Cord nodded, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “He probably realized I’d be able to track you down. Saved him the effort—I know that’s his favorite thing. Or he just assumed I was lying. He’s never trusted me.”
Domek shrugged. “He’s probably wanting to ask if I’ve started cleaning the flat yet,” he said. “I doubt it’s occurred to him that he could be the one to have the window fixed.”
“Are you sure you want to see him?” Cord asked. “I can have Hollas send him away, tell him we’re not in.”
“I have the speech well-memorized,” the butler said dryly.
Shaking his head, Domek said, “I’m not avoiding him. He can keep quiet about where I am.”
“I hope you’re not in more trouble than you think,” Cord said.
Hollas led Anton into the sitting room, where Cord had perched at his piano, tapping keys with one hand and sipping an afternoon brandy with the other. Domek sat in the embroidered armchair, ignoring the glass Cord had poured him.
Anton’s eyes lit up when he saw Domek. “I knew you’d be here,” he said triumphantly. “I could tell Cord was lying yesterday.”
“I wasn’t lying,” Cord said. As he crawled his hand along the ivory, he deliberately pinged the wrong key. The discordant note echoed around the room like a bullet. “At that point, I didn’t know yet.”
“Then where have you been, Domek?”
“I was off-duty last night,” Domek reminded him.
“I know, but I still didn’t hear from you for twenty-four hours. I told Paluska about the break-in, and he said he wants to talk to you.”
“Does he?” Domek asked, careful not to betray his lack of surprise to Anton. After telling Paluska about the wisp, and assuring him it was safe, Domek had fallen out of touch for a full day and night. He might have assumed from Anton’s story that the wisp had been stolen during the break-in, and would be looking for confirmation.
Undoubtedly, he would take the incident as a sign that Domek wasn’t qualified to keep the wisp safe. The next time he went to see Paluska, he would need to hand it over to his keeping. Imrich would lord it over Domek’s head until the old bastard died.
After the wisp’s intervention last night, perhaps Domek could trust it to aid the lamplighters, despite its initial reluctance. Domek was feeling less confident in his ability to judge character—he had trusted Ora until he had seen her eyes reflecting in the darkness. Was the wisp fooling him as well?
“Paluska was mad at me for letting you swan off on your own right after our break-in,” Anton said. “We’re supposed to look out for each other. When I realized I didn’t know where you’d ended up yesterday, I started to worry.” He glared at Cord, who ignored him in favor of tapping out a simple melody on the piano.
“I’m fine,” Domek said. He gestured around them. “I landed on my feet.”
“I can see that. Nicer than where I ended up,” Anton admitted. “So, should we go see Paluska now?”
Domek hesitated. “I can’t today,” he said.
“Too busy playing piano and drinking?”
“I…”
“We have plans,” Cord interrupted. “I’m showing Domek the town. I made him promise. You know how he is about his vows.”
Anton frowned at Domek, crossing his arms. “I thought the lamplighter vow was the most important to you. You believe in what we do. In our job.” He glanced over at Cord. He didn’t know that the aristocrat knew about the pijavice, which worked in Domek’s favor. Anton couldn’t press the issue with Cord present.
“I do,” Domek protested.
“Imrich was with Paluska. He seemed eager to see you as well. He said you have something of his? Something important?” Of course Paluska had told the alchemist about the wisp. Imrich would be apoplectic with rage that Domek had access to such rare magic and would be itching to dissect the wisp.
“He thinks everything I own is his,” Domek said. “I’ll go by Paluska’s tonight after my patrol. I just have something to do first.”
“You don’t have to do everything alone,” Anton said, somewhere between irritated and wounded.
“He’s not alone,” Cord said, leaning on the keys to stand up. The dissonant noise rang through the room, grating against Domek’s bones. Across the room, the dog huffed his annoyance. “We should get ready,” he said to Domek. To Anton, he continued, “Satisfied that I’ve kept him alive?”
