Geoffrey Mylus,
July 11, 1833
****
The men winced and shielded their faces when the gate between the bailey and the clan houses was opened. A fantastic white light broke over the main gate and adjacent walls and was flooding the faces of the watchtowers. The immediate change was harsh upon the eyes. The men kept an arm up in defence and made their way to the top of the gates, looking down at the source of the light, unable to make out who the strangers might be.
“Thomas!” There came a familiar voice from below. The light drew back, and when his eyes adjusted, Tom could see Molly’s face clearly, smiling. Next to her—a guilty expression on his face—was Leon, who said nothing and stood quietly.
“You know these two?” asked Felix, turning to Tom.
“Yes. You may know of the young woman, Lucia. She is Gabriel Vasquez’s daughter. I have been expecting her. We parted in Paris. The other…” Tom paused. Leon looked admittedly resigned. Obviously he hadn’t come with any malice. That much was certain, or else the Black Coats would be with him and dressed for battle. So, Thomas lied on Leon’s behalf, but wasn’t prepared to trust him entirely. “The other is one of Henriette Petit’s spies.”
“Spies?” Felix didn’t readily accept the explanation, until Geoffrey, detecting Tom’s lie and need for secrecy, jumped in.
“Yes, Henriette must have sent him along to bear news to us. He successfully infiltrated Montmartre, living among the Black Coats for months, and it was upon his return that we learned of the Society’s weakening just before the Blood Moons attacked.” Geoffrey spoke confidently and perfectly, and, to Tom’s surprise, Felix immediately believed the story.
“Well by all means, usher them in before the rain starts again!” Felix waved to the watch at the gates and the three men went below to meet Molly and Leon.
Neither Tom nor Molly allowed themselves to express the excitement they felt to see one another again. She wasn’t about to drop her guise to whoever the people inside the great castle were. It had taken much persistence, and only her unyielding siege of light had been enough to make them take her seriously. Tom also had a certain degree of respect to maintain. Geoffrey had given him a head start with the Schwarzer Mond, and he’d only just spent the night demonstrating his prowess in combat. Too busy managing straight faces and rigid posture, both Tom and Molly faced one another with distinguished coolness and exchanged only firm nods of greeting. To draw Felix’s attention away from their painfully awkward behavior, Geoffrey welcomed Leon, congratulating him on his success and mentioning Henriette. Leon, realizing he was supposed to be a spy, kept silent and nodded to Geoffrey. He hoped his stoicism was convincing. The Schwarzer Mond had accepted that he was on their side, and they still watched him with more distrust than Molly. He didn’t want to know how they would treat a de facto Black Coat, especially a Beaumonte. Not much was said, except for a short round of introductions. Felix welcomed both Molly and Leon, expressing a lax interest in both of them. Tired from battle, he excused himself and ordered some of his men from the bailey to help them to bedrooms if they wished to rest. Molly did not take his behavior for rudeness. She was far too anxious to be alone with Thomas to care who Felix was or what clan she was in the midst of. Thomas would have all the answers to those questions, and the most pressing matter on her mind was Paris, especially what had happened between her and the demon Maria. To her dismay, although she expected it, Tom first intended to have a word with Leon.
Pulling him aside, Tom spoke with him for several minutes. Molly watched their faces and mouths, trying to decide if they were arguing or making formal arrangements to kill one another. For most of the excruciating interaction, Tom’s eyebrows refused to unlock and relax. His wolf eyes just bore down on Leon, whose cello voice chipped away at the savage beast inside Tom. A few times Leon appeared offended, but his tempo and volume were resilient and moderate. Tom’s nostrils would flare as he sniffed for hidden intention on Leon’s person, but always his keen ears could find no suspicious note in the tune Leon sang. Tom’s commanding presence was exciting, reminding Molly of their intimate adventure in London. Leon was charming, but not commanding; persuasively cool, not fiery. The vampire was being safe and letting Tom have control of the argument. Molly smiled and thought the entire discussion to be amusing. Tom would dominate the argument regardless of Leon’s approach, but, she thought, Leon was clever with his words and would ultimately determine Tom’s interpretation of their verbal duel. Gradually and unconsciously she became engrossed in fantasies of both men.
