Fallow
(Whyborne & Griffin No. 8)
Jordan L. Hawk
Fallow © 2016 Jordan L. Hawk
ISBN: 978-1-941230-20-6
All rights reserved.
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Cover art © 2016 Lou Harper
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Annetta Ribken
Widdershins always knows its own.
Welcome home.
Chapter 1
Whyborne
The wind strengthened from over the ocean, coiling around the slender figure standing atop a craggy rock. She might have been some barbaric sea goddess, dressed in nothing but golden jewelry and a skirt of knotted seaweed. Dark swirls marked her pearlescent skin like war paint, and the stinging tendrils of her hair writhed as the autumnal breeze grew into a gale.
I kept a grip on my hat to prevent it from flying off. Even though I stood well back from the water in an attempt to preserve my suit, dampness flecked my exposed skin. I licked my lips and tasted salt.
The wind died away, just as quickly as it had arisen. My twin sister let her arms fall and turned to me, mouth splitting into a grin and revealing rows of shark’s teeth. “I told you I’ve been practicing.”
I crossed the strand to her, my shoes sinking into the moist sand. “Well done,” I said as she climbed down from the rock. “You’re as good as I am at drawing power from the maelstrom now.” Which was only natural, I supposed, given our relationship to the magical vortex lying beneath Widdershins.
“Better,” she countered. Her tentacle hair flicked out in a sudden blur and sent my hat flying from my head.
“Persephone!” I snatched it up, brushing sand off the brim. “This is serious. Not a time for-for childish pranks. We’re preparing for war, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Two months ago, the Fideles cult had used the power of the maelstrom to send a sorcerous beacon through the veil separating our world and the Outside. They meant to summon back the ancient masters who had ruled the earth thousands of years ago, who had created the ketoi and the umbrae, and twisted the arcane lines to form the maelstrom.
We’d failed to stop them from sending the signal and beginning what they called the Restoration. Eventually the inhuman masters would return, and if we failed a second time...
It didn’t bear contemplating. The ketoi and umbrae would either be killed or enslaved, and I doubted humanity would fare much better.
“It doesn’t mean we can never laugh again,” Griffin said as he approached, the light of his lantern gleaming off Persephone’s sleek skin.
I folded my arms over my chest. “I didn’t say that,” I replied, trying to conceal my annoyance. Judging from the look on his face, I failed.
Griffin didn’t understand. How could he? He didn’t know the truth about the maelstrom.
About me.
Oh, he thought he did. He’d seen...something...during our battle against the Fideles cult in July. And of course he already knew about my ketoi blood.
But I couldn’t tell him worst of it, the thing I’d realized when I briefly touched the consciousness of the maelstrom. The vortex beneath Widdershins wasn’t just a feature of the landscape, like a river or mountain. It was magic, and alive in a way I didn’t entirely understand. It wanted things and acted to get them.
Chiefly, it wanted not to be used by the masters upon their return. And Persephone and I were the keys to its plan, its attempt to touch and understand the world, to give it hands and eyes and hearts to work its will.
In the end, my sister and I were the ones responsible for preventing the return of the masters. The sheer weight of our obligation threatened to overwhelm me at times. I’d spent every waking moment searching for any way to halt the Restoration and the return of the masters.
“Did you see?” Persephone asked Griffin.
“I did.” He meant it literally—Griffin had returned from our Alaskan expedition with shadowsight, the ability to perceive magic. “You burned like a candle when you pulled on the maelstrom. Just as your brother does.”
Persephone grinned happily. I tightened my arms across my chest and hunched my shoulders forward slightly. I was used to being the only one Griffin described in such a way, and I wasn’t certain I cared to share it, even with my sister.
He looked handsome tonight—well, he always did, but his new suit from Dryden & Sons complimented his figure nicely. The rust-colored vest in particular brought out the brown threads in his green eyes and the russet in his hair.
“What did the spell look like?” Persephone asked. She crouched on the sand, the fins on her arms jutting out awkwardly.
Griffin’s eyes went slightly unfocused as he considered. “The glare from the arcane line running under the beach can make it hard to see,” he said. “But it was as though you took a needle and thread, and punched them through the fabric of the world. Then you drew the cloth together, and the wind came.”
Persephone frowned, an expression far less ferocious than her smile. “We don’t sew cloth beneath the sea,” she reminded him.
“Of course.” He grimaced. “It wasn’t the most accurate description anyway. Think of it as weaving a net, then, to catch the wind.”
I drew out my pocket watch and was startled at the time. “We should leave. I have work in the morning, after all.”
Persephone perked up slightly. “You will see Maggie there?”
“Of course. Miss Parkhurst is my secretary.” They’d met during the awfulness in July and struck up something of a friendship.
Persephone detached a pouch at her waist. “Will you take this to her?” she asked, passing it to me without opening it.
Even through the knotted seaweed, I could sense its faint call. “A summoning stone?” I asked blankly. “What on earth for? I can’t imagine any reason Miss Parkhurst would need to summon ketoi—”
“One never knows,” Griffin interrupted. “Before we go, may I ask the two of you to try something?”
