The Lights of Prague

by Nicole Jarvis

  Domek’s swing was wide, clumsy, but the silver sword met Mayer’s side. The pijavica screamed with pain as the precious metal burned his skin. Ora danced backward, away from the hawthorn-stained weapon, but Mayer turned into it, backhanding Domek across the face.

  He stumbled and fell to the ground, abandoning the hilt of the sword to curl around the jar and protect Kája. He groaned, sagging against the mud.

  Mayer swore and tugged the sword from his side, tossing it to the cobblestones. The blade was stained with blood, but the blow had not reached any of Mayer’s vital organs. With enough time, even a wound from silver would heal. He was injured, but so were they. The fight was nearly over—Ora simply wasn’t sure who would win.

  Limping, Ora scooped up the sword and stood over Domek. She winced when the hawthorn rubbed onto the weapon singed her palms, but she held tight.

  Mayer clutched his side, palm dark with blood. “Why did she send you to me? Everything was going to plan before you showed up,” he lamented, staring at the silver sword and panting. “I never should have trusted her.”

  Then, a figure melted from the shadows behind Mayer.

  Someone shoved him forward onto Ora’s waiting sword. She was clumsy with the weapon, out of practice and weak, but she used both hands to jab it up past his ribs and into his blackened heart. “For Sokol,” she snarled into his stunned face.

  With a sigh, his body turned to ash, and his tattered clothes fell to the cobblestones. Ora let the poison sword fall with them.

  His attacker stood revealed, illuminated by the pre-dawn glow. “You’re welcome,” Darina said mildly. The pijavica clapped her hands, sending a cloud of dust spiraling in the morning air.

  “A friend of yours?” Domek asked, levering himself to his feet. There was a bruise already blossoming across the left half of his face from Mayer’s blow. Though Darina appeared human in the dim light, her strength would have betrayed her true nature to the lamplighter.

  Darina ignored Domek. Her attention, as always, was on Ora.

  “In a sense,” Ora said.

  “I just saved you,” Darina pointed out.

  “At the last minute, as always,” Ora said, shaking her head. “You’ve missed a hell of a night, Darina.”

  “From the look of the two of you, I’m glad I wasn’t here. I haven’t seen you look this ragged since we took down those rebels in Hostavice.”

  “Domek, this is Darina. We were in the same family. She’s the one who warned me about the Zizkovs. She put me on their doorstep. Without her, you’d have been on your own tonight.”

  “Then we’re lucky to have you,” Domek said.

  “Your timing really is astounding, Darina. Five minutes earlier and you might have seen a real fight. There were strange happenings tonight.” Ora frowned. “Astounding timing. Darina…why was Mayer talking about you?”

  “Hm?”

  “He said he shouldn’t have trusted her. You told me Czernin was the one who pushed Mayer into this plan. But Czernin isn’t here… He’s not the one who handed me an invitation to Mayer’s house.”

  “You know Czernin doesn’t leave his palace. I’ve been his liaison with the new family. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

  “Impressive that you appeared as soon as Mayer mentioned you. Almost like you were waiting for the right moment. We had the same teacher, Darina. I know you were blending in the shadows, watching. But why not help me earlier? What happened to us being on the same team? We nearly died out there.”

  “If you couldn’t handle a couple of humans, then I don’t want you on my team.”

  “No, no, I guess you wouldn’t. That’s what this whole thing has been about, hasn’t it? To see who would win and to ally yourself with the right team?”

  “Ora,” Domek said quietly.

  She held up a hand. “Czernin has never been interested in experimentation. He doesn’t want a new world order. He hasn’t looked outside his palace in decades. But you…you’ve been looking for a way to get away from him. You wanted to enter the scene with a splash, didn’t you?”

  Darina laughed and shook her head. “I didn’t think you’d realize. You’ve always been so dazzled by Czernin. You still think he’s the center of the universe. You and Czernin, you’re both stuck in the past. He’s lost his mind, and you think he’s the puppet master behind every mildly interesting thing that happens in the world. You always were a beautiful idiot.”

