After a few more minutes, Mayer called their attention away from their meals. A pijavica reluctant to stop had to be nudged by Crane. He hissed before realizing who it was and sat back. Crane loomed over him while Mayer talked.
Lady R rehinged her jaw and used a handkerchief to clean her lips, dabbing them as though she were at a tea party rather than a human buffet.
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Mayer said. “The Zizkov family is looking to expand. The nocturnal citizens of Prague have been complacent for too long, and we’re planning on revolutionizing the city. The old ones—they don’t realize how much more there is to take from the world. We do.”
“Hear, hear!” said one of the guests, tapping long fingernails against the shoulder of his human companion.
Mayer spared him a short smile. “I was turned only two years ago, but I know that the pijavica population is stagnant. They want to keep us in the shadows. We’re stronger than humans. We have the potential to be the most powerful beings on the planet if we just seize the opportunity. Our family is just the group to take that chance. I have the vision.” He pointed around the room as he spoke. “Crane is the only other original member of the Zizkov family left. A boxer in his mortal days, he is one of the strongest pijavice I’ve ever met. Besides him, I created our team myself.” He moved to the cluster of the other three pijavice. “Ajka, Weintraub, and Byre are revolutionizing science as we know it. They were geniuses in their mortal days, and now they have no limits.
“Our kind has enormous strength. The only thing standing between us and complete domination are a few small restrictions. Sunlight. Hawthorn. And we’ve found a way around them.”
It was just as Darina had said—they were attempting to learn a way to eradicate their weaknesses. From Mayer and his pack of newly turned pijavice, the idea sounded like a child dreaming of a green sky.
There was some laughter in the room, but most of the guests were silent, listening to Mayer. “We started our tests on lesser pijavice,” he said, “but most weren’t strong enough to survive the process. The ones that did were mad. Their minds were too weak. Our scientists realized that to get powerful results, we needed to focus on powerful pijavice.” He smirked. “That’s why you’re here.”
“I don’t recall volunteering for experimentation,” Ora murmured to Lady R, but her companion didn’t respond. She was still staring at the bloody wounds on her meal’s neck.
Other guests seemed to agree with Ora. “Perhaps your failure is because you’re trying something that can’t be done,” said another pijavica.
“Oh, it can be done. We had hoped to do more experimentation, but our timeline was…altered. We’ve lost three of our friends this week at the hands of weak mortals. The time for waiting was over, despite the protests of my more scientifically minded colleagues.” He nodded to Weintraub. “The five of us took the serum earlier today. We watched the sunset for the first time in years.”
The room immediately broke into whispers. Lady R’s eyes were wide and alert for the first time that night. “Is that possible?” she asked softly, awe in her voice.
Ora understood. The sunset. It had been centuries since she had seen her last. She remembered a sky of impossible colors. She would have done anything to see it again.
“Of course, you’re all clever people,” Mayer continued. “You won’t believe a claim like this without proof. Ajka, bring it to me.” He gestured to the woman, who stepped forward. When she pulled aside a cloth to reveal a hawthorn stake, those closest recoiled. Deliberately, she grasped the poisonous wood with her bare hand before handing it over to Mayer. Neither of them should have been able to hold onto the stake, not without leaving a permanent burn on their flesh. She had seen a jagged mark on Darina’s chest, just at one of her lower ribs, where a hunter had failed to drive a stake into her heart. Though she had not died from the wound, the hawthorn poison left her permanently scarred, the only mark on her immortal body.
Ora wondered if the welt on her own ribs from Domek’s stake would mar her forever.
Mayer held up the stake for everyone to see, and then deliberately pressed it to his shaved cheek. He dragged the sharp end over his skin, leaving a thin line of bright red. He must have fed recently, for the blood from his veins was fresh enough to drip down his jaw before the wound healed itself. “Hawthorn can’t hurt me anymore,” he said, and then threw the stake into the center of the room, near Ora’s shoes. The rest of the pijavice stared down at it as though it were the snake in the Garden of Eden, a threat and temptation in one.
“What’s the offer? How do we get your cure?” asked a lean man in a blue waistcoat, leaning forward. His fangs were extended, but he spoke around them with the skill of long practice.
“It’s simple. Join us. We’re bringing pijavice into the light. We’re starting with the worthy—our cure is limited, for the moment. You’ll be the start of a movement that will change the world. Tonight is the beginning of a new era.”
It was no wonder that Sokol had been terrified of the idea of pijavice finding immunity to their only limitations. Without being chained to the darkness or vulnerable to the humans’ stakes, there would be nothing to stop pijavice from sweeping over human society.
But Ora wouldn’t take advantage of the power. She could take their cure, and keep her own morals. She could attend daytime concerts in the Old Town Square. She could finally learn why Franz had ridden his horse for hours in the meadows while she read inside. She could explore the world again and see every bit in the glow of sunlight, rather than the haze of shadows.
“I’m not interested in being part of your experiments,” said the pijavica who had protested the feast of humans.
He had had the restraint not to touch the human he’d been presented with at all, leaving her one of the few still aware of what was happening around her. Unlike Ora’s, who had taken her whispered instructions to heart, she was looking around the room in obvious horror.
