On the Edge te-1

by Ilona Andrews

  She fell silent. Finding the words proved harder than she realized. “Pardon. This is difficult for me. Rose’s mother was traumatized by the untimely death of her parents, and in her final years she sought to stave off her mortality by any means necessary, usually by finding solace in the arms of any man who would have her. Eventually even that remedy failed and she died. Rose was an adolescent and the boys were mere babies. Thus, my grandchildren were abandoned both by their mother and by their father.”

  She glanced at Declan, but his face was earnestly polite and about as transparent as a cement block.

  “Then Rose flashed white. You must understand, my lord, it’s been over a century since an Edger flashed white. She was just a child, barely eighteen, and not at all equipped to either anticipate or deal with the consequences. Due to her mother’s loose behavior, it was assumed that Rose was the child of an out-of-wedlock liaison. Overnight she became a valuable commodity. First, her flash made her desirable as a powerful addition to any family; second, her magic hinted at the possibility of blueblood ancestry; and third . . . my granddaughter is lovely, as I’m sure you haven’t failed to notice.”

  “Indeed, Madame.”

  His tone was perfectly neutral and pleasant. If he Madame ’d her one more time, she would have to throw something at him.

  “Rose had a terrible life,” Éléonore said bluntly. “For almost a year, she was literally hunted. The Edger families wanted her for her power, the borderland blueblood families wanted her for breeding, and those who didn’t want her, hated her. Envy can be a terrible thing. Her mother’s exploits already made her a pariah, and her flash only exacerbated the problem. What few friends she had abandoned her. Her boyfriend—who is a terrible creature—betrayed her. We had weathered a siege and arson and being shunned. The slaver was by far the worst. He had arrived under the pretense of courting Rose, promised her the security and acceptance she so desperately wanted, and nearly won, if not her heart, then at least her mind. Fortunately his identity was discovered, but the damage was done. She has learned the lesson again and again: people, men in particular, cannot be trusted. I watched this damage happen, and I was powerless to stop it. Finally after a year of this chaos, things have calmed. My son was there for her during that year. Even he understood that his family couldn’t survive this storm without him. That is the longest he had ever spent with his family. However, as soon as pressure lessened, he escaped. He ran away from his own children in the middle of the night, once again abandoning the boys to Rose’s care.”

  She took a deep breath. “It was the final betrayal, my lord. It wounded Rose very badly, and she’s determined to spare her brothers this hurt at all costs. She put her life on hold, so her brothers would never know what it’s like to be abandoned. A young girl is a creature of dreams, my lord. A woman with one foot in the world of fantasy, searching for the face of true love in every handsome boy she sees. Rose has no fantasies. One would expect a woman who has gone through her trials to be bitter and angry, but she isn’t. She’s kind, sweet, selfless, and generous, and I thank my lucky stars for this every day.”

  Éléonore rose, buoyed by her anger. He got up as well.

  “I’m sure that you’re successful in your pursuits of female attention,” she said. “I’m sure that there is a trail of broken hearts in your wake, and you probably look at it fondly, remembering your past conquests. For some young women, being swept off her feet by a man such as you might be thrilling. It might even be a good lesson in the nature of the male species. However, Rose has no illusions to soothe her and no parents to reassure her. If you break her heart, it will shatter my granddaughter. It will destroy her utterly, turning her into a bitter wreck. So I implore you, my lord, to leave her in peace. You don’t need her as your trophy. And if you won’t, I swear to you that I’ll curse you with my dying breath. We both know the power such a curse carries.”

  Declan bowed. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  She growled under her breath and stomped into the depths of the house, not sure if she had accomplished more harm than good.

  ROSE stuck her head into the kitchen. Declan sat at the table, his eyes lost in thought. A smile curved his lips.

  “Come outside,” she said. “We need to be in the yard for the next challenge.”

  He followed her to the porch, where she sat in a chair and he leaned against the rail. She stared at the trees shrouded in morning fog.

