Alchemist's Kiss

by AR DeClerck

  “Machiavelli gave you a feather?” I brushed the glossy black with the tip of my finger. There was enough residual magic in just that touch to send shivers up my spine.

  “Grand Master Orrin must think highly of you, Adept Kane.” Levisque raised an eyebrow at Icarus.

  “I have more stubborn will than most, and that's what he likes.” Icarus twirled the feather in his fingers. “With this, we should have no trouble locating Professor Croft.”

  Levisque smiled and the wild-eyed look of excitement glazed his eyes again. A blush rose over his cheeks. “Then we fly.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Icarus stood at the bow of the ship, his curls lifted by the wind as his duster flapped around him. I held my breath as the wind snapped and snarled. One wrong move could send him tumbling into the streets below.

  Levisque stepped up beside me, pushing his spectacles up on his nose. “A fascinating man.”

  “Yes.” I bit my lip as Icarus raised the feather and the dim sunlight glinted off it. “Please tell me Nickerson can fly this ship smoothly.”

  Levisque squinted against the glare as Icarus lifted the feather higher. I could feel the tight press of the aether all around me as it gathered to do Icarus' bidding. “I daresay our Grand Adept could fly, Adept Jenkins.”

  “You know nothing of magic, Captain?” I shook my head, barely refraining from an unladylike eye roll. “A wizard's magic is based on the aether around him. He is dependent on its whim and how well it...likes him...for lack of a better description. The aether could buoy Icarus, yes, and carry him safely to the ground. It could also decide to drop him and shatter every bone. We are only conduits for aether, allowing it to act on our world through us when, and if, it chooses.”

  “I was under the assumption that a wizard could command the aether to do as he wishes.”

  “Any wizard who tries to control the aether will gain moderate magical abilities at best. Forcing the aether to your will can only work for the short term. But bonding to the aether, befriending it, can result in unimaginable power.”

  “It's why he's so strong, then? And Orrin? They've befriended the aether?”

  “It's more complicated for Icarus. He's bonded to it more deeply than even Orrin.”

  Levisque squinted harder as the feather began to dance and twirl in Icarus' palm. “Why isn't he the Grand Master, then?”

  I chuckled. “Icarus has little time or patience for politics. His concern is protecting the people of London. He could be the most powerful wizard in the world, but he fears the aether as much as he loves it.”

  “And so he is limited in its use.”

  I smiled at Levisque. “And that's your lesson about magic for the day, Captain.”

  “Fascinating.” he repeated as the feather twirled faster and faster on Icarus' palm. “How can this lead us to Croft?”

  I pointed as the feather left Icarus' palm to hover ten feet from the bow of the ship. “Follow it, Captain, and we will have our man.”

  Levisque grinned, his narrow face lighting with the excitement of the hunt. He bowed low to me and hurried away from the wheelhouse as Icarus stepped down from the bow.

  I hurried to him, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He was stiff for a moment before he softened and hugged me to him. “Worried for my safety, Cora?”

  “I have every confidence in your magical ability, but your balance may be called into question.” I teased. I stepped back enough to see his face. “You're pale. You should rest awhile.”

  “We should arrive at our destination soon, Cora. We must be ready to face my father again.”

  “Hence my suggestion for rest.” I shook my head at him. “Nothing can be gained from killing yourself before the battle begins.”

  “If ever I said I disliked your caring nature, Cora Jenkins, I was sorely wrong.”

  I laughed. “Good, then heed it!” I nodded to the Captain's cabin, where he'd offered us the use of his quarters. “Rest. I'll bring tea.”

  He leaned forward to kiss my cheek, a small peck that left my heart galloping. It was more from Icarus than I'd ever expected. A small crack in the wall between us. He walked away and the cabin door closed behind him. I glanced back at the raven's feather, still spinning ahead of the ship.

  “I'm coming for you, Victor Kane.” I touched The Hand and made a vow. “You are the thing that stands between Icarus and I, and I will cut you down to make him mine.”

