by Jill Archer
Maybe being locked in wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Chapter 18
The week passed in a blur. The semester was winding down. After the Beltane Break, we’d return to school to start prepping for finals. There was an aura of celebration around campus, which was at odds with my feelings. My relationship with Ari entered a new phase.
That night at Lekai had been unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. It shouldn’t have been shocking to me, since I’d only ever dated Hyrkes and had never, ever either lost control or given over control during sex (Luck forbid the potentially disastrous results for my poor unsuspecting past lovers). But the encounter with Ari had surprised me, wholly because I had not known, until now, what I’d been missing. And now that I knew, I couldn’t wait to experience it all again (and again and again and again). But Ari became stubborn. He refused to meet me anywhere in secret and instead asked me a dozen times daily to accompany him (in plain sight) back to his room at Infernus. But caution compelled me to avoid such a public display of my affection. So I always shook my head, or pulled my hand away, or turned my cheek when he sought my lips.
I wavered, caught between agonized yearning and debilitating indecision. Ari simply wasn’t going to hide how he felt anymore, no matter what arguments I made about impropriety. As he pointed out frequently, sometimes with humor, but mostly just with an increasing mix of belligerence and incredulity, if I was considering allowing a nonmatriculated Angel to cast an unfathomably powerful, dangerous, unauthorized spell over me, then I couldn’t possibly be worried about what the St. Luck’s faculty would think of us dating.
Thursday night of that week, Night rang room 112 of Megiddo. For once, I was there instead of at Corpus Justica (since Ari never met me at the library anymore, studying in the stacks had lost all appeal). The connection between Maize and New Babylon was incredibly patchy. Though every dorm room at St. Luck’s now had an electro-harmonic, I knew the tribes (who eschewed modern aesthetics as much as the Angels adored it) still had only one each. Night was likely calling from his Monarch’s office. After some initial pleasantries, made difficult by the bad connection, Night got right to the point.
“Noon —meter recently received a request for assis— from… families in Sheol… wife of… the residents there is due… trouble delivering in the past…” Night’s voice became even more difficult to hear. “…Neighbors took up a collection for midwife… Heather Alumen… coming up… North-South Express…”
Night’s voice trailed off. I was surprised I hadn’t set the damn harmonic on fire yet. I resisted the almost overwhelming urge to smash the receiver on my desk and crack it in half. Honestly, carrier doves or scrying in a mirror would be preferable to the pain of communicating via Halja’s harmonics.
“One of Demeter’s Mederies is coming up to New Babylon by train?” I shouted.
“Yes!”
“Okay…” Why was Night calling? Did he believe the Mederi was in danger? Had she already left?
Over the next few painstaking minutes I was able to piece together what Night’s concern was and how he hoped I might help. Apparently, one of Demeter’s Mederies, Heather Alumen, was coming up to New Babylon tomorrow to help a woman in Sheol. She’d be riding up on the North-South Express. Demeter was worried about her traveling alone but couldn’t spare anyone to go with her. No one at the Council (including Karanos) believed Heather would be in any danger. After all, no Mederies had been attacked or abducted since before Bryde’s Day.
Night was hoping I might meet Heather at the train station tomorrow, just to set her mind at ease. I was a Maegester-in-Training, right? And wasn’t the train station right next to St. Luck’s campus? I jotted down Heather’s arrival time, my heart racing just the least little bit. The last abduction had occurred months ago. Alerts had been taken down and the Council’s attention had turned to other cases. Our campus had long ago resumed its usual, albeit crazed, rhythm. So how likely was it that I would encounter demon trouble at the train station tomorrow?
I told Ari about my plan to meet Heather. He insisted on coming, which was fine with me. If I were going to run into a demon at dusk at the creepy, century-old New Babylon train station, I couldn’t think of who I would want with me more than him. After a round of uneventful classes and a quick bite at Marduk’s, Ari and I walked over.
