Moseh's Staff

by A. W. Exley

The old man clicked his tongue in disapproval as though reading his mind or perhaps the twitch in his fingers betrayed his thoughts. “You cannot kill me, remember?”

  He kept his gaze locked on rahab’s handiwork as he drifted past. “And I keep telling you, I’m planning on it.”

  “What would you do, slice me into a million pieces?” He trailed a hand along the book spines, his attention half on his possessions and half on Nate.

  Deep within the beast laughed, that would be too easy. “No. I would peel back every layer until I revealed what resides at your rotten centre.”

  The Curator’s hand paused, and he turned, his head cocked to one side. “Skin me? How working class abattoir of you.”

  “No. With a sharp knife, I could remove a wafer-thin slice with each pass of my blade. The body comprises many layers of skin, I would treat each like the most delicate tissue paper to be individually separated and laid out. I would whittle you like a piece of wood until only your blackened core remained.” By his side, his hand clenched and unclenched as he imagined the scene in his mind and the screams of agony that would echo as he worked. He glanced at his surroundings; perhaps a library would be a more fitting venue, rather than the sterile Pit.

  The Curator’s smile widened. “You are such a creature of darkness, Nathaniel. The depths of your mind are quite breathtaking. I wish we could work toward the same goals, we would hold the world in our hands.”

  His hand itched for the cold press of steel, but he must accomplish a task for Victoria before he considered his own ends. He pushed thoughts of vengeance to one side. “I came to make you an offer.”

  The cold glint returned to the Curator’s gaze. “Oh?”

  “You can still have what you seek.” Nate dangled their bait.

  The old man hissed a breath as his visage shimmered and the young man ghosted over his features. “You have the items?”

  “Cara knows where they are located. You can have them for a fair exchange,” Nate said.

  A soft huff of laughter wheezed from the Curator’s chest. “What do you require?”

  “The staff, with the rahab contained once more.”

  The huff turned into a full-on bark. “Oh she is clever, just like her father. The things I could do with both of you under my wing.” He sighed at lost opportunities. “You want something from me that is infinitely powerful and will make me vulnerable until I am reborn; hardly a fair trade.”

  Nate crossed his arms. The other man would take the bait; he just needed to play out a little more line. “We don’t do this for ourselves. Victoria wants your frozen curse lifted from London and intends to either destroy the staff or bury it from the world. Your choice is simple, do you want to keep your current form or not?”

  Greed and vanity flashed across his gaze. “The rahab is powerful and has roamed free in London for six months now. It will not go willingly back to the staff. I need proof of what you have. I would see the dragon with my own eyes, if you indeed have one.”

  Nate stared through the doorway, counting down the moments until he could return to Cara. Then he nodded. “Very well, tonight. Hyde Park, the north side of Serpentine Bridge. Meet us there at eight o’clock.”

  The Curator returned to his chair by the fireplace and picked up his novel. “She also stole my books. I would like those returned to me; they are as irreplaceable as she is.”

  “Take it up with Cara.” Nate spun on his heel and left.

  Despite the risk to Kirill, they decided to walk. Once out on the street, Cara understood why Nate and Brick were so relaxed. They passed two other dragons just on Wood’s Mews. One had plain scales of burnished metal and the other was painted in riotous colours as though it really wanted to be a unicorn. They had heavy collars around their necks and owners walked their expensive pets as though they were the prized Borzoi of Imperial Russia. Sergei glared at the artificial dragons while Kirill sniffed and growled at the creatures that looked sort of like him, but moved their limbs in a disjointed way.

  “Easy boy,” Cara muttered as they went on their way.

  “He much happier here,” Sergei said once they reached the seclusion of the park. Only a few souls braved the cold and dark to walk the paths and they had their own secret assignations to make.

  A row of different coloured lights on ornate poles lit their way and cast circles of red, yellow, and blue over the snow. It looked beautiful until you remembered it was mid-May and should have been a riot of daffodils and bright green grass. Kirill scampered ahead like a puppy and dove into snowdrifts. He would surface, shake off the excess snow and look for the next one. The combined bath and reunion with Cara returned a lustre to his scales and fire danced along his hide. His eyes brightened every time they spied her but what would he do when they returned him to Russia?

