The Lights of Prague

by Nicole Jarvis

  “We’re trusting her report of this nonsense? She has a thousand reasons to lie to us,” Nosek argued, pointing at Ora, who smiled back, gritting her teeth. If they’d met in a salon, he’d be scraping the ground for her favor.

  Sokol folded his arms. He had stayed beside her while she briefed the room in a silent show of support. “She went there at my request. I trust her.”

  Despite their recent arguments, his tone was solemn and unwavering.

  “I’m not sure I appreciate you operating behind my back, Sokol,” Nosek continued. “You put this operation at risk by taking Lady Fischerová into your confidence. What if she’s working with Mayer and the nest to mislead us?”

  “Nothing in her file suggests that she would betray us,” Major Zaba said.

  “She is right here,” Ora said. “I understand that you don’t trust me. However, this isn’t an issue that should be debated in committee. I’m sure Sokol feels terribly”—she knew full well Sokol had never felt a lick of guilt in his life—“about working with me without consulting you, but he was just trying to do what is best for this city. Your people are in danger. Right at this moment, pijavice are being given the ability to walk into sunlight.”

  Sokol stepped forward. “She’s right. We can’t afford to let things play out anymore. Swift action is needed.”

  Nosek said, “From her descriptions, if they’re accurate, Mayer was able to take in a dozen more members tonight. Why would we risk Czech soldiers against those odds?”

  “We’ll bring in the lamplighters,” Sokol said. “They have experience fighting pijavice, and there should be enough of them to win against any number.”

  What would Domek say if he were ordered to work with her by his own ministry?

  “I prefer not to trust Kuba Paluska with any delicate information that I could possibly keep to myself,” Major Zaba said. “Leave him to do the groundwork, but I won’t bring him into something like this until we can’t help it. He would use it to ruin us. I served with him for years. He’s a selfish, conniving bastard—if you’ll pardon my language, my lady.” Nosek gave him a betrayed look and he added, “What? Pijavica or not, she is a lady.”

  “I wouldn’t be willing to send anyone in there without a proper briefing about what they might find,” Válka said quietly. There were shadows in his eyes, the scars of a lifetime at war.

  “We’ll need to discuss this further before we take any action,” Nosek said.

  “We need decisive action.”

  “This isn’t the army anymore, Lieutenant Sokol. We don’t have the resources to throw cannon fodder at our enemies.”

  Sokol stiffened, glaring at Nosek. “We are fighting a war here. You’ve seen the reports, you’ve seen what pijavice can do to our people even when they have some vulnerabilities. If they’re loose in the daylight, the casualties will only grow. We can’t let that happen. We have to finish this tonight.”

  Major Zaba cleared his throat. “If you want the military approach, try listening to your commanding officers.”

  “I still don’t believe it’s possible. Mayer was never that smart,” Nosek protested.

  Slowly, Ora turned to him. “You all speak as though you know him,” she realized.

  There was a tense silence in the room.

  “Why would your ministry know a pijavica family head?”

  “We don’t owe you an explanation,” Nosek spluttered.

  She turned to Sokol. She enjoyed playing parlor games with him because, even with her attuned senses picking up his heartrate, she could never see through his bluffs. He looked at her impassively, as though unaware of any guidance he could offer to the conversation.

  Everyone she had spoken to had emphasized Mayer’s meteoric entry into pijavica politics. Most of the newly turned were so mad with bloodlust and unsettled by their new circumstances that they could barely form a coherent thought, much less overtake and restructure a family. Darina had implied that Czernin had been the one to nudge Mayer toward his experiments, but why pick Mayer? There were many pijavice more established than him to encourage toward experimenting for the cure. Unless, of course, Mayer had had access to information even Czernin did not have.

