by Candy Nicks
Chapter 10
It looked like a plain piece of glass, similar to the one Martha had given her. Small, unassuming, it nestled in the wooden box giving no clues to its worth. Only those who knew would understand what they were seeing.
Vin grimaced and popped another pill. His tired face haggard and grey. He hauled himself upright and joined her at the table. “Well,” he said. “Does it like you?"
Carine's hand trembled too much to find out. The vibes were good, the aura, beautiful. She sucked in a calming breath. Such a long time since she'd connected with the Source that she felt as if it were her first time. Vin swept up the Crystal impatiently and dropped it into her outstretched hand.
"Don't be shy, sweetie. Do your voodoo and see if it takes."
"What did the medic say?” A steady stream of healers, medics and quacks had been beating a path to Vin's door during the past week. And that could only mean one thing.
"Not good, sweetie, not good. You don't happen to have healing powers, do you?” His tone was cynical, but she didn't miss the hope, lingering in his weakening voice.
"I'd hardly begun my training."
"But you can try? Give me a few more years, at least? Dammit, I've spent a fortune on Moon-Children with their Wish-in-Hand intact and will that fucking Wish do anything for me? Nothing!"
She weighed the Crystal in her hand, silently reciting the invocation. Outwardly, the signs were good. The Crystal hummed on her palm. “It's hard to explain, Vin. The Crystal gives us power, but not as it once did. There were those who sought to harness that power for their own ends. They began to think of themselves as invincible and that didn't sit well with the Goddess. Stilling the hand of death is far beyond me."
"You did it for Ancel.” Vin stopped for breath, wheezing in the effort to fill his lungs.
"It's a popular misconception, Vin. Decadents think all they have to do is buy themselves a Wish-in-Hand and everything will be well. How often have you seen that work? The Wish has a mind of its own. It goes where it chooses."
"All right, all right, I saw it happen once, but you're right. The slavers are just rip-off merchants preying on the desperate. Don't you think I know that? So, devoid of your Wish-in-Hand, what can you do?"
"I can absolve you. Ease your pathway into the other world."
"And this will result in you becoming contaminated by my sins, am I right? But I'll still die soon, dammit. What about a different trade instead? You spoke of balance. How about a straight swap? My life-span for yours, and I'll give you the access code for Ancel's bracelet."
Desperation seeped from every pore. Vin glanced about the room, almost as if he could see Death waiting quietly in the wings to carry him off.
"I can't do that—granting you absolution will be difficult enough. If I manage that, I'll want my access code too. Think of eternity, Vin. Find yourself a Wish that will co-operate and you'll get a few more years, but what's that compared to an infinity of torment?"
"No deal, sweetheart.” Vin snatched the Crystal from her palm and threw it back into its box. “You give me an afterlife that doesn't involve me roasting in Hell's fire and I'll give you one access code. I intend to hang on to every last second I have left. I might get away with losing one of you, but two of you? The Mistress is not a tolerant woman. She'd have my hide. Break the Bond and take the code for yourself. Ancel's worth more to the O than you are."
"I'm doing this for him."
"Go ahead then. Do it now."
"Now?"
"Yes, dearie. Now. Having second thoughts, are we? Got to be addictive, all that adulation on tap. You going to be able to live without it?"
Could she? For the first time her resolve wavered. Ancel was a good fighter. He'd keep her safe and they could live together in that small room they'd learned to call home. It wasn't the adulation, it was him. His very presence gave her life a meaning she'd never dreamed of. She worried about him, fussed over him. He was the last thing she saw before sleep and the first thing she saw when she awoke. Their two lives had meshed in a way that would be hard to untangle.
"He wants to go home, and I have the means to make that happen. Give me the Crystal."
"No funny business, Carine. No cloaking or masking, comprende? I can still read you like a book. That kind of magic might work on the others, but it doesn't work on me. The cosy little life you have here with Ancel. It's all a big fake, you know that? Unsustainable."
"I know.” Cloaking depended mainly on the susceptibility of the audience. Even if she did have the time and had completed her training, Vin wouldn't fall for it. She touched the Crystal again. Ran her fingers over the smooth facets, letting the power seep into her. Picked it up and held it in the palm bearing the marks.