It was not until Leon extended a diplomatic hand to Tom that Molly felt all was well. Tom’s anger left his brow, and his eyes seemed to sigh as the weight lifted. A truce, at best, thought Molly. Good enough. She would soothe away any lingering worry of Tom’s later, in private. She smiled at him as he came to lead her up to his room in the Second Head. Leon, companionless and in no need of sleep, found a sword on the wall in the dining hall and prepared to spend most of the night there, focused on his favorite sport.
“You were in the gardens, then, when I came for you,” Tom was saying as Molly walked about the bedroom, distractedly touching little things of interest on the walls.
“Yes, and it was because the ring told me you were there. Ever since then I’ve followed my intuition to you. It’s as if everything this ring was capable of doing, I am now capable of. As you can see, it isn’t a ring anymore.” Molly held up her delicate hand and turned it over, revealing the weave of golden veins affixed to the back of it.
“Let me see,” said Tom, eyes wide as he came close and took her hand to inspect it.
“I missed you, Thomas.” Molly felt a sadness take her when Tom took her hand. She hadn’t touched him since they arrived in France. He was very gentle with her hand, and before she told him any more of what happened to her in Paris, she moved close so he would hold her in his arms.
“My greatest fear was that Corvessa was right. I thought I would never see you again,” he said quietly, holding her close and trying to cover up the tremors in his voice.
“That despicable … bitch!” Molly burst. “I knew she was the one, Thomas! She provoked you and tried to have me killed!” Molly shook with rage, and her eyes blazed white with harsh light. A painfully loud hum filled the air and Tom, in wonder at the force coming from the young woman, held her tight by the shoulders and talked her down from her anger.
“Molly! Molly I know she is to blame! Leon told me his story too, and that he lost everything because of her. I believe both of you. Please, be calm.”
“I should have killed her!”
“Molly,” Tom said again, firmly but not as loud.
“I could have.” Molly sobbed and held to Tom’s shirt, wetting it with her tears. Tom kept quiet and let her cry, holding her head and brushing her hair with his fingers.
“Look at you, Molly. You really are an angel now. Is this all from the ring? I’ve never seen anything like it. So beautiful …” His whispers reached just the right places, and the hurt in her head and heart dulled. The white glow in her eyes receded, and once again her old features returned.
“The demon in the garden,” she began, resting her head against his chest. “It called itself Maria, but the name didn’t belong to it. My mother was there, but I didn’t see her. I only felt her.”
“Who is Maria?” he asked.
“I have many questions to ask my father, and that is one of them. I think I already know. In fact, I have no doubt I know who she is, but I don’t know why he would do this to her, and to my mother. I know there are things he hasn’t told me. Why would he keep secrets? What kind of things has he done that he doesn’t want me to know?” She choked again and buried her eyes in his shirt.
“Your mother? You don’t mean that she was part of the ring?” Tom began to understand. The ring he had given to Molly and the ring his father had given to Harlan were soul wells. They held the lives of Justine Scott, Molly’s mother, and Maria Vasquez, Mol
ly’s sister. “Molly, he must have created the rings when you and your sister were born. You said your mother died in childbirth, and Maria must have not survived. She was your twin.”
“My twin?” Molly looked up at him with wide, swollen eyes.
“Before Harlan died, he warned me about your sister. Maria was a blank soul, open to influence. She never had a life of her own, and so Harlan’s must have colored her spirit. That is why she appeared to you as a demon. She was lost in this world, and driven by the remnants of my brother’s dark emotions.”
