She brought buttered bread and tea to the table and set it before me. “When your pa started raving about magic and devils, I thought it was judgment for...well, never you mind.” She lowered her voice. “I always thought it was the Walter boy’s fault. That he’d tempted you, but then you lived a righteous life after you left Fallow. But here you were, living with him. So maybe I was wrong, and the Walter boy wasn’t to blame after all.”
“No one was to blame.” I couldn’t argue this with her now, not when I had to convince her Marian was a danger. “None of that matters at the moment. Whatever you think of Whyborne or me, Pa wasn’t crazy. He was wrong about Whyborne, but not about the fact that there is sorcery in the world. Magic, which can be turned to purposes both good and evil.”
I couldn’t read the expression on her face. Shock? Fear? Perhaps even a trace of relief, to think her husband hadn’t been unhinged after all? “That’s the reason we came to Fallow,” I said. “The real reason. There are sorcerers here, and we’re going to try to stop them, but I had to warn you. In case we fail. Don’t eat anything—anything—grown using the water from the new wells. The ones in the fallow place.” I swallowed. “And whatever you do, don’t be alone with Marian. Lock your bedroom at night.”
“It’s true,” Vernon said from the front door. “You really are crazy.”
I surged to my feet, heart thumping. Vernon entered, the floor creaking beneath his boots. Behind me, the back door opened, and I heard multiple steps coming inside.
“Vernon,” I said, holding up my hand, “please, just listen.”
“Oh, I’ve heard enough. I think we all have.” The grin he offered me was decidedly unpleasant. “Don’t blame yourself, Aunt Nella. He was born sick, and there weren’t nothing you could do about it.”
I backed away from him, heart pounding. “Don’t hurt him, Vernon,” Ma pleaded. “He’s just confused, that’s all. Let him go.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. He’s dangerous to himself, don’t you see? Going around talking about magic, slandering my wife—who knows what he might do next.” Vernon nodded at the three farm hands who had crowded into the kitchen. “Don’t worry, though. The poor farm will keep him safe.”
No.
I slammed my shoulder into Vernon’s chest. Taken off guard by the move, he staggered back, and I ran out the front door.
I leapt down the porch stairs and into the yard. Feet thudded behind me, but I didn’t dare look back. Instead, I drew my revolver, intending to threaten them into letting me go.
“Iskander!” I called. “Run!”
A heavy weight smashed into me, bearing me to the ground. My chin clipped the sunbaked earth, hard enough to send a burst of stars across my vision. Before I could recover, a hand closed over my wrist, pinning it to the ground while the gun was wrestled away.
Then the beating started.
I curled into a ball, shielding my organs and my head as best I could. Fists and feet rained down on me, accompanied by foul curses. It flashed through my mind that I might die here. They might beat me to death in the lane in front of the very house I’d grown up in.
“Stop!” Iskander shouted.
One of the men cried out. “He has a knife!” another yelled.
I tried to roll to my knees while they were distracted, but a flare of agony in my ribs slowed me. Blood ran into my eyes from a cut in my scalp. I dashed it away just in time to see one of them scoop up my revolver and aim it at Iskander.
He froze, eyes going wide. “Put down the knives, camel-fucker,” said the man. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you.”
Iskander’s knives fell to the dusty ground. “Bind them both,” Vernon ordered.
“Stop!” Ma shouted. “Let them go.”
“Go back in the house, Aunt Nella,” Vernon replied. “This ain’t your business no more.”
Agony shot through me as the men hauled me to my feet, and I spat out a gobbet of blood. Vernon seized my aching jaw and forced my head back. I half expected him to be smiling in triumph, but instead rage transformed his features. “You ain’t nothing,” he growled into my face. “Hear me? Nothing but dirt. And you’ll pay for what you did.”
It was the phrase that had been used so often by the corrupted...but Vernon wasn’t corrupted. And yet I couldn’t believe it a coincidence.