  “He will never be safe, Sergei.” Her heart broke for the growing dragon. They risked so much to ensure he and his mates had a secure home in Siberia and here he was cavorting in the middle of London.

  “Da,” Sergei watched his charge at play under the glow of the full moon and the scattered streetlights. “World grows smaller.”

  Nate’s long-range airships reduced the size of the globe. Trade with the farthest reaches of the globe was now possible in a timely manner. Emigrants headed to new countries on vessels that crisscrossed unexplored expanses. How long would it be before someone spotted a dragon? Would they brush it off as an optical illusion, or would treasure hunters seek confirmation of their existence and a hide as their prize? Would some noble pay handsomely for a dragon head to hang in his dining room?

  Sergei’s hand patted her shoulder. “He here now. You responsible for him, and he protect you.”

  Kirill exhibited quite a protective streak. He growled if anyone except Nate touched her, and even then, he gave a long-suffering look and tried to challenge him to a stare down.

  “Surely he will return with you?” She blinked trying to imagine a world where she had a dragon as a house pet.

  Sergei tapped the side of his head and snow flaked off the bear fur edging his hat. “Nyet. I do lots of thinking. He better here. You will figure it out. But now, go, he want to play.”

  Cara sighed and followed the dragon to a stand of denuded beech and scraped up snow to make a missile. She lobbed balls for him to chase while he frolicked, sending him diving into deeper drifts. The click caught her attention. Not the crack of a stray branch crunched under Kirill’s toes, but a hard metallic sound.

  Peeking around a trunk, she found a new scene in their drama playing out; Inspector Fraser with his service revolver pointed at Nate’s head. Brick was nowhere in sight and Sergei leaned on a tree and watched. Meanwhile Nate looked, well, like Nate with all his emotions tucked away.

  “Oh, damn,” she whispered and dropped her snowball. The problem with channelling all your energy into a pursuit was you risked tunnel vision. Fraser tied up all his potential in his obsession with Nate. His brain was stuck on one track like a runaway train and she needed to nudge him on a different course. Assuming tonight’s escapade didn’t get him killed.

  ‘‘Don’t do this, Hamish,” she said, approaching him from the side so he could see her advance.

  “Lady Lyons.” His eyes widened. “You’re not dead.”

  She forgot the rest of London thought she languished at the bottom of the Thames. “No, I rather thought Nate might have told you that.”

  His gaze flicked back and forth. “He did, but the evidence suggested the contrary. It would appear I was misinformed.”

  “You listened to the wrong people. Nate spoke the truth, but you have become deaf to it.” She took another step closer, drawing his attention as Brick emerged from the trees behind. “You need to move on, Hamish.”

  “He does not deserve to walk amongst London’s honest citizens. He made a fool of me in court, this will end, now.” He said the words, but the hand holding the pistol wavered as though his body doubted his mind.

  Cara stilled and considere
d her lost bird. She wanted to shake his shoulders and set him straight. “What will you become if you shoot Nate in cold blood? Would you throw away everything for revenge? You caught Faith’s killer and watched him swing, but you’ll never find peace for yourself unless you let her rest.”

  “It was his fault; he was the puppet master that controlled the Grinder.” Another tremble shook his knuckles.

  “No, he wasn’t. The Grinder was the only person responsible for his actions, but you’ve lost sight of that. Let it go, Hamish,” Cara said.

  He opened his mouth to argue, but no words emerged as Brick struck him on the head with a rock. Fraser’s eyes flashed with surprise before they rolled up and his body crumpled to the snow.

  Nate stepped forward to prod the prone inspector. He glanced up at Brick. “There will be a patrol out by the main entrance to Hyde Park, drop him with them so he doesn’t freeze. Tell them he pulled a gun, and we have no intention of pressing charges, at this stage.”