Tom stared off into empty space as he spoke, humbled by his new respect for magic and the consequences of its abuse. “I once read about a kind of soul well created for a magical creed called dualship. This is when a magesmith uses a captured life force as a personal protector. If they die, dualship promises that the captured life may be liberated when the enchanted object next changes ownership. This means the life may inhabit a body of its choosing, and the person whose life it displaces becomes the next protector, and so forth.” As the tangled web of cause and effect unraveled in his mind, Tom became dizzy.
“I didn’t recognize Maria as my twin because the body she occupied was someone else’s.” Molly cried no more. Like Tom, the avalanche of truth that swept her away was so swift and deep she did not know how to react. Her hands clasped the back of Tom’s shirt, and she didn’t let go for the longest time. She held tightly as if she could no longer trust the world around her, and at any moment her reality could change. She held to Tom, her anchor, and he held her with just as much trust, but with more distress than ever. In the time since she had come to Hainburg, the dreigher had not made a sound. Molly was a powerful and benevolent force, and her new, strange strength was not just a product of the ring she once wore. Tom felt the dreigher thinking, planning. It was going to try to get away from her, and Tom feared it would take him with it.
After Molly was asleep and settled, Tom went to Felix and made arrangements to leave the following morning before sunrise. Prior to climbing the tower back to his room, he also met with Geoffrey, making his offer briefly and clearly. He would hire Geoffrey as a temporary travel guide, as far as Felix was to understand it, and he would pay Geoffrey for magescribe work, offering the security of a contract, under which Tom would pay extra if, by the time they returned home to London, he did not plan to sail within two months. Geoffrey needed no convincing, and when Tom left, he began packing and planning his speech to Felix.
Molly continued to sleep, but Tom could not keep his eyes shut. Not only was he wide awake and full of unused energy, he had come to dread sleep. He didn’t trust it, not as long as the dreigher lived inside him. When he gave himself to sleep, he gave himself up to the demon; especially now that he was so close to Romania, he was afraid to take any gamble against his own favor, even if it cost him rest. The castle was quiet, but outside the things dwelling in the valley forests were awake and stirring. It was difficult for Tom to focus on his thoughts because his ears interrupted him with every little sound coming from somewhere beyond the open window across the room. Finally, in the early morning, he got up from the bed and shut the window. As he sat in a chair by the bed, the only noise he detected came from far below in the bailey—a subtle, high pitched whine of sword slices, splitting empty air in the dining hall.
Leon had mastered swordsmanship so many times over he had lost any appreciation for what mortals refer to as “perfection.” After his mortal life ended and his immortal one began, he quickly took to the sport as a means of coping. The greatest shock to his mind was his body’s rejection of sleep. His father, Arnaud, concerned that his son would go mad if he did not occupy the dark hours of the day with anything safer than his own repetitive thoughts, suggested Leon take up the sword, teaching him the basics. Leon found much solace in the hobby. It was elegant, interesting, and difficult enough to keep him practicing for ages if he so chose. His relationship to the sword reminded him of how one feels toward a lover, the way one dedicates himself when he decides he has found someone with whom he wishes to spend the rest of his life. Love, he felt, was as difficult to master as the sword, and he sometimes romanticized the feeling that he was learning to love again by learning to duel. Each time he practiced, he thought not of combat, but of finding someone to care for. If his father could, then so could he. The Schwarzer Mond soldiers kept an eye on Leon all night, until they fell asleep, bored of expecting him to turn on them and kill everyone in the castle. The way he swung his blade was deliberate, casual and routine—not threatening—and not unlike a lullaby.
Before sunrise Tom gathered up his and Molly’s things, allowing her to sleep as long as he could before going to meet Felix in the bailey. Just before leaving to go downstairs, Tom woke her, and she began to fuss with her hair and dig fresh clothes out of her bag. A family living within the castle grounds was kind enough to sell her some new clothing of their own making and made time to tailor it as best they could to her figure.
