Soul Singer_Iron Souls, Book Two

by Becca Andre

  “I never thought myself better than you.”

  “I know.” Briar pulled loose the last lace. “There you go.”

  “Thank you—for everything.” Molly faced her.

  “Glad to help. I always liked you—and wondered how you ended up with an ass like Andrew.”

  Molly smiled at that, but it didn’t meet her eyes. “He was a lot like my father—which is why my father found him a suitable match.”

  It sounded like it had been more or less an arranged marriage. That explained a lot.

  “I’m sorry,” Briar said. “It sounds like you’ve been around assholes all your life.”

  Molly glanced up.

  “Well, that ends now. I know this isn’t what you’re accustomed to.” Briar lifted her arms to indicate their surroundings. “But I think you’ll like the company.”

  “I already do.” Molly blinked a few times. “I always liked you,” she echoed Briar’s earlier words. “Even if you were a bit unconventional.”

  Briar grinned at her polite phrasing. “Welcome aboard.”

  Briar woke, then lay quietly listening in an effort to puzzle out what had awakened her. She was typically a sound sleeper, though years of experience had honed her senses to trouble. Was there something wrong with the boat, a mule, or a member of her crew?

  A distant rumble of thunder reached her. Maybe that was it.

  She slumped against her pillow, but didn’t get to relax as a little metal nose nudged her cheek.

  “Lock,” she whispered. She was about to reassure him when a surge of anxiety coursed through her. “You woke me,” she concluded.

  He rubbed his cheek against hers. Something was bothering him. Briar didn’t analyze how she knew. There was just something about the little dragon’s body language that made his feelings clear. Although, in her dark alcove, she really couldn’t see him.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  A soft whirr answered her.

  “Is it Grayson?”

  Another nudge was Lock’s answer.

  Briar sat up and reached for her pants. Had that ferromancer returned and Grayson gone out to confront him? Or was the coldness back and he needed another song? If so, she would be playing him a lullaby.

  She stifled a yawn and pulled her pants on beneath her night shirt.

  Lock sprang up on her shoulder, his scales warm against the side of her neck.

  Briar pushed aside her curtained doorway and stepped out into the main cabin. Moonlight shone through the gaps in the window curtains, adding some light to the room. Molly was a shadowed shape on her bunk, and by her even breathing, still asleep. Whatever had Lock stirred up hadn’t been a sound loud enough to wake her.

  Briar stepped through the door into the empty cargo hold. The moonlight was brighter here, illuminating the empty space. She considered going up top for a better view, then noticed a shape lying on the verge near the towpath, not far from the gangplank.

  Her heart surged, though she couldn’t tell for certain if it was a man.

  She hurried across the deck, then the gangplank, her bare feet making no sound. The shape on the verge turned out to be a rumpled blanket. She didn’t think any of her crew would sleep on the damp ground. It had to be Grayson.

  Opening her mouth, she started to ask Lock where he was, when a flash of red light lit up the trees on the other side of the towpath. She remembered another time she’d seen a flash of red light. It had been fired from Liam’s small silver gun. Did Liam possess another? Had he returned to finish the job?

  “Lock, be the necklace,” she whispered, hurrying toward where she’d seen the light.

  With a buzz of static, she felt the necklace settle around her throat. It was the multi-strand choker. The small medallion dangling from the bottom chain bumped against the hollow of her throat as she ran forward.

  Briar was forced to slow her pace once she entered the trees. She regretted not pulling on her boots, but she had only expected an inspection of her boat, not a jog through the forest.

  The slight hill leveled off, and a small clearing spread before her. Briar hesitated on the edge when she found three people standing in the moonlight: a man and a woman, and a third man who was climbing to his feet.

  A buzz of anxiety from Lock confirmed what the dim light only suggested. The man getting to his feet was Grayson.

  “I asked you to wait,” the man said to the woman. He had an accented voice, but it wasn’t Liam’s, thank God. “I don’t think he’s the one.”

  “He’s a ferromancer. That’s all that matters.” The woman lifted her arm, the moonlight glinting off the silver object she held. A gun like Liam’s.

  Briar sprinted forward “Hey!” she shouted, desperate to distract them. She knew she couldn’t get to them before the woman fired.

  It worked, but worked too well. The woman spun away from Grayson and leveled the gun at her.

  “Briar!” Grayson shouted.

  “No!” the man added his shout to Grayson’s as he reached for the woman’s gun. He was too late.

  Briar had an instant to consider the stupidity of her impulsive act before a bolt of red light exploded from the muzzle and streaked toward her. She was too close and in a flat out run, so she could do nothing to avoid it. The light hit her in the chest.

  Chapter 4

  A tingling sensation ran through Briar, reminding her of how it felt when Lock changed forms while touching her skin. The red light vanished, but there was no impact or pain. Maybe the weapon only worked on ferromancers or the soulless.

  Briar didn’t dwell on it. In two strides, she was on the woman. Briar wrapped one hand around the gun and threw a punch with the other. The blow took the woman soundly on the chin, snapping her head back. Her body followed, releasing the gun as she fell back into the knee-high grass and landed on her butt with a grunt.