Anton held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just worried,” he said. “Domek, go by tonight before Paluska has a heart attack, all right? I’ll tell him that my message has been passed along.”
“Thanks, Anton,” Domek said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t let him bully you. I’ll explain everything when I see him.” As soon as Domek decided what to do.
After Hollas ushered Anton out the door, Cord sighed. “You’re a terrible liar,” he said. “Next time, let me know if I’m going to need to cover for you. Shall I come up with plans for us to do today? I’m sure I can keep you busy.”
“No, but thank you for that,” Domek said. “I won’t string them along much longer. I have some things I need to handle.”
“It’s odd seeing Anton act as anyone’s messenger. He’s never been one for authority figures,” Cord added.
“He respects the lamplighter leader,” Domek said.
“And you don’t?”
“I do,” Domek hedged. “But I trust myself more.”
“In that, I agree with you,” Cord said. “Come on. Have some brandy and keep me company while I finish that letter. You’ll want to wait a few minutes before heading out just in case Anton is waiting to ambush you anyway. After the night you had, it’s the least you deserve.”
Domek sighed and picked up his glass. “It can hardly make things worse.”
Clouds hung heavy overhead, blocking the afternoon sun and smothering Prague under a low sky.
Domek’s career was about helping people. Even when he failed, he was assured that he was doing good work for the world. After last night, though, he felt at a loss. The wisp in his bag, which had seemed an evil, chaotic force, had tried to save the footman. Ora, who had pulled him into her bed, had turned out to be his worst enemy.
Domek was frustrated by his own passivity. It was time to stop letting things happen to him. Waiting around for the next person to attack him and those around him would only put more innocents in danger. He needed answers.
In addition to housing the lamplighter’s guildhall, the tangle of buildings in the dip below the castle was home to a collection of the most active gentlemen’s establishments in Prague.
The small building was tucked in between a tailor’s shop and an auction house. He had asked around; it was one of the area’s premiere gambling halls, exclusive to members. It would have been innocuous if not for the sign proclaiming it The Pigeon Hole over the door—and the two men standing guard. They frowned when Domek stopped in front of them. “I’m looking for Bazil,” he said.
“What business do you have with him?”
“He’ll want to see me. Tell him Domek Myska is here.”
They didn’t budge. Both were close to Domek’s size, broad-shouldered and scarred from years of brawls.
“Don’t worry, gents. I’ve got this one.” A girl stepped away from the wall, tossing aside an apple core. She was dressed in more layers than were needed for the spring afternoon, and had a cap pulled low over dark curls. “Follow me.”
“Who are you?”
She was young to be working at a gambling hall, but Domek had seen how quickly difficult times could land on the shoulders of children. No girl should have been working at a place like this, but at least she had protection.
Left on the streets, she would have been easy prey for monsters.
The transformation into a pijavica was difficult enough for a sturdy adult, and youths were more quickly driven mad by the bloodlust. It was a sight Domek never wanted to see again. A child’s face split o
pen by teeth, ravenous. Their family dead around them.
“I work with Bazil. He told me to keep an eye out for you. Knew you couldn’t stay away. You were lucky I was taking a break. Even a bruiser like you couldn’t get past those two.”
They went through the alley around the back which smelled of sewage and mud. Domek scanned the shadows, cautious of walking into a trap. No one leaped out at them, however, and a whispered password at the door allowed them into the back of the club.
The girl led him through a series of dark hallways until they emerged blinking into a small, velvet-lined room. A group of six men were playing cards, despite the early hour. Cheroot smoke was thick in the air, creating a slight haze near the ornate ceiling. Though clearly in the middle of a hand, the occupants of the table noticed their entry. Bazil, with the smallest pile of chips in front of him, waved at the others after they finished the hand, dismissing them from the room. They went without complaint, carrying their tokens to play with elsewhere in the gambling hall.