  Declan cleared his throat. They had managed to keep from saying a single word to each other during breakfast, but now he looked as if he had something to say.

  “I lost my temper yesterday,” he said. “My sincerest apologies. It won’t happen in the future.”

  “I’m also sorry. I shouldn’t have been quite so . . . dramatic.”

  They looked at each other.

  “My behavior aside,” he continued, “I meant everything I said.”

  She stuck her chin in the air. “So did I.”

  “Very well.”

  “Indeed.”

  He sat back down, and she picked a spot as far from him as the porch steps would allow.

  “Also,” he said after a small pause, “your funeral cake was delicious.”

  “Funnel. Funnel cake. I’ll get you the recipe. It’s similar to pancakes.”

  “Thank you.”

  They sat in silence. She broke it first. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous to do this challenge, with Casshorn waiting for the right opportunity?”

  “We’ve destroyed a large number of his hounds,” Declan said. “Since I’m his primary target, he’ll need to build up his forces before he attacks again. We’re safe for two days, maybe three.”

  Probably longer than that, Rose thought with a small sense of satisfaction. Yesterday, after the fight with Declan, she’d spent nearly all of the minutes remaining on her cell phone. Her words didn’t carry much weight in the Edge, but Grandma’s did, and now they knew the name of their menace and what he wanted. It would be difficult for Casshorn to find prey in East Laporte come nightfall.

  “So he’s vulnerable now,” she said. “Why don’t we go after him?”

  Icy green eyes fixed her. “I would go after him. But I have no idea where he is, and your brother was unable to find the scent trail during our last excursion.”

  “Of course. Blame the child for your failure.”

  “I blame no one. How would you feel about a side bet on this challenge?”

  “No more deals, Lord Camarine. You can’t be trusted.”

  He seemed unfazed by her snippy remark. “If I win this challenge, I’ll remain in your house and your family will assist me in my efforts to dispatch Casshorn. If I lose, I’ll sign writs of citizenship for the three of you. The writs would make you legal citizens of the Weird. You could seek employment there. The children could attend school.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, biting a caustic reply. Her mind spun through the possibilities. “That will just put us in a place where you have the most power.”

  “On the contrary. First, I have sworn to leave you alone if I fail. Second, the laws of the Weird will protect you, given that you’ll be a citizen, and you can have me arrested on stalking charges if I show up on your doorstep. Think about it, Rose. You’ve lost your job, and you aren’t likely to find another. And no matter how much you force the boys to pretend that they have no magic, they do. They can’t live in the Broken; they would slowly suffocate without magic. Look behind you.” He raised his arms, encompassing the house. “This is what you’ve settled for. Do you actually want to make something of yourself?”

  He pushed all the right buttons. “What guarantee do I have that this writ isn’t a worthless piece of paper?”

  “I’ll affix the Camarine seal to it. As an earl, I have the authority to do so.”

  “You’re not a real earl. The Earl of Camarine is a courtesy title.”

  He stared at her. “And where did you come by that little tidbit?”

  “I
read it in a book,” she said, trying to freeze him with her voice. “Even us ignorant types do read occasionally.”

  “Apparently not very well,” he said. “A courtesy title is awarded for meritorious service and a couple of other things. A peer titled by courtesy has the same executive peer powers as a full peer. Check your book.”

  “Don’t move.”

  She stomped into the house and almost ran over her grandmother.

  “Is everything all right?” Grandma asked.

  “Everything is perfect.” Rose climbed to the attic, grabbed the enormous Encyclopedia, and wrestled it down. If he was lying, she would rub his nose in it.

  She dragged the dusty tome onto the porch and dropped it on the boards.

  For the first time this morning, Declan displayed some emotion besides stony determination. “Good God, where did you find that antique?”

  “None of your business.” She had traded a Rand McNally Atlas, two jars of saffron, and a three-liter bottle of Pepsi for it. Rose flipped the pages to the index and found “Writ of Citizenship, Adrianglia, 1745.”

  “It looks over two centuries old,” Declan said.

