Lily sat back heavily. Her hat dislodged, but instead of straightening it, she swiped it from her head and tossed it aside. “How could I not have known all this?”
“Britain is a great nation in many respects,” Kelan said, “but we don’t boast about our skeletons. Few understand the true impact of our flourishing opium trade.”
They drove on in silence, Kelan holding a steady gaze on their passage. When they crossed the Thames at the Chelsea Bridge, he knew the demons were indeed on China’s tail. The Chinese General had hired a private estate near Battersea Park for the duration of his stay in London.
The traffic cleared and, up ahead, he caught sight of the gold and blue state coach on the straight road. Only a glimpse, and then the coach disappeared as the road bent around the park. Next around the bend, the Brougham was out of view for minutes before Brinn took the turn—and brought them to an abrupt stop that shuddered the carriage axles.
Lily slammed forward, tumbling into his lap. Kelan registered the imprint on his senses, the arms slapped around his neck, soft curves bundled against his hardness, quickened breaths feathering his jaw…but there was no time to appreciate.
The horses reared and whinnied in protest. Armand cursed and reached beneath the seat, where they kept oilskin bags of seawater in the bunk compartment. The carriage shuddered again as Brinn and the lads jumped from the driver’s box.
Kelan deposited Lily back in her seat. He spared precious seconds to grab her by the arms and look her in the eye. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Stay here and don’t move.”
She bit her lip and nodded, and only then did he leap from the carriage.
His jaw clenched, his gaze hardening to crystal on the human and animal debris that blocked the road.
The state coach had been upturned, wheels spinning, smoke billowing from the gild-framed windows. The horses had gone down with the carriage, mangled in their harnesses with barely audible, whimpered snorts of agony. The bloodied bodies of Chinese military aides lay where they’d been flung, one trapped at the waist beneath the carriage; three others stirring dazedly to life.
The General was not amongst them.
Armand joined Brinn and Liam, weaving amongst the injured to assist. Archie was on his knees before the trapped man. He rose, gave Kelan a grim look, and shook his head.
“Put those horses out of their misery,” Kelan instructed.
He was about to yank open the smouldering gold-adorned door, when Lily’s cry of alarm tore him around. She was ghostly white, one hand clasped to her mouth, the other pressed to the carriage to hold her up.
Damnation. He backed up a few steps in her direction, his voice grinding grit as he barked, “What part of ‘stay put’ don’t you understand?”
“The demons…” She pulled her horrified stare from the scene. The glaze in her eyes sharpened to flames of spitting fire directed at him. Her voice came back strong, every bit as abrasive as his. “They have a man in their carriage. I think—“ Her shoulders jerked as two pistol shots rang out in quick succession, but her gaze didn’t stray from him. “I think it might be the General. His robes are more colourful, more majestic than these men’s.”
Kelan’s eyes snapped to the road ahead. No sight of the Brougham, but half a mile down, the road turned yet again to follow the park’s boundary. “The General’s residence is right around that corner.”
He jumped up onto the high seat, grabbing the reins as he called Armand to him. The rest of his men, he left behind to care for the fallen aides.
When Lily clambered up beside him, he set a scowl on her that would wither any argument. “Inside the carriage, or I’ll leave you here.”
Her fingers gripped the padded armrest of the driver’s perch and she bowed her head, eyes closed.
“Why do you always have to be so damn defiant?” he growled.
But she was already lost to him, searching her demon glass.
He gestured Armand inside the carriage—at least someone still listened when he spoke—and flicked the reins to urge the horses into a fast canter.
Lily’s head came up. “They’ve veered off the road, into a clearing.” She looked past his shoulder, then to the woodlands at their left. “They’re not far, and the clearing isn’t that deep into the woods. I could see the perimeter wall of the park when I looked across the road.”
He slowed the horses so they could search the dense trees that buffered their left.
“We could have saved those men.” Lily stopped searching for a moment to stab him with a look. “We could have spared those horses. We should have banished the demons when we had the chance.”