“You said you were turned only two years ago,” the protestor continued, climbing to his feet. “You’re a child. I have patience. If your experiments work, I’ll still be here in fifty years. We’ll talk then.”
“There’s no progress without risk.”
“That’s a mortal mentality.” He looked around at the others. “We’ve survived because we can outlast the reckless fools who grasp every meal they can find in the gutters. Don’t fall for his pretty words when they only have a day’s worth of proof.”
It happened in a flash. For such a large man, Crane moved with quiet stealth. One moment, the pijavica was giving his speech. The next, his head was torn from his neck, and his body exploded into dust.
The girl at their feet screamed, and was met with the same treatment. On a human, the result was far bloodier.
“Any other objections?” Mayer asked.
The room was silent.
“Wonderful. Welcome to the Zizkov family.”
Ora smiled when Mayer looked around the room at everyone’s expressions. Were any others masking their true reactions, or had they all been swayed by the promise of invincibility?
She couldn’t lie to herself. It was a tempting offer. If Crane hadn’t killed the girl, she might have let them cure her.
But these were not the kind of people she was willing to owe a debt.
“If you’re all sated, we can get started. Our laboratory is in our cellar.” He gestured for them to rise. “Leave your meals behind; we’ll handle them.” After everything the humans had heard, Ora doubted they would be getting their promised payment.
“We’re starting tonight?” a woman, dark-skinned and elegant, asked. “Now?”
“All this talk of waiting. This is why the pijavice have been stuck for so long. Be bold, my lady,” Mayer said. “Besides, secrecy is vital until we make our move. We can’t have anyone leaving and telling tales before morning.” He smiled. “No one leaves this house without the cure in their veins.”
* * *
Domek inspected the tools on the table again through a new lens. The delicate machinery, the glimmering liquid, the silver tools—they all seemed grotesque. “How?” he asked.
“I don’t know. This shouldn’t be possible. What they’re doing here, it’s unnatural.” Kája turned to Domek. “They’re using the soul’s magic separate from its source. They pulled out everything they could and discarded the remains. Look at this silver. They found the only thing that could hurt us and used it. They…exsanguinated this spirit.”
“This looks like science,” Domek said. “The woman we tracked here often attends scientific lectures. She has the mind for this. And, apparently, the cruelty.” A footstep creaked against a floorboard upstairs, knocking Domek from his thoughts. “We need to leave.”
“We need to find out more,” Kája argued. “Look at these syringes. Look around the room. They’ve been taking this and injecting it into pijavice. How are they doing this? Why? Is it working? How many spirits have they already destroyed? The greed behind this… It’s unfathomable.”
“I want to know more too, but if they’ve already killed the other wisps they’ve brought in, we might not be safe here,” Domek said. “We don’t know what kind of power this gives them. You said wisps could see through your magic.”
“They were already slaves,” Kája continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “If they were trapped in these vodník jars, there wouldn’t have been a way for them to fight back.” There was another thud from upstairs. Kája drifted toward the stairs. “These pijavice deserve death.”
“I agree, but if we’re going to shut this down, we need to be thorough. They’ve been one step ahead of me this entire time. We need to make sure we stop all of it. We need to figure out if they have any other wisps in transit or already here. If we step in too early, they might get away.”
“We could kill everyone here and then pursue the others,” Kája said. “I have all the time in the world to hunt them down, if you didn’t stop me.”
“What we need is more information,” Domek said. “There are at least a dozen pijavice upstairs, and some of them might have unknown extra powers. You and I can’t beat them alone.”
“Coward.”
“You nearly depleted your energy just healing the boy last night. You could not kill the number of pijavice we can hear upstairs, and any who escape could continue the experiments.” Domek took a deep breath. “Whatever they’re doing here, it’s dangerous to your people and mine. I want this to stop as much as you do.”
“We could try. Together. This is your profession.”
“I’ve fought three pijavice at once and only barely won,” Domek told him. “Even with your help, a dozen is too many. I would almost certainly be killed.”
“Those are odds I’m willing to chance.”
“You’re forgetting that if I die, you go back in your jar until the next person stumbles upon you,” he pointed out. “If that happens, they might not be as interested in stopping those pijavice as I am.”
“I wouldn’t let a thing like your death stop my vengeance,” Kája responded, but his determination was fading. After a long beat of silence, he asked, “What’s your plan?”
“We go to the other lamplighters,” Domek said. “We use their resources and finish this. They’ve destroyed a hundred nests like this.”
“The lamplighters? The organization you’ve been dancing around since you found me?” Kája asked. “You wouldn’t trust them with me. Why trust them with this?”
“This is bigger than any situation I’ve ever faced,” Domek said. “I need their help. Now that you’re on our side, we will focus on the real threat instead of fighting among ourselves for your jar. I’ll explain that you’re not the enemy—these pijavice are. At the end of this, I’ll free you, and we won’t need to argue over who controls your powers.” He paused, and added, “You’ll know that if you betray us, you won’t get your revenge.”
“It’s not revenge. This will be justice.”