“Domek Myska,” Bazil greeted once the room was cleared. He wore a simple dark suit, and the vest beneath was patterned with organic shapes and colors like a turtle’s shell. And like a shell, the effect was an impressive camouflage of a respectable man. He could have blended with society easily. “I was hoping you’d come to see me.” He flicked a coin across the room, which the girl caught in midair. She tucked it in her belt and left. Bazil turned to Domek, grinning. “She’s not allowed to gamble.”
“Because she’s too young?” Domek asked.
“Because she takes everyone’s money, and my clients are usually bitter losers,” Bazil said. “Take a seat, Mister Myska. We have a lot to discuss.”
Domek remained standing. “You’re right. You told me you have information I need. But to start, I’d like an apology.”
Bazil raised his eyebrows. “For what?”
“Don’t play stupid,” Domek said. “You had your criminals ransack my apartment the other night. I’m here to learn what you know, but I haven’t forgotten that.”
“You think I had you robbed after I extended an invitation for us to work together,” Bazil said, “and you decided it was wise to show up here anyway?”
“I’ve faced more frightening things than you,” Domek said coolly.
“I’m sure you think you have,” Bazil said, shuffling the stack of cards methodically. “Luckily, we won’t have to test it. We didn’t have anything to do with a break-in—at your home, that is. I’m looking to work with you, not against you.”
“Why should I believe that?” Domek asked. “I know you’re not on the right side of the law. It’s not a stretch to assume that after I refused your invitation to meet, you thought to try to take what you wanted by force.”
“Ah, but that’s where your logic fails,” Bazil said. “I don’t want what you’ve got. I have enough trouble in my life without taking something like that wisp on.” When Domek faltered, he continued, “Now, take a seat, Mister Myska, so we can talk.”
Finally, Domek sat.
“Do you play cards?”
“No.”
“Shame,” Bazil said. “I guess you’re as much of a bore as you look. Both in the sense that you are boorish and boring. Don’t you know better than to come into a man’s space and accuse him of thievery?”
Domek folded his arms. “I’ve worked in the city long enough to know someone on the wrong side of the law. The secret passage into your underground gambling rooms gave it away.”
“Fair point. The fact remains that I’m more honest than my profession would make one think. After what I saw in the alley the other night, I knew I needed a chance to talk with you. I know what you are, even without the wisp to help you fight. If I had tried to rob you, I wouldn’t have let you come here into my space. I prefer not to get into fights I can’t win, and you’re trained for enemies far stronger than me.”
The problem was that Bazil appeared imminently trustworthy. His eyes were bright and curious, and he spoke as though he and Domek already shared some childhood pact of intimacy. If they hadn’t been in a private room at a gambling hall, having been united by Bazil stalking him, Domek would have been tempted to open up to him. It was a dangerous impulse, one that Bazil had undoubtedly taken advantage of over the years. “Then talk.”
“I’ve been following up on a variety of whispers,” Bazil said. “After I saw you in the alley, I’ve been questioning my contacts. It turns out that yours is not the only wisp in the city. I heard from a friend of mine in the smuggling business that there’s a certain fanged demographic currently on the hunt for vodníks—and the unique soul jars some of them have.”
“Pijavice have been hunting vodníks? How do you know?”
“They’ve been pillaging vodník dens for soul jars across the countryside. As for how I found out about it, that’s easy. Once they’ve found what they’re looking for, they have to bring back the jars somehow. Dock workers see things, especially such unusual trinkets, and they tell me.”
Domek sighed. “If you don’t want the wisp for yourself, why bother chasing me down?”
“Information is as valuable as coin,” Bazil said, picking up a token from the table and rolling it across the velvet toward Domek. “Knowledge is the most powerful weapon I have. If I’m going to keep my men safe, I need to know what’s out there.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Do you remember the first time you encountered a monster? That moment when you realized that the world wasn’t what you thought it was?” Domek nodded. “I hate that feeling. I like to preempt it wherever I can.”
