Solatium (Emanations, an urban fantasy series Book 2)

by Becca Mills

  Mizzy cleared her throat, blinking. “Beth, do you have any instructions for me? Or for Ida? As our liege, I mean?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I do.”

  I stopped to swallow down my sudden nausea. My palms felt clammy. I hated what I was about to do to Ida.

  “Mizzy, protect and care for Ida and Mr. Williams on the way back to Free. Once you get there and they’re safely in the F-Em, you’re released from fealty to me.”

  “I have to go to the F-Em?” Ida said.

  “Yes. Well, maybe.” I pulled out the letter I’d written that morning and handed it to her. “Give this to Mr. Gates. It explains your situation and asks him if he’d be willing to take you back. If he says yes, then you’re released from your service to me.”

  I took a steadying breath. “The letter states that if Mr. Gates refuses you, your fealty to me will continue. In that case, you’ll report to Lord Cordus in New York. Tell him you’re my vassal and fill him in on your dealings with Lady Innin. He’ll almost certainly check your mind, so don’t leave anything out.”

  Tears came to her eyes. “What about Cata?”

  “I think you should leave her with Jobah, assuming she can continue serving Mr. Gates. But she’s your daughter, Ida. It’s up to you.”

  “I’ve heard that Lord Cordus … that he often …”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Her face crumpled.

  I started crying too. “Ida, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “I know.” She shook her head. “Sweet lord, I know.”

  She turned away and went back to her horse.

  I watched her go and then turned back to Mizzy. “I’m assuming she wants to be where she has a chance to see Cata again. But if not — if she makes a run for it on the way home — just let her go. Cordus is a monster. If she’d rather serve someone else, that’s fine.”

  “I don’t think that’ll happen. He’s said to be better than most.”

  I nodded, thoroughly depressed at that thought, and sat down next to Ghosteater.

  Mizzy joined Ida by the horses. I watched as she put an arm around the other woman and comforted her.

  Ghosteater gave my face a little sniff. “Why did you send the woman to the émigré?”

  “I’m in charge of her. Cordus is in charge of me, so he’s also in charge of her. He’ll keep her safe while I’m gone, but she won’t be happy there.”

  “She is your pack?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” I paused, not wanting to offend him. “I’m not sure we have packs, exactly. Maybe people have different kinds of relationships than wolves do.”

  He studied me, tilting his head. Then he got up, wandered over to the edge of the ledge, and jumped down. I heard him splashing around in the river.

  The Garden Gate Inn — that had been a pack. I’d pretty well torn it up. With Kevin AWOL in Emden, Joanna had lost her spouse and Kite his father. Cata might not be seeing much of her mother. Perhaps Mr. Gates wouldn’t even let Cata stay, considering what Ida had done. And Terry. God.

  I set my forehead down on my knees and drifted for a while, trying to push away the memory of feeding him to the ribbons.

  My backpack landed next to me with a thud.

  “Get up.”

  I raised my head.

  Williams was looming over me, looking like someone had turned his “furious” dial up to eleven. Behind him, the mules and horses were ready to go. Mizzy was giving Ida a leg up.

  At least I’ll be rid of this guy, I thought, and scrambled to my feet.

  My chest felt tight, and when I tried to speak, a funny, raspy noise came out instead of my normal voice.

  I cleared my throat and tried again. “Cordus knows about Ghosteater. He’ll know you couldn’t stop me.”

  “Shut up and get him up here.” He jerked his head toward the river.

  “For god’s sake, just go. If you argue with him any more, he’ll probably eat you.”

  Williams just stood there, looking put-upon.

  He was wearing a backpack. A big one. And all his guns.

  “You’re coming?”

  He glowered at me. “Get the wolf.”

  I turned away, deeply surprised. I hadn’t seen any sign Williams was changing his mind. Why would he? He’d seemed so certain Eyry was the kiss of death.

  Maybe he’d been bluffing, intending all along to stick with me.