You would break the Bond? Their horrified question echoed in her head.
"I call upon the Magic to grant me worthy. Undo that which cannot be undone."
No. We will not let him go.
"You must. Or he will die."
No! It cannot be done.
The symbols ached and resisted the magic. Overlaying their hysteria, she heard the calm, clear voice of the Crystal.
You ask too much, child. What is done is done.
"You have spoken?"
I am not for you. Find another. The Goddess be with you.
"And with you.” Her legs wobbled and she grabbed at the edge of the table to steady herself. Disappointment, yes, but mostly relief that the Bond was still in place.
"It rejected you? After all that, it rejected you?” Vin's voice rose to a thin shriek. “That son of a whore sold me a duff?"
"It happens.” The shakes started in earnest. Her system crashing down to earth after the euphoria of connecting with the Source and the stress of what she'd been about to do. So close. If only she'd finished her training, she might have handled this better.
"Sit down, before you fall down.” Vin cocked his head, reading her because she was too incoherent to speak. “Okay, I was being cheap. I'll get a better one, a stronger one. Maybe I'll get someone else to do it."
"Find another Soul-Reader? Once in a generation, we come along. Unfortunately, because of the dire consequences it's a gift with very little practical use."
Vin snapped the lid onto the box in disgust. “Bad luck sweetie. Of all the gifts, you had to get that one."
"The Crystal gave me leave to try another."
"Then we will. Get yourself changed, curtain's up in less than an hour. And we've got a special treat lined up for tonight.” He laughed. “Yes, that fool of a Brynn fancies his chances for your hand. If you could hear what goes on inside of his head you'd blush to the roots of you hair."
She lifted her head, reaching for Vin's thin arm. “No. He promised me he wouldn't. He promised."
Vin patted her hand and placed it back onto the table. “Don't worry, Brynn would die rather than break the code. He didn't have to ask, I ordered him to fight. He knew I would if he pestered me in here for long enough.” He tapped his head. “Ancel asked for some proper competition. Well, tonight he'll get it."
Carine grabbed at him again, this time holding on. “You can't let Brynn lay down his life so some worthless decadents can have a few moments of entertainment. Ancel will kill him. Tell Brynn no."
"Do you know how many tickets we've sold for this event? Mistress would have my hide if we pulled now."
"I can't watch him die for me. I can't.” She lifted her chin and met Vin eye to eye. “You let Brynn fight, and our deal's off."
"Goodness, woman. What's come over you? You have feelings for Brynn now?"
"I don't want anyone to die on account of me. He'll give Ancel a good fight, but he won't beat him."
"You're bluffing."
"Am I?"
"Compromise. I'll let it go to the edge, but no death. The crowd will lynch me if I do any less."
The best she could hope for? Carine decided not to push her luck. Perhaps she could talk to Ancel. Ask him to be merciful.
"All
right. But if either of them dies I will make sure you go straight to Hell and burn in the Pit for all eternity."
"Don't worry, darling. That's where you're going. Just got to find us the right Crystal."
She followed him to the wardrobe room. After the attack, Martha had disappeared. In her place sat a dark-eyed youth with softly curling shoulder-length hair. Vin rooted in his shoulder-pouch and casually tossed him a packet of cigarettes. The youth returned a heart-breaking smile and winked provocatively.
Vin flicked expertly through the rails and pulled out a shimmering, low-cut sheath-dress. It left nothing to the imagination. “No knickers and blue lighting. You'll go down a storm, sweetie. And don't be so prissy.” He nodded at the youth who had wandered over to the window to light up. “He's not a slave, he works here. If you'd been born with a face like that, wouldn't you be selling it?"
"I've got to go. Need to talk with Ancel."
"To ask for mercy? Now isn't that a strange concept. Wonder if we could work it into the act?"
"You wouldn't know the meaning of the word. Let me go."
"I don't think so, sweetheart. Change in here. Rik will do your make-up. I don't want Ancel upset."