  Ignoring her stinging knuckles, Briar turned the gun in her hand and leveled it on the man. “Don’t move.”

  The man instantly lifted his hands in the air.

  “That was the last charge,” the woman told her companion. She was already pushing herself to her feet.

  “She can charge it again,” the man answered with that accent Briar couldn’t place. “We’re sorry, my lady. We didn’t know he was yours.”

  It took Briar a moment to realize he was speaking to her.

  “Ah, hell,” the woman muttered, wiping her bleeding lip as she stepped up beside her companion. “She’s ferra?”

  “That’s his construct around her throat.”

  Briar frowned. They were Scourge; they had to be. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, trying for a haughty tone. From what little she’d gathered, the ferra ruled the ferromancer world. If they thought she was ferra, why not use it?

  “I don’t know if you’ve been informed,” the man answered, dipping his head in a gesture of respect, “but there is a devolved one in these parts. He murdered three people in a small community not far from here.”

  Briar struggled to keep her expression impassive. Three people? Was the soulless man they found one of them?

  “When we came upon this one,” the man’s eyes widened as he stared past her at Grayson, “we thought he might be the one.” He finished in something close to a whisper.

  Briar wasn’t certain what to make of his reaction, then Grayson’s arm came around her from behind. He pulled her against him, her back to his chest. She just managed not to gasp, trying to hide her surprise from the man and woman.

  The woman muttered something that might have been a curse. “He took a direct hit.”

  Briar’s heartbeat quickened. Should one hit have hurt Grayson more? Killed him? The notion made her sick—and angry.

  “Lucky for you, it didn’t kill him,�
� she told the pair between clenched teeth.

  “As I said, we’re sorry,” the man answered. “We’ll go.”

  Briar frowned, not sure what to make of his apologetic manner. Did the ferra intimidate him so much?

  “Can I have my weapon back?” the woman asked. She tried to moderate her tone, but Briar could still hear the anger in it. She didn’t like being punched, and Briar had a strong suspicion she’d love to settle the score. Briar was considering offering to fight her for the gun when Grayson’s hand slid down her arm to cover the weapon. He didn’t take it from her, but a buzz of static made her palm tingle.

  He took his hand away, and she discovered that she now held a small sphere of silver metal. Briar wasn’t certain how to respond, but the man spoke before she could.

  “Excuse us, my lady.” The man wrapped his arm around the woman’s shoulders and turned her away.

  “We’re leaving?” the woman asked him, her voice carrying back as they walked away. “What about my disruptor? We can’t ferro hunt without it.”

  “We’ll get another.” The man seemed confident.

  They reached the trees on the far side of the clearing and disappeared into the gloom, the woman’s complaints carrying back to them until they were out of earshot.

  “Sorry about that,” Grayson muttered, taking his hands from her. “I needed to make them think I was yours.”

  “Scourge?” Briar asked.

  A thump answered her, and she turned to find Grayson on his knees.

  “Grayson?”

  He slumped forward, but caught himself, now on his hands and knees.

  “Oh God, that gun did hurt you.”

  “Return to the boat,” he muttered.

  “I’m not leaving when there’s clearly something wrong.” She tucked the small metal sphere into her pocket and squatted beside him. “How do I help you? Shall I get my fiddle?” Or send Lock for it. She didn’t want to leave him with those Scourge nearby.

  “No.” He bowed his head, his hair brushing the grass.

  “Let me fetch Eli. He can carry you back to the boat—”

  “Not the boat. I need to feel the earth, and…” He fell silent, and though she couldn’t see him well in the dim light, she could sense the tension in him.

  “Talk to me, Grayson.” She laid a hand on his dark hair. “Are you in pain? What was that red bolt of light?”

  “Ferra soul fire,” he whispered.

  “I thought you said they don’t have an active magic.”

  “It must be channeled through soul iron.”

  “I see.” Only ferromancers could make soul iron. So without ferromancer-made soul iron, a ferra had no active power.

  “The girl was ferra?” Briar asked. It hadn’t sounded like she—

  “No. A disruptor can hold charges of soul fire.”

  She remembered the girl using that word. “The little silver gun?” Like the one Liam had given her. “Grayson?” she prompted when he didn’t speak. She scooted closer, reminded far too much of how he’d acted after his final casting. “What did that soul fire do to you?”

  He doubled over, the sound of ripping fabric accompanying his groan. Gripping the front of his shirt, he pulled it forward, and to Briar’s surprise, off his body. Then she realized that he’d released those fins than ran down his spine, shredding the back of his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice soft.

  He pushed himself up until he was kneeling before her, then lifted his head to look her in the eyes. She froze. This close, she could see that his irises had grown to encompass all of his visible eye, the blue-gray color stretching from lid to lid like that devolved ferromancer’s.

  She leapt to her feet, quickly backing away.

  He stood, as well, the move fluid and easy. He took a step toward her, and she sprang back, ready to turn and flee back to her boat. “Grayson, talk to me.”