  “He was one of you,” Ora realized. The room became a statue garden, unmoving. She shook her head. “This likely isn’t even the first time this has happened, is it? You have an underpaid ministry of mortals spending their days staring through the window at pijavice. We live on while your members slowly die. Most of you, hopefully, realize the benefits are not worth the price. Mayer clearly did—he wanted our immortality, not our curses. I’m sure he started making this plan to find a cure before he ever found a pijavica to convert him.”

  “He stole a stack of old maps and journals from the archives and disappeared one day,” Sokol admitted. When Nosek scowled at him, he said, “She already knows. There’s no reason to keep it a secret now.”

  “If Vienna finds out…” Nosek said.

  “That’s why you’ve been pretending you couldn’t see the Zizkovs,” Ora said. “You thought that if you ignored the issue, it would never be tracked back to your negligence. My God, do you not screen your candidates?”

  “It’s too late to undo what Mayer did, but we can’t continue to ignore it,” Sokol said. “You heard what Ora saw tonight. We can’t sit back while Mayer brings the pijavice into the daylight. We’ll have no chance after that. We have to act tonight.”

  Major Zaba slammed his fist on the table. “We’re not going into a situation with only a pijavica’s word on what we’ll find, and you’re to stop going behind our backs and doing things your own way. You were ordered not to draw attention to this.” He pointed at Sokol. “This sort of insubordination was exactly what we should have noticed in Mayer. Don’t make us do to you what we should have done to him.”

  Sokol looked at Válka for support, but his fellow soldier sat with a tight jaw and a level stare.

  “You’re all so determined to hide your mistakes that you’d rather they set off an avalanche than to risk any implication,” Ora said. “You disgust me.”

  “Bold words from a demon,” Nosek said. “You’re both dismissed. We’ll hear no more of your lies. And Lady Fischerová—you’ll not want to come back to this building, or there will be consequences.”

  Ora quivered with fury, and growled low in her chest when Sokol took her arm.

  “Ora,” he murmured. “We need to leave.”

  She hesitated for one more moment. In another life, she would have bathed the room red. Finally, she nodded and let him lead her from the room.

  As they left, Nosek said, “This meeting is adjourned. Everyone go back to bed, and try not to call any more midnight sessions.”

  Válka caught up with them by the door. “You should have told me you were thinking of bringing her,” he hissed to Sokol, ushering them down the hall and around the corner so they would not be overheard. The rest of the ministry was shuffling toward the front of the building, seeming content with their decision. Cowards.

  “Things were moving quickly,” Sokol replied. “There was no time for delay.”

  “Or you knew that I would tell you it was foolish to ask them to believe a pijavica’s word.”

  “Both of you are to blame in this!” Ora snapped, jabbing at Válka’s face. “You were one of the ones who talked me into this!”

  “I know that,” Válka said, pushing her finger aside, “but they don’t. And we’re going to keep it that way. This was supposed to stay quiet, an information-gathering mission only. I needed to know more about Mayer’s plans.”

  “You knew I was cleaning up your team’s messes, and neither of you thought to warn me,” Ora said. “You let me go fumbling in the dark without even the Zizkov name, much less the information that he used to be on the ministry.”

  “If Vienna loses trust in our ministry, that’s the end of Prague as we know it,” Válka said. “We don’t have the political power we once had. We’ll lose what’s left of
our authority if it comes out that Mayer was one of us. Sokol is your friend, Lady Fischerová, but you’re not part of this team. You haven’t had to fight to protect Prague from the shadows while the rest of the world is moving on.”

  “She is now,” Sokol said. “You have to believe her. We need to act without the ministry’s approval. We have to stop the Zizkovs tonight.”

  “There is protocol for a reason,” Válka pointed out. He stared at Sokol like he could see through him. “You understand that, don’t you? It’s better to let the enemy build some strength than it is to rush forward and lose everything. I swear I’m not going to let the rest of the ministry keep pretending this isn’t happening. We’ll force their hand. We’ll get more information, gather our forces, and then we’ll handle this together.”

  “That’s not fast enough.”

