Gathering Black (Devilborn Book 2)

by Jen Rasmussen

  I half expected more lectures from Cooper on that very subject, once we were back on the road, but he just held my hand and drove in silence. We were making more-or-less directly for Boston, having heard from Dalton that Talon had apparently vanished, and that the road was likely safe. But despite the pillow I sat against for support, my back got stiff and sore, and we had to stop often so I could loosen it up. We didn’t take any more walks into remote areas, and we didn’t see any more of the Wicks.

  “Anything new from Dalton?” I asked Cooper over coffee and crullers in a Connecticut donut shop. The sun had gone down by then, and my back felt like it was on fire.

  He looked up from his laptop, where he’d been taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi to browse a few of the more obscure Blackwood hangouts, and shook his head. “Same as last night. He thinks our trail went cold after Virginia, but he won’t go into much detail. He’s protective of his intelligence and his sources.”

  “But you believe him anyway?”

  “It’s in his best interests to be sure. He’s not going to encourage us to lead the Wicks straight to him if he can help it.”

  I bit my lip. “But we didn’t think they were on our trail before, either. You were sure we weren’t being followed.”

  “I guess I’m no Dalton Blackwood,” Cooper said. “I screwed up. Talon knew we left Bristol, he tracked us, then he waited for a moment when we had our guard down.”

  “You really think that’s all there is to it?” I asked.

  “What else could there be? There’s no doubt the Wicks have been waiting for us to leave sanctuary. We knew we were being watched.”

  I nodded. That was the obvious answer. Still…

  “But it’s a bit of a coincidence,” I said. “Arabella coming to lure us out of Bristol on this strange errand to meet her father. And then Talon ambushing us on the road there.”

  Cooper was shaking his head, arms crossed, jaw set. “Look, I know my clan hasn’t been inspiring a lot of trust lately, so I don’t blame you for saying that. But we’re talking about a centuries-old war here. And that’s after the feeders enslaved us for generations, killed off our kind, and destroyed our world. There is nothing whatsoever that would ever drive a Blackwood to join forces with a Wick.” He repeated what he apparently considered the salient words, just in case I’d missed them: “Nothing. Not ever.”

  I was too exhausted to argue the point, especially since he was almost certainly right. I could think of many reasons the Blackwoods might come after us on their own, but of none for them to cooperate with the Wicks. I let it go, and instead asked, “Do you really think Talon could be dead?”

  “Here’s hoping,” Cooper said. “Like I said the other day, gut wounds tend to be bad. But I couldn’t get a very clear look, with all those damn birds in my face.” He took a gulp of coffee, then nodded at me. “You should learn to do that, by the way.”

  “What, with the birds?” I shook my head and suppressed a shudder. “My father did bad things with birds.” That was a bit of an understatement. My father had, in fact, used birds from his native world to murder people and steal their souls.

  “So maybe you have the talent,” said Cooper. “Not to do bad things, obviously, but to talk to them. They seem slightly more useful than trees.”

  “I think the tree did its job just fine.”

  He returned my smile. “That it did. Anyway, it was just a suggestion. You’ve got so much power. I don’t think you tap into it as much as you could.”

  “Or maybe instead of complaining constantly, you could show me a little damn gratitude for everything I’ve done to keep you safe,” I snapped.

  The outburst took us both by surprise. Cooper cleared his throat. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m just tired.”

  He nodded, but his eyes were searching. “Understandable. But are you sure that’s all it is?”

  I occupied myself with gathering up my trash. “That and a little nausea. I don’t know if it’s from the pain or the painkillers. But I’ll be happy when this drive is over.”

  It was over a couple of hours later, when we collapsed into bed in a hotel room in Newton, Massachusetts, both too tired for more than a perfunctory kiss goodnight.

  The next morning, we finally made our way to the Beacon Hill townhouse where Dalton Blackwood lived. I had two expectations of him, neither of which were realized. The first was that, given his address and the fact that the house was still intact rather than divided up into condos, he would be a rich man. The second was that he would be infirm, or perhaps several hundred pounds overweight, something to explain why he chose the life of a shut-in over the typical nomadic existence of the Blackwoods.

