Taisia turned to Joaquin. His skin was blotchy and bruised. Even the whites of his eyes had changed to yellow.
“Please,” Pierce pleaded.
There wasn’t anything keeping Faolan there. He could vanish without a trace, leaving Joaquin to die. Faolan didn’t leave, though. Instead, he touched Joaquin’s cheeks with his thumbs resting over the temples. Instantly, there was an improvement. The poisonous fluid traveled through Joaquin’s black veins and toward Faolan’s fingertips. After the blood had drained from him, Joaquin’s pigment returned to a healthy tone. His eyes regained their emerald radiance. When Faolan removed his hands, Joaquin gasped.
“How do you feel?” Faolan asked.
“Grand,” he announced happily, standing up. “I haven’t felt this good in years. Cheers.”
Faolan patted him on the shoulder, but then his smile dropped. He placed a hand over Joaquin’s stomach and grimaced.
“What is it?” Taisia demanded.
“Eh?” the demon said, switching his focus to her. “Uh, nothing.” He cleared his throat. “You ought to get yourselves away from these bodies before trouble comes.”
“Aye,” Joaquin agreed. “Just give me a tick to go through some of these blokes’ pockets to find money for a physician.”
“What are you going to do?” Pierce asked Faolan as Joaquin left.
“I have some unfinished business to attend to,” he said before grinning at Taisia. “I had some business with the late Coira MacCrum, but someone beat me to her.”
Pierce’s eyes widened in shock.
“You killed her, Tai?”
Taisia nodded earnestly and without remorse. “Da.”
He smiled and slid his hand down her cheek.
“Will we see you again?” Pierce asked, turning back to Faolan.
Faolan had already gone.
“Oh. Erm, never mind.”
Taisia moved his head toward her.
“Pierce. Are you going to be all right?”
He grimaced. “Not gonna lie, darling,” he said with difficulty. “The pain alone might do me in.”
She put her hand over her mouth and started crying before embracing him. “Oh, Pierce.”
She could feel his trembling and held him closer to warm him.
“I’m talking about my balls,” he moaned in her ear. “You’ve clocked me damn hard. But I think I’ll be fine. You knifed me pretty much where Coira did and I survived.”
She rose from him and looked at their hands folded over the wound beneath his coat.
“At least, when this scars up, I’ll think of you instead of her,” he quipped.
She laughed and kissed him on the cheek.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Punishment
Anci Kata waited at the recently opened Edinburgh Scotland Street railway station for the next train to arrive.
The farthest she could travel was Liverpool, but at least it was a start.
The moment that man, Gordon Jones, had left her room, she had packed her belongings and fled the hotel. She had no idea what the outcome of the assassin trying to steal the demon would be, and neither did she care. Although she had told him how to open the canister, she had failed to inform him when the deed needed to be signed, and that time had now ticked by. She also said nothing about it being guarded by muriatic acid. She hoped Jones did take the canister and tried breaking it open, thereby destroying the contract and killing Faolan.
“You would hope as much, wouldn’t you?” someone said.
She leaped up from the bench she sat on to find Faolan sitting on the one facing in the opposite direction behind it. When he twisted around to look at her, she almost soiled herself.
“Hello, you greedy little tinkerer, you.”
“No,” she gasped. “You’re free?
He stood and clasped his hands behind him. “As a bird.”
He no longer wore his ugly striped tailcoat and his other ratty garb. Now, he had cloaked himself in a shiny black suit she had never seen anyone wear before. His strawberry blonde hair was tied in a short ponytail, and he had on round spectacles with red-tinted lenses.
“Stay away from me,” she ordered, backing away even though he only stood in place. “Help! Somebody help me!”
Anci eyed the travelers, ticket-sellers, and even the police officer at the door. They stared at her, not moving, nor reacting in any way to her distress.
“Help!”
Faolan tutted.
“You’re all alone, I’m afraid. No one here is coming to aid you.” His voice grew dark and cold as he added, “Just like you never aided me.”
The station became dreadfully chilly to the point that her entire body went numb despite her layers of clothing.
“I did what I had to because I was under orders,” she said, trying to justify her actions. “The same as you.”
“Liar!” he bellowed angrily.
The bench they had sat on flipped over, throwing off the other passengers sitting there. Faolan approached her, stepping over a person lying in a mangled heap on the floor, his neck bent at a misshapen angle. He was staring at her unblinkingly.
“You had the chance to help free me. You even promised that if I paid you, you’d make sure of it, which I did, and still you craved more.”
Her heart skipped so many beats she had trouble breathing.
“I . . . I did tell the Hellfire Club about the deed.”