Despite Ari’s steady presence, I grew jumpy. Rochester had shown me time and again every Wednesday morning that I lacked control. I had immense difficulty shaping my magic into anything that could be used as a weapon. I also had trouble throwing fire. My magic tended to either sputter or explode in the unlikeliest of places. Neither effect would be very helpful if we ran into a demon tonight. I reminded myself there was no reason to think we would. No Mederi had been threatened in months.
The New Babylon train station had been built over a century ago. Clearly inspired by the metal beasts that would be stopping, docking, and disgorging passengers in it, the building’s architects had designed it as a huge, boxy, black structure with a giant, belching smokestack rising up out of its roof. We entered and quickly found track three, where the North-South Express would be arriving. A few Hyrkes milled about, likely waiting to board an outgoing train or looking for arriving passengers, as we were. I didn’t sense any waning magic except for Ari’s. His signature was gauzy and loose.
We took a seat on a metal bench that overlooked the track Heather would be arriving on. I had no idea what she looked like. But she’d be wearing a green Mederi traveling cloak, so I figured we’d be able to pick her out without too much trouble. Ari’s signature settled over me like shimmering light—slightly warm, slightly electric, infinitely bright. It occurred to me then, that were I to allow Peter to cast the Reversal Spell over me, I wouldn’t be able to feel Ari like this anymore. And that would certainly change our relationship, even more than what had happened at Lekai.
“What do you think happened to the Mederies who went missing at the start of the semester?”
Ari’s grim expression was answer enough. But it soon became apparent he didn’t want to talk about anything that had occurred months ago. In fact, he didn’t want to talk at all.
He reached for my hand and flipped it over so that it was palm side up. Ever so lightly he pushed the sleeve of my shirt up past my elbow. With the barest touch of his fingertips on my skin, he traced the lines in my palm, across and down, up and over, swirling, curling, moving to the tip of one of my fingers and then back down again. Then to the next. The tips of his fingers tingled against my skin as he drew invisible sigils with his magic. My palm itched and I longed to scratch it, but we both knew that wouldn’t release the tension he had created in other, deeper parts of my body. He leaned toward me, his face blocking the light, and then dipped his head so that his mouth hovered near my ear.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said, his voice low and rumbling.
Oh, how I longed to. But it was a horrible idea, for so many reasons.
“I said I’d go to the ball with you,” I said, turning my face toward him, thinking he would kiss me then. I wanted him to, as much as I wanted to return to Infernus with him later. But while I couldn’t have the latter, I could use this secluded spot and the remaining minutes until the train arrived for the former. But when I leaned toward him, he backed away smiling. He moved his mouth toward my ear again as if he were going to share some deep dark secret.
“Stay.” He blew gently into my ear. I shivered and repressed an uncharacteristic giggle. “With.” With a featherweight touch, Ari traced the veins in my wrist with the tips of his fingers, all the way to my elbow. His fingers hovered there as his mouth had hovered behind my ear, and then they moved with shocking swiftness to my armpit—“Me!”—where he tickled me mercilessly until I shrieked so loudly everyone would have come running, but for the fact that, at that very moment the train pulled up, all whistles and wind.
My hair blew madly about my face and Ari lowered my sleeve. I rubbed my cheeks, not wan
ting to meet this Mederi blushing like a schoolgirl, but Ari laughed at my efforts.
“You’ll just make it worse,” he said, smiling. “Come on.” He stood up and so did I.
Heather stepped off the train a moment later. There was no mistaking who she was. Even if it weren’t for the traveling cloak, I would have recognized her from the overly anxious look on her face. She was short and squat, with a round face and wide eyes that darted every which way. Looking for us? Looking for demons? Probably both…
I put an end to at least half her worries by stepping forward and introducing Ari and myself.