He let go of me and stepped back, wiping his hands against his trousers, as if my very touch might have contaminated him. “Bring around the cart, boys,” he said. “And take them to the poor farm. We’ll let Mrs. Creigh take care of things.”
Chapter 22
Whyborne
“Where the devil are they?” Christine exclaimed, pacing across the barn floor yet again. The late afternoon sunlight spilled in through the open doors, and the sound of clucking chickens drifted on the breeze. I kept a sharp eye out for Diablo, but the fiend failed to put in an appearance. No doubt he was busy eating children or terrorizing cattle.
“I don’t know.” I sat on the milking stool, picking apart a hunk of bread left over from our lunch with the Reynolds hours ago. My appetite had been poor even then, and the hours of waiting hadn’t improved it. “Clearly they were delayed.”
“We have to do something,” Christine said. “Kander and Griffin should have been back hours ago. Griffin might get distracted by his mother and forget the time, but Kander wouldn’t.”
“I said they were delayed.” I rose to my feet. “Not that the delay was innocent.”
Christine swore, but I’d only spoken aloud what we’d both surely been thinking. “Damn it! We should never have let them go without us. Blast Griffin, anyway—why did he feel he had to warn the wretched woman?”
Although I sympathized with Christine’s sentiment, I felt compelled to defend my husband. “Because Nella raised him, and he still loves her.”
“Bah.” Christine scowled. “Well. We need to find them, that’s all.”
“But where do we look? The Kerr farm? Or were they accosted along the way?” Oh God, what if they were lying in a ditch somewhere? What if the corrupted had ambushed them? What if...?
No. I wouldn’t consider the possibility that something fatal had occurred. The very thought was unbearable.
Christine looked to be entertaining similar worries. “I’ll fetch my rifle.”
I stuffed the bread into my pocket. “Do. We’ll go to the Kerr farm first.”
“Agreed.” Christine said, striding to the door. “I—”
She fell abruptly silent, eyes narrowing. Vernon sat on horseback in the yard.
“What are you doing here?” Christine demanded without even an attempt at civility.
Vernon grinned lazily as he urged his horse closer. I took a deep breath, and felt the world settle into stillness around me.
This man knew what had happened to Griffin. Possibly was even responsible for it.
The wind rose, stirring up a dust devil in the yard. The horse balked at the sudden swirl of dust, but its rider didn’t share the horse’s protective instincts.
“Looking at you, I figure them doctors must be right,” Vernon said, eyeing me in a most insolent fashion. “A man must have some kind of sickness of the brain, wanting to fuck something like you.”
The water in the nearby trough began to churn, and the scars on my arm ached. “Where is Griffin?” I asked, and the words fell from my lips like frost.
“And Kander,” Christine added. I could feel the tension radiating from her, her rage like a heat against my side.
“Your Arab fellow should’ve stayed in Egypt. As for Flaherty, he’s exactly where he belongs.” Vernon’s grin sharpened. “At the poor farm, in the jail with the other lunatics.”
My heart pumped liquid fear through my veins in place of blood. A glance at Christine’s face showed her skin gone utterly white, her dark eyes like holes.
They were at the poor farm. Where Creigh would surely corrupt them both.
Thanks to the actions of this small-minded fool.
<
br /> My vision tightened into a tunnel, with Vernon at the end of it. “You will give them back,” I said, “or I will destroy you and everything you have ever loved.”
Vernon’s horse whinnied and tried to prance away. He reined it in sharply. “Don’t think so.” he sneered down at us. “In fact, that’s the fate we have in mind for—”
A reddish ball of fury exploded from around the side of the barn. Vernon’s horse, already spooked, reared in terror. Squawking at the top of his lungs, Diablo attacked.
The horse bolted, Vernon clinging to its back, half-unseated. Diablo flapped after them down the lane, until the horse finally outpaced him. Satisfied with his victory, the rooster strutted back to us, then stood and looked up with a beady eye.
The commotion brought Mr. Reynolds around the side of the barn at full speed. “What’s going on? Was that Vernon Harper?”
