Specters of Nemesis:

by Karen Kincy

  He focused on scrubbing between his fingers, trying to erase the feel of death, no doubt. “And anyone else in our way.”

  “Are you sure this will change the future?”

  “I would do anything to keep you safe.”

  The knot in her stomach tightened. What happened to her in his timeline? But she didn’t want to feed this fear, so she didn’t ask. “We should clean this up.” She waved at the blood, which glittered with the city lights.

  He sighed. “I should have made the dead man do it.”

  Nausea curdled her stomach. She knew the necromancer joked about the morbid to distance himself from it, but this was too callous. Even if the guard had shot him. What if Wendel lied? What if the guard was innocent? She couldn’t dredge up that corpse and interrogate him. Sometimes she wished she could.

  Wendel dragged over a barrel of rainwater and tipped it over. Water sloshed over the blood, sweeping it into the bay. She gripped her sword’s pommel, Chun Yi’s thirst pulsing like a heartbeat. The blade wanted to spill more blood.

  “The shipping manifest?” she said.

  “Aboard the Reliant.” He swept his arm. “Ladies first.”

  “Are you sure that guy was the only guard?”

  He shrugged. “Hopefully we won’t have to leave a trail of corpses.”

  “Good plan,” she muttered.

  Two

  The Reliant looked anything but reliable. A windjammer with an iron hull, her sails dingy like old laundry. Ardis wondered if the ship’s cargo could possibly be a real threat to Nemesis. Perhaps this disrepair served as a disguise.

  A short gangway led to the ship, the gate padlocked, though that didn’t stop her from vaulting aboard. The deck of the ship tilted underfoot. Stumbling, she caught herself against a rope stretched taut in the rigging.

  “Are you all right?” Wendel leapt aboard with slightly more grace. He touched the back of her hand, only for a moment.

  She stepped back. “Yes.” Her cheeks burned.

  “Be careful.” He lowered his voice. “For the baby’s sake.”

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” She meant it as a joke, but her voice wavered.

  He looked away, his gaze on the black water. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why?” The instant she asked, she regretted it.

  But he said nothing, walking toward the stern of the ship. He stopped at the door to the captain’s quarters and jiggled the handle.

  “Nothing a lockpick can’t fix,” he muttered.

  Her fingers strayed to her sword. She couldn’t help glancing around, as if another guard might interrupt them at any moment.

  The lock clicked. “The manifest should be in here,” he said.

  “Let’s get it and get out.” She crossed the swaying deck, though she wasn’t sure if that was the only reason she felt off balance.

  The captain’s quarters smelled musty, like books ruined by rain. A battered desk stretched along a wall opposite a berth with a lumpy mattress. Wendel slid open all the drawers in rapid succession, rifling through papers and folders. He stopped, for a moment, and frowned at a blueprint before handing it to Ardis.

  “Nemesis was right to be worried,” he said.

  The blue ink smudged her fingers. “What’s this?”

  She unrolled the blueprint on the desk–schematics for some sort of electrified crossbow. The Hex negated gunpowder within Germany and the borders of its allies, but that magic didn’t prevent you from electrocuting your enemies.

  “Thunderbolt.” She grunted at the name. “I wonder if it works.”

  Wendel arched an eyebrow. “I wonder if Nikola Tesla knows about this.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He has a morbid fascination with electricity.”

  “Morbid fascination?” she repeated. “You’re a fine one to talk.”

  He grimaced like he tasted something sour. “I never asked to be a necromancer.”

  She gave him a look. “Nobody asked you to keep raising the dead.”

  “It’s useful,” he said, with no small amount of sarcasm.

  She spotted a journal bound in black leather. “This looks like a manifest to me.”

  “Perfect.” He squinted at the Thunderbolt blueprint. “For once, I wish the archmage was here to ramble on about technomancy.”

  “Konstantin?”

