Solatium (Emanations, an urban fantasy series Book 2)

by Becca Mills

  I thought about it.

  Nope. I was glad he was dead.

  I guess there’s a reason we leave that stuff up to judges and juries, not the victims.

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “You’re going to stay with me at all times.”

  Predictable.

  “I mean, what are we going to do about the specific problems you mentioned?”

  “Already made a new hull barrier. It’s rudimentary, but I’ll keep working on it.”

  “Maybe Rykthas can get a fancy one in Demesnes.”

  “Sure.”

  “I bet it’ll cost an arm and a leg.”

  “Yup.”

  “Guess she’ll have to bill Cordus.”

  Williams’s mouth quirked up on the left.

  What do you know? The man really could smile.

  I turned back to the water. One of those dolphin-things was there, flashing silver as it darted through the waves. Maybe it was one of the ones that ate Serhan.

  I decided I’d count how many of them I could see before sundown.

  Williams settled back against the rail and ignored me.

  Chapter 14

  For the first few days after the assault, I thought I’d put it behind me quickly. Yeah, it was awful, but I had a lot of things to feel “good” about. First and foremost, I’d survived. A close second: Serhan hadn’t gotten what he wanted. And he’d been punished. Big time. And I was proud of the way I’d fought him.

  And I didn’t blame myself.

  I knew some women did. They listened to people who said they’d been asking for it by wearing a short skirt or walking home after dark or whatever. I wasn’t going to fall into that trap. Yeah, I could’ve had my gun on my person while working out, but Serhan could’ve not tried to rape me, and that would’ve nipped the problem in the bud a lot more effectively.

  So. Plenty of good things.

  But after the first few days, my mental state started to slide. Maybe the euphoria of survival was wearing off, or maybe I’d just been numb, at first. I don’t know.

  I decided to carry the .38 after all.

  The third night, I had a nightmare about the assault.

  I’d thought the weird symbolic dreams about Cordus’s mind-working were nightmares.

  They weren’t. Not compared to this. It was a sensory dream — just the feeling of weight, something pressing down on me, so I couldn’t move. It went on and on and on.

  I woke up screaming.

  Williams talked me down, calm and steady, from across the room.

  He’d been sleeping on the floor every night. I’d protested at first, but I didn’t after that because the dreams kept coming. After a week, I dreaded them so much I had trouble going to sleep at all.

  The more sleep I missed, the jumpier I got. The second time I pulled my gun on a crewman who’d committed the sin of coming around a corner a little too quickly, Williams told me to unload it and carry the bullets in my pocket.

  I watched the terrified crewman scuttle away.

  “If the bullets are in my pocket, I won’t be able to shoot anyone.”

  Williams’s expression said, Exactly.

  He looked tired. I wasn’t surprised. My nightmares woke him up every night. Plus, he’d been powering the hull barrier and probably keeping barriers around the two of us as well. Those traders were always lurking around, no doubt hoping to take a pot-shot at one of us.

  “You can draw on me for the hull barrier. Take a little break.”

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  That’s what he’d said the last three times I offered. Clearly, he didn’t want to do it.

  I studied him. “It’s not the same, you know. I’m giving you permission.”

  He nodded. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  I can’t tell you how annoying it was to psych myself up to make the offer, only to have it turned down. I dreaded letting him draw on me. Absolutely dreaded it. Just mentioning it made me break out in a cold sweat.

  “This doesn’t seem like the best time to grow a conscience,” I said.

  He glowered at me. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Oh for the love of Pete!”

  I turned and stalked off, only to stop after a few steps because I couldn’t remember where I’d been going before the crewman startled me.

  “Galley,” Williams said.

  Right. I needed a new melon.

  “Thanks.” I hoped he heard the apology in that word.

  I headed to the galley. Ida was probably down there. She’d give me a melon.

  Williams followed along silently behind.

  Day by day, the ship pressed north, propelled by the artificial currents Rykthas and her water-workers created. The three of them took eight-hour shifts around the clock. We made fairly good time, though not as good as the natural currents had provided.

  I spent my days trying to regain some sense of normality while being followed around by an increasingly drawn-looking Williams, stalked by the traders, and generally avoided by everyone else.

  Terry had found me on deck the day of the assault. He’d looked me over and said, “I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m glad that fucker’s dead.” Then he’d gone on his way and treated me as usual.

  I appreciated that. Being treated like normal helped me feel normal.

  Unfortunately, he was the only one.

  Ida did her best to act normal, but I could tell she was watching me with her healer hat on — probably waiting to see if I was going to lose it.

  Mizzy avoided me for days, then finally approached me awkwardly, saying how sorry she was and asking how I was doing.

  I hated that question.

  She must’ve seen it on my face because she made her excuses and beat a hasty retreat. She’d made a few overtures since, but I just couldn’t deal with the sympathy. The constant Oh my god, are you okay??? I could see in her eyes was like nails on a chalkboard.

  Kevin avoided me. I got the strange sense that my presence embarrassed him.