“Indeed. I must say, your rooster has for once chosen a worthy target.” I took the bread from my pocket and tossed the crumbs to Diablo. “Good creature of the fiery pit.”
Reynolds frowned. “What did Vernon want?”
“Griffin and Iskander are in trouble,” I replied, somewhat evasively, but it was easier than trying to explain the situation.
“Oh no.” Reynolds paled beneath his tan. “What can I do to help?”
I hesitated, tempted by his offer. But he had a wife and three children.
And hadn’t I ruined enough lives already? No sense in adding another good man to my account. “Look after your family.” I nodded to the house. “After sunset, don’t unlock the doors for anyone.”
“But the community dance is tonight,” he protested. “I was just getting ready to go wash up so we could leave.”
“To the devil with the dance!” Christine exclaimed. Reynolds winced at her language.
Probably the Reynolds would be safe from attack. Unless Creigh believed we’d told them about her secrets.
Blast.
“Christine is right,” I said. “It’s not safe to travel after dark tonight.”
Reynolds gave me a thoughtful look. “Does this have to do with the case Griffin is working on?”
I seized on the explanation. “Yes. I wish I could say more, but it isn’t my place.”
“Annie and the boys will be powerful disappointed to stay home tonight,” he said unhappily. “But there will be other dances, and I ain’t going to risk them if you say it ain’t safe.” He wavered, then added, “Annie’s pretty good with the gun. If Griffin and Iskander are in trouble, I don’t want to just sit by if I can help. She can look after the boys while I come with you.”
I’d dragged enough innocents into horror and death. “That’s very good of you,” I said. “But no.”
Christine nodded. “Thank you, though. You’re a good man.”
He looked to the house and sighed. “Guess I’d best break the news to Annie and the boys. Shout if you need anything.”
“We will,” I assured him.
Christine waited until the door shut behind him. “It’s a trap, of course,” she said. “With Griffin and Iskander as the bait.”
“Obviously.” I twisted my wedding ring on my finger, but it gave me no comfort. “But we can’t simply leave them in Creigh’s hands.”
“No.” Her mouth pressed into a taut line. “If she’s hurt them...”
“Yes,” I agreed. I turned and looked to the setting sun. “We’ll sneak back under cover of darkness, as we did last night. And this time, we won’t leave until the Fideles have been stopped. One way or another.”
Chapter 23
Griffin
I sat on the hard concrete floor of the poor farm’s jail, my body aching and my heart thumping against my ribs. All the corrupted who had been imprisoned here last night were gone, and I was alone. My hands were tied behind my back, although I had no means of picking the lock on the cell door even if I’d been free. The small, barred window, set high above my head, was too tiny to crawl through.
Every inch of me ached from the beating I’d received. Each movement I made found some new pain, from the deep bruises in my back to the sharp sting as hair matted into blood pulled against the wound in my scalp. Even so, nothing seemed to be broken, and I still had all of my teeth. Doubtless I had Iskander’s intervention to thank for escaping as lightly as I had.
Iskander. A part of me wished he’d run and left me to my fate. They’d dragged him away when we arrived at the poor farm, taking him in the direction of the main house. What they’d done with him there, I didn’t know and feared to find out. Equally, I feared to discover what they had planned for me. No one had tried to feed me any of the corrupted food, but surely it was only a matter of time. And when they did...then what? Would Creigh send me back to the Reynolds farm? Turn me into a weapon against my Ival?
I couldn’t allow it. But how could I prevent it? Would the corruption let me warn him, or would Creigh compel me to silence? To wait until we were alone, until he was vulnerable, and then strike?
Ma had tried to prevent Vernon from bringing me here. I clung to that fact as tightly as I could.
Vernon. He’d told me I’d pay for what I’d done, in the same words the corrupted had used. There had to be a connection.
Ma thought God had inspired him to drill for water in the fallow place. Thanks to Delancey’s letter and photos, I already knew the Fideles were behind it, but I’d assumed Vernon ignorant of their true nature. But what if he wasn’t? What if he knew everything?