  “Yes…”

  She rifled through the journal, which indeed contained ledgers of shipments. Arrows, ammo, and armor. The ammo seemed odd, like they were optimistic about destroying the Hex and returning to infantry armed with guns.

  Wendel rolled up the blueprint. “Perhaps these crossbows are the work of Tesla’s rival.”

  “And?”

  “Perhaps Tesla might be persuaded to work for Nemesis.”

  She studied his face, which was unreadable, unsurprisingly. “Does Tesla work for the German Empire? In the future?”

  He smirked. “If I tell you all the secrets, there won’t be any to look forward to.”

  “Didn’t you come from a terrible future?”

  “I did.” He pocketed the blueprint in his coat. “But together we can rewrite history.”

  She followed him to the door. “You don’t believe in Fate?”

  “Hell, no.”

  ~

  New York City never slept. Taxis honked at horse carriages and jaywalkers even at three in the morning. Ardis flinched, her nerves frayed. They stopped at their hotel, where she hid her sword, before walking to the hospital.

  The whole time, Wendel said nothing, his eyes focused somewhere faraway.

  “When do we report to Nemesis?” she said.

  “We?” He grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose, like he had a headache.

  “It pays to be prompt.”

  “Ardis, have I ever told you how mercenary you can be?”

  “You aren’t usually that rude.”

  “I will endeavor to be the model of politeness.”

  They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “Of course, I need to be at the hospital when Wendel–you–wake.”

  “So devoted.”

  The light changed and they crossed together. “What happens if he sees you?” she said.

  “The archmage babbled about unraveling time, or some such nonsense.”

  She climbed the steps to the hospital. “Let’s not do that.”

  Disinfectant stung her nose, chased by the stink of sickness. She swallowed hard, her stomach turning. They returned to the room where the other Wendel lay sleeping. Wendel from the future eyed him without emotion. “When the police arrive at four o’clock, to ask you about Nemesis, you have to claim ignorance.”

  She glared at him. “I was ignorant until you told me.”

  “Fair point.” He shrugged. “Pretend to be my distraught fiancée. Perhaps a few tears.”

  She glared harder. “Fiancée? And I don’t cry on command.”

  Wendel fetched his sleeping doppelgänger’s coat from a chair. He rummaged inside before tossing a black velvet box into her lap. “This might help your alibi.” When she hesitated, he arched an eyebrow. “Open it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Not a grenade, I promise.”

  Her fingers fumbled on the velvet, though it wasn’t bloodstained like she feared. She cracked open the box and forgot to breathe. A ring. An ornate knot of diamonds glittered around the ring’s heart, a ruby gleaming in the gloom.

  Tears prickled her traitorous eyes. “You were going to propose?” she whispered.

  “At some point.” Wendel wouldn’t look at her. “Keep the ring. I have to go.”

  “Why?”

  “Before that Wendel wakes up.” He hesitated in the doorway. “Meet me at the hotel.”

  Without waiting for her reply, he strode from the room and left her shaking. She closed the box, since she couldn’t look at the ring, not like this. She should pu
t it back in the coat. It belonged to the Wendel she knew.

  Not that stranger.

  Ardis hesitated by Wendel’s bed before she reached for his coat. Her fingers lingered on the black wool. With a rattling gasp, Wendel blinked open his eyes. He coughed twice before he struggled to shove himself upright.

  She caught him by the arm. “Lie down. They just stitched you back together.”

  “Ardis.” His voice was all gravel. “I had a dream–” He frowned and didn’t finish, slumping back in the bed. “You found it.”

  Her face hot with guilt, she held the box in her hand. “In your coat.”

  “At least we know the nurses aren’t kleptomaniacs.”

  His attempt at a smile brought the tears back to her eyes. “But how did you buy this?”

  He cocked his head. “At a jewelry store?”

  “You can’t afford a ring this big!”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise, so I may have lied about my income.”

  She cracked open the box. The ruby glinted in the shadows. “Tell me the truth.”