  I felt relieved. That was surprising.

  I crossed the ledge. “Ghosteater?”

  The wolf was up to his belly in the torrent. He looked up at me, then ducked fast and snapped a fish out of the water. It wasn’t a big one. He gave it a few crunches and swallowed it down.

  “I think we’re ready to go.”

  He bounded onto the bank and shook, then gathered himself and leapt ten feet straight up onto the ledge beside me.

  He looked at Williams, then back up at me.

  “Is it okay if he comes, after all?”

  The wolf lifted his head, scenting the breeze.

  “I think it’d be a good idea,” I said. “He can guard me while you’re hunting.”

  “Yes,” Ghosteater said.

  He padded over to the cleft in the rock and crouched in front of it, watching intently. Then he half-rose and slunk forward into the crevice.

  I edged up behind him, curious.

  He’d seized some invisible thing in his teeth and was tugging at it gently. After a second, he let go. He looked back at me, his golden eyes standing out in the dimness. Then he edged farther into the cramped space and disappeared.

  Williams took ahold of my shoulders and positioned me right next to the cleft. “Don’t move. I’m putting a barrier just outside the opening. Come through right after me.”

  “Why the barrier?”

  He made an exasperated noise. “Just shut up and do as I say.”

  “How many calories do you waste being an asshole?”

  “You’re about to get me killed. You don’t get to call me an asshole.”

  He gave me a parting glower and then squeezed into the cleft, dragging his pack behind him.

  I waved to Mizzy and Ida, who were watching from the far side of the ledge.

  They both waved back, Mizzy with a tenuous smile, Ida without.

  Mizzy had Kevin’s maps. I knew they had plenty of money — Mr. Gates wasn’t stingy. Hopefully they’d find their way back to Emden without running into any stray powers. And avoid the ribbons in Blue Seas. And the dinos on the jungle road.

  They had a long way to go, and it was my doing.

  With a sigh, I turned and edged into the cleft. My right shoulder scraped painfully against the rough rock, and I gave my left knee a solid thump on the wall.

  How the hell had Williams fit through here?

  My pack caught.

  I jerked on it and then jerked harder. It came free, and I stumbled into openness and dim, late-afternoon light.

  Chapter 19

  I expected something like Gold Rush — a hot, humid jungle, leaves and flowers cramming every available inch.

  Instead I was standing knee-deep in ferns. Trees towered all around me. When I shifted my feet, the ground was spongy, mossy. A light rain was falling.

  Time seemed to blink.

  I found myself standing with my back pressed against a large tree. My heart was pounding. My .44 was in my hands. My backpack lay in the ferns a good twenty feet away. Inside me, something was shifting uncomfortably, like a chilly snake being forced awake.

  “Pup. This is not that place.”

  I stared at Ghosteater, not quite getting it. He was sitting calmly in the ferns, some way off.

  My eyes strayed up to Williams, who was standing behind him. He too seemed calm.

  I looked around.

  Trees. Moss. Ferns. Rain.

  But no octopuses. And it was much warmer than Octoworld had been. And the ferns weren’t moving.

  Not Octoworld. Eyry. I’m in Eyry.

  The adrenaline
drained out of me, leaving me shaky. The thing inside me coiled back up. Several long moments passed in silence.

  “Got it together?” Williams said.

  I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded.

  He collected my pack, hefting it easily in one hand, and brought it over to me. I stepped away from the tree, and he settled it onto my shoulders.

  I groped around for the hip belt and found one end of it. My hands felt clumsy.

  “Just then. Was I … I mean, was I going to …”

  “You were starting a working.”

  “What kind?”

  He shook his head.

  “It happened on the ship too. After … you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  Ghosteater stuck his nose in my palm, and I jumped. I hadn’t heard him approach.

