by Melanie Card
With the ability to pull evil from the Abyss, it was clear Stasik was at least as strong—probably stronger—than Macerio, and Macerio had been able to kill with a touch. This was a situation they were going to have to play carefully.
“So, pet,” Stasik said, his tone steady and chilly. “Tell me why you’re a pet but not a pet.”
Ward fought the urge to swallow and show the fear sliding through him. “It’s complicated.”
“You’ve said that.” Stasik glanced at Celia. “And you. You’re not right, either.”
Celia met his gaze. A hint of the coldhearted assassin bled through her expression, but the Innecroestri didn’t flinch. “Ward is the necromancer.”
“Innecroestri, actually,” Ward said.
“Which would make you the blood magi?” Stasik asked, still staring at Celia.
She shifted. Her discomfort at the words oozed through the soul chain. She hadn’t thought of what she’d done in that way before. She’d cast magic using blood sacrifices, powerful magic, with the souls of who knew how many people who’d been killed during that fight. All to bring him back.
“But if the spell on her is yours, then you’d have to be a blood magi as well.” Stasik turned to Ward. “You’ve barely enough necromantic strength to cast a wake. I can hardly see it in your aura, and I bet if I bled you, I wouldn’t be able to see much more.”
“So I’ve been told,” Ward said.
“The spell on her is unusual, too.”
“I’ve been told that, as well.” Ward forced his expression steady. Save for the icy danger, Ward couldn’t tell if Stasik meant them harm—all right, that was dumb, of course he meant them harm—but was it immediate harm or were they fine for now? They needed enough time to figure out what was going on, and a direct confrontation against a powerful Innecroestri wasn’t a plan most survived. He needed to convince Stasik they were on his side, at least long enough for them to figure out what to do.
Stasik narrowed his eyes. “Who told you that?”
“Macerio Sanz de Cortia.” Given the competition between every Innecroestri Ward had so far met to rule the Council of Blood, bringing up Macerio’s name was a risk, but the name gave him credentials.
Stasik stiffened, the first sign anything about their conversation bothered him. “And what do you know about de Cortia?”
“We spent a little time in his house.” Ward had to play this carefully.
“And he told you about me?” Stasik asked.
“You came up briefly in conversation.” That was a lie, but Ward couldn’t very well say they’d stumbled across Stasik while trying to flee Ward’s necromantic family, who were determined to kill him, or that the Master of Brawenal’s Assassins’ Guild wanted Stasik dead.
Uncertainty and warning fluttered through the soul chain. Yeah, he felt the same way, too. This was so very dangerous.
“What did he say?” Stasik asked, his voice cold.
“That you were his competition for ruling the Council of Blood.”
The very first Innecroestri, Habil, had owned the mansion where they’d encountered Macerio. He’d split his powerful grimoire into three sections and hidden them in the house. When Ward and Celia had stumbled across Macerio, the Innecroestri had found two of the grimoires, the Book of Blood and the Book of Death, and was searching for the Book of Souls. Once he’d reunited all the pieces of the grimoire and gained the magical power embedded in the books, he planned to take control of the Council of Blood and command all other Innecroestri.
Up until a fortnight ago, Ward had thought only one Innecroestri was still alive and then he and Celia had killed her in Brawenal City. Since, they’d encountered Macerio and come face-to-face with Stasik, and knew of at least one other Innecroestri, Lauro Allard. Ward didn’t know how the Innecroestris had managed to stay hidden without completely disrupting the balance between life and death. The last time he’d talked to his grandfather, there’d been no mention of Innecroestri other than that one woman. But the conversation with Grandfather had been before Ward had been expelled from the physicians’ academy and branded a criminal by the Quayestri for digging up corpses and performing illegal necropsies.
Now he was neck-deep in Innecroestri machinations—an unwilling Innecroestri and now a vesperitti himself. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with his family’s business of necromancy, and he wasn’t qualified to deal with this kind of mess.
Stasik cleared his throat, and Ward realized the man had asked a question. Except Ward couldn’t remember hearing one.
Celia rolled her eyes, hiding the worry slicing through the soul chain. “His mind wanders like that. No, we doubt Macerio will be competing with you for ruling the Council of Blood.”
“And that’s why we came to find you,” Ward said. Focus. Stay on topic, deal with this Innecroestri and then—
He had no idea what would happen afterward.
“You came to find me?” Stasik asked, his tone still cold and even. No emotional response to whether he was flattered, wary, or upset about that.
“We want to align ourselves with the most powerful Innecroestri,” Celia said.
Stasik snorted. “And Macerio said I was the most powerful of the Innecroestri?”
“He said he was,” Ward said. “But I had my doubts, and now that I’ve see that you can open the Gate to the Abyss, I know I made the right decision.”
Stasik pursed his lips. “It’s just a fissure.”
“It isn’t just anything.” Ward fought to keep his panic about it from his voice. “We want to join you, help you lead the Council of Blood.” Just say yes. Accept them. Let them leave this damned room so they could come up with a plan.