  “My inheritance remains out of reach.” He shrugged. “That’s the unfortunate truth.”

  “And?”

  “Out of necessity, I deigned to find employment befitting a commoner.”

  “Wendel!”

  He seemed pleased by his own pantomimed snobbery. “It’s hardly one of the crown jewels, but do you like it?”

  Ignoring the ring, she inhaled. “Where are you working?”

  Wendel met her gaze. An emotion, too quick to read, flashed through his eyes. “I’m not sure how to best describe the position.”

  She considered telling him she already knew everything. But then she would have to explain the arrival of another Wendel, and worry if that would unravel time, or whatever Konstantin told Wendel in the future.

  Would tell Wendel? She couldn’t even keep her grammar straight.

  “Someone shot you.” She looked him in the eye. “It’s something bad, isn’t it?”

  He twisted his mouth. “Not bad, necessarily, merely something you might find–”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Yes.” He forced a smile. “Though it pays better because of the risk.”

  “You could have died!”

  He waved away her comment like it didn’t matter. “I’m working as a merchant of sorts. We do business in secrets.”

  “For who?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Nemesis.”

  She didn’t have to fake the shock on her face. He had told her the truth. “You’re not talking about the goddess, are you?”

  He tilted his head as if considering his reply with caution. “Nemesis works to protect and advance the interests of my homeland.”

  “By protect and advance, you mean sabotage and spying?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “When appropriate.” He met her eyes. “Are you angry with me?”

  She realized she was gritting her teeth and exhaled in an attempt to relax. “Honestly? I was expecting you to tell more lies.”

  He reached across the bed and placed the ring in her palm. “And?”

  The ruby glinted against her skin. Her throat tightened, choking her words. “I don’t know if I feel comfortable with this.”

  His hand closed over hers, the ring trapped between them. “I can wait.”

  Tears stinging her eyes, she blinked fast. Deep somewhere secret in her heart, she wished she could be the kind of woman who saw an engagement ring and felt nothing but joy, but she knew she wasn’t. “Wendel, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Please.”

  “I just–” She swallowed hard and dried her cheeks with her knuckles. “I just can’t see myself as anyone’s wife.”

  He laughed, his eyes sparkling. “Forgive me, but I beg to disagree.”

  “The idea scares me.”

  “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

  His teasing loosened the knot in her throat. “Then you don’t know me.”

  Wendel’s hand tightened around hers, his eyes stunning with clarity. “Allow me the privilege of knowing you for years to come.”

  She blinked away yet more tears. “You’re impossible to resist.”

  He broke into a grin. “My evil plan all along.”

  “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Maybe yes?” He stared into her eyes, clearly trying to win her over.

  “Maybe.” She laughed through her tears and slid the ring on her finger, where it belonged. “You know I never cry like this.”

  He smiled as she dabbed her nose. “I love you, Ardis, tears and all.”

  She flapped a handkerchief at him. “This is your fault! You ambushed me with an absurdly large ruby and a secret job as a spy.”

  “My apologies.” He didn’t look sorry at all.

  “Not to mention you knocked me up.”

  He squinted. “I’m not familiar with the phrase.”

  “You can put two and two together.”

  “Ah.” He dipped his head. “Hopefully this will help you worry less.”

  Fear knifed her stomach. Wendel may have told her the truth, but she couldn’t tell him anything about the Wendel from the future, could she? She put on a smile and avoided his eyes, praying he would believe her deception.

  ~

  The cops arrived like clockwork at four in the morning.

  A pair of policemen strode into Wendel’s room. The taller man had a baby face and a flickering smile that made Ardis nervous. The shorter man, as grizzled and jowly as an old pug, flashed a badge. “Detective Grimaldi.” He waved at nothing in particular. “My partner, Sergeant Finnegan. Mind if we ask a few questions?”

  Wendel’s stare could have frozen water. “Is that a request?”

