by Jane Kindred
“No, but I think Lucy must.” Theia glanced at Rhea’s profile. “Thanks, Moonpie.”
“Oh, God. I’m Moonpie again. What did I do now?”
“I think you riled her up to the point that she was mad enough to actually give me some helpful information.”
Rhea grinned and gave her a sidelong glance. “By the way, did you see how riled up ‘kitty’ was? And I do mean up.”
Theia groaned. “I’m never going to be able to look at Puddleglum the same way again.”
Rhea couldn’t stop giggling about “Bad Kitty” on the drive back to Phoebe’s. She climbed into bed with Leo when they arrived, and Theia put in her ear buds to drown out any embarrassing noise that might ensue and dragged out Rafael Sr.’s archives, carefully rereading everything. She’d missed any hint of a curse the first time, so maybe she wasn’t looking in the right place.
She combed through deeds and bills of sale in French, in which she was far from fluent but could get the gist of. Lists that looked like maybe instructions for household staffs and bills of lading—things she would have been fascinated by at any other time—and finally stumbled upon something promising after several hours of eyestrain: the declaration of Madeleine’s guilt, attested to by Philippe Smok, Vicomte de Briançon.
Seeing the words on paper made her shiver. This was Madeleine’s denouncement by her own employer, who, by Lucien’s account, had done it for personal gain. It made it seem a great deal more real, even if she couldn’t read much of it. Theia stroked her fingers over the ancient ink. At the bottom of the page was what she thought at first was a smudge. But on closer inspection, she was convinced it was the symbol of the black moon—the mark of Lilith.
She stroked the ink of her tattoo—one she’d gotten because of a dream. She’d thought it would protect Rhea from the danger the dream had foretold if she had the tattoo she’d seen on Rhea on her skin instead. Of course, Rhea had already tattooed herself with the symbol. And the dream had actually been about Leo and not danger at all. Trying to outsmart her dreams was a fool’s errand.
Theia looked back carefully through some of the daily minutiae she’d skimmed over. Had she seen the symbol on something else? Sure enough, there it was on what she’d taken for a bill of lading—with what looked like a partial signature at the bottom that could have been “Madeleine.” Were these Madeleine’s own words?
The antiquated syntax was difficult to understand. Time for her translator app, even if it would only give her an imperfect understanding of it.
Painstakingly, Theia typed in one line at a time and copied the translations into her notepad. It seemed to be an exhortation of some kind. Theia pieced it together and came up with an approximation.
Mind what you have wrought. Seven daughters born and seven lost. The great lady will birth them again anon. And from every seven born and gone among your house will the Devil reap a son.
It was the curse Madeleine had spoken against the house of Smok.
* * *
After Lucy ignored her call and texts, Theia returned to the villa.
This time Lucy opened the door promptly and sighed. “What now? I haven’t heard from him. I would have told you if I had.”
Theia wasn’t so sure about that. “I spoke to Polly. She didn’t have any information except to tell me to talk to you and ask you where Lucien would go to avoid electronic communication.”
Lucy squinted at her, obviously sensitive to the light. “Electronic?”
“Someplace off the grid. Is there somewhere you went when you were kids that might have special meaning for him? Somewhere he’d feel safe?”
“Around here?” Lucy reached up to scratch her head but stopped with a grimace as she evidently remembered what was making it itch. “We didn’t spend much time around here when we were children. Although...”
“Although what?”
“There was this one time when Lucien said he was going to run away from home. Edgar was mad at him about something. I think it was right after our grandmother died. The family doctor had been at the funeral, and Lucien snuck into the back of her car. She was going to some vacation home she owned, and he ended up at her cabin. When she realized she had a stowaway, she let him stay for a day or two before she drove him back. Lucien never told Edgar where he’d been, and Fran didn’t give him away. Lucien only told me about it later.”
It sounded promising.
“Do you know where it is?”
“I don’t, but I can get the address from Dr. Delano.” Lucy was already dialing. “Hi, Fran. No new developments. I just wondered—this is going to sound like an odd question, but do you have the address of that place you used to have in the White Mountains?” Lucy listened for a moment. “You do? That would be great, thanks.” She ended the call and glanced at Theia. “She still owns it. She’s texting the address to my phone.” Lucy forwarded it to Theia when it came through. “Seems like a long shot, but here you go.”
“Thanks.” Theia paused. “Do you want to come with me?”
Lucy laughed and partially unfurled her wings. “I don’t think so. Not until I figure out what to do about all this myself. Lucien may have the right idea.”
* * *
It was just an hour before sunset by the time Theia reached the turnoff for Heber-Overgaard, but among the towering pines lining the two-lane highway that wound up into the mountains through logging country, it was already dusk. She was stuck behind a logging truck on the gradual incline, and it was nearly dark when she found the gravel road that led to the lakeside cabin. It was slow going after that, and Theia was starting to get the creeps driving so deep into the woods. Maybe she should have waited until morning.