  “It will have to be,” Válka said. He patted Sokol on the shoulder, but the other man didn’t react. Válka looked at Ora. “Thank you for your help, Lady Fischerová. Sokol, take her home. She’s done enough for us tonight.”

  “This is a mistake,” Sokol said.

  “But one we’ll live to solve tomorrow.”

  Válka left them alone in the hallway.

  Instead of escorting her outside, Sokol pulled her into a side room and shut the door. It was a smaller meeting chamber with an elaborate mural along the back wall depicting Jan Hus accepting his decree of execution. The revered martyr stared toward the ceiling at the heaven which had not helped him escape his death.

  Sokol rested his forehead against the door for a moment, cursing unintelligibly to himself. When he turned back to Ora, his face—lined like the battlefield trenches he had fought in—was solemn. “I wanted to tell you.”

  “You put me in danger to help hide your masters’ dirty secret,” Ora snarled.

  “I trust you more than I trust them,” Sokol said. “I had to keep their secrets, but I knew you would be able to help. You didn’t need my restrictions. Now you see what I’ve had to deal with.” He pounded his fist against the door. “The close-minded men in there might not have agreed to help, but they don’t control me, no matter how much they like to think they do. I still want to try to stop the nest tonight. Mayer is my responsibility.”

  Ora frowned, imagining her friend facing down a dozen like Crane. “You need the ministry’s support, like Válka said. It would be suicide to go in alone, especially for a human.”

  “I know. Will you help me?” No cajoling or guilt. Just a question from one friend to another. Could Ora walk away after what she’d seen, leaving Sokol to die and the family to take over the daylight?

  “We’ll be outmatched,” she warned him. “Embarrassingly so. It still might be suicide.”

  “I’m used to that.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” She nodded to herself, remembering the terrible scenes she’d seen at the Zizkovs’ house that night. “I can’t sit by and let them win. I’ll do what I can. I’ve certainly never let panels of old men tell me what to do before.” She grinned up at him, fierce. “Between the two of us, we could at least take some of them down with us.”

  “I wasn’t sure you would agree,” Sokol admitted.

  She crossed her arms. “Did you think I would storm away and handle this on my own? Think again, Sokol. You’re a fool, but we’re in this together now. You pulled me into this fight, and you’ll see it through with me to the end. Besides,” she added, “I knew you were a fool when I became your friend.”

  “I knew I could trust you,” he said, with more softness in his voice than she had expected.

  He took a step closer to her, and she realized just how small the room was. Sokol was a large man, towering over her in height and bulk. There was a look in his eyes that she recognized, one that she had seen there before but had never expected him to follow through on. After all, he knew just what she was: a pijavica, the enemy. That should have weighed out any physical attraction he had for her.

  She had entertained the thought before. She had eyes, and her type these days tended toward his tall, muscular bulk. He was gruff, brash, and inconsiderate, but he would provide her with an exciting night. They’d danced around this for years. She’d always thought she would take him up on some fun if he ever offered.

  However, when Sokol leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, she found herself stepping back.

  Even though Domek had left hating her, she found she could no longer imagine kissing anyone but him.

  Domek, who had seen who she was and hated her. Domek, who was kind and charming, who flushed when she spoke to him as though he couldn’t believe she was giving him her attention. Domek, who listened to music like it was stealing his soul.

  For a long moment, Sokol stood in front of her, assessing her. From his pained expression, perhaps he had not been looking only for a physical collision. Then, he pulled back and turned away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a beat of silence. She’d learned that was what one said when they wanted to preserve a friendship after an awkward encounter. She didn’t want to lose Sokol.

  “Never apologize,” Sokol said gruffly. She watched his shoulders rise with a deep breath, and then he faced her again. She wondered how much it cost him to hold his easy smile in place. They were so similar. “You’re right. The two of us against an invincible nest of pijavice. They won’t stand a chance.”