“I’m Heather Alumen,” the Mederi said, without extending her hand. Instead, she clutched a small handbag in front of her as if it were a shield and demons were already directing fire at her midsection. She glanced back over her shoulder toward the train. “You’re Nightshade’s sister?” she asked. I nodded and she craned her neck to peek over my left shoulder. “I hadn’t expected you to be so…” But then her voice trailed off and I was left to wonder what she could have meant. Hadn’t expected me to be so—what? Feminine? What had she expected a woman with waning magic to look like? “Tall,” she said finally, standing up on the tips of her toes to squint at another passenger deboarding behind me.
After a few more furtive glances, she told us her ride up had been nerve-racking. Every minute of it she’d been convinced she’d be attacked or abducted. Her fear bordered on hysteria, so completely out of proportion to her experience, that even I found myself thinking we might have all overestimated the risk. I found myself reassuring her repeatedly that we’d neither seen nor felt a demon presence here at the train station. It was likely she was in no danger at all. Still, just to fulfill our chaperoning duties, we accompanied her in the cab to Sheol.
We pulled up to the house at the address Heather had been given. All the lights were out so we trudged up to the door and rang the bell. An older, forty-something farmer’s wife answered. She was thin and frail looking—and clearly not pregnant.
She’d never heard of Demeter and certainly hadn’t sent for any Mederi.
“What in Luck’s name would I pay you with?” she said with a laugh and then she’d said good night and gently but firmly shut the door in my face. I couldn’t see Ari’s expression in the dark, but I could feel his signature. It bubbled with unease.
“Do you think I wrote the address down wrong?” Heather asked. Doubtful, I thought. But we had the cabdriver take us to the three closest houses just in case. At each, the story was the same. No one had called for a Mederi. Not only had they not called for a Mederi, but they weren’t aware of any of their neighbors having done so. And no one they knew in Sheol was pregnant.
The cab ride back to the train station was silent. Heather had completely clammed up. She sat, nervously twisting her cloak, looking out the window. I think she was realizing just how much danger she’d been in—what might have happened to her if Ari and I had not met her at the train station.
For my part, I was wondering who had lured her up here. Because I was sure, even if I had no direct proof, that it was the same demon who was responsible for the earlier attacks and abductions.
I knew Ari had said the train station had no patron, but what if, like St. Lucifer’s, the train station had once been something else? What if the patron demon of whatever had once been there returned to find his devotion center paved over, his followers gone, and himself forgotten? Would that be enough to turn an adoration-loving, rule-following regulare demon into a vengeful, murderous rogare? Unfortunately, I believed the answer was going to be yes.
Ari and I arranged for Heather to ride back to Maize in the front of the train with the conductor. She was grateful, but her gaze never once settled on mine. Instead she constantly scanned the train station. She reminded me of a rabbit. The moment before the fox got it. I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and bade her farewell. She seemed to relax a bit once the conductor shut the door and soon the train pulled out of the station.
Ari and I waited a few minutes, watching it go. We stood side by side, not touching, but as the train departed, I felt Ari’s signature slip easily into mine. A moment later, however, I sensed an interloper. The stinging sensation of someone else’s unwelcome waning magic reached the edge of mine. The stinging turned into an angry buzzing and I suddenly knew exactly which demon was standing behind me. I turned around.
Sure enough, Nergal stood there. Instantly, I was glad he hadn’t caught me in a compromising physical position with Ari; it was bad enough he’d just sensed our signatures melding together. That alone could be academically disastrous.
“Hello, Nergal,” I said, keeping my voice neutral. I wasn’t happy to see him outside of our regularly scheduled meetings, but there weren’t any pluses to picking a fight with him either. Ari nodded politely to him. Nergal ignored him and spoke directly to me.
“My, what interesting company you keep for your Friday night dates, Ms. Onyx. Opposing counsel? Wonder what Seknecus would say about that, hmm?”
“It’s not a date.”
Nergal gave me a look of exaggerated surprise. “No? You sure look cozy together, although”—he dropped his voice as if Ari couldn’t hear him—“I heard that Mr. Carmine’s preferences leaned toward women with, well… a different sort of magic.”
“What are you doing here, Nergal?” I snapped, finally losing patience.
