ears the same as anyone else. I’m hoping the farmers have some insight into what Dooley might want with Summer Ridge aside from hurting poor Elizabeth.”

  Lucia leaned on Archie’s arm, shaking. Sweat beaded on her forehead and Corrigan did not miss the wild look in her eyes.

  “Perhaps Lucia should stay here,” he suggested, worried for her. “She does not seem well.”

  “She goes where I go.” Archie’s voice was sharp, but Lucia’s hand on his arm quieted his ire.

  “I don’t feel safe alone here, Captain. I’d prefer to stay close to Archie.”

  “But you’re unwell. Surely Bastion could....”

  “It’s not an illness, Captain.” She flattened her lips, her breath sawing in and out of her chest.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Lucia was once addicted to dark aether. Like an opium addiction, but worse. Harder to break.” Archie’s hand smoothed over her back as she shivered against him. “Since her exposure last night she is now fighting the same urges all
over again.”

  “I...did not know.” Corrigan rubbed at the offending ache at the back of his neck. A slow and constant throb that would not ease.

  “No one would.” Lucia’s smile was wan. “It happened when I was young.”

  “Fresh air, then?” Archie asked.

  At the door they found their heavy coats and shrugged them on. When Archie opened the door Lucia gasped. Snow was falling, the ground already white.

  “I will bring around the carriage,” one of the Romani men said as he passed. He nodded to Corrigan and Corrigan recognized the man as the one who had shown him around the estate the day before.

  “Look at that.” Corrigan watched two Romani men carry past a heavy fir tree for the ballroom. Behind them were three other men carrying thick ropes of green garland and baskets of poinsettia flowers with bright red blooms.

  “I’ve no doubts it will be lovely,” Lucia said, some color in her cheeks with the cold through the doorway.

  “We’ve set up steam-powered lights in the ballroom and the adjoining drawing room,” one of the younger Romani said as he passed. “It will be a sight to see when they come on.”

  “Let me fetch my Bo,” Corrigan said, turning toward the stairs. “I’ll meet you again when the carriage arrives.”

  Archie nodded, but his eyes settled on the captain in careful perusal. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing. I’d feel safer with a weapon.” Corrigan hurried up the stairs and did not feel able to breathe again until he reached his room. He poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and drank it down quickly to settle his churning gut. He picked up his Bo and flicked on the switch, and for some reason the buzz of the electricity over the staff calmed him.

  He looked up when there was the sound of a clearing throat from the doorway.

  “Is everything all right, Captain?”

  Why, Corrigan wondered, did the sight of the elder Trimble incite panic that ratcheted up his pulse and made his heart beat painfully against his ribs? He swallowed and pushed out a smile. “Yes, Trimble. Everything is fine. How goes the inspection of the laboratory?”

  He did not miss the way the other man’s eyes narrowed. Atraxas did not believe his glib response, but to Corrigan’s relief he chose to ignore it.