Kelan held her gaze, absorbing the accusation for a long second before he cast his eyes back to the dark shadows across the road. “I blame myself more than you ever could, Lily.”
“That’s the tragedy of regrets,” she said bitterly. “By the time they arrive, it’s too late to change your mind.”
“You misunderstand.” Regret and blame were old friends. They’d moved in years ago and lived side-by-side with his conscience in relative harmony. “Given the option, I wouldn’t change my mind. We can’t stop the demons’ end game unless we know what the hell it is.”
A disturbance in the shadows drew his attention. He pulled at the reins, bringing the carriage to a slow halt.
He climbed down first, then offered a hand to Lily. He wasn’t the least surprised when she rebuffed the offer and made the small jump on her own, landing steadily on both feet.
The sound of raised voices, muffled by the summer foliage, reached them.
Kelan put a finger to his lips. “Let’s not give them the advantage,” he whispered.
Armand exited the carriage, a couple of oilskins slung over his shoulder, the Stylometor gripped in one hand.
Ordering Lily to remain in the carriage was an exercise in futility, so instead Kelan issued in a low voice, “Stay a decent pace at my back, keep to the cover of the trees and stick to Armand’s side. And whatever you may think to do, for the sake of all that’s holy, don’t.”
He sent Armand a look, giving his man permission to physically restrain her if necessary, and took off through the trees with stealthy footfalls. He heard Lily and Armand behind him, but only because he’d opened his senses, trapping the slightest movement, noise or smell in a web of heightened awareness.
The blunt crack of pistol fire reverberated in the air. The General was putting up a fight, but he was about to learn the truth of demons and bullets.
Kelan pressed forward with less stealth and more urgency, unsheathing the short sword inside his boot as he went. With a flick of his wrist, the sword extended, doubling the length of the blade. When he breached the edge of the clearing, however, he saw it was the demon carriage driver that held the pistol. The General slumped against the trunk of a pine in a splash of embroidered apricot silk, his head lolled to one side.
Kelan fell back behind a tree. He glanced over his shoulder, motioned his intention to Armand, then moved around the clearing within the tree line.
“Give that here.” The second demon snatched the pistol. “My aim can’t be any worse. Make yourself useful and fetch the documents.”
As Kelan closed in on the General, the pungent smell of chloroform hit him. The General had been drugged. And now his limp body was target practice. Of all the bizarre demonic experiences Kelan had encountered, this one topped the list. Blanking the puzzle from his mind, he gauged his best move. With one demon headed for the carriage, and the other clumsily attempting to reload the pistol, he decided to go in clean and swift.
Sword raised, both hands on the hilt, he sprang out from behind the General and charged.
Time slowed to the beat of his enhanced reflexes.
The demon’s head jerked up. Speckled brown eyes widened on Kelan. Its arm shot up, fingers flexed. The unloaded pistol dropped harmlessly to the ground.
Kelan swung a hefty blow. His Ca
irngorm blade sliced the demon’s throat, severing its head clear but for the few ropes of bloody tendons that kept it from falling to the ground. Dark blood, the texture of thick cream, sludged from the jugular.
Kelan’s intensified hearing picked up Lily’s quiet gasp. He shut down concerns of her nearness, stilled recriminations of not handcuffing her to the damn carriage. The demon was decapitated, but not incapacitated, and the other now alerted to the commotion.
A mere second had passed since he’d swung his sword.
Blinded without its head, black fire spit sporadically from the demon’s fingers. Kelan brought his sword down, lopping off the source at each flexed wrist, and completed the natural arc to deflect the black bolt coming from the demon by the carriage.
For good measure, he took another hefty swing at the crippled demon in front of him, slicing through soft organs below the ribcage. The upper half of the demon toppled forward.
“Armand,” he called as he advanced with another executed arc to refract the black ray that came at him. The anti-light rebounded, but hit the carriage instead of the demon. The horses reared and bolted forward, only to be jerked back by the carriage brake. “Now!”