“I was just about to ask you that, Nouiomo. Shouldn’t you be in the library, researching ways to grant me my divorce?”
“Actually, I’m headed there right now.”
Nergal brightened, literally. The wattage of his signature became radioactive and I worried that all my skin had suddenly turned to dust—that one puff from the Prince of Drought would send it flaking off into the cool night air.
“Then you won’t mind if I walk with you. Make sure you get there safely. You know, someone’s bound to report that they saw a demon here tonight.” He grinned malevolently. “And I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you before you find a solution to my problem.”
Thankfully, the walk from the train station to Corpus Justica was short. Researching the train station’s history, however, took forever.
Three hours later, I finally found what I was looking for in the Demon Register:
VIGILIA (C. 1300-1900), Patron Demon of Traveling Women, Particularly Traveling Mederies.
Vigilia was spawned in the early fourteenth century. Hyrke mothers began pleading to her for safe journeys sometime in the midfifteenth century. During the seventeenth century, Mederies began to adore her. The tribes established a devotion center on a fallow field, north of Victory Street.
Vigilia’s following reached its peak during the late eighteenth century. The makeshift tents and traveling fairs that had previously been sited on the Victory Street field were torn down and an elaborate stone shrine was constructed in its place. Inside the shrine, a group of Mederies kept constant vigil over an eternal flame to honor their patron, Vigilia.
Vigilia left New Babylon circa 1900. Reports vary as to why. Some say she fell in love with CHRISTOS and the two left to travel the lands far beyond Halja. Some say she fought with ADEONA and ABEONA over followers and that the two sisters overpowered Vigilia and killed her. Some say, after 600 years, she simply died of old age. Regardless of the reason, her followers diminished and finally disappeared altogether. The Victory Street shrine was torn down in 1911 to make room for the New Babylon Train Station.
Chapter 19
When I awoke the next morning, I felt like the strings of a violin whose pegs had been wound too tight. Edgy, anxious… jittery, fidgety… rattled, ruffled… pick an adjective, they all applied. I spilled my coffee twice, knocked over a bottle of nail lacquer, and, for the first time in weeks, accidentally set something on fire. As I tossed the smoldering remains of my slippers in the trash can, I wondered if I’d be able to pull it together by evening. Because tonight was the much anticipated, long awaited, social event of t
he semester—the Barrister’s Ball.
Much as the food at Empyr was worth waiting for, we couldn’t go the whole day without eating, so Ivy and I decided to grab lunch at Marduk’s before getting into any serious primping. I ordered a prosciutto and provolone sandwich. I debated adding a cappuccino to my order but didn’t think my nerves could take it, so I ordered chamomile tea instead. Its taste was weak but the effects of the mild, warm drink, combined with the cozy, unpretentious atmosphere of Marduk’s, finally allowed me a moment’s respite from my agitated thoughts.
Fitz was off handling some domestic matter for the Seknecai estate. (Ivy and I had wondered who he was trying to curry more favor with, Seknecus or his mother, and decided it didn’t much matter, since it probably amounted to the same thing.) Once Fitz found out Ivy would have me for company at the ball, he’d wasted no time in asking Babette Sanders.
Babette wasn’t very motivated in the classroom, but she was extraordinarily pretty and she knew how to have fun. No surprise then that Fitz had been keen on her for months and she’d accepted his invite with unrestrained zeal. Though Fitz was hopeless at Evil Deeds, he was Darius Dorio’s darling in Council Procedure. His performances in that class were almost as electrifying as Dorio’s. In addition to his budding theatrical skills (which boded well for him if he chose to become a litigator), Fitz was equally attractive to the opposite sex, if in a ruddy, street urchin sort of way. I could understand their mutual appeal and envied them their cavalier attitude toward lust. There was no pretension about where their night would lead. Asking either of them would have gotten the same response: a toss in bed at the Stirling, a super chic Hyrke hotel where Fitz had rented a room for the night.