  But Dalton was a compact, spry man of middling height and weight, with neatly trimmed black hair and the same aqua-blue eyes as Cooper and Arabella, the only other vitals I’d ever met. He greeted us with crisp courtesy when he answered the door, more like a butler than the master of the house, and ushered us inside.

  As for the house itself, from the outside it played its part well: perfectly maintained red brick, gleaming windows, well-tended plants in the flower boxes. But inside, it looked like a Victorian manor that had been left to rot since that era. The furniture was old and dusty, the corners dark and lurking with who knew what. The wallpaper wasn’t just peeling, it was actually moldy in places.

  I stared as Dalton showed us into a sitting room, honestly questioning whether it might all be a joke. Or whether perhaps we’d accidentally wandered onto the set of some stage adaptation of a Poe story.

  Dalton did nothing to dispel my unease when, perching at the end of a stiff-backed chair upholstered in threadbare green satin, he said, “Now then, I might as well start us off with some frankness. I’m afraid I wasn’t quite honest with Arabella about my motives for asking you here.”

  “But you do have the North Seed,” Cooper said.

  “I have it,” Dalton agreed. “I’m just not quite as willing to part with it as I might have implied. I knew that would be the only way to get you here. And I wanted to see you for myself.” He looked from Cooper to me. “Both of you.”

  So Cooper had been right about that much: Dalton didn’t want to give the seed over to a stranger’s power. Which was understandable. If that was all there was to it.

  I fully expected that it wasn’t. Despite their current rift, Cooper was still mostly-loyal to his clan, but I had neither the burden nor the luxury of his years of conditioning. I sat on Dalton’s battered royal blue sofa and listened to the two Blackwoods talk, all the while reaching out with all my senses—physical and otherwise—trying to discover any signs of danger, to prepare myself for whatever might happen to us in that strange room.

  It might have been my imagination, a fanciful notion born of that readiness to find hostile energy, but I had an odd feeling that the whole house—not Dalton, or even a ghost, but the house itself—was watchful. Waiting for something. Ready to pounce, maybe.

  Well then, I’ll just be ready, too.

  I knew full well that was a lie. I wouldn’t be ready; I couldn’t be. I’d written us some fresh protection spells that morning, but beyond that, there was nothing I could do to defend us. There were hardly trees growing in Dalton Blackwood’s shabby living room.

  Vitals didn’t do magic, but I was sure there was some sort of magic at work at Number Twelve Fenwick Street, nonetheless. And as it was Dalton’s own home, it stood to reason that that magic would be on his side, if sides became a consideration.

  But of course, he’d planned it just that way. Insisted on it, in fact.

  “You’re a carrier, yet you refuse to leave your house,” I blurted, interrupting whatever Cooper was saying to Dalton. “Not even for family business? That doesn’t seem like a very Blackwood-like way to protect a seed.”

  “No, but my circumstances are peculiar,” Dalton said. He looked at Cooper and smiled—he had the trademark Blackwood smile, I saw. “And as
you can imagine, there are some things the clan doesn’t know.”

  “Some things? Sounds more like the clan doesn’t know any things,” said Cooper. “Last I heard, you were in the Caribbean or something.”

  “Last you heard?” Dalton asked with a chuckle. “Am I the subject of much conversation, then?”

  “Of course,” said Cooper, with a smile of his own. Despite Dalton’s admission that he’d lied to us and brought us there under false pretenses, Cooper seemed relaxed, even happy. “You’re a clan legend,” he went on. “The mighty Dalton, shrewdest and wisest among us, the great luminary. But nobody ever told me you were a carrier.”

  “Well, none of us tell anyone we’re carriers, do we?” Dalton said. “But your father honestly does believe that I live in the Cayman Islands. As do the Wicks, I hope, if they think they know anything about me at all.”

  “How is that possible?” I asked. “You’re in the middle of a major city. Nobody has figured out you’re here?”