  “How did you even meet Mayer?” Ora asked. Was she close enough to Domek to save him if Darina attacked him? Ora was weak from fighting, and Darina had always been fast. “I thought you’ve been trapped with Czernin since I left.”

  “He came to Czernin’s estate when he was still mortal. The ministry liked to keep tabs on Czernin, and it made Czernin feel relevant. I could tell from that one’s simpering that all he wanted was to become one of us. We talked, and he confided the clever idea he had been researching. It seemed an experiment worth trying. I’ve been keeping an eye on it from a distance, but your conversation with Czernin made me a bit worried.”

  “Why pretend to be on my side at all?” Ora asked, gesturing to Mayer’s fallen clothes. “Why help me?”

  “He already lost. You nearly killed him. His entire family is gone. Why waste my time with him? I was hoping you’d win, you know.”

  “Of course,” Ora repeated dryly.

  “You were sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. Someone needed to test Mayer’s mettle. I’m not interested in weak allies. If the cure had worked, you would have been in the first group to experience it. Imagine it. Feeling the sun again.” She looked toward the horizon, stained with the oncoming sunrise. “You would have thanked me, in the end.”

  “That’s not why you sent me to that house tonight.”

  “Not only that,” Darina admitted, turning back to her. “I wanted to see if Mayer was more than talk. He’s been overselling his research to me for years now. If he was taken down by you and your little lover then the cure can’t have worked. He was on his last legs this morning. I don’t waste my time with failures. Though, I wish you hadn’t blown up the damn place. There might have been some ideas left to salvage,” Darina said. “Ah well. There will be others.”

  Ora did not let the conversation linger on the cure. Better to let Darina believe it had failed. “Mayer killed a good man tonight,” she said. “You let that happen.”

  “Mayer made his own choices,” Darina said. “I was his shepherd, not his queen. If I had taken control of the family sooner, maybe they wouldn’t all be dead now.”

  “And that poltergeist in the alley,” Ora realized. “That timing was too perfect to be real. How did you arrange that?”

  “Stomp on the right grave for a bit, dangle some bait, wait for an idiot to walk alone in the dark. It wasn’t so hard.”

  Ora sneered. “You’re as bad as Czernin.”

  “Czernin, Czernin,” Darina mocked. “This was supposed to be my moment, you know. To find my allies and leave him behind for good. Leaving him was always going to be a risk. I wanted to wait until I had the perfect opportunity. He’s probably looking for me already—if he cares to.”

  “He’ll kill you.”

  “He hasn’t killed you yet. And it’s not too late for me to find that ally.” She searched Ora’s face. “He doesn’t matter anymore. Let him waste away in his little palace. We’re about to cross into another century. Mortals are coming up with ways to kill each other far worse than anything we could do. Times are changing. If we don’t change with them, the shadows will disappear and take us with them.”

  “Maybe they should.”

  “You don’t believe that. Everything I did, I did to save all of us. You have to see where things are heading. There isn’t space for us in this world anymore, Ora. We have to adapt.”

  “You don’t have to change for the worse. You don’t have to end up like Czernin,” Ora insisted. Her hands throbbed with pain as she clenched them into fists. Angry blisters co
ated one palm. The other, still blackened from its time in the sun, had been stripped nearly to the bone.

  Darina tracked the movement. “We were always going to end like this, weren’t we? Are you going to try to kill me now, Ora?”

  They stared at each other in the lightening square, frozen as the world moved around them.

  Darina’s reckless meddling had helped Mayer along the path that killed Sokol. She and Domek had both nearly followed him. The night had been awash with blood from beginning to end.

  Ora wanted no more.

  “No,” Ora said finally. “Leave Prague, Darina. You think you’re beyond Czernin’s influence? Everything you’ve done has been to measure yourself against him. You don’t have to do that. You could be free.”

  “You were always soft inside,” Darina said.

  “It’s not softness,” Ora said. “Think about which of us has managed to make her own life. You’ve already left the palace. If he finds you, he finds you. You say I’m obsessed with him? You’ve made your entire escape about him. That’s not the way—trust me.”