  Rose turned to page 1745 and read out loud. “ ‘ Writ of Citizenship—a document legally conferring all rights and obligations of Adrianglian citizenship. A Writ of Citizenship may be issued by the following authorities: the Office of Census, secured by the Seal of the Minister of Population; the Office of Domestic Affairs, secured by the Seal of the Minister of the Realm; or a Peer of the Realm, secured by that Peer’s House Crest. Only peers of rank Earl or above have the right to issue a Writ of Citizenship. The following is the list of peers possessing such authority as known to the publisher on the date of publication of this volume.’ ” She scanned the list and ran into “Earl Camarine.”

  “Satisfied?” Declan asked dryly.

  If she passed on this chance, she would be forever kicking herself. Was there a downside to this?

  “Do we have a deal?” he asked.

  “We have a deal.” It nearly killed her to say it. Rose forced herself to smile. “You’ll never win this one.”

  Georgie chose that moment to step out onto the porch. He saw Declan, walked over, and simply hugged him without saying a word. Declan’s eyes went wide. Slowly he put his arms around the boy.

  It was an odd moment, a thin, fragile, blond child in the arms of a much larger, stronger blond man. A vision of the future that could have been Georgie’s if his magic didn’t betray him.

  Rose sighed and headed to the shed. “Georgie, tell the blueblood about Grandpa Cletus.”

  Declan let go, and Georgie sat on the porch next to him.

  “He’s very tall,” Georgie said. “He was good with swords. He had several.”

  “Like mine?” Declan asked.

  “No. His were long and thin. Mémère still has them.”

  “Rapiers,” Declan guessed.

  Georgie nodded. “He used to laugh a lot and tell us stories. He was a pirate.”

  “A privateer,” Rose corrected, nudging the last ward stone out of the way. “Georgie, are you up to holding Grandpa?”

  Georgie nodded.

  Rose grasped the heavy dead bolt with both hands and jerked it aside. The door flew open, and Grandpa Cletus charged out, dragging the chain behind him.

  Declan leapt to his feet and over to Georgie, a knife in his hand.

  Grandpa reached the end of the chain. The collar jerked him back, and Grandpa flew off his feet. Instantly he rolled over and snarled like an animal, clawing at the empty air with his long fingers. His tangled beard trembled as he strained on the chain and bit the air with yellowed fangs.

  Rose sighed.

  Grandpa’s pointed ears twitched. He spun and lunged at her. She stood her ground. A foot away from her, he ran headfirst into an invisible wall and crumpled to the ground.

  “No,” Georgie said.

  “But I want my pint money,” Grandpa moaned.

  “No,” Georgie repeated sadly. “You better sit down.”

  Grandpa sat cross-legged, rocking back and forth.

  Declan jumped off the porch and approached them, peering at Grandpa. “Were his ears always pointed?”

  “It happened after,” Rose said. “The beard and hair also. He was clean shaven when he died. And the claws. Those also grew after death.”

  “What’s your name?” Declan asked.

  “Please answer Declan,” Georgie said.

  “Caedmon Cletus Drayton,” Grandpa said sadly. “Caedmon from the British caed, meaning ‘battle.’ Cletus from the Greek kleitos, meaning ‘illustrious.’ ”

  “He retains his memories?” Declan asked, his voice neutral.

  “Bits and pieces.” Rose reached out and patted the matted mane of Grandfather’s hair. “Mostly he wants to go down to the pub. Sometimes it’s the tavern and he has to meet his friend Connor before their corvette, Esmeralda, sails from the harbor. He remembers who we are and he remembers . . . the woman you saved with Georgie. He’ll cry if he sees her or if I mention her name.”

  She felt close to tears herself and swallowed a clump that blocked her throat. “Georgie doesn’t like to let things die.”

  Declan’s green eyes studied her. “There are others?”

  “No humans. Birds. Kittens. Little creatures he felt sorry for.”

  Declan’s face darkened. “How many?”

  “We don’t know. He hides them.”