  Detective Grimaldi raised his eyebrows. “No.” He dragged a chair to the bed and tugged up the knees of his trousers before sitting.

  Sergeant Finnegan took Ardis by the elbow. “Right this way.” His accent betrayed an Irish background. She let him walk her down the hallway. Better not to resist. She didn’t need to be on the bad side of the NYPD. Finnegan waved at chairs in the corner, shadowed by a shedding Christmas tree. “Please, sit.”

  She did as he said. “Thank you.” Might as well pretend to have manners.

  He slipped a notebook and pen from his pocket. “Your name?”

  “Ardis Black.” At least, that’s what it said on her forged passport. She bit the inside of her cheek and stared at her hands.

  Finnegan jotted this down, his face untroubled. “And your husband?”

  “Fiancé.” Her cheeks warmed, since it still didn’t feel real. “Wendel von Preussen.”

  “Occupation?”

  There was no good way to answer that. She clenched her sweaty hands into fists. “We both worked for the Archmages of Vienna.”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his spindly legs at the ankles. “Past tense?”

  “We’re taking time off to visit America.” None of this was untrue. If Wendel decided to lie, that would be his problem.

  “Are you aware of any enemies Wendel might have?”

  A bleak laugh escaped her mouth. Where to start? She couldn’t even begin to imagine how many people wanted him dead.

  “Miss Black?” Finnegan waited with a blank look in his watery eyes.

  “I don’t know who would shoot him in New York.” She twisted the ring on her finger. “All of his enemies live thousands of miles away.”

  “Who?”

  “We thought we escaped the war.” She softened her voice and stared at the floor, trying to look vulnerable.

  “Miss Black, I need to know names.”

  She shook her head. “Soldiers and mercenaries don’t leave calling cards.”

  Finnegan’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me more about Wendel’s whereabouts last night.”

  “The night before he was shot?” The scent of blood
and saltwater lingered in her nose; she sucked in a calming breath.

  The policeman studied her for a moment. “Yes.”

  “He was with me.”

  “All night?”

  She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “He stopped at Enderman’s. That beer hall.”

  “The one in Kleindeutschland?”

  “I think so.”

  Finnegan jotted this down before tapping his pen on his lips. “Thank you. Wait here, Miss Black, while I check with my partner.” After unfolding his legs, he walked to Wendel’s room, but the door swung open first.

  Grimaldi glanced between them with a scowl. “That will be all. Goodbye.”

  The air rushed from Ardis’s lungs. They hadn’t arrested Wendel.

  Yet.

  When she returned to his room, he looked even paler than before, staring out the window. Rain trickled down the glass. “Ardis.”

  She shut the door behind herself. “What did you tell the cops?”

  When Wendel shrugged, he winced and touched his bandage. “That I fought a mugger.”

  “How heroic of you.”

  “The truth isn’t much better.” His jaw taut, he kept staring into the darkness. “Nemesis sent me to retrieve a ship’s manifest and a guard caught me. Can you believe it? When I tried to talk my way out of it, he shot me.”

  “Be glad you’re alive.”

  He scowled. “I should finish off the bastard.”

  Twice? The other Wendel beat him to it. “You can’t leave this hospital bed.”

  A crooked smile bent his mouth. “Not even with you to nurse me back to health?”

  “I’m bound to do more harm than good.”

  “You would make a pleasant nurse. In that uniform…” He looked her up and down.

  She braced one hand on her hip. “Careful, or I might worsen your condition.”

  “By all means.”

  “You must be feeling better. You’re being a bastard again.”

  His smile widened into a grin. “Am I?”

  ~

  Dawn came late to New York City as Ardis returned to Hotel Donovan. Sunlight crept through cracks in the buildings and fought the long shadows of skyscrapers. The hotel was hardly the Waldorf-Astoria, but marble floors in the lobby tended to guarantee a lack of bedbugs. She nodded at the concierge’s professional smile.