The Bones of Broken Songs: A Historical Mystery Romance (Mortalsong Trilogy Book 2)

by J. M. Stredwick

  “Yes?” I ask, parting the door only partially so that the slatted image of a person is allowed.

  It is…Mary Croy. Red. Of all the people I’d hoped to see. Am I spinning? The room tilts, and I shake my head, as if to shake away the strange sensation. I grip the door handle firmly, the brass of it cold against my fingers. She eyes me speculatively, hands clasped before her. Her luminous fire hair has been twisted up into a neatly organized updo. A tendril dangles on either side of her face, framing her mature feminine features.

  “My darling Gianna, forgive me if I’ve frightened you?” she speaks as if she is worried, but the lack of emotion in her face betrays her.

  “No, no,” I attempt to reinvigorate myself, blustering up my confidence. “No, I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight. I thought you’d be with…”

  “With Benjamin?” she guesses. “A pity I am not. It is fortunate for me that he thinks I am there.”

  “Pardon?” I snap, confused by her words.

  “An illusion he has not yet recognized, thankfully.” She smiles kindly as if what she’s just said is seemingly natural. An organic string of words to present in a sentence.

  “Illusion?”

  “Are you really so detached?” her eyes flash. “Please. Let me into your chambers so that we may speak plainly.”

  It is difficult for me not to glance at Alphonse, who stands rigid against the wall, listening to her words. I wonder what he thinks in this moment. I am awestruck, bewildered beyond any sense of sanity. And yet, she piques my curiosity. My heart thunders in my chest. My head flushes with heat.

  “Alphonse will have to go,” she breathes the words, leaning forward in a play at secretiveness. I hesitate and then grip the door handle even harder. “No, I cannot see through walls. I can smell him, though.”

  I wrench the door wide.

  “What are you?” I demand.

  “Oh ancient one, you are so far gone. I thought being near me might spark something inside of you. Some remembrance or recollection. To my dismay, you seem to be entirely closed off to any prospects. Perhaps your soul is hardened by the endless deaths and rebirths.”

  She says this as she enters the room, swaying with grace and poise. In one small sweeping motion she faces both Alphonse and I, Alphonse still stiff against the wall. His eyes dart furiously, and it seems as if his skin is itching with anxiety, the matted copper hair dangling in his face making him look far more like a blackguard than a suave French captain.

  “If you’ve come to hurt us…” I let out a shuddering breath. “Don’t hurt him. Take me. It’s what you want, isn’t it? Well, be done with it then. But allow Benjamin release from you.”

  Mary giggles delightedly, clapping her hands once together, sweet smile permeating her entire being.

  “I am not her. If I were…I would not be standing here allowing you to breathe even one more breath.”

  Putting a hand to my stomach, I sigh in relief, attempting to hide the elastic webbing of fear that had slowly seized me. Shove it down. Shove it down, I tell myself. Fear nothing. Nothing matters. Not even him. The golden sunlight of the room wraps us all in gilded imagery. Mary’s pearl skin appears sickly yellow.

  “Relax,” she says, brows turning upward. “I am on your side.”

  I say nothing, only glance at Alphonse who is now terse and at the ready. He reminds of a rabbit, always frozen and ready to jolt.

  “Benjamin’s kept you in the dark, hasn’t he?” She tilts her head as if working together the unknown pieces and parts. “You know nothing?”

  “Nothing of what?” I round. “He’s told me that I am in danger. Am I?”

  “It is so much deeper than that…” she agrees, tone smooth and jagged all at once. “But, yes. You are.”

  So simple. So concise. So lightly spoken, as if it is not worrisome to her whatsoever.

  “I can protect you,” she adds. “I will always protect you.”

  “Gia, this is madness. Don’t listen to her. Come with me. We don’t have much-” Alphonse is cut off, and I see that Mary has fixed him in an iron stare. Something, intangible and ethereal, flows between them, and he lets out a defeated breath, reaching out a hand, mouth working into a taut oval.

  “No…” he mumbles. “No.”