It would explain why none of the corrupted corn from the field had found its way onto their table. Why he’d made sure to keep the house garden on the old well only.
But Marian was corrupted. Had there been some kind of mistake? Did he even know?
Or perhaps I was wrong. I didn’t want to believe it of him. Didn’t want to think the little boy who had hidden beneath a table with me, or played at soldiers in his yard, would willingly do such a thing.
There came the rattle of a key in the door. I stilled, waiting, and a moment later Mrs. Creigh stepped in.
Sorcery left a mark on those who practiced it. There was a light burning in her eyes—a mere flicker compared to Whyborne’s incandescence, but enough for my shadowsight to perceive. She had touched the arcane, had bent the world to her will.
“Let us go,” I said, before she could speak. “If you know what happened in Widdershins last July, then you know Whyborne isn’t an enemy you want to make. Neither is Christine, for that matter.”
Creigh tilted her head to one side. “Mr. Delancey believed the Fideles made a mistake. That we should have followed the Cabal’s lead and recruited Dr. Whyborne instead of his brother.”
Could I possibly get some useful information from her? It seemed worth a try. “Whyborne wasn’t recruited by the Cabal,” I said. “They were in touch with him through one of their members, nothing more.”
“I’m quite aware of the situation, Mr. Flaherty. Many of the sorcerers in the Cabal also belong to the Fideles.” She arched a brow at my surprise. “Really, where do you think most sorcerers get their power and knowledge from?”
“The Man in the Woods,” I said numbly. God. I should have thought of it before. “Reverend Scarrow was killed by one of the Cabal, wasn’t he? Someone he trusted?”
“Probably.” She shrugged. “His death unsettled Mr. Delancey—who was himself both a member of the Cabal and the Fideles. I should have recognized it as a sign of weakness and had him dealt with before his case of cold feet became terminal. At first I cursed Odell for not dealing with him quickly enough, for giving us away.” Her mouth twitched into a smile that sent a wash of cold down my back. “Now I realize it was an opportunity.”
“You mean to corrupt Whyborne,” I said, ashes in my mouth. “You gave Miss Norton the pumpkin, didn’t you? And now you mean to use me as bait.”
“Yes, yes.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But I’m not here because of Dr. Whyborne. I’m far more interested in you.” She cocked her head.
“Why is it that Mrs. Harper is so very insistent we not infect you?”
No. She couldn’t be saying what I thought. “Marian?”
But Marian was corrupted. Marian was a victim of what the Fideles had wrought.
Wasn’t she?
“I could insist, of course,” Creigh went on, ignoring my shock. “But why bother? Dear Marian has been...temperamental...as of late. I could simply enforce my will on her, but I find it’s much easier to make suggestions to a partner than compel a slave. If letting her devise some worse fate for you settles her down, then I’m happy to go along with her little plan. You’ll serve as bait for Dr. Whyborne just as effectively either way.”
“You’re lying,” I said, because it didn’t make any sense. What did Creigh mean by suggestions to a partner? She was a powerful sorceress, and Marian the simple wife of a farmer.
Or perhaps I’d underestimated Marian from the start.
“Why would I lie?” Creigh asked. She fingered the jewel at her throat absently. “What I want to know is this. You know the truth about this world. So why do you oppose us?”
I sat back, and winced at the pain shooting through my back. “Because I have some allegiance to humanity?” I suggested.
“Allegiance to humanity?” She let out a hiss of impatience. “You idiot. Why do you think I’m doing any of this to begin with? The masters are going to return whether I wish them to or not. When last they left, humanity was no threat to them. We were beneath their notice, save as raw materials. What do you think their response will be when they return to discover our cities? Our great ships plying the oceans? To find we’ve covered almost every corner of the globe?”
“Which is why we must fight them!”
Creigh let out an unladylike snort. “Fight them? How? The masters created the maelstrom beneath Widdershins. They twisted the very arcane lines of the earth to make a vortex of immense power, dwarfing all others. Do you imagine, even for an instant, that you can foil the will of creatures capable of such a feat?”
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