  “Perhaps we can ask them to send your head back to the useless pigs here so we can have the last laugh,” Ora said. “I’d say we should add some of my dust, but I know how you humans are. All of us look alike to you.”

  He chuckled, and the lingering tension between them broke like a wave onto the shore.

  “I’m not planning on dying tonight. It will be harder to beat them without hawthorn on our side,” he continued, “but you said one died after you decapitated it. We have a chance if we can find a way to behead the lot. They’re not invincible, not entirely.”

  “Beheading a pijavica is difficult to do, especially if you don’t have our strength. Luckily, I don’t believe that’s our only chance. I think whatever cure they’re using gives them a new weakness. I’m not positive, but it’s worth trying, if we’re dashing toward death together,” she said. “Tell me you have some silver weapons around here.”

  For an hour, Domek paced the small cell, searching for a way out. He had to escape. What was Paluska doing now? Had he already retrieved Imrich for the alchemical experiment they planned to use to kill Kája?

  He had to stop them. He was the only one who could.

  Or was that the same arrogance that Kája had accused him of?

  Domek had been so certain of his own righteousness that he had ignored every warning the wisp had given him. Kája had told him that all humans were convinced that they were special. Domek had been sure that he was an exception to that rule. Instead, he’d kept the wisp’s powers secret and close. He’d believed that his hands were the only ones capable of resisting the wisp’s lure.

  Instead, he’d summoned the spirit whenever he’d needed help, dragged them both into the middle of the nest’s territory, and then walked them directly into a trap at Paluska’s house. Kája had been right to be furious.

  Domek stopped and picked up one of the fallen red ribbons Kája had left behind. They were as soft as clouds in his hands. He stretched the satin as he thought, twisting it around one of his palms. Instantly, the ribbon tightened into place, wrapping around his hand with a life of its own.

  Domek swore and quickly yanked at it with his free hand, and the ribbon loosened and fell again. Had Kája created these, or conjured them from somewhere else? How did they still contain his magic when he was across the city? There was still so much he didn’t know about the wisp. Now he may never know.

  Domek was furious at himself. This was his fault. In addition to his arrogance, he had been so blind to his brothers in the night watch. Anton had been spending all his time in extra training sessions, and Domek had never stoppe
d to wonder what he was learning from Paluska. Domek had accused everyone but the real culprit of ransacking his apartment, when he’d told Paluska directly only hours before that he’d hidden the container there. Who else but Paluska and Anton would have known where Domek lived? Even Ora had never known that. When Domek had left the destroyed apartment, Anton had tried to find him again. Domek had thought he’d gone to talk to Cord out of concern, but that hadn’t been it at all—he’d wanted to keep an eye on Domek’s movements.

  Domek had thought discovering that Ora Fischerová was a pijavica would be the biggest betrayal of his life. It wasn’t even the biggest betrayal of his week.

  His mother’s cards had seen more than he could have ever expected. Would he have ten swords in his back by the end of the month?

  “Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his hands through his hair.

  “I wanted to check on how things are going, but I think that answers the question.”

  Domek turned and looked up. Through the small window on the back wall, he could see a familiar face, barely illuminated by the candle in his cell. “Bazil?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  The proprietor of The Pigeon Hole frowned. “Where’s the wisp? What did you do?”

  “It’s a long story. How did you find me? I need you to get me out of here.”

  “I had people watching the house, and a few other points around the city. There’s something in the air tonight. Things are building. My girl said she overheard Kuba Paluska leaving with another lamplighter, talking about how to deal with you. She followed for a bit before she lost them. At least you won’t be in this cell long. Some people wait at St. Wenceslas Prison for years before they finally meet their end. You’re one of the lucky ones. You won’t live past dawn.”

  “They’re going to kill me?” Somehow, despite everything else, he hadn’t thought they would kill one of their own.

  “Once they’re sure you’re not hiding any more information,” Bazil agreed. “Did you lose the wisp?”

  “Paluska took it. They tricked me,” Domek said through gritted teeth.