  Then, it’s as if my world is cavorting. Mary has transformed into Claire, she stands there, a javelin through her chest. Blood pours from around the handle of the weapon, and she clutches at the wooden piece as if she would pry it from her own body. Her eyes reflect death, absence from the earth. Alphonse lets out a horrified yell, and I shut my eyes, opening them again to see that Mary still stands, unchanged. It is not Claire. It is…

  “Illusion,” I utter. “It is not real.”

  “Very good,” she cackles. “Only one who’s known the magic before can free themselves from its prison. You are still you.”

  When she laughed, she’d turned away from Alphonse. He is near groveling on the floor, anguished and entirely spent. Realizing what has been done, anger reckons on his face. He draws his sabre.

  “Fucking witch!” he seethes.

  “Succubus…” she corrects him gently.

  Succubus. The word resonates in my mind like ripples in a pond. One small touch and it vibrates, shakes, causes a loosening of something that I can only call memory. For a second all I can feel or think of is that word, what is means…what have I known it to be? I know it from somewhere, remember the label that came with it. Sensuality. Hunting. Killing. But that is not it. Small stems branch upward in my mind, reminding me of family, sisters…of war, and an ache of loss.

  “Gia!” Alphonse rages.

  His saying my name brings me back, and I lick my lower lip.

  “We must go. Whatever she is, whatever her reason…I can do what is best for you. I will assist you in whatever your endeavors. Claire and I will be here for you no matter what. You cannot trust this…beast.” His limbs are shaking with anger.

  “Yes. We’ve only just met,” Mary’s tone is soothing. “But whatever he promises you, I can give you more. Answers. Don’t you want answers?”

  Desire for knowledge swallows me up, consumes me like the tide over sand. I glance at them both, swallowing hard. What have I done to end up in this place? There is something about her, though I do not know her, I trust her. It is the feeling she gives me. The word succubus attends to a part of me perhaps lost in the void.

  Alphonse points his sabre at her, reaffirming his stance.

  “Do not do this.”

  “You’re more than welcome to speak of what has happened here,” she smiles. “It is nothing against you. I have been searching for her far longer than you ever were. You and Claire will never truly be loyal to her. Not in the way I can be. Though, I sense agitation at your core. I wonder if there is something else…”

  Red grabs hold of her skirts and walks slowly towards him, staring at him with fascination, as if she would pull his thoughts like smoke from his mind. He shuts his eyes, and I feel the same sensation, the same lure. It’s a bending of time and space and I can sense it. It is a comforting feeling, something that I would have never noticed before, a simple shift in the atmosphere. The onset of an illusion reminds me of when I was a child when I was sad, and then suddenly, without a reason, happiness descended. It is this odd feeling of peace that clues me to what she is doing. But this time, there is no change in her appearance. I only feel an intense fondness for her, as if I would do anything for her. Alphonse seems drugged by this as well, his sabre clattering to the ground. Face forced from stone to serenity.

  “Are you hiding something from us, Alphonse?” her tone is honey.

  “Vauquelin has come for her. He has a frigate and a few other ships at his command, hidden in an alcove at the south of the island,” he releases these words slowly and with no reserves.

  “Who is that?” I question wildly.

  “Ah, the Druid,” Mary nods as if she has suspected this. “And have you joined him?”


  Alphonse’s eyebrows furrow, and lips pinch. It is as if he is trying to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. The Druid? I am deeply confused. There is so much in this conversation that is alien and unnatural to me. Part of me wishes that Benjamin would come back and mediate it. But this situation is mine and mine alone to conquer. There are things that do not make sense in the world, and I have to opportunity to now know more, to suck up every bit of knowledge that Mary Croy, the succubus, will offer.

  “He wants her. I am undecided. If I bring her to him, I have the chance to pursue immortality. If I smuggle her away with Claire, I will be slave to others desires my entire life. What do I choose? Benjamin has always gotten what he’s wanted, hasn’t he? Am I a fool for jealousy and greed? Perhaps…or perhaps this is what I was meant to do. To help heal the rift in humanity.” The words bolster in the air, swirling like a storm of shards and knives. They cut me, and I can see from the flicker of fire in Mary’s eyes that they have cut her too.