“You’re still a pet. Pets don’t belong on this island. Besides, I already have help.” Stasik leaned back and crossed his arms. “Thanos is more powerful than you. Your soul chain hasn’t lengthened, so I know you’re a baby vesperitti. It’ll take you fifty years to come into your strength, and I can tell you need to eat.”
As if in response, Ward’s stomach growled, but at least the overwhelming hunger didn’t roar to life within him.
“You aren’t even much of an Innecroestri.”
Ward straightened. “I’ve cast a false resurrection—”
“I’m not so sure about that. Your spell on her is too unusual to tell.”
“Well, it’s not a wake. We’ve been here for longer than fifteen minutes. You can’t deny Celia was dead and now she’s not.” Warning thrummed through the soul chain, but Ward ignored it. “I’m not here to challenge your leadership. I’m here to follow it. You know my necromantic ability is limited, and you know Celia has no ability at all. We’ve embraced blood magic, both become full Innecroestri in our own right—regardless of how unique our situation might be. Think about what we’d be willing to do for you.”
Stasik glanced from Celia back to Ward, his expression still cold and unreadable.
“Fine.” Ward stood. This was a serious risk, but asking nicely wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Come on, Celia. I’m done wasting our time.”
Surprise leapt through the soul chain.
The pirates at the door turned toward them, reaching for their swords.
With a jerk, Ward gathered what little magic remained on the blood splattering Celia’s clothing from the fight in the woods and blasted it at the men. They gasped and sagged against the wall, not quite unconscious but certainly dazed. Ward forced back his surprise. He had no idea when casting reverse wakes had become instinct, but he wasn’t going to spend the time right now to figure it out.
“Wait,” Stasik said with a laugh, as if Ward’s sudden aggression amused him.
Ward looked back at the man with the driest expression he could muster.
“I might be looking for a new apprentice. You’ve certainly demonstrated creativity.” He picked up the decanter, poured one glass of wine, and sipped it. “We’ll see how long you last on the island.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?
” Celia asked, dangerous intent seeping up the soul chain.
“Pets don’t belong on Vekalmeer for a reason.”
“What reason is that?” Ward asked.
“You should have spent more time learning from Macerio before coming.” Stasik’s lips curled back in a dark smile that sent chills racing over Ward.
Chapter Thirteen
One of the guards, still a little dazed from Ward’s partial reverse wake, led them from the makeshift parlor down the hall. They turned a corner, dimly lit with a hint of witch-stone, past a workroom filled with pungent smells, a library, and then half a dozen empty chambers, until they reached a room with more cushions and rugs laid out a like a bedchamber.
Celia couldn’t believe Ward had convinced Stasik to trust them—or rather, trust them as much as an Innecroestri could really trust anyone. She couldn’t believe Ward had threatened to walk out as well and then dazed the guards at the door. In that moment, she hadn’t been entirely sure who this man with her was. He certainly wasn’t the man she’d met just over a fortnight ago in her father’s house. He wasn’t even the man who, against all better judgment, had stayed in Macerio’s mansion to steal those powerful spell books. The uneasy sensation in the pit of her stomach, the one that said Ward wasn’t a living man at all, said the person who’d just faced Stasik wasn’t any of those men. He was someone different. He was something different.
The guard motioned for them to enter the bedchamber then left. His footsteps receded down the hall, and she glanced after him to ensure he’d gone. The hall was empty. Guess Stasik didn’t think they were much of a threat.
“Well, we’re not dead yet,” Ward said.
“Really?” Had he forgotten that he was dead?
“All right, not completely dead. But I doubt he’ll trust us for long.”
She snorted. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t trust us now.” But she had to admit they were in a better position than if they were locked up.
Ward sagged onto a pallet half covered in cushions. The pallet was large enough for two to sleep side by side, if those two were very familiar with each other. They’d have to snuggle close to stay on.
The idea of snuggling warmed her. It was a girlish thought. And a foolish one, given their situation. If they somehow got off this island and Ward ever forgave her for turning him into a vesperitti, then they could snuggle. But first she had to tell him the truth—that he was dead and she wasn’t.
She opened her mouth. Ward.
He frowned.
She hadn’t spoken. She couldn’t force his name past her lips. There were so many things she had to tell him, and yet fear froze her throat.
She’d made him a monster. The soul chain might have made him think he loved her right now, but could he ever forgive her for that? And it wasn’t really Ward who was the monster. It was her. She was the monster. Could a soul be saved from doing monstrous things, like killing people?
Except she still killed people. In the last day, she’d killed half a dozen pirates. She wasn’t a reformed assassin. She still left a trail of bodies wherever she went. It was too hard to believe Ward, with all his goodness and honor, even as a vesperitti, could see her as redeemable.
She glanced into the hall, more to stop looking at Ward on the pallet than to check if they were being guarded. Goddess! There’d been a time when she’d known what she was doing and how she felt…about everything. That time seemed so far away. Her courage to say the hard truth was even farther from her grasp.
“All right.” Ward sounded tired.
If they survived this, he deserved the truth. But there was no point making the situation more complicated. If they didn’t survive, then the truth about her resurrection wouldn’t matter.