  The other passengers didn’t seem to know what to say to me or even if it was okay to look at me. They tried to pretend I wasn’t there.

  Except, of course, for the traders. There always seemed to be one of them around, watching and waiting.

  The one who worried me most was a non-descript blond man. Williams said he was Serhan’s brother-in-law. Unlike the group’s official leader, he didn’t bother bending Rykthas’s ear with demands for justice. He just watched and waited.

  Other than shadowing me constantly, Williams paid them little mind.

  I could see why — if they’d had any offensive gifts to speak of, the turkey-dinos wouldn’t have gotten the upper hand on them nearly so easily.

  But I was still worried.

  Unfortunately, I was right.

  The attack came on a sunny afternoon more than two weeks after the assault. We’d almost completed our run north. Another day and we’d be turning west, out into the world ocean. From there it would be just four days to the ligature.

  I was standing at my accustomed place by the rail, amidships on the port side, watching for sea creatures, which were now few and far between. Williams was parked beside me.

  Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned.

  It was Mizzy.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “I thought you might want this. To read. You know — at night.”

  She was holding a thick notebook.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s my book of tales. When I hear a story I like, I jot it down in here. I can’t say the writing’s great, but you might find it entertaining.”

  She was gripping the book pretty hard.

  “Are you sure you want to loan it to me? It must be important to you.”

  She nodded quickly. “I know you’ll take good care of it.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking it from her. “Thanks. That’s really —”

  We both jumped as Williams collapsed in a heap.

  Miz
zy and I knelt down and dragged him up into a sitting position against the ship’s rail. He was conscious but looked awful — pale and sweaty and shaking.

  Mizzy had her hand on his bare skin. “He’s been poisoned.”

  I saw motion and jerked my head up. The blond trader was standing a few feet from us, pointing a gun at Williams’s head. He pulled the trigger. The shot ricocheted into the ship’s mast.

  Damned if Williams wasn’t still holding a barrier.

  I grabbed his hand, willing him to draw on me, but instead he slumped over, knocking me down.

  The blond man smiled. Time seemed to slow. In my peripheral vision, I could see crewmen charging the man, but they weren’t going to get there in time. His gun was already swinging down toward us.

  Then Mizzy screamed, “Run!”

  It wasn’t directed at me, but I still caught the edge of the absolute terror she was projecting.

  The blond man dropped his gun and bolted. He ran right into the two crewmen who were rushing him, and they went down in a tangle of limbs. The trader managed to roll free. He scrambled to his feet and raced down the deck. When he got to the ship’s rail, he ran right into it and toppled over into the water far below.

  I crawled out from under Williams.

  “Mizzy. Heal him.”

  She looked at me, terrified.

  “My working will break. I’ll die.”

  “You can draw on me. Please. Heal him.”

  She reached for me, but I pulled back. “After he’s okay. I swear.”

  She swallowed, searching my face, then nodded. She lay down next to him and put her hand on his. For a second, nothing seemed to happen. Then, abruptly, she turned into an ancient woman. She made a horrible, strangled sound, but her hand stayed on Williams’s until he stirred, rolled away from her, and vomited.

  I crouched over Mizzy, looking down into her rheumy eyes. They were clouded. I realized she couldn’t see me.

  I touched her cheek. “Take what you need.”

  Williams batted my hand away.

  He propped himself up on one shaking arm and reached for me with the other.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  “She just saved your life, twice over. Mine too.”

  He looked at me silently for a long moment.

  Then he looked at Mizzy. “Swear fealty to her.”

  “Wait,” I said. “What —”

  “I so swear,” Mizzy whispered.

  Damn it. I was sure he’d just done something I really wouldn’t like.

  “Okay, honey, okay,” I said to Mizzy. “Take what you need.” I shot Williams a vengeful look. “Make it really good.”

  He swore and reached for me.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” Terry said from behind me. I craned my neck around. He was standing there, pointing a gun at Williams. “I think you’re in a bad way, big fella. Better take it easy and let the ladies do their thing.”

  Distantly, I heard Williams saying something, but I lost track of it. I was drowning in the pain of being drawn on. It started as a trickle, then became a flood.

  I became aware of an intricate conglomeration of trillions and trillions of tiny things. My knowing and controlling expanded to each and every one of them, and they all changed, just like that.

  I woke up in bed, feeling sick.

  Williams was sitting against the far wall. He didn’t look too good, either.

  I looked out the window. The light had that golden quality that means late afternoon. Had I lost a few hours, or more than a day?

  “Did she drain me?”

  “Yes.”

  I’d never heard “yes” sound so much like “I’m going to kill her.”

  No wonder I felt so bad. It was like having mono and the worst-ever hangover at the same time. I lay there, struggling with my stomach, which really wanted to empty itself.

  Not that it should have anything in it.

  I tried to remember the last time I ate. The image of that morning’s breakfast filled my mind: a plate of greasy reptile-meat sausages laid over oatmeal.

  Oh god.

  I buried my face in the pillow and tried to think of something else. Anything else.