Domek nodded. “I’m with you,” he promised. He picked up the vial from the table. It was warm to the touch. “I want to take this with us,” he said. “If we do, though, they’ll know someone was in here. Can you replace the serum with something different in this vial and put the real serum in here?” he asked, pointing to a smaller, tear-drop vial.
“And I’m to trust you won’t use it?” Kája asked.
“Could a human even survive something like this?”
“It would probably kill you. Or give you powers beyond your dreaming. No one has ever done this before. Men are reckless when they have something powerful in their grasp, and you’re a curious man.”
“I promise I won’t use it. I don’t want to leave it here for them, and I don’t want to destroy it entirely, not until we learn more.”
There was a flicker in the air, and the tear-drop vial was slowly filled with the silver liquid. On the table, the original vial was refilled by something else, a shade darker. Domek tucked the horrid serum into his bag. “If we leave them this machine, they’ll just find more of us to mutilate,” Kája said.
Domek examined the machinery. “A distillery shouldn’t be able to do this,” he said thoughtfully, tracing a coil with one finger.
Kája was giving the silver instruments on the table a wide berth. “Those could do a lot,” he said. “No spirit could survive under the bite of that much pure silver.”
“This is more than science—it’s alchemy. There must be something extra, beyond the silver, that makes this possible.” He opened a small panel, and peered inside. “Aha!” He grabbed one of the chainmail gloves from the table and then plucked out a piece of obsidian. Though the stone was polished to a shine, its edges were raw and ragged, as though it had just been carved from the ground. “It must be this. It’s the only thing that doesn’t fit. It must be filtering the magical energies.” He put it alongside the serum in his satchel. “There. Now they won’t have the serum or the way to make more.”
“If leaving prevents me from getting justice for the souls that have been destroyed in this hell, I will hold you accountable.”
“So will I,” Domek said quietly.
* * *
Ora smoothed her skirts, tugging at a thread dangling from the ripped fabric near the floor until most of the other pijavice had filed out of the room. Carefully, she put her hands to her hair, held up a limp red curl, and frowned at it.
Her delay was only partially effective. Most of the Zizkovs’ guests had followed the scientists out, but Mayer, Crane, and the woman, Ajka, remained. They watched her closely, a pack of wolves regarding a deer. Mayer raised his eyebrows and tilted his head toward the door.
If she went into the cellar, she would have no chance of escape. If she was going to get out without letting them put their cure in her veins, she had to go now.
“Now I feel guilty that I took Darina’s invitation,” she said with a small laugh. “I’m sure she would have wanted to be part of this first test.”
“You’ll be able to walk back to her through the daylight and show her our success.”
Ora tugged at her curls again, pouting. “Sorry, I just wish I could look more put-together for something so momentous.”
Crane scoffed, and Mayer’s expression became indulgent. “Come along,” he prompted. “That will not matter.”
She gave them another pleasant, vacant smile, and then turned and sprinted toward the far wall.
The woman reacted first, having been the least convinced by her innocent façade. Ajka lunged forward, but tripped over the dazed victims still sitting on cushions around the room. Ora had mapped the room while she had delayed, and didn’t hesitate.
Some pijavice carved their window frames from hawthorn to keep out their enemies. Ora hoped that the Zizkovs hadn’t thought so far ahead.
“Crane, get her!” Mayer shouted, but anything else he said was hidden by the sound of glass shattering around her.
The glass raked against her skin, leavin
g thin scratches across her arms, but she was out.
Ora fell down, down, into the stream, the water crashing over her head. She fought against the heavy fabric of her skirts, wishing she had the air to swear. Disoriented by her fight with Crane, she had believed the room to be facing the side street.
Crane leaped through the window after her, twisting to avoid the jagged shards of glass. He dove toward her, and she swam desperately to escape. Using one clawed hand to shred the front of her skirts so that the fabric wouldn’t get in her way, she kicked toward the bridge. From the sound behind her, Crane was close on her heels. Her driver, Hackett, was waiting in the adjoining square, pre-warned that she might need a quick getaway.
She just had to reach him first.
When she found the grate under the bridge, she scrambled up the metal rungs and then dug her claws into the brick wall and crawled up the rest of the way, leaving punctures in the stone. She flung herself over the pink wall of the bridge, and started to run. Her slick heels twisted beneath her, and she braced herself against the opposite wall, nearly toppling over into the water mill beyond. She was nearly across the bridge when Crane grabbed her around the waist and hauled her backward. He slammed her against the wall hard enough that the plaster dented beneath her.
“We were excited to offer you membership,” Crane said into her ear. “You’ve been taught how to use your strength, and you’re older than you seem. You could have been an asset. But Darina does not know her friends as well as she thought. Shame I have to kill you.”
“You disgust me,” Ora said. She let her weight drop, leaving his hands grasping at nothing. She moved quickly, fueled by fear, reaching into the single remaining sodden pocket of her dress. She jabbed the spike of the hawthorn stake she had grabbed off the floor during the earlier distraction into his heart. Her claws had ripped open her gloves earlier, and even that light contact with the wood felt like holding fire.
The Lights of Prague Page 25