  “Humanity was never meant to be healed,” Mary hisses. “Listen, Alphonse, I need you to do something for me…”

  She comes nearer to him, and I am sure her breath tickles his face. “Find a rope. Climb a tree…and hang yourself.”

  “Mary!” I shriek in horror. “If you do this you are no better than the rest of them.”

  She glances back at me, irate, lip pulling upward. “I am a succubus, ancient one. I am worse than them all. If only you knew…” I glower, and she sighs. “You are no fun. Alphonse. Return to Vauquelin. Tell him that Gianna escaped and that you will take any punishment he deems appropriate.”

  “Punishment?” I rage. “This is ridiculous. Tell him to go somewhere safe! Find Claire.”

  “Claire is with the Ganayun. I assume, in search of you as well,” Alphonse releases the words quietly. “I was surprised they’d not come for you already.”

  “Ganayun!” Mary shrieks. “Mercy. This day continues to excite.”

  Though the excitement reflects in her eyes more as aggression and vexation than anything else. I clear my throat and ignore her.

  “You are Benjamin’s brother. Can you not join him? Be on his side? Help him to quit this disaster life?”

  Alphonse smirk is thin.

  “You think he’s shackled here? He chose this. Just as I would have chosen it in his position. You know that the only reason he remained here is to stay young in order to find you, whatever life he discovered you in. I would never help him. We’ve been in enmity with one another from the day we were born. Same father. Different mothers. He’s only half my brother. A bastard and arrogant fool at that.” He is venomous.

  “And Claire? Who is she to me?” I round, clenching my fists around the fabric of my skirts. “That night on the ship. She called me Giselle.”

  “Giselle. Gianna. You were her sister. You died, now you are reborn. She wants to protect you,” he divulges.

  “Sister?” I quake, glancing at Mary. “Is this true?”

  “Everything he says to you right now is true, my dear. He is under a spell of honesty,” she smiles, sparkling with mystery.

  There noise at the door, and it opens wide. One of Benjamin’s men barges in.

  “Mary? What are you doing in here? I thought you went with…”

  Mary strides forth quickly, without a breath, without a second of indecision, she grabs his face in between her hands, and her mouth opens wide. There is a sick noise, a sucking in of breath; a squelching. Her face is serene, but as she does this, the man’s essence courses from his skin like sand caught up in the wind of a sandstorm, and he dissipates into dust. All of it goes down her throat, everything that he is. I stare in horror, my stomach curling up into my throat. I shall be sick. I put a hand over my mouth, and when the last of the man has disappeared between her thick lips, she tosses her head back, and sighs.

  “Forgive me, Gianna. I did not want you to see that quite yet,” she tells me. “But now, we really should go. Alphonse, do as you’ve been told. Find Claire and take her away from this place. Tell her nothing of what you’ve seen here.”

  Alphonse stands there, dumbly, picking up his sabre and leaving without a word. I wonder, how long will the magic she’s set upon him last? I am stuck in shock, recoiling from Mary. I have so many things I want to say, so many things that I feel I should ask him. But he is out of the door swiftly, and Mary wastes no time as she grabs my arm and leads me out after him.

  “Pretend that you are not afraid of me,” she whispers. “You have no reason to fear me, I swear it to you. But if people see your face they will question what we are doing. If anyone asks, Benjamin had me return to bring you there. He had a change of heart, and he wanted you there with him.”

  Her fingers are cold on my skin, and I attempt to slow my breathing, challenging my expression to change from slick dread and tight mouth to solemn and calm. It is difficult.

  “It seems that someone is always stealing me or trying to get their hands on me. I’ve had enough of it. Where are we going?”

  Mary clucks her tongue softly, and as we walk she says, “We will take one of Benjamin’s ships. I’ve already prepared the men. As for where we will go…we will decide together.”

  “Prepared?” I snap in disgust.

  “What good is magic of persuasion if one does not use it to their utmost ability?” she smiles kindly, and the smile seems so true and pure. She does not remind me of a demon of blackness and death. Rather, she reminds me of a sweet woman who cares for others. A façade?