  “Hiding in plain sight is a valid strategy.”

  “Seems like a risky one,” I said, and did not add that it only raised my suspicions further. The Blackwoods, as a rule, were not fond of risk. It was Cooper’s primary source of conflict with them. But I supposed it was possible Dalton was more like his… cousin? Nephew? Whatever they were to each other.

  “I have protections in place,” said Dalton. “They’re tied to this house, which is why I must remain here.”

  I must remain here? Even the way he talked was weird. Like he was one of the antiques that surrounded him.

  “Protections,” I repeated. “Magical ones.”

  It wasn’t really a question, but Dalton inclined his head in agreement.

  “And yet, vitals don’t do magic,” I said.

  “No,” Dalton agreed. “My wife, Serena.” He glanced at Cooper. “I don’t believe you’ve met her.”

  Cooper shook his head. “I remember hearing you got married again, though. A while ago, wasn’t it?”

  “Almost ten years now,” said Dalton. “How time flies.” He looked back at me. “I don’t know how much Cooper has told you about Blackwood law, but the restriction on marrying within the clan only applies to first marriages.”

  “So Serena is human,” I said. “And a witch.”

  “Quite a skilled one, and a gifted seer as well. Although apparently there are better witches among us.” Dalton shook a finger at me. “She’s very jealous of your sanctuary spell. Dying to know how you did it.” Maybe he noticed my look of discomfort, because he waved a hand. “Don’t worry, nobody here will be prying into your secrets. She’s in Paris, at the moment. She can leave.”

  “But you can’t,” I said. “Wards, or something?”

  “I’m protected from harm, and so is the seed, within these walls,” Dalton said. “Although not with as airtight a spell as yours. I hear some powerful witches have already tried to harm you, in that hotel of yours, and been unable to.”

  “You’ve heard a lot,” I said.

  “Gathering intelligence is my job,” said Dalton. “The magic Serena has worked here is of a more basic—almost primitive—sort, I think, than what you’ve done. Wards, as you say, but also calling on the protection of her home. This house has been in her family for several generations.”

  “Place-magic,” I said to Cooper, who nodded.

  Maybe that explained why the house felt a bit like a living thing, with a will of its own. I’d always felt that way about the Mount Phearson, too, even before I bound my own soul to it. And I’d tapped into the hotel’s intrinsic energy on more than one occasion; I knew how powerful place-magic could be.

  “Yes,” Dalton said. “And it’s held up so far. Especially when mixed with some more mundane tricks of my own. False leads, making sure they get word of me showing up in places I’ve never been. That sort of thing. As far as I know, the Wicks are unaware that I’m even in Boston.”

  “Even if they did know you were here, they wouldn’t guess you were carrying a seed,” Cooper said. “Staying in one place, having kids, a second wife outside the clan.”

  “Precisely,” said Dalton. “Everything about my life is the complete opposite of how carriers normally behave.”

  “But you’re only safe while you’re inside the house. Sounds like both a blessing and a curse.” Cooper’s tone was conversational, but I suspected he was thinking of himself as well as Dalton. I knew he was grateful for the sanctuary of Bristol, but I sometimes wondered whether the idea of being tethered there didn’t bother him, too. He certainly left a lot. To chase the seeds, of course, but did he also want to prove to himself that he was still free?

  Dalton nodded his agreement. “It is, I suppose. I don’t dare break the spell. But between being trapped here and being trapped in an infinite loop of running from place to place, always looking over my shoulder? I’ll take having a home.”

  “How does Arabella feel about it?” Cooper asked.

  Who cares? I thought unkindly.

  “Arabella doesn’t live here,” Dalton said crisply. “She’s an adult, with her own life and her own responsibilities. But she visits, when she can be sure she isn’t being tracked, and as you’ve recently seen, she helps me when I need it.” He stood. “And speaking of being tracked, I assume there’s been no further sign of Talon?”

  “None,” said Cooper. “We don’t know how badly he was hurt, but if he’s gone missing, that’s obviously encouraging.”