They had a handful of seconds to stamp the rune to bind and keep, and stuff all the demon parts inside the trap.
Kelan advanced another step, and another, brandishing his sword one-handed now with lightning speed to deflect and refract each and every black ray assaulting him—he couldn’t afford to dip or lunge, to swerve or feint. Every ray that missed him was a fire strike at Armand or Lily at his back. His heart threatened to race with the exertion, with the worry, and he tempered it with steady, shallow breaths.
This demon didn’t taunt. Didn’t bluster. It just glared and flexed its fingers in streaming bursts of black rage.
Kelan manipulated the attack, dancing further and further to the right, drawing the demon’s fire away from the others. From the corner of his eye, he saw Armand retreat into the shadows, the demon safely trapped. His man knew he was a liability to Kelan’s concentration and opportunity. There was no sign of Lily, thank God.
With Armand out of sight and nothing but trees at his back, Kelan feinted left to evade the next fire bolt. He used the brief respite to refine his method and calculate the angle of beams coming at him. The next flash caught his blade in perfect precision, rebounding a direct hit. The demon staggered, and crumpled into a stunned heap.
Armand rushed up with the Stylometor, a rune-stamping device he’d designed. A cone of long feelers popped out the end of a silver-plated rod to spray molten iron, scorching leaves and earth with the intricate tangle of triangles and circles that formed the rune to bind and keep.
Kelan dragged the limp demon inside the rune, then sliced a shallow cut into his palm with the blade of his sword. Blood dropped onto the continuous lines of the rune, sealing its power.
The demon’s brown eyes flared red, the dilated pupils pits of boiling tar. It shoved its hands into its coat pockets and dropped its head, staring up at Kelan through half-barrel furnaces.
Kelan sheathed his sword, his gaze flicking up to Armand. “Lily?”
Armand nodded. “Fine, if not happy.”
Good enough. He sent Armand to search the carriage for the mentioned documents, then strode across the clearing. The General was his next priority. But Lily had already popped out from behind a tree, and she made a beeline for him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
Pushing the General down a notch in his list, he opened his arms without conscious thought.
His distressed wife didn’t fall into the comfort of his embrace.
“Have you com-completely lost your m-mind?” Her fists rained down on his chest. “Two demons! You took on t-two demons on your own!”
He allowed her pounding a moment more, then caught her fists and gathered her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “I was never in any danger.”
“You’re not a god,” she muttered against his chest. “You’re not infallible.”
He rested his chin on her head, an odd tenderness washing over him. “If one of them had been Agares, or another King of Hell, I might have been in trouble.”
“Not Agares?” She strained back to look into his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” he said. “They’re both lesser demons, with inferior strength.”
“Which means Agares is still out there, hiding from me.” A shudder coursed through her, then she softened against him again, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. “That’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, standing there, holding back, afraid to break my word to Armand and afraid not to. Promise me, Kelan, swear you won’t do anything so utterly foolish again.”
He held Lily close, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I never make promises I can’t keep,” he said softly. When her heart stopped thudding against his chest, he set her from him so he could hunch down beside the general. “But I’d like to know what Armand said to make you listen. Or perhaps it was the way he said it. Should I apply for lessons on how to tame my wife?”
Lily didn’t laugh. “He warned me the slightest distraction would cost your life, and that much I could see for myself.”
She hunkered down with him. “Is he alive?”
“His pulse is weak, but steady.” Kelan released the man’s wrist and rocked back on his heels. “He’s been drugged.”
“We heard a shot fired.”
“They missed.”
“So much for making an ally of China.” Her brows creased as she looked at him. “If the demons wanted him dead, why fumble with pistols when they have fire bolts. Why bring him all the way out here when they could have burned him on the roadside with his carriage?”
“Hmm…” His gaze went past her as he pushed to his feet. The demons hadn’t uttered a word, weren’t moving a muscle. They observed with a sullen silence that raised the hairs on his neck.
He stepped around the General and held a hand to Lily. “Are you ready to look hell in the eye?”