“Yes!” Persephone said hastily, rising to her feet.
I looked pointedly at my watch again, but they both ignored me. Griffin gestured in the direction of the rock, where Persephone had cast her spell. “Have you tried working a spell in tandem?”
“No,” I replied slowly. “Why?”
“What would happen? Would it be more powerful, or...?”
I hadn’t the slightest idea. My damnable cousins, Theo and Fiona Endicott, had performed sorcery together to raise a tidal wave in an attempt to destroy Widdershins, so I knew it was at least theoretically possible.
“Let’s try!” Persephone said eagerly.
“All right, but I’m not climbing on that boulder,” I said. “I haven’t the shoes for it.”
She looked disappointed, but followed me a bit further up the beach. The slow pulse of magic through the veins of the earth throbbed against the soles of my feet. “Here. We’re still on the arcane line, so it will be easy for us to draw on the maelstrom.”
“What should we do?”
I had only the vaguest idea. “Cast the spell at the same time, I suppose.”
“Would touching help?” Griffin asked. He stood a short distance back. He’d once touched me while I pulled arcane power from the lines, an experience neither of us wanted to repeat. Its effects hadn’t been permanent, but it had hurt him at the time, bursting capillaries in his eyes and sending him reeling into unconsciousness.
Human bodies weren’t meant to touch such power directly. But the maelstrom had spent years changing probabilities, nudging the odds this way and that, until Persephone
and I were born. Sorcerers of ketoi blood, who could channel the magic directly without harm.
Persephone took my hand. Her skin was cool and slick against mine, the points of her claws pressing lightly as our fingers twined together.
“We’ll summon the wind again,” I said. “On three.”
She nodded, her expression determined. “One,” she said.
I took a deep breath, centering myself. The world seemed to still around me.
“Two.”
My awareness of the power beneath our feet sharpened.
“Three.”
I reached for the magic, shaping it with my will. Arcane energy surged through our bodies, and the scars on my right arm burned. I felt my sister beside me, her breathing and heartbeat matching mine.
We touched the world, and the world responded.
Wind roared in from the open ocean, a wall of force that knocked me to the ground. An instant later, the ocean answered the sky with a roar of its own. A massive wave rushed into the cove, bursting over the strand and nearly reaching the cliff. It surged around me, the greedy, cold water seeking to drag me into the sea.
I let out a surprised shout, clawing at sand that washed away beneath my fingers as quickly as I could grasp it. Then the wave receded, leaving me soaked to the bone and covered in seaweed, my shoes filled with sand.
I rose to my feet and wiped ineffectually at my suit. My hat was gone, probably blown all the way to Boston on the wind we’d summoned. A fish flopped on the beach beside me. Persephone picked it up and tossed it back into the surf.
“Well,” I said, turning to Griffin. “That was...oh.”
He stood dripping wet from head to toe, his new suit soaked in seawater. A strand of seaweed clung to his hair, and his hat had joined mine somewhere a few counties over.
“Yes,” he said, plucking sadly at his ruined vest. “It certainly was.”
~ * ~
“I’m so sorry,” I said yet again as Griffin unlocked the door to our home.
Our journey from the beach had been uncomfortable. It was impossible to remove all the sand from our shoes and clothes. Salt stiffened our suits and crusted our skin. Once back in Widdershins proper, we’d attempted to hire a cab, but the driver had taken one look at our sodden state and left us on the curb. For the first time, I found myself regretting the destruction of Griffin’s motor car.
“Stop apologizing,” Griffin said, holding the door open for me. Once inside, he locked it again, then began to peel off his coat. “It isn’t as though you knew what would happen.”
“What did happen?” I asked. “From your point of view, I mean.”
Griffin bit his lip, his eyes going thoughtful. “It isn’t easy to describe. Your spells...resonated? Overlay each other? I wonder if perhaps the spells the Endicotts and other sorcerers do together are handled in a different fashion. Each one contributing a piece to a more complex whole.”
That made sense. “Judging from what I’ve read in the Arcanorum and other magical texts, you’re probably right.”
“Could you and Persephone learn to perform spells like that?”
“Of course,” I said, more sharply than I intended.
“I don’t mean to cast aspersions on your abilities, my dear.” Griffin offered me a smile as he unbuttoned his salt-stained vest. “But from what little I know of the matter, you and Persephone aren’t quite the same as other sorcerers. You learn spells, yes, but they’re something of a crutch that you can discard after a while. When was the last time you had to draw a sigil to summon wind, or chant to make frost appear?”
“It’s only a matter of will for everyone,” I insisted. Griffin didn’t look as if he believed me.
I didn’t believe myself. But the conversation was getting too close to things I didn’t want to discuss with anyone except Persephone.
It wasn’t that I wished to keep secrets from the man I called husband. But if he knew the terrible truth I’d learned in July, when I touched the maelstrom and perceived the world as it did...
He’d be furious, and rightfully so.
“I am sorry about the suit,” I said, hoping to distract him. “It was brand new, and it looked so fine on you.”