Yes. Ward would be Ward and get all distracted if he knew the truth. Not saying anything was the best option.
And not saying anything wouldn’t force Ward to see who and what she really was.
“How do we, you know—” His gaze jumped to the hall.
“It’s safe, no one is listening.”
“Good,” he said, his voice low. “How do we kill Stasik?”
“You are not seriously going to go through with this?” This was not the man she cared about. This was the monster she’d created.
“He’s dangerous. Goddess, Celia, he pulled something out of the Dark Son’s Abyss.”
“All the more reason for us to get out of here. We’re not going to have a repeat of Macerio’s mansion.” They’d barely gotten out of that situation alive.
“All the more reason to do this. Did you see what happened to Nazarius?”
“He got thrown out of the clearing.”
“Then there’s hope he’s still alive and can help.”
“If he wasn’t seriously injured or killed.” A part of her hoped the Tracker was fine and working on a way to assist them, but a smart assassin didn’t place bets like that.
“Well, there isn’t time to go back to the mainland and find my grandfather. This needs to happen fast.” Ward sat forward, his expression hard with determination. “At least we can say we’ve done something like this before.”
“I’m not sure that helps. Fast isn’t the best choice.” She couldn’t believe she was the one suggesting patience. It was one of her worst traits as an assassin. Ward had always been the hesitant, thoughtful one.
“I haven’t seen any vesperitti nearby, and he more or less trusts us, but that won’t last. Now is the time to strike.”
“Have you forgotten about whatever he did to that pirate with the black veins? Thanos? He’s strong and fast. I wouldn’t say that’s easier than going up against vesperitti.”
“And my reverse wake didn’t seem to affect him.” Ward frowned and sagged back on the pillow.
She wanted to sit beside him, feel the warmth of his body close to hers. But that wouldn’t help her concentrate. “I think we’re missing something. The Master doesn’t do anything without a reason. Why is he so determined to have you kill Stasik?”
“I’m not sure we’re in a position to ask.”
“Well, we shouldn’t rush to action. We don’t know anything.” She knelt before him. “Do we know what Stasik is doing with this fissure? If we fulfill this assignment, will the fissure close, or will killing him make the situation worse?”
His gaze dipped to her hands on the cushion beside his thigh. “I just want this done.” He sighed. “But you’re right, we don’t know what this actually is.”
“So let’s not do this.” Say yes. They could run away, leave all this and be together—and yes, she’d even tell him the truth. Let the Master solve his own damned problems. Goddess, she’d never wanted any of that before, and now being with Ward was the most important thing in the Union.
“I know I should say yes, but—”
But he had to say no. He was Ward. Saving lives was what he did. Even though Ward was now dead, his honor wouldn’t let him leave.
Dark Son’s curses, she hated and loved that about him. “Fine. So what do you want to do?”
“In the very least, you’re right. We should get more information from him.”
“He isn’t going to just reveal his plans to us. Not so soon.”
Ward closed his eyes. The witch-stone pattern in the wall behind his head accentuated the lines of his face, drawing deep shadows along his cheeks and around his eyes. Somewhere in his family, someone had slept with a noble. The lineage was clear in his chiseled features. That relationship would have been shunned and likely happened in secret. Kind of like the relationship she and Ward would have, with her alive and him dead.
“All right,” Ward said. “There’s a workroom just up the hall.”
She pulled her attention back to him. “And?”
“Maybe I can find something that will encourage Stasik to talk.”
“You mean a drug like ergostass?” It was a fungus that caused hallucinations but also made a victim more susceptible to questioning. She’d learned about it as p
art of her assassin’s apprenticeship.
“Or virala resin or black button mushrooms.”
“So there are options.” She’d heard of the mushrooms but not the resin.
No, she had heard of the resin, somehow. The knowledge was there in the back of her mind. It was rare, found in Mondero from the root of a strange, straggly-looking bush.
The image of the plant popped into her mind, as did the barren, rocky, dusty landscape of the Castala Desert, where it grew. Except she’d never been to Mondero. She’d only heard stories of the Castala. It had to be more of Remy’s knowledge still whispering through her thoughts.
Something fluttered at the edge of her vision. A shadow. Movement. Danger.
She jerked to her feet, drawing her dagger in one quick action. The doorway was empty and the room billowed as if it were reflected in water, but her heart still pounded. She was still certain something was wrong.
Ward jerked to his feet. “Are you all right? Did you see someone?”
She eased to the entrance. No one in the hall. The sense of billowing and being in a dream increased. Her heart pounded harder. She was so sure she’d seen someone.
“Celia?” Ward brushed her shoulder but didn’t maintain contact.
“I’m fine. Just thought I saw something.” They’d been through a lot lately. She was probably still tense from all of that. Really. “Can’t be too careful.”
“In this building? I agree.”
Best to get this job done so they could rest. That’s all she and Ward needed. Rest. “So, these drugs.”
“Right. Virala resin and black button mushrooms. They aren’t as effective as the ergostass, but they’re more common.”