“You mean you sold it,” he yelled. “You wanted money. As much as you could get. You’ve turned your back on your true gift and allowed your greed to consume you.”
Her panic weakened her legs, and she collapsed. She sat up, clutching her pounding chest. He towered over her and scowled vehemently.
She cringed and her words trembled. “Wha-what are you going t-to do to me?”
“I’m already doing it. We’re in your head right now.”
What he said made no sense to her. She was inside the train station, not in her own mind. She didn’t understand until she remembered the odd things happening in the station.
“I have selected a variety of chores for you to perform,” he explained.
“Ch-chores?”
“Indeed. You’ll run countless errands, fetching things that are nearly impossible to find, and when you fail, you shall be viciously reprimanded.”
“No, please,” she begged.
“You’ll also build machines,” he added. “To serve as a reminder of what you gave up. You will do all this and more without ever receiving a single penny for it.”
“You are going to torment me forever?”
“Not me personally. No, what I give you are masters.”
The travelers sitting on other benches, even those on the floor, stood up behind Faolan. The man with the broken neck grabbed his head in both hands and cracked it back into place. The passengers were soon joined by the ticket-sellers and police officer.
“Each of these manifestations I’ve created has their own task lined up, and whenever you disobey or leave your work incomplete, they shall flog you mercilessly.” He casually shrugged. “Or beat you if they feel like it. You will experience exactly what I have gone through.”
He turned on his heel and headed for the door.
“Farewell, my lady.”
“No! Faolan! Please don’t leave me here!”
He ignored her and left Anci to her masters as they closed in around her.
“No!” she screamed.
* * *
“Ma’am,” the stationmaster said as he shook the foreign woman.
She had been sitting on the bench for hours, mumbling with eyelids half-opened. A long string of drool dangled from her bottom lip.
“She won’t wake,” said the confused stationmaster to the ticket-seller. “Best fetch a physician.”
“Aye, sir.”
The stationmaster stared at her, utterly baffled. He had seen the woman earlier when she bought a ticket, and sh
e seemed fine then.
“What could have possibly happened to her while waiting for her train?” he wondered out loud.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tell Me
Joaquin and Taisia carried Pierce up through the Vaults until the pain prevented him from going any farther. Joaquin then left for South Bridge to fetch a physician. He spent everything he found in the pockets of Coira’s dead crew just to get one down into the Vaults. The physician stopped the bleeding and bandaged the wound. They got Pierce onto the stretcher that the physician recommended Joaquin bring with him after he had described Pierce’s injury. The men carried him up to South Bridge and into the physician’s home-based medical practice, where the physician sewed up the wound and reapplied his bandages. The kindly physician even allowed his patient to stay in his spare bedroom until he was up and on his feet, again.
That evening, while his baby brother slept, Joaquin went out for a stroll. For the first time in over a decade, he felt like himself again. His entire sense of self had returned in a single wave of awareness—something that he had taken for granted prior to the curse.
He was Joaquin Landcross again, with the ability to start anew with the family he and Pierce had searched for after so many years. With this rejuvenation, the world had opened up to a broader spectrum. Possibilities now seemed endless.
Joaquin popped into a pub and ordered a pint. He sat at a table for two by the window. As he watched people go about their business outside and enjoyed his drink, the chattering of the patrons suddenly ceased. He looked around to find everyone motionless. He even spotted a few drinking mugs that were in the process of falling from a tray when the serving wench had tripped, but they were frozen in midair, the ale spilling over like frozen water-falls. Someone took a seat at Joaquin’s table. He instantly reached for his gun.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” the Demon King stated.
Joaquin’s insides liquefied into a cold pool that froze all his joints into place. His breath gusted out of him in a puff of air due to the temperature drop that always accompanied this demon’s presence. Joaquin slid his hand off the butt of his gun and folded them upon the table while doing his best not to show his dread.
The Demon King unbuttoned his long, dark red coat and shifted sideways in his seat to cross his legs.
His entire outfit was immaculately clean, from the tips of his shiny boots and the crisp white spats, to the pressed pinstriped britches and raven-black vest. An emerald pin was nestled in his black silk cravat. Even his stovepipe top hat looked like it had been bought from the shop that very morning.
“Although I do love the smell of fear, I can assure you that you have nothing to be concerned about. You’re not so special now since you no longer have Thooranu’s blood in you.”
Joaquin didn’t know how to react to that. “I see. Well, I must say you threw quite the fit in Gilmerton Cove. Did you kill everyone?”
“No. Benito and a few others remain alive. Benito has served me well, so sparing him was the least I could do. However, that night has gutted him hollow. His mind will never fully recover. I’m afraid he’s become useless to me now.”