But just as she was seriously considering finding somewhere to turn the car around, the headlights illuminated a log cabin in a small clearing—although “log cabin” seemed too rustic a name for it. It looked like a stately old homestead, as though someone had traveled west, stopped here before reaching the other side of the mountains and let the trees grow up around them until the place had been forgotten.
Theia stopped in the ruts of an old parking spot overgrown with weeds and got out, using the flashlight app on her phone to approach the cabin. Every horror movie cliché ran through her head. Why in the world had she driven here alone? She checked the cell signal. She’d definitely entered a dead zone.
There were no lights on inside the cabin. Theia tried the door and found it unlocked. She took a deep breath and opened it. The cabin smelled long unoccupied.
“Lucien?” Her voice came out in a raspy whisper, like she was trying to shout in a dream. The eerie feeling that maybe this was one of her dreams came over her. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Lucien, are you here?”
Something moved in the darkness. Theia pointed the light toward the sound, but whatever it was moved swiftly out of the beam. What if Lucien wasn’t here and she’d startled some wild animal? Or an ax-wielding maniac? Just as she was about to call out again, the figure in the dark spoke, and the rough whisper made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
“Why did you come?”
“Lucien?”
“Not anymore.” He squinted against the beam of light as she turned it on him, and she caught the flash of something bright blue before he rushed her and snatched the phone from her hand and shut it off. He was standing just inches in front of her now, and all she could see was the preternatural glow of his eyes. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“You shouldn’t have run off without telling me what happened.”
“Should I have come back to bed and touched you like this?” A claw stroked her cheek, and Theia jumped. “You see? I disgust you.”
“No, you don’t, you idiot. You’re just scaring the crap out of me by hiding in the dark in a cabin in the woods and acting like you’re an ax murderer.”
“You should be scared.”
&nb
sp; She was beginning to adjust to the darkness. His dim shape in the shadows just looked like Lucien. Except for the wings peeking out over the tops of his shoulders, slowly rising and falling with his breath.
“Who are you, Jeff Goldblum? Stop being dramatic.”
“The Fly. It’s a good analogy. I’m not Lucien anymore. I’m like Seth Brundle becoming the fly—Brundlefly.” He paused. “Smokdragon. Has a nice ring to it. Actually, ‘Smok’ means dragon in Polish.” He seemed to be getting his sense of humor back.
“Except the Brundlefly was a monster. You’re not.”
“Give me a few days.” He stroked her with his claw again, running it down her arm, but this time she was prepared and didn’t flinch. She might, in fact, have gotten a little aroused. “How did you find me?”
“I asked Lucy. She didn’t have any idea where you’d go at first, but then I...went to see Polly, and she told me to ask the right question.”
Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “You went to Polly? What did you give her?”
“A drop of blood.”
“Theia.” He shook his head. “God, I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“She promised she wouldn’t use it to hurt me, and I can read people pretty well. Their emotions give themselves away when they’re lying. She was telling the truth.”
“Of course she won’t use it to hurt you. Because now you’ll never be able to hurt her. Any harm that comes to her will be felt by you and all her gammon. You’ll come to her aid. That’s how she protects herself. It’s why she surrounds herself with those creatures. They all belong to her gam.”
“Her...what? Her gam?”
“It’s what they call a pod of whales or dolphins. A gam. From gammon. That’s what Polly likes to call the ones who give her ‘trinkets.’”
“Are you one of these...gammon?”
In the dark, she could just see the sadness in his smile. “Of course I am.”
And Rhea had given the siren a trinket, too. It was something Theia would have to worry about later. Right now she was more concerned with Lucien.
“So what are you planning on doing, hiding in the woods and living off squirrels?”
“I was thinking possum. More meat.” His smile was less sad and more amused. “But as it turns out, Fran has a propane-powered freezer full of meat, and the pantry is fully stocked.” Lucien stroked her arm again, seemingly unaware he was doing it. “If you’re hungry, I can whip something up.”
Theia’s stomach growled to announce that apparently she was.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” His hand slipped down to hers, but he seemed to remember himself as she intertwined her fingers with his, and he let go with a jolt. “As you see, I won’t be making anything complicated, but I think I can handle a spoon and a pot.” He turned and moved swiftly through the darkness into the kitchenette, as though he no longer needed light to see.
Theia followed, feeling for furniture and banging her knees on the corners of things along the way.
She rubbed her arms as she watched Lucien fill a pot with water and light the burner under it on the stove. “So there’s gas at least. No electricity?”
“There is, but it’s shut off when the place is empty, I guess. Sorry. Luckily all the appliances use propane.” He glanced at her after taking a box of couscous down from the shelf. “Are you cold?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
He shook his head. “My senses are all out of whack. Maybe I can light a fire later.” He slipped off the robe he was wearing and held it out for her. “Go ahead, take it. My core temperature is higher now.”
Theia put on the robe. Though it had been snug on Lucien, it fit her well enough, but she had to roll up the sleeves. He was wearing nothing but his boxers, which made for a nice view of his abs as he stirred the spices into the water. It also gave her an excellent view of his brilliant blue wings when he turned around.
Lucien caught her staring. “Freakish, aren’t they?”
“That’s not the word I was thinking of.”
“Oh? What would you call them?”