  “You’re not better than me,” she snapped.

  “Prove it. Leave Prague. Make a new life. Leave Czernin and all this behind.” Ora stared at her oldest enemy, her sometimes friend.

  Darina was shaking, the movement barely visible in the dawn light. Domek was stiff beside her. She hoped he would not go for the fallen blade. With his lingering injuries, he would have no chance of harming Darina, and Ora was not prepared for another fight this night. She couldn’t watch him die again.

  Finally, Darina looked away. “I don’t need to prove myself to you. And I don’t need you. Keep your dying city and mortal pets.”

  “Lovely. I’ll escort you to the walls.” Ora turned and put a hand on Domek’s uninjured arm. “The sun is almost up. We need to go underground,” she told him. “You’ll take care of the last of the business?”

  He nodded. “I will. Be careful.” He watched Darina cautiously.

  Ora glanced up at the sky. The horizon was painted hues of pink and lavender, with a line of ominous, beautiful orange just at the base of the eastern sky. The temptation to stay out and watch the sun finally cross into view was as strong as ever, but she ignored it. She led Darina to the door in the Old Town Hall and snapped the lock with a twist of her fingers.

  “Go on,” Ora said, nodding to the dark stairs leading down.

  Darina paused, looking between her and Domek. “I like this one,” she commented. “Try not to kill him.”

  Ora scowled and shoved her between the shoulder blades, and Darina went laughing down the stairs. Once she was sure the other pijavica was moving into the tunnels, she turned back to Domek. “I’ll make sure she leaves the city.”

  “Are you sure this is the right decision?”

  “No. I’m not. But she and I have history. She deserves the chance I had. There’s a way to come back from the worst. And if she can’t—well, we’ll be here. We’ve faced worse than her tonight.”

  “Will you be safe with her? You’re still hurt.”

  “I can handle this. I promise. Keep a hold of your friend,” Ora said, nodding to the clay jar, “and I’ll watch mine.”

  Domek nodded, far too solemn for her taste. “I trust you.”

  “Everyone’s first mistake. Smile, Domek,” she said, giving him a quick wink. The gesture didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected, after the losses of the night. “We won.”

  * * *

  Charles Bridge at dawn was empty, free of the crowds that would take over the Old Town as the day aged. The Vltava reflected the multihued sunrise in both directions, refracting gray, then yellow, then orange as the sun stretched its first rays over the horizon. The statues that lined the bridge were mostly black with age, but there were golden accents and patches of bronze where passersby rubbed the saints for luck that glinted in the morning light.

  To Domek’s left, the castle on the hill watched over the city, and the spires of the churches stretched skyward all around him. Prague was coming to life. He took a deep breath, remembering Ora’s last words to him. They’d won—but it wasn’t over.

  He hoped she had made the right choice about the strange female pijavica who had nudged Mayer into his horrible experiments, but Domek had his own responsibilities.

  He peeled his stiff fingers from the jar, taking a moment to appreciate the clay’s intricate design. Then, he opened the lid. “Kája,” Domek said.

  Then, as though he’d been there all along, Kája was floating beside him while he looked over the river.

  “Myska,” he said.

  “I didn’t have the chance to tell you earlier. Paluska is dead,” Domek said. “So is the alchemist.”

  “Luckily for you. He was asking me questions all night before he shoved me into that glass orb. He seemed to believe that you were collateral he couldn’t risk keeping alive. It would have been a bloody dawn. It still could be. What is your plan now, Domek Myska?”

  “The nest’s experiments have been destroyed, along with their research. They’ve all been killed, and there’s no one left to continue their project. Everyone who was threatening wisps in this city is gone,” Domek told him. “My work is done. Tell me what you want.”

  “What I want?”

  “I know you helped me escape Paluska’s cell. You left the keys in plain view. And you could have let me die tonight, but you risked yourself to save me,” Domek said. “It was inevitable that we started as enemies. I enslaved you simply by meeting you. You never had any responsibility to help me, or to trust me. But in the end, you did. I owe you.”