  Brick picked up the slight man and slung him over his shoulder and walked off across the park.

  Nate watched Brick disappear along the winding path. “I don’t know what you see in that man.”

  Cara stared at her husband; he really didn’t see it, or perhaps he was too similar to understand how they walked the same path. “I see you, if you had not found me, and I see the genesis of what my father became.”

  Nate stood in silence, lost in his own thoughts. His eyes narrowed at the comparison to Fraser. “I still think our lives would be simpler if you just let me kill him.”

  She picked up the discarded revolver and handed it to Nate. “You’re not killing him. He’s dwelt too long in his own nightmare and needs to find a way to wake up.” She chewed her lip while a vague idea of how to help the inspector flitted through her mind.

  A scowl dropped over his face. “I much prefer it when you save children, not Enforcers trying to collapse my business and see me hanged.”

  “Perhaps I want to save him so you have a worthy adversary. Hamish seems to keep you on your toes.” She slipped under his arm and nestled close.

  “You keep me on my toes.” He kissed her lightly as they stood at the edge of the water. Nate cracked open his pocket watch. “Eight pm.”

  The noise split the air and Cara cringed as the Curator rose from the frozen Serpentine, held aloft on a crystal hand. Her mind flashed back to standing on Petite Pier when the spout reached for her, and the crack of ice grating on ice made her curl closer to Nate, as the float moved closer to shore.

  “He’ll not take me again,” she whispered, and the words formed in the air and floated up as bright crystals.

  Nate’s arm around her waist pulled her tighter. “No, he won’t. But he knows how to make an entrance.”

  Kirill cowered behind them, as much as a calf-sized dragon could. His tail wrapped around her legs, as though ensuring she didn’t take a step without him. He growled low in his throat.

  The old noble stepped to the shore and gazed at his small audience. His watery eyes lingered on Cara. “You left my care so suddenly, did you not like your accommodation?”

  “The food was fine; I just had issues with the bucket.” He thought to lock her in an unending nightmare but he gave her the clarity to embrace the dark. She found peace in that basement, then she wanted the hell out of it to get on with her life.

  He sighed. “I will have you back; you are too unique to be lost to the world.”

  Two growls came simultaneously from Nate and Kirill.

  “I might not be able to kill you, but I would take an eternity trying,” Nate said, one hand tightening on Cara.

  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Overprotective males. She wondered what Kirill would make of Loki and his constant advances and she suspected he might end up with a dragon bite to go with his shark attack scar.

  Kirill curled around her other side. The Curator sucked in a breath as moonlight struck the dragon and molten heat danced over his hide as he repositioned himself.

  “Fire dragon,” he whispered, and took a step closer.

  Kirill sat on his haunches and rose up to hiss at the man approaching his mistress. He splayed his wings, blocking Cara’s view of events, and batted Nate in the face.

  Cara reached out a hand and pushed his wing down. “Easy, boy.” She moved her hand to his head, and Kirill leaned into her touch as she rubbed his eye ridges but he refused to budge from his defensive stance in front of her.

  “I wouldn’t get too close, he’s almost more protective of Cara than I am,” Nate said.

  The Curator’s hungry gaze roamed the mythical creature. “Where did you find him?”

  Sergei stepped from the shadow. His face buried where his hat meet the bear fur of his jacket. The Curator tore his gaze from the dragon to the towering man. “Sergei Alenin, dragon master. I thought you a creature of myth and shadow much like your charges.”

  Sergei bowed. “Once, he was mine, but now, he with his momma.”

  “How fortuitous for us.” He gaze returned to Cara and the cold smile dropped over his face. “Do you see it yet? The series of convergences that mark you as extraordinary? I alone hold the key to unlocking your potential.”

  The chill shot down her spine and she anchored herself between her two beasts, Nate and Kirill. He would not lure her away from her task, no matter how enticing his hints.

  “The rahab.” She gestured at the stick clutched between his fingers. “You have seen the dragon. If you want his breath and the feather, you need to command the rahab to return to the staff.”