Leon was sitting with Felix, Geoffrey and some of the Schwarzer Mond around the dining table, and no one was saying much. The early morning watch were loudly eating breakfast. Tom did not sit, because as soon as he arrived, Geoffrey and Felix got up. They hadn’t waited long, but Felix had summoned a pair of guides who would take Tom and Molly down to the village and beyond, to the river where a small boat was waiting for them. Leon followed behind the men as they left the hall and the bailey, out into the courtyard where Felix’s guides were waiting.
“These two will take you to the river,” said Felix to Tom. “You can follow the Danube as far as Bucharest, where you will need to travel up the Argeş River and into the Southern Carpathian Mountains. A brief stop in Bucharest would be wise, but after that, follow the Argeş on foot for the remainder of the journey. Do not stray too far northeast. Near the source of the Argeş, in the mountains, is where you will find the Helvetii. Rather, I should say, they may find you before you find them.”
Geoffrey added, “The Gem Road continues north of Bucharest and through Helvetian lands. It is still a safe region to travel because the Helvetii protect it. Their only lucrative trade with the outside world is in magic.”
Felix nodded. “Geoffrey spoke with me earlier,” he said. “You should consider bringing him with you. He has much knowledge of the geography east of Hainburg, and I can attest that he is an invaluable source of knowledge pertaining to magic.”
“I have no objections,” replied Tom. He hadn’t expected Felix to be the one to bring up the subject, much less insist that Geoffrey come along with Tom and the others. Geoffrey nodded in agreement as Tom shook his hand and then Felix’s.
Molly, dressed, bright and beautiful, came down from the tower and found the group in the courtyard. Felix politely removed his helmet and tucked it under one arm. Tom almost reached for his hat and remembered he wasn’t wearing one. It had begun to annoy him that he couldn’t keep track of a hat. Without delay, Felix instructed his guides to take Leon, Geoffrey, Tom and Molly down to the village, briefly assess its condition so they could report upon their return, and then proceed to the river where the party’s boat was waiting on the shore.
“I was beginning to think I would never see a clear sky again,” remarked Tom, looking up at the partially grey sky as the group moved down the mountain road toward the village. The rain had stopped, but the dreariness of the past several days had not left. The forest was quiet and dark, still damp.
Geoffrey had taken out one of his maps and was mumbling to himself about what routes to take and which to cut across, which ones might save time and which no longer existed. Molly seemed to be in good spirits, humming every now and then and watching the forest with curiosity. The guides spoke back and forth, pointing out each change in direction to the other and then laughing at one another’s jokes or discussing trivial matters. Leon was perfectly silent, keeping pace with the group but never saying a word.
Eventually the mountain trails led them right into the village beneath Hainburg.
Its people were already up and busily tending their vegetable gardens and livestock in the dark. No one paid the visitors much mind as they passed through. The Schwarzer Mond were not a threat to the people. In fact, they protected them frequently in exchange for goods. One of the reasons Felix had sent his guides along was to relay an apology to the villagers. The attack on Hainburg and the grave robberies just before had not been anticipated, and the Schwarzer Mond had not been able to prevent either. The guides explained this to a few of the governing officials in the village, and all was well. After that business was put to rest and the group followed the road out of town, Tom caught sight of the graveyard in the distance—a vague reminder of his experience with the dreigher. It was difficult not to think about the night of the attack and wonder about the Eight’s army. Their existence had begun to disturb Tom in the way it disturbed Geoffrey. Were they truly everywhere, as it would seem? Who commanded them? Certainly it was not a central European source, but a collection of secretive ones. Somehow they had known Tom was at Hainburg, because the commanding officer had indirectly named him during the exchange with Felix. It was Felix’s theory that one of the Eight, or some force working for the Eight, had seen Tom in Paris. But more than that, they had to have known Tom’s intention to travel east. From now on, thought Tom, he would have to be more careful.
It seemed the farther from Hainburg they walked, the bluer the skies above. As the first light of day washed up into view in the east, grey had become grey-blue, and though the sun was not visible yet, it soon would be. The Danube flowed alongside the road they traveled, having snuck up on them before light. Broad and blue, it moved slowly and not too loudly.
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