  “I told you that I wanted to stop the nest. When you escaped, you did just that,” Kája said. “You could have—maybe you should have—run and protected yourself. You did as I asked you, and then you came for me. To save me from your own friends.”

  “It was my fault you were stuck with a new master, one who saw you as a tool in his arsenal. I couldn’t leave you.”

  “Most would have.”

  Domek shook his head. “Not me.” He took a deep breath. There was a breeze coming down the Vltava against their backs, carrying the morning scents of baking bread and fires burning. “Is there anything else you want to do before I free you?”

  Kája turned to him. “No. You’d truly do it?” he asked. “I won’t be as strong. You’ll lose access to my power.”

  “I never wanted it,” Domek said.

  “You’ve always wanted power. The power to protect yourself, the power to protect the people you love, the power to protect an entire city.”

  “Then, I never wanted power at the cost of someone else’s freedom,” Domek corrected. “Nothing you can offer me is worth what you’d suffer for it. You’ve done enough.” He examined the jar in his hands. “Tell me how to do it.”

  “That’s the easiest part,” he said. “Break the jar.”

  Domek put the jar on the bridge’s cobblestones. “Not just yet,” he said, straightening back up.

  “Why not?”

  “Someone has been waiting for you. They’ve been too scared to get close when you were outside the jar, but I thought, maybe after everything…”

  Domek felt her before he saw her. He turned. The White Lady was standing behind them. The wounds from Paluska’s blade were still blazing, and she was as blurred as a dream. In the pre-dawn light, she seemed less horrifying. She wasn’t screaming now. Her dark eyes were locked on the wisp, her face a mask of longing.

  “Isa,” Kája said, crackling voice barely louder than the breeze.

  She was silent. She held out a hand toward the flames.

  “She was your wife,” Domek said. “Wasn’t she?”

  “She was a powerful witch. There are many things that can happen to a soul when it dies. Pure power becomes a wisp. Pure hate a pijavica. And pure grief…” There was a heavy pause. “All this time, I wandered alone. I thought she’d moved on. But she was here, waiting for me.”

  She held out her other
hand, reaching to him with both now. She beckoned him toward her.

  “Do it now,” Kája said quietly.

  Domek did. He lifted his foot and smashed the jar. The pottery shattered under his foot, a loud crack in the quiet morning.

  When Paluska had fallen into ashes, Domek had thought it was beautiful, in a tragic, horrifying manner. It was nothing compared to this. Together with her love again, the grief binding the White Lady to her form broke. At the same moment, Kája and the White Lady melted away into a shower of bright, crystalline lights. The sparks spread and scattered, spiraling together and apart and together again.

  Some kicked and sparked around Domek for another few moments, while the rest faded into the sky. One quick breeze later, which ruffled Domek’s hair with cool air as it passed, the lights were gone.

  Domek stayed alone on the bridge for a while longer, watching the sunrise over the Old Town. It was a beautiful, clear morning. Carts clattered past him along the bridge, and bells clanged deeper into the city.

  Finally, he straightened. He smiled up at the sky, and then scooped up the clay shards, leaned over the railing, and let them fall from his fingers.

  The carved clay pieces glinted in the rising sun, and then disappeared with a quiet splash into the Vltava.

  EPILOGUE

  The dinner spread out in front of them was lusher than any Domek had seen before he’d started spending his time with Lady Ora Fischerová. After he’d moved out of Anton’s apartment and found a smaller, private space of his own, he had eaten breads and cheeses for most of his meals, or gone to his mother’s to share her hearty goulash. On this table, there was roasted duck covered with plum sauce, meat pies made with wild boar and gravy, and piles of fresh vegetables, paired with several bottles of wine and pitchers of beer.

  The table was an eclectic mix of company. Domek sat beside Válka. The scarred soldier had previously worked with the mysterious ministry that organized the efforts against the monsters, but he had quit after Sokol’s death in the spring. Instead, at Ora’s prodding, Válka had taken over Paluska’s role as leader of the lamplighters.