  His lip curled in a facsimile of a smile. “It is not an easy process, he has enjoyed his freedom below the city after so many years confined to the wood touched by God.”

  “Not our problem,” Nate said. “Do you want to be reborn, or do you want to spend eternity as an old man?”

  The gaze slid from Nate to Cara. She wondered what churned in his mind, her gut said he had a plan, some card up his sleeve he hoped to play and win the game. To win everything.

  A brief nod, as though he finished a conversation with himself. “I will recall him tomorrow tonight. It might take several hours, and I need to prepare beforehand.”

  “You will do it where we can watch,” Nate said.

  Another nod. “There is a pier over the Thames at my Southwark property, I will conduct the ceremony there.”

  “How will we know if it works,” Cara said.

  The Curator gestured around him. “He will take his frigid touch with him and allow spring to settle over the city.”

  “Why did you do it? You said freezing London was a consequence, not an intention. A consequence of what?” She had to know, it was the one thing that didn’t make any sense.

  His grip tightened around the staff. “You had returned to London, and Nathaniel grasped you before I could. I thought if I dropped this visage and returned to my true form, you would listen to my proposal.”

  She swallowed, trying to digest his meaning. Did he mean he wanted to be young to lure her away from Nate? What had her father done that triggered the Curator’s fascination with her, and how did it tie in with his and Henry’s scheme? She frowned as she chased down ideas until one lit up. “Power is like water, it has trickled through your body for decades, but you needed it to flow. You thought the unleashed rahab would finally allow your transformation to work.”

  “I believed if it were free in all its majesty, this shell might drop away at last. It would appear I was incorrect, and it unleashed its full power on London instead.” The cold smile flashed and vanished. “Pity.”

  “Recall your creature, and once it is done, we will meet for the exchange with the phoenix feather and the dragon,” Nate said.

  “One more small point. Once I have recalled the rahab, I will return to a mortal state. You will not receive the staff until I am reborn, to ensure you don’t seek to implement your plans for revenge.” He met Nate’s steely gaze.

  Nate never blinked.
“I give you my word I’ll not touch you until you are transformed.”

  The shiver shot down Cara’s spine. Cross and double-cross played out by the frozen river, and she wasn’t sure who would emerge victorious.

  Csenger nodded. “Kensal Green Cemetery. I do so like their gardens and it is a fitting place to shed this skin.” He stepped back onto the slab of ice, and it moved him to the centre of the Serpentine—where he disappeared, as though taking an open elevator down.

  s soon as they returned to Mayfair, they departed for Leicester. Cara wanted to use the cover of night to move Kirill since he would no doubt insist on accompanying her.

  Sergei stood on the back patio and wrapped her in a bear hug. “Look after him.”

  “You won’t stay a little longer?” She frowned, still unable to grasp that the dragon master would leave his charge in the middle of London. Although so far, no one had remarked upon Kirill, except to ask for the name of the maker. What few pedestrians saw him assumed the wealth of the villainous viscount meant he could buy a better automaton, like his sleek mechanical horses.

  He huffed. “Too warm, I return to others. They need me, Kirill has you.”

  “We will miss you,” she said. “I will protect him with my life.”

  He ruffled her hair and nodded. Nate and Sergei had a murmured conversation, shook hands and the dragon master slipped away into the night.

  “The Isis will take him back to Siberia,” Nate said as he climbed into Bobby, their miniature dirigible. “He wants to move the others deeper into Siberia before the world figures out Kirill isn’t an automaton. He’s our full responsibility now.”

  Inside Bobby sat Nate, Cara, and Nan. Nessy stayed with the sleeping Rachel, so the child wasn’t alone in her new world. Kirill tried to squish in, and Cara had to growl and tell him out like a naughty puppy. He sat on the ground and watched as their small craft shot into the air and then getting the idea, flapped his wings to follow. He flew alongside, and kept pace with slow strokes through the night. Cara breathed a sigh of relief at the rolling clouds that obscured the moon. No slivers escaped to illuminate their strange companion, and she only prayed no one on the roads below looked up.