"Upset? What planet do you live on, Vin?"
"The planet reality,” he threw back at her. “It's dog eat dog, and the one with the biggest balls wins the prize. If you're going for hysterical you're going to need the waterproof mascara.” He flounced away, leaving Carine with Rik, who stubbed out the cigarette and shrugged nonchalantly.
"Ignore him, he's just a big old drama queen. C'mon, a bit of war-paint will cheer you up like nothing else."
Rik worked meticulously. Kohl and an earthy brown for her eyes. White face powder, contrasting with a rich dark red on her lips. A choker of black polished stones. Her hair oiled, sleek and pulled back with pins into a tight chignon. On her forehead he stuck a deep blue gem.
"You need a nose-piercing,” he said standing back to admire his work. “Want me to do it?"
"No.” It wasn't Carine staring back at her in the mirror, and that's how she liked it. Being another person helped her get through this.
"Want one of these?"
"No.” She tried to ignore the small pill-box hovering just inside her line of vision. Poor Brynn. After tonight, what would be left of him? “Yes I do,” she said, holding out her palm. She didn't want to witness it. But if she must, she didn't want to care. At that moment she never wanted to care again.
* * * *
Her fear appeared too genuine tonight. Carine stumbled onto the stage, eyes wide in silent appeal. Resisted when they restrained her, cuffing each wrist to the silk-covered bed. Shook her head against the gag that would stop her distracting them. Ancel had gone along with the charade, but never once had he taken her, there in front of the slavering audience as he was supposed to. Breaking the weak chains and carrying her from the stage was all they got in the way of post-fight drama.
Ancel studied his opponent—a man who looked altogether too composed for someone about to meet a violent death. Brynn had the look of one who cared only for his immediate goal. Ancel hardened his heart, but found a small spark of sympathy for the man about to face him. This desperate wanting that caused so much pain you would lay down your life for it—that he could understand. He'd been gripped by that particular madness ever since the Bonding. But, Carine was his and he'd defend the claim to his last breath.
He chose his usual short sword and dagger, preferring the freedom they gave him over the heavy cudgels and broadswords. Brynn favoured the axe, swinging it experimentally as he waited for the curtain to rise and the stage to move forward into the audience. He eyed Ancel with a resolute insolence, showing neither fear nor emotion. Bouncing on his toes, revving up for the fight, Ancel buckled the dagger-belt about his waist and recited his mantra, invoking his Gods to strengthen his arm and shield Carine from harm.
The stage glided silently forward, the curtains parting to reveal the set. Brynn, instead of acknowledging the cheers and whistles, launched straight at him, axe held aloft. Ancel back flipped away, leaving Brynn flailing at thin air. The man's desperation outstripped his determination, making him waste energy and lose his balance. Ancel caught him with a low slash to his boot as he pitched forward. Brynn sucked in a sharp breath and pushed upright, the axe twirling in his hand.
"Don't make me kill you,” Ancel said dodging the blow. “She wouldn't want that."
"Then I win either way,” Brynn returned, already swinging the axe for his next blow. “Kill me, and she'll hate you for it. I kill you, she's mine."
"You think too highly of yourself, boy. She has a soft spot for misfits. That's all you are to her.” They circled around each other, crouched and tense.
"And you're delusional. How else could an Eagle warrior be slave to a Moon-Child, than by magic?"
The truth hurt more than the blows. With a roar, Ancel kicked out at Brynn, his heavy boot glancing against the man's jaw. He twirled, swung the sword, catching Brynn in the side before Brynn could raise his axe. It sliced through leather and flesh, embedding itself into bone with a jarring crunch. He pulled it free with a slicing action and staggered back. Brynn bit back the cry of pain, and doubled over clutching at his side, blood seeping through his fingers.
"You will always be her slave,” he ground out. “That's all you are. A slave."
Ancel served him two rapid punches to the mouth as Brynn crumpled. Gathering the front of Brynn's tunic, he hauled him upright, punching him again, low in the stomach. Brynn seemed more concerned with making his point than fighting on.