Theia smiled. “They’re kind of sexy, actually. Lovely color.”
Lucien laughed sharply. “Right. So sexy. Just like the scales on my fingers and the horns on my head.”
“I don’t mind.”
“How are you going to feel when I get further and further from human?”
“How do you know you will?”
“It’s how the curse works.”
“I’m not sure you know how the curse works. Have you read it?”
Lucien stopped stirring and stared at her. “Have I read it?”
“Because I have. Rafe’s father’s archives on the Covent—they’re magical. Every single item that’s been tagged and inventoried over the centuries can be conjured up from its listing.”
“And you saw Madeleine Marchant’s curse? In writing?”
“I held it in my hands and touched the ink.”
Lucien whistled. “So what does it say? Will the gates of hell open and swallow me up?”
“Well, that’s the thing. It’s not so specific about details. It’s more...poetic. I think she meant for your ancestors to spend years trying to work it out until the first son was transformed.”
The water had started to boil, and Lucien turned back to the stove to put the couscous in. “So it’s useless, in other words.”
“Not if we can figure out what the words mean. I saved the whole thing on my phone. We can take a look and try to decipher it.”
“Theia, there’s no magic cure. The drug Smok Biotech is working on might have done something to prevent this, but it’s too late. It’s happening.” He put the lid on the pot and turned off the heat to let the grain absorb the water. “If you want to do something useful with your phone, set the timer for five minutes. Forget Madeleine’s stupid poetry.”
She decided not to push it and let the subject drop.
When it was ready, Lucien dished up the couscous and served it with a bottle of water. “Sorry. I may have misled you about my culinary skills. There is plenty of food in the freezer, but this is actually all I know how to make, to be honest.”
Theia laughed. “It’s fine with me.”
They took their meal into the great room, and Lucien set about trying to figure out how to light a fire in the fireplace while Theia sat on the couch to eat. Lighting fires, it seemed, wasn’t part of his skill set, either, and after the fifth or sixth match failed to do anything but incinerate the balled-up newspaper he’d tucked into the logs, he bellowed in frustration. Surprising both of them, his outburst expelled a blast of blue flame—luckily aimed right at the firewood. In an instant, they had a cozy blaze.
Lucien straightened and grabbed the bottle of water he’d given Theia and drained it. “That was...” He shrugged after a moment. “Weird.”
“Did it hurt?”
“No, but it dried out my throat. I feel like I’ve been in a stadium all night screaming.” He did sound a bit gravelly. Which only added to his allure. He sat beside Theia. “I forgot to ask you how Lucy was handling things. She and Edgar have always been—well, closer isn’t the right word, because Edgar doesn’t really do close, but let’s say less acrimonious than Edgar and I.”
“She’s handling it about as well as you’d expect. I mean, she didn’t run off and hide in the woods, but she’s staying close to home.”
“Why would Lucy want to hide?”
Theia paused with a forkful of couscous. “You don’t know? I thought maybe you two had a magical twin connection, and you could feel it. But I guess you’re a little preoccupied with what you’re feeling.”
“Feel what? What happened?”
“You’re not the only one who was struck with the curse. Lucy assumes it’s because you both shared an egg.”
Lucien was stunned. �
�She’s shifting? She’s...” He indicated his horns and claws. “Like this?”
Theia nodded, eating the bite of couscous. “Pretty much exactly like that. Not so much with the claws but the horns and the wings. Only her color is red.”
“It never even crossed my mind that something could happen to Lucy.” Lucien tried to brush his hand through his hair and cursed as his claws hit his horns. “So I guess it’s a package deal. Edgar sold both our souls, and he didn’t even know it. I suppose we’ll both end up in hell.”
“Unless we can work out what Madeleine’s curse means and see if there’s any way around it.”
Lucien frowned, contemplating his food. “I know you mean well, but I really wish you’d drop it. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours trying to come to terms with the fact that this is actually happening to me. I don’t want to think about magical cures or spend my time chasing false hope.” He met her eyes. “I’d pretty much resigned myself to never seeing you again. And then you show up here. And I can’t pretend I’m unhappy about that fact. As much as I dread losing my humanity and becoming something even more grotesque—and as horrified as I am at the prospect of you witnessing it—all I want now is to spend the time I have left with you. Just being with you. Not fighting this.”
Theia set her bowl on the steamer trunk that served as a coffee table and reached for Lucien’s hand. He hesitated, claws tightly clenched inside his fist, but finally relented.
“And I’m here for that. I won’t bring it up again.” Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t keep pondering Madeleine’s secrets. She just wouldn’t mention it.
Lucien leaned toward her and kissed her chastely, but Theia wasn’t here for that. She’d had enough of chastity.
She moved her other hand to Lucien’s neck, thumb against the rough stubble at his jawline, and kept him from pulling away as she deepened the kiss. He wasn’t difficult to persuade. He also tasted of mint. Theia laughed softly against his lips, and Lucien drew back slightly, a puzzled smile on his face.
“What’s funny?”
“You brushed your teeth before I got here. You heard me coming, and you brushed your teeth.”