  I follow her because I must. Dissecting my options, Mary is the only one who has openly told me that she will give me my freedom. A freedom to choose. I will take fate into my own hands. Soon, I will know what has been occurring beyond the veil of my life and become one of these players. I am done being a ragdoll. I set my jaw as we exit the giant manse, my heart a resistant drum beat of longing for Benjamin. But I have always had to make the difficult decisions. Now is no different.

  Now, for me, the game begins.

  Claire

  The night we’d gone, we made it deep into the jungle. No one would find us, not here in the random thick woodland, the canopy overhead shielding us from the sun and moon. Kriath’s yellow eyes chilled me to my bones in the darkness, and I avoided looking at him as his otherworldly appearance made me uncomfortable. The moonlight reflected off the jet black of his feathers, the blue and green shimmers akin to a raven’s. We said nothing to one another until I stopped, choosing a place between the trees to lie against and rest.

  “You stop?” he said. His voice is nothing like I thought it would be. A slight accent clips the edges of his words short. Russian? I’d met a Russian envoy once in Versailles. I wonder, how has he taken this language as his own? Were there more of him there, where Vauquelin discovered him?

  “I’m going to rest now,” I said, never looking directly at him. “You are free to go if you wish it.”

  “I cannot fly,” he spoke simply. “When they captured me, they broke my wings.”

  I glanced at the limp gigantic, contorted wings. The darkness of them shadows him as if he could enclose himself within them. One seems far worse than the other. He stretches it and struggles to completely extend.

  “Have you tried to fly?” I asked, leaning myself against a tree. Sighing in relief as my limbs ache from the constant use.

  “When did I have time? Did you see? You’ve been with me ever since we escaped the ship!” he growls.

  “So testy,” I quipped. “I assumed you might have tried. That is the first thing I would have done if I were blessed with wings.”

  He seated himself stiffly, carefully allowing his body to relax against the mossy loam.

  “I do not do this as I am forced yet again into some odd human campaign. Everyone is always wanting to kill someone. Humans are ruthless. Who is it you are looking to kill?”

  I laughed, “Once I was a good girl. Only trying to be married to a rich man and have a good life. Fate has a funny way of placi
ng you into positions where you aim for the death of one or another.”

  “Funny,” he mocked.

  “Funny if you have humor,” I snarled. “Which you seem to lack. Tell me, creature. Do you know why you were brought here?”

  He glared at me, his vibrant yellow eyes jabbing straight through me. He did not know.

  “You were brought here to breed with a damned woman who is in the process of creating an army of new magical creatures. You would have been forced to put your male parts into her and assist in the production of these demon children, who, I’ve seen swirling around in their egg sacks, growing and waiting for their Maman to put life into them so that they may live.”

  Kriath’s eyes narrowed.

  “Fate is funny. Knowing that now, would you have no taste for vengeance?” I giggled angrily. “It makes me laugh.”

  He stares off into the night, ignoring my commentary. We’d slept only briefly, and I had awoken before him. The night was cool and refreshing, and the stars glimmered overhead, twinkling their farewell as the sun stippled the horizon with color. It reminded me of a painting, beauty that should not be real, that should only be imagined. In such a disgusting, disaster world, how could there still be such glory? That is what I thought as I stared through the gaps between trees. But pressing issues ground anxiousness into my belly. I could not just sit there.

  “Bird man,” I fling the words at him. “Bird man!”

  His wings rippled as he woke, and he flapped them gingerly. I did not know where we were.

  “Fly up so we know where we are,” I hissed.

  “You fly up there. Between the two of us, you’re the one more likely to spring from the ground and discover our location. Go on,” he motioned for me to rise. “Your courage will lift you.”

  “Monsieur, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but you have giant wings, which I am sure would do better than my courage!” I gripe.

  “Monsieur! Pah! I am no French Lord,” he stood tall, ebony hair fanning about his face, muscles ripping along his arms and abdomen. “I have seen more than you have in your entire lifetime. To me, you are a just a babe with a wayward temper and too much belief in herself. I promise you, you should not care for this. We should leave and find peace from this irrelevant situation. This is just a hitch in time. It will correct itself, without you.”