Her mouth flattened into a grim line. She stood, and his arm slid around her waist as she turned. Her gaze landed on the nearest demon and she went rigid, but never made a sound.
“When their demon power is bound,” he explained, drawing her with him as he walked, “the eyes boil tar and fire. That’s how you know the rune is functional and activated.”
The demon lifted its head, flames shooting from swirling black pits. Lily’s limbs locked, bringing them to an abrupt halt.
Kelan glanced down at her. She wanted to learn, and he wanted to teach, but only if she was ready. “Are you okay?”
“I prefer them this way.” She took a deep breath and pressed ahead without once averting her gaze from the demon’s face. “Evil should bear the look of evil.”
A foot from the rune perimeter, he unsheathed his sword. “Don’t ever be tempted to interrogate it, do not ask questions, do not engage in conversation. A demon won’t tell you the colour of the sky without eliciting a price you won’t be willing to pay.”
He folded his arms around Lily from behind and wrapped her fingers around the hilt, then covered her hand with his. His jaw brushing her cheek, he murmured, “The three-pronged mark compels the dual truths that cling to the demon when it breaches the tear.”
With his hand guiding, together they raised the sword and, with the lethal sharp tip, carved three intersecting lines into the demon’s forehead.
“Repeat after me.” He spoke the command in broken phrases, pausing each time for Lily to wrap her tongue around the foreign words. Civitas vestry… titulus ut is eram… in exordium quod… forever ero.
A guttural roar ripped from its throat. “Valac.”
“That’s the demon’s true name,” Kelan said. “Now we learn the exact date it breached the tear.” Ostendo sum… balanus of obduco… inter universita.
“Eighteen fifty-three.” The flames licked higher, spitting at its eyebrows. “June, twenty-second.”
“Well done
.” Kelan brought their arms down, the tip of the sword touching the ground, and turned them both toward the next demon. “Do you want more practice?”
Her head fell back against him, her cheek rolling over his shoulder as her gaze connected with his. “Give me a minute to remember how to breathe, and I’ll do it solo.”
Her enthusiasm, her incredible courage and spirit, kicked his mouth into a grin. “One more round of training, perhaps.”
Her shoulders squared against his chest. “You don’t think I can do it?”
“Maybe I just like the excuse to hold you in my arms a little longer.” His grin settled into a smile. “Come on, this time I’ll let you lead.”
The dual truths ripped from the second demon’s throat widened Lily’s eyes. “They both breached the tear on the same date. June, twenty-second.”
“So did the demon in Glasgow, Saloese. Three demons, that we know of, came through in one batch.”
“You think there may be more?”
“I’m not discounting it,” he said grimly. “What did Armand do with the oil skins?”
He fetched the skins from the tree Lily pointed out and dispatched first one demon, then the other, back to hell with a liberal dousing of the demon-toxic seawater. When he was done, all that remained of their visit topside were smoky clouds of sulphur that spiralled into the Aether.
Armand emerged from the carriage just as the last silvery wisp dissipated altogether, a clutch of papers in hand.
“What did you find?” Kelan called out.
“Trade route schedules, a royal charter proposal…” Armand separated one set of documents from the rest, a thick wad of expensive, embossed pages bound down the left hand side by blue ribbon, and waved it at Kelan. “Confidential correspondence between Russia and the Americans. It looks like these could have been stolen during the Claridge’s rampage last night.”
“How on earth does this all tie in?” Lily said.
Kelan cocked a brow at her. “The demons did intend to make an ally of China, just without China’s consent.”
“I don’t follow.”
“The death of one of their Generals on English soil would demand retribution. This is why it had to look like common murder—no, an assassination.” Kelan spoke slowly, working through the puzzle in his head. “Plant stolen documents on the body, make it look like China’s pilfering trade secrets during our convention, and the queen’s stance would be aggressive rather than apologetic. Our current situation with China is explosive, and this could easily erupt into full blown war.”
The Dark Matters Quartet Page 62