  Georgie looked away to the grass.

  “My brother has a very good heart,” Rose said. “But he can’t let go of the things he brings to life. We tried explanations, rewards, and punishment. He knows that he’s dying, because keeping all those creatures alive is sucking the life out of him. But he doesn’t know how to let go. You wanted a challenge. Here it is. Save my brother from himself.”

  DECLAN sat next to Georgie while Rose herded Grandpa back into his shed. She heard Declan’s quiet voice. “You didn’t want your grandfather to die?”

  “No.”

  “All things die, George. That’s the natural order of the world.”

  Good luck with that, Rose thought. They’d had this talk a dozen times. It led nowhere.

  “Who decided?” Georgie said softly.

  “Nature. It’s a way for humankind to survive.”

  Georgie shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be like that. I don’t want it to be like that.”

  He got up and went inside.

  Declan sat, frowning, his arms resting on his knees. When she passed him on her way inside the house, he said, “I’ll need some supplies. Would it tax you too much to obtain them for me?”

  She stopped. He actually had some sort of a plan. “What do you need?”

  “Blue candles. A metal bowl or a large pot. Certain herbs. A basin, the larger the better. Some other things.”

  That seemed pretty specific. “How sure are you that the hounds won’t attack?”

  “Very sure.”

  “In that case, put on the clothes Amy gave you. I’ll take you to Wal-Mart.”

  Ten minutes later, they were both in the truck. Her cab wasn’t that small, but Declan made it seem cramped and tiny. She started the engine. “Have you ever been in a car before?”

  “No.”

  Rose nodded at the guns. “Can you use a gun?”

  He picked up a rifle, locked, and loaded.

  “Good. Keep the rifle out of sight and please buckle your seat belt.”

  They drove in silence for a couple of minutes. “Why the sudden benevolence?” Declan asked.

  She avoided looking at him. “How long do you think George has?”

  “It’s hard to say. I don’t know what his capabilities are and how much drain he’s under or for how long. But judging by his physical weakness, I would say he has less than six months. He’s featherlight. He can’t do more than two push-ups and he tires very quickly. I thought he was anemic.”

  “There’s your answer,” Rose said. “I hate to sa
y it, but if you truly think you can convince my brother to stop his slow suicide, I’ll help you, even if it costs me a challenge.”

  She drove on. “When did you have a chance to see him do push-ups?”

  “Two days ago while you were cooking dinner. I gave each of them a knife and put them through some basics. Jack is a born killer. George had to sit down after a couple of minutes.”

  “It won’t help you,” Rose said.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Making friends with the children won’t help you,” she clarified. “We won’t leave with you.”

  “I made friends with the children because I wanted to do so. Not everything I do is calculated. Although I understand why you would think that.”

  “Oh?”

  “I spoke to Madam Éléonore at some length this morning, while you were with George.”

  Oh, really? He really did get around, but if he thought her grandma would join the Declan-worshipping parade, he had another think coming. “What did she tell you?”

  “Many things. Your grandmother is very conflicted. She’s unsure if she should encourage or discourage me, so she has done a bit of both.”

  She glanced at him. Their stares connected, and she didn’t like what she saw in his eyes: they were resolute and determined. Disturbed, she turned away to watch the road.

  “It’s difficult for you to trust anyone,” he said. “I contributed to this by my deception. For this, I’m sorry. But it was necessary.”

  “You keep saying that, but you don’t tell me why.”

  He said nothing.

  “That’s very illuminating,” she said. “You knew the creatures were a threat to the whole Edge. I know we’re nothing to you, but couldn’t you have at least tried to warn us out of common decency?”

  “I did,” he said. “You have no law enforcement and no central authority, so as soon as I crossed into the Edge, I went to your church. Your priest seemed like a reasonable man. I told him that the Edge needed to be evacuated. He nodded, pulled out a gun, and unloaded twenty-two shots into me. When he realized the bullets weren’t hurting me, he threw his sidearm at me and called me an agent of Lucifer.”