  I realized I was shivering. “This is bad. My gift is … well, I don’t really know what it is, but it’s dangerous, and it’s just popping up. When I get scared. I can feel it waking, but it’s all wrong. Like it’s twisted and backward and doesn’t move right.” I stopped myself and took a few deep breaths. Rambling incoherently wasn’t helpful. “I don’t have any control over it. I’m afraid I’m going to kill someone.”

  Williams took the hip belt out of my hand, fished the other side of it out from under the pack, and latched it in front.

  “Tighten up.”

  I found the strap and cinched the belt snug.

  Then I looked up at him, desperate for an answer.

  He met my gaze steadily. His expression had an I’m-not-going-to-lie-to-you quality. I braced myself.

  “You’re not going to kill anyone you don’t mean to,” he said. “It’s under control.”

  “That wasn’t under my control.”

  “Once you realized there was no danger, you let it go. Nothing happened.”

  “Something could’ve.”

  “Nothing did.”

  “So? It’s just chance. Next time, something might.”

  “Not chance, pup. You dropped the marrow.”

  I looked down at Ghosteater. He nosed my hand.

  “Look,” Williams said, “it feels like it’s doing its own thing, but it’s not. It’s doing what you want. Trying to, anyway. That’s what gifts are like. It’s not going to do what you don’t want it to.”

  I studied his face and decided he believed what he was saying.

  That didn’t mean he was right.

  “Cordus said it was unstable and unpredictable. He said using it would be extremely dangerous.”

  “So? You’re not going to use it.”

  Annoyance was creeping back into his voice. It was surprising he’d kept it at bay as long as he had, actually.

  I nodded and looked away, but I was pretty sure he was wrong. Nothing had happened on the ship because Williams had convinced me the danger was over. And this time, there hadn’t actually been any danger — I’d just freaked out for a moment.

  But what about when there really was danger? Danger that didn’t go away?

  If I was lucky, I’d make another firestorm. If I was unlucky, I might do something a whole lot worse.

  I am so not the right person to be visiting dragons.

  But there was no one else.

  I squared my shoulders and tried to pull my shirt flat under the backpack’s straps.

  Maybe worrying about it was counterproductive. Maybe it was one of those things where believing something made it true: if I thought I controlled it, I’d have an easier time doing so, and if I thought I was helpless, I would be.

  The gift hadn’t woken up back when we were fighting the Thirsting Ground, right? I’d been aware of the danger that it might, and it hadn’t happened. So, maybe keeping it in mind — thinking regularly about not using it — would help keep it in check.

  I decided I’d go with that idea.

  Williams was still watching me.

  “I’m good. Thanks.” I groped around for a change of subject. “Want me to carry the rifle?”

  I mean, why not? I hadn’t yet seen him use it. He always chose the shotgun.

  “Could you hit something with it?”

  “Dunno. Put a pinecone on your head and we’ll see.”

  He just stared at me.

  I sighed. “Yes. I can shoot a rifle.”

  He handed me the gun. “Magazine’s full. Don’t shoot anything I don’t tell you to.”

  I stood there holding it for a moment, blinking hard. I hadn’t noticed he’d switched his own rifle out for Terry’s M4.

  Then I loosened my pack’s left shoulder strap, freed my arm, and slung the rifle over my head. It hung straight down the front of my body, big, mean, and heavy. I tightened the sling up and got my pack sorted out.

  Williams looked a bit surprised.

  I gave him my best stink-eye, daring him to question my badassery. No reason to tell him I’d never fired an assault rifle until Gwen started letting me play with her collection.

  He shrugged. “Aim for the head. Dino skulls aren’t thick.”

  “Really?”

  “Couple centimeters, tops. They’re birds, not bears.”

  “What about the one with the big dome on top of its head?”

  His face took on a why-me? look. “Other than that one.”

  I nodded and looked around at the forest.

  Pines were mixed with primitive-looking palmlike trees and things that reminded me of modern hardwoods but were oddly shaped, with weird leaves. The sparse branches and foliage let plenty of light reach the forest floor, which was covered in ferns and mosses with soft, ankle-high stalks. The mixture of light and dark, and various shades of brown and green, might make it difficult to pick out predators.