  Dalton nodded. “I posted to the billiards forum this morning, for a little extra insurance. A simply coded message suggesting you were to meet your cousin Gerard in Colorado. Hopefully that will throw the rest of the Wicks off for a good while.”

  “The Wicks know about the billiards forum?” Cooper asked. “Since when?”

  “A couple months back. We use it for planting false information now.”

  Cooper sighed. “I’ve been out of the fold too long.”

  “So it would seem,” said Dalton, although he didn’t sound accusatory, or even disapproving. “Now, then. What do you say we all go into the kitchen, and see if we can’t scare up some lunch?”

  I was surprised to find that the kitchen was orderly and relatively clean, until I opened the trash can to throw away a tissue, and found it filled with take-out bags and boxes that suggested the room was rarely used.

  Cooper put an arm around me and nodded toward the breakfast nook. “Why don’t you sit down and let us handle this?”

  “Of course, I’m so sorry.” Dalton turned away from the refrigerator, where he’d been collecting sandwich makings, to give me a look of concern. “I forgot you’re recovering. Yes, sit. Let the men wait on you.”

  But I shook my head. “It’s stiff from sitting too long. Moving helps, and I’ve got plenty of painkillers if it gets bad. I want to help.”

  What I really wanted was to prepare my own food, thus sparing me the awkwardness of being openly suspicious of anything I was served. I supposed Dalton’s story was plausible enough, as far as it went, and he was likable, even charming, in his way. But I still didn’t trust him.

  And he still hadn’t gotten around to what he wanted from us. I hoped the beer he had with his lunch would loosen his tongue a bit.

  Despite his outward appearance of friendly acceptance, Cooper seemed to be thinking along similar lines. I noted that he waited until Dalton finished his pint of stout, and went to get a second, before bringing up the seed again.

  “Let’s see if I’ve got this right,” Cooper said. “Here you sit, with the North Seed in your own sort of sanctuary, when you find out that we have even stronger protection available. So you summon us here to decide if you can trust us?”

  “To test you,” said Dalton, gesturing at Cooper with his newly-refilled glass. “I will consider giving the North Seed into your care. But I’m not about to do so until I’ve determined a few things.”

  “What things?” I asked.

  “The extent of your power, for one thing,” D
alton said, switching his gaze to me. His eyes, I noticed, were no less sharp than they’d been before the beer. “I need to make sure that you’re not only as strong as I’ve heard, but that you’re reliable.”

  “That I’m reliable personally, or that the sanctuary spell is?” I felt possessive and almost paranoid suddenly, as I wondered just what this test he spoke of might involve. Did he want to lay siege to the Mount Phearson, just to assess its defenses? Because as far as I was concerned, he could keep away from my hotel.

  Calm down. Nobody’s going to hurt the hotel,

  (my soul)

  that’s the soul affliction talking.

  Is it?

  Dr. Claus was right.

  Maybe.

  Dalton, unaware of my internal debate over whether my own instincts had become even less trustworthy than he was, went on talking. “Both. I need to know that you and Cooper are people I can count on, even in the worst of circumstances. You are not a Blackwood.” He looked back at Cooper. “And your loyalty has been called into question.”

  “For doing something very like what you’ve already done!” Cooper said. “The only difference is, I petitioned the clan to protect all the seeds, not just my own.”

  “Which was ambitious of you,” said Dalton.

  “Because it makes perfect sense. It’s the best strategy for our future.” Cooper launched into a speech I’d heard many times, insisting that if they had control of all the seeds in one safe place, the Blackwoods could shift their focus, from the hunted to the hunters. “If we weren’t always running and hiding, we could stand and fight,” he finished. “And win. The Wicks have a lot of weaknesses.”

  “And commensurate strengths,” Dalton said. “Their magic is incredibly powerful, when they can manage to feed.”

  “We could win,” Cooper repeated. “We could rid this world of them for good.”

  “Yes,” said Dalton, his tone a little dismissive. “I heard all of this, when the clan considered your proposal last spring.”

  “But you weren’t on Cooper’s side then,” I said.