  The bargain Williams had driven on my behalf came to mind.

  “What’s fealty?”

  “A service relationship. She’s your vassal. You protect her. She obeys you.”

  “‘Vassal’ as in servant?” I stared at him, horrified. “You made her my slave?”

  He shrugged. “Might keep her in line.”

  “I don’t want to ‘keep her in line.’”

  “Don’t worry about it. You can’t enforce it, anyway.”

  “So? A lot of people take oaths seriously.”

  “Counting on it.”

  I lay there, not really believing it. It was ridiculous for someone like me to have a vassal. I mean, I was a vassal myself, basically. What Williams said described the relationship powers had to their Nolanders — we obeyed them, they protected us. Sort of. Sometimes.

  I forced myself to take a few deep breaths.

  Whatever.

  I could tell Mizzy to forget about the whole fealty thing the next time I saw her. There was no point getting into a knock-down, drag-out with Williams over such a temporary problem.

  “So, did it work? Is she okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  I waited for him to expand, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked away.

  I started to get a bad feeling.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing. She’s fine.”

  He still wasn’t looking at me.

  He’s a god-awful liar. Even worse than I am.

  I filed that one away for future reference.

  “Does she look forty again?”

  “Younger.”

  “Is that why you’re so angry? ’Cause she gave herself a few extra years? If so, I’m sure it’ll be short-lived. If she could keep herself looking twenty, I think she would’ve been doing it before.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Williams. You keep this up, I’m going to freak out. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” He stood and went to the door, still not looking at me. “Get some rest. I’ll have some food sent.”

  Okay. It’s okay. I’ll figure this out.

  “Fine. Tell the galley to leave out the poison.”

  He gave an amused grunt and then left.

  I lay back, staring at the bunk above me.

  What wasn’t he telling me? Had Mizzy used my capacity to do something other than a youth-working?

  Had she hurt someone?

  That couldn’t be it. If that had happened, Williams would tell me. Tell me and berate me for being so stupid. He’d have done it the minute I woke up. Scratch that. He’d have woken me up early just to yell at me.

  I wracked my brains, but I couldn’t think of anything.

  Ida knocked on the door with some food, but I still felt sick to my stomach. I asked her a few careful questions, but I didn’t pick up anything strange. She just seemed relieved everyone was okay.

  She helped me visit the head.

  Eventually, I fell back asleep. When the Serhan dream woke me some hours later, Williams was there.

  I leaned back against the rail, squinting. After several days recovering belowdecks, I found the bright sunlight overwhelming.

  Mizzy was walking toward me across the deck.

  I didn’t feel ready to talk to her. I mean, what do you say to someone you’ve enslaved? “Oops, sorry about that — let’s forget it”?

  She stopped in front of me. She looked scared. And young. Younger than me.

  I’d been wrong about the Marilyn Monroe comparison. She was even prettier than Marilyn.

  I groped for a compliment, but she spoke first.

  “I wanted to tell you I was sorry. I mean, I didn’t know. I just … I couldn’t find your capacity, at first, and when I found it, I thought … it was so strange. It seemed all wrong
. Dead, almost. But there was a little place that seemed okay, and I started the working, and suddenly there was just so much. So much power. Like I was drowning.” She shuddered. “So I just poured it into the working — just kept putting it in until I could stop the flow.”

  “Um …”

  “I’m sorry it was so uncontrolled, and that I took so much,” she said. “If there’s some way I can atone, I’m yours to command, of course.”

  “I don’t want —”

  Williams’s hand closed painfully around my upper arm.

  “She accepts your offer of service,” he said, and hauled me away.

  He pulled me all the way down to the ship’s stern and backed me up against the rail.

  I craned my neck to look around him. Mizzy was still standing where we’d spoken. She was watching us with an expression that clearly said, Who are these crazy weirdos?

  I looked back at Williams. “What’s your problem?”

  His eyes narrowed, and he got right down in my face. “You will not release her from service. Not ’til we get where we’re going.”

  I just stared at him. All I had to do was say a few words to Mizzy. This wasn’t something he could control.

  He rubbed his forehead as though I gave him the world’s biggest headache.

  “You’re new to this,” he said. “Just take my advice.”

  “Look, I’m motivated by my values. You’re motivated by what Cordus wants. He wants me alive, and I’m usually down with that, so we’ll be in agreement. But not on this. I don’t want to stay alive by doing something I think is indefensible.”

  You might think that little speech would win me some respect, but he looked at me like I was a three-year-old who’d just demanded for the twenty-seventh time that her dead goldfish stop being dead.

  “She has to travel with us anyway because Gates said so,” Williams said. “If her oath to you makes her a little less dangerous along the way, great. Take advantage of that. You can let her go when you reach the ice men. They’ll —”

  He glanced up, over my head, then did a double take, his eyes widening. He grabbed me, stuck me under his arm like a package, and raced toward the bow. When we reached Mizzy, he dumped me on the deck, and knelt beside me.

  I looked back.