“Why don’t you want the wisp for yourself?”
“I know better than to trust deals that seem too good to be true. They never turn out to be worth the hassle,” Bazil said. “It sounds like you’re learning that lesson too. The bubák in the alley, the break-in—I don’t imagine things are going the way you planned.”
Domek had come to Bazil to get information. He’d not expected such insight, but would take advantage while it was on offer. “I didn’t plan any of this,” Domek admitted. “I found the jar by accident.”
Bazil nodded. “After talking to you, I thought that might be the case. I was hoping that since a lamplighter got their hands on one that it meant your men were on top of this. None of you had any idea this was happening?”
“Most of the pijavice I run into are more focused on their next meal than conspiracies,” Domek pointed out. “They’re sewer rats, nothing more. I don’t look for larger secrets.”
Though, he remembered, all the pijavice who had attempted to take the wisp from him so far had been dressed like lords.
The type of pijavica Ora likely invited to her house to drink blood from crystal goblets.
“Hm. I suppose it’s like asking a bird watcher about astronomy,” Bazil mused.
“Have you heard of a pijavica named Ora Fischerová?” Domek asked, pulse thudding in his ears.
Bazil shrugged. “I may have.”
“Is she involved in this hunt for the wisps?”
“You’re still focused too much on the details. You’ll never have any idea of the bigger picture if you’re only focusing on what’s around you.”
“I save lives,” Domek said. “That is the bigger picture for me.”
“Take a moment to think about why pijavice might be collecting wisps,” Bazil said, tapping his deck of cards against the table. “Go on. You don’t think that it might have impacts that could affect us all? I don’t know the exact limits of a caged wisp’s power, but it can’t be good for the pijavice to have it. They could disrupt everything in this city. We need to know what their goal is. Short of trying to confront the pijavice ourselves, which my men are not at all equipped to do, the only way I see available for getting that information is through you. You’ve intercepted one of their acquisitions. Now you need to find out what they’re planning. I can admit my own restraints. I don’t have the resources to do anything about this. The pijavice I feed information to
are too paranoid to let any slip back to me. What I can do is make sure you realize the stakes.”
No matter what Bazil sneered, it didn’t take much imagination to think of the damage a pijavica could cause paired with the power of a wisp. Even if the pijavice couldn’t utilize the wisp without being sabotaged in some way, as Domek had been at first, their combined lack of regard for human life was a danger in itself. If anyone Domek had met had the silver tongue needed to manipulate the wisp, however, it was Ora. “I see your point. If there are other pijavice bringing wisps into the city, we need to know. But they wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“Luckily,” Bazil said, “in this case we can skip over the pijavice and go directly to the source.”
“You think my wisp is involved with this?” Domek asked. He shook his head. “The wisps aren’t willing coconspirators. The jars are vodník magic. The wisps are trapped to the will of the holder.”
“Then if the pijavica offered their freedom in exchange for cooperation, is it so far-fetched to imagine the two groups working together? Wisps are contrary creatures, but they make their own choices. If you’re ensnared by one in the woods, they’re as likely to take you to safety as drown you in the bog. You’re sure it won’t betray you?”
Domek hesitated. He didn’t know whether the pijavica had already been summoning Kája for days or weeks before Domek had found them. Could they have already been partners? Was Kája biding its time until it could go back to the pijavice? Perhaps last night’s encounter with the poltergeist had been orchestrated by Ora and Kája together.
“Ask it what its old master was planning,” Bazil suggested. “Threaten it with silver, if you must, assuming it shares the same weakness as other spirits. Make it tell you what it knows. Don’t waste more time. Go and summon it now.”
Domek frowned. “I don’t have it with me, you know.”
“I’m a gambler, remember? I can tell when someone has something precious in their bag,” Bazil said, nodding toward the satchel Domek had left tightly secured over his chest. “I have private rooms if you’d like to summon your wisp here.”
The Lights of Prague Page 20