By unspoken consent, we’d remained in the hallway to remove our ruined clothing. No sense scattering sand and dripping water through the house. He peeled off his trousers and stood clad only in his drawers. His eyes followed my movements as I did the same. “You appreciated how it looked, did you?” he asked, and I recognized the low note in his voice.
“Very much so.” I stepped closer, and he rested his hands on my hips, just above the edge of my drawers. His fingers felt chilled against my skin.
A slow smile curled his lips. “In that case, it’s a shame to have lost it so soon.” His grip on me tightened. “You’ll have to make it up to me, I think.”
“However shall I do that?” I murmured.
“You can start on your knees.”
I dropped to the floor eagerly. The outline of his cock was already visible against the soft cotton drawers, and I peeled them off his damp skin. Gooseflesh roughened the skin of his legs, and I ran my hands up his thighs, feeling the familiar interruption of the scar wrapped around the right. I leaned close and nuzzled the soft skin of the juncture between thigh and groin, and his member jerked in reaction. He smelled of salt and ocean water, of musk and the fading traces of sandalwood.
“My dear,” he whispered, his fingers trailing through my unruly hair.
I took him in my mouth, tasting his desire through the film of salt the sea had left behind. My own cock ached, and I dropped my hand and palmed myself through the fabric of my drawers. Before I could draw it out, he said, “Not yet. I want you in my mouth.”
His voice trembled on the words, and I sucked harder, closing my eyes. He leaned against the wall as I wrapped my arms around his hips, half supporting him even as I worked him with tongue and throat. He groaned and shivered, fingers going tight in my hair, before he stiffened. “Ival,” he gasped, and I swallowed down everything he had to give me.
He sagged against the wall for a moment, his breathing harsh, his beautiful eyes closed. Then he sank to his knees beside me, pulling me close and kissing me deep. “I love you,” he growled, then shoved me onto my back.
He stripped off my drawers and tossed them into the pile of our wet clothing. “Pull your knees up,” he ordered, and I hurried to comply. He propped himself in between my legs, wetting a finger before wrapping his lips around my cock.
I clutched at the hall rug as he took me deep into the heat of his mouth. At the same time, his finger pressed in, seeking and finding just the right spot. After almost four years together, we knew one another with an intimacy I’d never imagined, and he put his knowledge to good use. I cried out softly, writhing on the carpet. Griffin moaned encouragement, and I opened eyes I didn’t remember closing to watch him suck me. The sight undid me, and I shuddered as I spent into his throat.
I collapsed back against the hall floor. The boards creaked slightly as our marmalade cat, Saul, came to investigate. Griffin rose to his feet, a bit stiffly, and held out a hand to me.
“Did I make up for the suit?” I asked.
He grinned and kissed me again. “The vest, at least. You still owe me for the coat...each leg of the trousers...the tie...”
I snorted and returned his kiss. “Fiend.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“I suppose it is.”
We washed the salt from our skin, then retreated to Griffin’s bed. We had our separate rooms, to maintain a polite fiction for the cleaning lady and anyone else who might venture into our home, but we never slept apart. He drifted off into contented sleep within minutes, but despite the late hour and my own weariness, I found myself wakeful.
Griffin was the center of my world, the one I’d do anything for, if only to make him as happy as he made me. I’d spent my life in aching loneliness before he’d come into it, turning my dull gra
y existence into one of color and light. I sometimes felt as though he’d brought me to life. Or at least wakened me from a deep sleep, like some character in a fairytale cursed to dream away the years until roused by a kiss.
So the knowledge I was responsible for every bad thing that had happened to him over the last four years, every moment of horror and terror, felt like a rock sitting atop my chest.
In the chaos of last July, my longtime rival Bradley Osborne had finally given into jealousy and revenge. Dark magic had allowed him to swap bodies with me, so that he might use my bloodline to harness the power of the maelstrom and send the signal through the veil to summon the masters back to our world.
His human body hadn’t been meant to withstand such arcane power, and had been crumbling to pieces even as I fought my way to him. And there had been a moment, after I’d stabbed him in the chest, when I’d been...between. My consciousness outside of any flesh.
Rejoined, briefly, to the maelstrom which I now knew had spawned it.
I’d touched the arcane vortex before, trying to stop the tidal wave raised by the Endicotts. Even then, I’d sensed the magic was different. Unlike the power the dweller in the deeps had lent me, this magic was me, or I was it. And the odd thought had floated through my head that perhaps there’d never been a me at all.
I hadn’t realized then just how right I was. Until July, when I’d perceived the world through the maelstrom once again. I’d seen through the eyes of all the people it had drawn to Widdershins. The men and women, human and inhuman, it had collected over the long years of waiting for the masters’ return.
Including Griffin.
And the worst part of it was, there were others whose minds had been touched by the umbrae. The maelstrom might have collected someone else. But it had chosen to bring Griffin into this horror.
I tightened my arm around his waist, pressing my face into the back of his neck. If not for the maelstrom, if not for me, he might have lived his life with only a single encounter with the otherworldly. After leaving the Pinkertons—or, rather, being locked away in an insane asylum and cast out from their ranks—he might have started his own business anywhere. New York, Boston, Kansas City; all far more likely places for a private detective than Widdershins.
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