  He cocked his head. “I scare you.”

  “Sometimes,” she whispered. Thunder rumbled overhead and fat rain drops fell, cold where they hit her warm skin.

  He continued to watch her with those alien eyes, so very different from the Grayson she knew. He reached out a hand and lightly touched her cheek. His fingers warmed and her skin tingled.

  She gasped, and he jerked his hand away.

  “What was—” she began.

  He spun and ran toward the trees on the far side of the clearing, away from the canal. She opened her mouth to call to him, when a flash of lightning lit up the sky, the light reflecting off the metal on his back.

  She hesitated. Did she really want him to return right now, or would it be better if he took some time to come back to himself? She bounced on the balls of her feet, debating what to do.

  Suddenly, the sky let go, the rain falling in sheets. Another flash of lightning followed, the accompanying boom of thunder almost instantaneous. Briar turned and ran for her boat. It seemed the weather had made her decision for her.

  Briar was soaked to the skin by the time she reached her cabin, water puddling beneath her bare feet as if she’d just climbed from the canal.

  “There you are.” Molly rose from where she’d been sitting at the table. She had lit the lantern that hung from the ceiling, its soft light such a contrast to the frequent lightning flashes that lit up the cabin.

  “Where have you been? Is something wrong?” Molly walked over to her, snugging the belt of her robe. “Are we going to sink?”

  “No, I…” Briar hesitated. She wanted to share her fears, but she couldn’t tell Molly everything. “Grayson chose to sleep on land and—”

  “Grayson?”

  “Mr. Martel.”

  “Ah.”

  “I’m hoping he sought shelter in the bunkhouse.”

  “He’s an intelligent man. I’m sure he realized how severe the storm was going to be.”

  A strong gust of wind rattled the windows.

  “Should we close the shutters?” Molly asked.

  Briar nodded, and for the next few minutes, they fought the wind and the rain to close the shutters against the force of the storm. When they finished, Molly was almost as wet as she was. They each retreated to their respective bunks to change. Molly pulled on another nightgown, but Briar dressed for the day.

  “You’re not going back to sleep?” Molly asked.

  “Not in this storm.” Briar rubbed the medallion dangling from her necklace. She sensed no anxiety from Lock. Did that mean Grayson was okay?

  “It’s not the thunder keeping you awake.”

  “I’m captain of this boat. It’s my responsibility to see us through any obstacles and keep my crew safe. I don’t want to be asleep should a mooring line come loose, or a mule become frightened and act up.”

  “Or if a crew member gets lost in the storm.”

  Briar nodded. “Exactly.”

  “All right. It’s only a few hours after midnight, but I could light the stove and perhaps get some coffee on. I don’t know about you, but I find a warm drink soothing.”

  “I do, too. Thank you.” She watched Molly walk to the stove, debating whether to say more. She’d really like to talk to someone about this, but Molly didn’t know the truth about Grayson, and Briar didn’t feel it was her place to tell his story.

  The rain tapered off to a light drizzle around dawn. Briar retrieved her oilskin coat from its peg by the door and left the cabin. She needed to see if Grayson had returned.

  Briar quickly inspected her boat as she crossed the catwalk to the bunkhouse. The canal had risen and was running harder, but they were in no danger.

  When she reached the deck of the stable cabin, she saw Jimmy and Zach in the forward cargo hold, and she climbed down to join them.

  “Mornin
g,” she greeted them. “Did Grayson take shelter in the bunkhouse last night?”

  “No, Captain,” Jimmy answered. “If you’re asking, I guess Eli can quit grumbling about him sheltering in your cabin.”

  “What of it if he had?” She crossed her arms.

  As if on cue, the bunkhouse door opened, and Eli and Benji walked out.

  “Zach, would you check the stable?” she asked.

  He nodded and crossed to the stable door.

  “What’s going on, Captain?” Eli asked.

  “Grayson is missing.”

  “Can’t help him if he don’t have sense to come in out of the rain.”

  “That’s not the issue. He and I encountered a couple of Scourge last night.” She got right to the point.

  “Scourge?” Benji asked, his eyes widening.

  Zach rejoined them and gave her a negative shake of the head. She wondered, as she often did, if he sometimes forgot that he could speak.

  “What were you doing with that ferromancer in the middle of the night?” Eli demanded.

  “Having a tryst.”

  Eli blinked and Jimmy’s mouth fell open.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” she complained. “Lock woke me. He sensed that Grayson was in trouble. When I went to see what was wrong, I found him cornered by a couple of Scourge. They’d shot him with one of those guns like the one Liam used on Andrew.”

  “What’d it do to Grayson?” Jimmy asked, his tone concerned.

  “That’s what worries me. After I ran the Scourge off, he wasn’t himself.” She remembered his eyes and fought back a shiver. “The storm hit and I ran for the boat. I had hoped he did the same.”

  “You think they came back for him?” Jimmy asked.

  “In that storm, I wouldn’t think so.” But it bothered her that they might still be in the vicinity. “I need to find him.”

  “We’ll help you look,” Jimmy offered.