  We rode smooth, barely a movement under my feet to remind me that we were thousands of feet above the city streets. I took a tea service from a sweet young man with a bulbous nose and rather prominent front teeth who blushed as he handed it over. I balanced the tray on an arm as I pushed the Captain's door open. I froze as the broad expanse of Icarus' back came into view. I'd expected him to be abed, resting as I'd instructed. Instead he was standing before the Captain's mirrored water stand, staring hard at his reflection.

  He didn't turn when I entered, and I pretended not to notice that he was without his shirt. Sure, I'd seen him bared to his knickers on occasion when he was injured, but this time he was hale and hearty and in a seemingly foul mood.

  I put the service on the table and closed the door behind me.

  “Am I cursed, Cora?”

  I put out a cup and poured the tea, watching the strong black brew curl into the cup. I dropped in a lump of fine sugar and a spot of milk before stirring. Icarus didn't move from the mirror.

  I crossed my arms. “And if you are?”

  I met his eyes in the mirror and he raised an eyebrow in silent question.

  “If you are cursed, what are you going to do about it?”

  “So you believe that I'm cursed?” A twitch of his lips when I tapped my toe in annoyance almost made me smile at him. Instead I frowned harder and gave him my sternest look.

  “Is my opinion of so little worth to you, Icarus?”

  “I asked you, didn't I?”

  I sighed. “You are the most honorable and kind man I've ever known. Even when poor Josiah writhed in pain from the possession of that demon you did what was right and put him out of his misery. You saved Archie. You saved me. I'll take a curse such as yours any day.”

  He dropped his head and the blonde curls bounced as he laughed at me. “No man can pity himself around you, can he?”

  “Not when it's wholly without truth.” I countered. “You are not cursed. You are not evil. When you hurt those people you were a child.”

  He turned to me, coming so close that I could see the crisp curling blonde hairs on his chest. He was all lean muscle, and a heady smoke and lavender smell that teased my nose. I'd forgotten how uncivilized he could look without his tweed and herringbone.

  “And does that excuse it, Cora?” He reached for me, but pulled back when he realized he didn't have his gloves on. He stepped back, but I followed, taking a step closer to him.

  “No.”

  “Does it erase my guilt? My shame? Does it whiten my soul before the Almighty and the aether?” He pulled the thin leather glove over his left hand.

  I stepped closer still. I rested my palm on his chest. The contact was electric, the aether hot between us.

  “No.”

  “I killed my own mother. My sister.”

  “You were a child.” The aether was connecting us, and I could feel the depths of sadness within him. My heart hurt with the weight of it. “What would have happened to you if you'd refused?”

  “He would have killed me too.”

  He put his gloved hand over mine, holding my palm to his skin. Our eyes were locked, and I could feel the barrier between us weakening even more.

  His other hand traced the line of my jaw, and cupped my cheek in a sweet caress. “Why do you forgive me for my sins, when I cannot even forgive myself?” he whispered.

  “Because a sin is a thing done by a man who has a choice.”

  “I had a choice. I could have chosen to die with them.”

  “And what have you done in the nam
e of all that guilt, Icarus?” I clutched his arm. I tried to bore my logic into his brain with the force of my gaze. His eyes, so blue, were dark with pain. “You came to London to save people. You defeated the dark mages. You saved the people of this city, whether they thank you for it or not. Because you have a good heart. A good soul. It's a little stained,”

  His mouth turned up at the corners as I smiled at him, “but it's not evil. You are not evil.”

  He kissed me then. He wasn't gentle, his lips crashing into mine and driving out my breath. I stepped closer, the heat between us growing as the aether swarmed. I felt The Hand growing warmer, but I ignored it as I kissed him back with all the fervor I could muster.

  Our tongues dueled and I could feel the warmth of his body all around me. He held me tight against him, and every inch of his lean decadent body was pressed against mine. I cursed the weight of my heavy skirts as they kept us even an inch apart. His hands caressed my hair, sifting through the strands as he took all my breath. I'd never been kissed like this, like I was cherished. Treasured. Loved.

  We stilled, mouth to mouth. This was different. Not the fervent, fevered kiss of before. Something more passed from my lips to his, from his to mine.