"You will never know what it is to love her freely.” Brynn fell to his knees gasping for breath. Glanced at Carine, who was transfixed with horror at the unfolding scene. “Go on, kill me,” he said quietly. “I want her to hate you for it."
The crowd took up the chant. Kill, kill, kill. Ancel desperately scanned the guards lining the back of the stage. No stun-guns, only their usual blast-guns. Vin sat in a chair, just out of sight of the audience, hands tucked into the sleeves of his kimono. He nodded briefly at Ancel's frown and reached for his microphone. His voice boomed out.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we bring you a simple execution. To the victor the spoils. To the vanquished, death."
The crowd took up the chant. To the victor the spoils. To the vanquished, death. Carine made a strangled noise, low in her throat, the only sound the gag would allow, begging him to be merciful.
Vin stepped onto the stage and took up the count. Five, four, three, two...
The final second lasted an eternity. The crowd quivering as one as they counted down. Carine shaking her head in denial. Vin, grinning as he whipped up the frenzied mob. Brynn, grim and unflinching, the smallest hint of a triumphant smile on his lips as he lowered his head to receive the blow. Ancel raised his sword, two handed to stop the trembling of his tense muscles. Did Brynn deserve to die for daring to love Carine? Was he killing the man because he envied him his free heart? Gods he was tired of killing. From the corner of his eye he saw a guard move towards Carine.
"No. Don't kill him! Ancel, no!” Carine's voice cut through the crowd. The counting stopped. Vin immediately swung into action.
"Beauty begs for mercy for her gallant suitor. What will the beast do?"
The lights dimmed and Ancel found himself caught in the glare of a single spotlight. He stood for a long moment, staring into the crowd. Vin had played them like a master, to the last note. They were all victims here. In front of him, Brynn slumped to the floor.
Reversing the sword to hold it by the blade, Ancel swung back his arm and threw it, circling towards Vin. He'd already ducked out of the way. The sword cut a swathe through the spot the man had occupied seconds earlier. The crowd gasped as one and then sank back into excited whispers. The bookmakers circulated, paying out the wins, collecting bets for the next act. The curtains closed with a swish.
Two guards dragged Brynn, coughing and spluttering, from the st
age. Another, still holding the gag, took Carine. Jana appeared, wearing a long, flowing gown, walked over to the bed and lay down. A stage hand pushed a wobbling cardboard tree into place. Ancel stayed rooted to the spot, a hollow, empty pit opening up inside of him. A puddle of blood pooled at his feet, staining the toe of his boot. It used to be simple. Kill the bad man, defend the good. But how could he know any more which was which?
Back in the room he found Carine dressed in a short robe, her back to the door. Moving up behind her, he swept aside her hair and pressed his mouth to her neck, sucking hard until he'd marked her. She moaned softly and quivered in his arms. “You're mine,” he said. “Never forget that."
He didn't wait for a reply. Pushing her aside, he strode into the bathing-room and slammed the door.
* * * *
"Ancel?” She tapped on the door, afraid to go in uninvited. Her neck still tingling from his mouth. After a few moments she pushed and let it swing gently open. “Can I come in?"
Ancel gave her a curt nod and stood obediently while she wrapped him in her arms. The splash of blood staining his boot made her heart lurch. Without medical care, Brynn might die. He might already be dead. She pressed her face against Ancel's chest, shaking and begging for comfort. Her first duty was to this man, not Brynn. Ancel moved, eventually, and returned her embrace, a brief squeeze before removing her arms and stepping away.
She understood his reluctance. The waters were becoming muddier by the day. The Bonding demanded total surrender, exclusive rights, but it asked too much. Even in the outside world, as free people, that wouldn't have been possible.
"You want to go and see how he is. Go ahead."
"I want to be with you."
"I can't give you anything right now. I need time to think."
"Then come and sit with me. They'll bring us food, we'll eat. Then we'll talk."
Ancel gave the side of the tub a sharp kick, making her start. “Look at this,” he said holding up a trembling hand. “This has never happened to me before. I was always so sure about everything. Every decision I made was right. Now? I couldn't do it. He deserved to die, and I couldn't do it."