  Then again, we had a wolf. A wolf nose had to be a million times better than people eyes.

  We started walking.

  Ghosteater floated along in absolute silence. Williams was amazingly quiet for such a large person. I, in contrast, seemed to locate every crunchy twig in the loudest possible way.

  My companions didn’t react to my bumbling. Ghosteater just walked steadily along through the trees, turning his head this way and that, moving his mouth slightly as he tasted the air. As for Williams, he mostly looked up.

  I could see birds gliding around up there.

  Those probably weren’t what he was watching for.

  I leaned back against the rock, enjoying the feeling of breathing easily.

  There wasn’t as much oxygen in the air as we were used to. Walking any distance had turned out to be hard for all of us. Ghosteater said he’d adapted after a few weeks the last time he was here. Until then, we’d have to take it slowly.

  When we stopped, Williams had put up a barrier and concentrated the oxygen inside. I could tell it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t an air-worker, like Andy. Manipulating gasses for anything other than making a barrier would be learned work, for him.

  While he concentrated on creating the working, I pressed our bedrolls up against the stone and got some dried meat and fruit out of our packs. We sat down to eat. Ghosteater melted away into the trees.

  After about ten minutes, animals began to appear. What I’d thought were birds flying around in the tree tops turned out to be lizards with stiff ribbed wings sticking out from their sides. Some of them were tiny — just a few inches. Others were a foot or two long. The little ones ate insects. The big ones ate the little ones.

  They glided down from the tree tops and then worked their way up the trunks. They were well camouflaged. When they froze, they were practically invisible.

  Before long, larger creatures showed up — low-slung reptiles with armoring on their backs and a row of thick spines running from neck to tail along each side. The spines sprouting over the shoulders were particularly long and curved, like a bull’s horns. The animals were substantial — twelve or fifteen feet long and thick-bodied — but they had tiny, turtle-shaped heads. The overall effect was strange. I’d never seen anything similar.

 
“What are they?” I whispered.

  “Aetosaurs.”

  We watched as they grazed the forest floor, feeding on ferns and moss. They didn’t seem to see us. Maybe Williams’s barrier was hiding us, or maybe they just had bad eyesight.

  After a time, another group of reptiles joined the aetosaurs. They weren’t tall — maybe three feet at the back — but their necks were quite long. They could rear up onto their hind legs, grasp a tree with their clawed forefeet, and browse the branches.

  The browsers and grazers mixed peacefully.

  “None of these are all that big,” I murmured. “Maybe the dragons are small too.”

  Williams’s expression said, Dream on.

  I’d just turned back to watch the animals when Ghosteater burst out of nowhere, seized a young long-neck behind the head, and laid its throat open with a single paw-swipe.

  The remaining long-necks went bipedal and ran off, slaloming around the trees. The aetosaurs lumbered away more slowly.

  Ghosteater stood over his jerking prey as it bled out. Then he gripped it by the withers and dragged it off into the trees.

  “Did you see that?” I said. “He came out of nowhere.”

  The big man didn’t answer. He was looking hard at the spot where Ghosteater had popped into view. He looked … alarmed.

  “Was he behind a barrier?”

  The answer came slowly. “No. I think he came through a strait.”

  I peered out into the woods. All I could see was the blood. “There’s a strait there?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t sound too sure.”

  “Wasn’t normal. It felt …”

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Two-dimensional. And now it’s gone.”

  Straits are like tunnels. How can a tunnel be two-dimensional? And they didn’t disappear. They could be closed, but they were still there.

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He studied me, eyes narrowed. “You know anything about him? What he can do? What he can’t?”

  “No, not really. But I do trust him.”

  “Why?”

  I shifted, uncomfortable. “I’m not sure why, but he cares about me.”

  “Cares about you?” He made a dismissive sound. “You can’t be that naive.”

  “I’m not being naive. You’ve seen the way he treats me.”