  “Icarus.” I whispered.

  He still held me close, and he closed his eyes as I spoke.

  I opened my mouth to say the words that would finally break down the walls between us and make us whole, and that's when all hell broke loose.

  ***

  Icarus held Cora against him as the ship lurched under their feet. They tumbled but he managed to turn in time to take the brunt of the fall on his back. Cora landed sprawled over his chest, her hat askew and curls over her face. She wiped them away with a curse.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He lay a moment, savoring the feel of her soft body against his. When he'd kissed her he'd given in to the moment, letting his libido get away with things his mind would never allow. In the brief moment after she'd whispered his name he'd begun to hope that she really meant what she said about his soul. Her kiss had been passionate, and she responded to him with fiery intensity that made it harder to stop kissing her.

  “Icarus?”

  “I'm fine. Perhaps a bit bruised.” He missed her weight when she climbed to her feet and dusted off her rose-colored silks. She held out her hand to help him up, and he took it. He began to fear that he was becoming addicted to touching her.

  “What happened?”

  He reached for his shirt, buttoning it up quickly before slipping on his waistcoat and duster. “We'd best find out.”

  Cora righted her hat and smoothed down the wrinkles in her dress before grinning at him. “How do I look? Do you think the Captain and his men will think we were behaving improperly?”

  “You look ravishing, as usual.” He bit back a smile. “And if any man says a word I'll rip out his tongue.”

  She smiled at him, a sunny chuckle erupting. “Now where's the fun in that?”

  She opened the door and he followed her closely as the ship rocked again. He grabbed her waist as they slammed into the wheelhouse wall. “You want them to think were behaving badly?” he said into her ear.

  She turned and kissed his mouth soundly, leaving him speechless.

  “No. I want them to know we were.”

  She moved away from him toward Levisque, who stood on the deck shouting orders. Despite the storm clouds gathering overhead, and the obvious distress of the crew racing about him, Icarus found himself smiling a wide and rather rakish smile. There was no other woman in world like his Cora Mae.

  “This storm is not natural!” Levisque shouted over the howl of the sudden wind. Lightning split the clouds around them as a few drops of rain splattered the deck.

  “My father must have sensed Machiavelli's feather!” Icarus grabbed hold of Cora as the ship lurched again, sending them all stumbling. “Can we go lower to get out of it?”

  “I know nothing of magical storms.” Levisque squinted at the bank of black clouds just ahead. “My guess is that the storm is aimed at taking us down.”

  “Can it do that?” Cora shielded her face as driving rain began to lash them. Levisque waved them inside the wheelhouse as the rain became a torrent.

  “Nickerson, what's our status?” he demanded as he studied the gauges and knobs on the control panel.

  “We're running hotter than a White Chapel whore, Captain!” Nickerson blushed when Cora burst out laughing at his profanity. “I mean, our boilers are getting to dangerous temperatures, sir.” he amended quickly.

  “My father can cause the storm to start, but he can't direct it or change its course.” Icarus stared out the window at the driving rain.

  “Lucan could stop the rain.” Cora pointed out.

  “Lucan is the Grand Master. His bond to the aether is stronger than my father's. I'm positive this is blood magic.” Icarus squinted into the storm.

  “Captain, we're going redline on two and three!' Nickerson shouted as the ship tipped, sending them all stumbling. Cora fell into one of the chairs, relieved to see it was bolted to the floor. She held on as the ship neared a complete roll.

  “One more hit like that and we're going down.” Levisque put his hands on his hips and looked at Icarus. “If you have any magical advice, now is the time, Grand Adept Kane.”

  Icarus looked at Cora, and then at Levisque. Men ran through the wheelhouse in fire suits, heading for the overheating boilers. If they didn't explode in the air they'd most surely crash. He felt the rune on his hand begin to burn with excitement.

  “Cora, give me The Hand.”

  She put her hand over the twisted metal and frowned. “What?”

  “Give me The Hand.”

  “Icarus, you said never...”

  “Cora, please.”

  He knelt in front of her and took her free hand in his. The hum of the aether was more insistent and his hand was throbbing with the searing heat of the magical rune. Whatever she saw in his face must have scared her, because she grew pale.

  “No.”

  “Cora. Please.”

  She dropped The Hand to cradle his face in her palms. “Please don't do this.”

  He grasped the talisman in his gloved palm, the connection between its magic and his rune enough to make him stiffen in pain. He pulled hard, breaking the chain and taking it from her neck.

  There was a loud creak and the sounds of an explosion as Levisque cursed. The glass in the wheelhouse window cracked, a long line running down the center as Nickerson fought to keep the balloon in the air.

  “You don't have to sacrifice yourself.”

  He kissed her lips, not giving a damn what etiquette demanded or who might be watching. “If I'm lucky I'll survive.” He looked over his shoulder at Levisque. “We all will.”

  “Then do it.” The Captain was holding on to the wheel, helping his XO keep them in the air. His face was strained with the effort it took to hold them steady. “Fast.”

  Icarus stepped into the rain and tasted the blood on the air. His father was playing a very dangerous game indeed. The rain was sharp, slicing at him as he clutched the talisman tightly in his ungloved palm. He looked over his shoulder once, and could see the shadow of Cora staring out from the wheelhouse at him. The ship lurched hard to the right and he stumbled, cursing. He made his way to the bow, climbing up to the very edge as he had when he'd released Machiavelli's feather to the wind. He could still see it ahead of them, spinning wildly as it continued on its magical quest to show them to Croft. His duster was caught in the gale, blowing out from his body and letting him become soaked to the bone in seconds. Had he mentioned that he hated rain, he wondered. With The Hand tight in his fingers he lifted his arms and held them straight out from his body. He tipped forward as the wind tried to pull him into the cloudy abyss, but he managed to hold himself up with sheer will and upper body strength.

  “Deffro i mi,” he said through teeth clenched in cold and pain. He felt the talis
man grow hotter as he spoke to it in its native tongue, “Rhannwch eich pwr gyda mi.” Awaken unto me. Share your power with me.

  The Hand and his rune were on fire, but he bit his lip to hold back a cry of pain and held it tighter. The ancient magic of the Celtic talisman mingled with his own, and the aether around him came alive. Like fireflies in the summer night the air around him lit with static electricity and the aether glowed. A cloud of golden aether particles swirled all around him. He managed a smile as the world around him darkened and narrowed.

  “Not now.” he gritted out, keeping his consciousness with his own stubborn refusal to go down.

  “Glanhau.” he begged the aether. It could read the hearts and minds of a man; he knew it as clearly as he knew his own strength was nearly gone. It was not an inanimate source of magical power, but a sentient thinking thing. Many thinking particles that hated the stench of the blood magic as much as he did. Cleanse, he asked it.

  Once he'd told Cora that The Hand was a tool of dark magic, but as he held it he felt what she must have felt in the train car with his father. The Hand was loyal to Cora. It wasn't emotion he felt from the talisman's magic, but he knew it like he knew his name. The Hand wanted Cora. Would do this thing for him because Cora loved him.

  Icarus nearly lost his balance as the thought blasted through his mind. Cora loved him. He'd hoped she cared for him, at the same time feared she might. He'd tried to shake off the responsibility that came with love, but here it was as clear as glass. Cora loved him. The Hand knew it. Now Icarus knew it too. He could no longer pretend that Cora's infatuation would end someday when the right man came along. He was the right man. Cora's man. All that remained was to say the words.

  The aether spread out around him, the glow visible for a far as he could see across the great expanse of sky before him. Everywhere it moved it sizzled against the aether tained with his father's dark magic. They collided and the dark aether was burned out by the light of his own. The magic was draining him quickly, and his sudden infusion of spirit at the knowledge of Cora's love had only bolstered him for a moment. His arms were leaden as the last of his father's magic was eradicated and the storm began to clear. He smelled smoke, but knew the ship was no longer in danger of falling from the sky. The aether was surrounding it, keeping them in the air.