Joaquin envisioned the former leader of the Hellfire Club wandering alone in his empty mansion—which, eventually, would be repossessed without the money from his manmade diamonds. Joaquin wondered how long Benito would last.
“I came to ask you a question,” the Demon King said.
Joaquin swallowed thickly. “All right?”
“You refused me. Why?”
The answer, despite it all, was very simple.
“I didn’t want to murder my brother.”
“Ah,” the Demon King mused. “The selfless act of a loving sibling. It is a pity sacrifice is usually required in order to obtain what we desire. These old rules complicate matters, which I believe is the point.”
Joaquin wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. Perhaps it went back to what Benito told him about how some sacrifices could be used as a kind of currency.
“For the witch’s sake, it’s good you didn’t kill him, you two being related and all. That would’ve fouled up her plans. I suppose she does know what she’s doing.”
Joaquin’s eyes bulged. “You know about that? About Freya?”
The Demon King snorted. “I know an abundance of things.”
“Then why does she want Pierce dead?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m curious to find out how it will all end.” He stood up. “It ought to be interesting. You, though, need not worry about it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The blood is gone, but the damage in you remains.”
Joaquin didn’t believe that.
“I’m fine. In tiptop shape. Fit as a fiddle, says I.”
The Demon King smirked and tipped his tall hat to him. “Good day.”
He turned on his heel and headed for the door. Joaquin watched him leave, yet did not see him through the window as he exited the building. A loud crash of breaking glass mugs made him jump. Customers laughed and hollered at the serving wench who, fortunately, had caught herself from falling completely over.
Joaquin finished his pint and left for the physician’s flat.
“Top o’ the morn to ye,” came a voice.
Joaquin turned to see Faolan suddenly beside him on the sidewalk.
“Faolan!” he said happily, embracing him. “Bloody hell, I can’t believe you’re here.”
He pulled away, surprised by how glad he actually was to see the demon. Perhaps it had something to do with the conversation between him and the Demon King.
“Call me Thooranu. I prefer it.”
“All right. You clean up nicely,” Joaquin remarked, admiring Thooranu’s sharp new duds.
“Indeed. Freedom offers many benefits. Such as being able to choose what you wish to wear.”
Joaquin grinned. “Congratulations on your newfound liberation. I hope your years of imprisonment have made you a wiser man.”
“Wiser? Perhaps. However, the decades spent in captivity have only been a drop of water in the vast ocean that is my lifespan. Here.”
He opened his gloved hand to reveal a couple of small glass vials.
“Medicine,” he explained. “From the best physicians around the world. These ought to have Pierce on his feet again. How is he?”
“He’ll survive, thanks to you.”
“It was nothing. After all, you had the deed while Coira’s name faded, and you didn’t try replacing it with your own.”
“I had no bleedin’ pen on me,” Joaquin quipped.
Thooranu cocked his head back, laughing. Joaquin chuckled with him.
The humor left Joaquin when he asked in a sincere tone, “What about me? I saw it in your face down in the Vaults.”
The lighthearted moment became very heavy when Thooranu’s expression turned grim.
“Go ahead, Thooranu,” Joaquin urged, “tell me.”
* * *
Early the following morning, Joaquin visited Edinburgh’s postal service, where he hired a post boy to deliver a few letters he’d written to his parents and Grandmother Fey.
Chapter Twenty-Six
This I Swear
Pierce felt sore even after the remedies Thooranu had provided, but he was still ready to depart. He thanked the physician for his hospitality and care before joining his fiancée and brother, who were waiting on their horses. With some difficulty, he mounted his steed, and the trio headed out of Edinburgh. The first few days of riding were painful ones for him, but within a week, the pain subsided and he was back to his old self again. He didn’t remember recovering so quickly the last time he was stabbed. He reckoned the medicine had helped, after all.
They again stopped in Birmingham and paid a visit to Tilly Lincoln. They told her everything that had happened and after a couple of day’s rest, they continued south, taking with them copies of the
daguerreotypes that Tilly had taken of them.
It was a pleasant journey, one filled with laughter and reminiscing. The brothers spoke about their escapades while apart, and Pierce and Taisia told Joaquin how they had met and about their adventures in the Netherlands.
Joaquin began acting a little anxious after passing Oxford. When stopping for a brief rest, Pierce noticed a blood pool where Joaquin had taken a piss by a tree. When he confronted him about it, his brother shrugged it off. Pierce advised him to visit a physician when they reached the next town, but Joaquin refused and promised he’d see one in Southampton.
The following afternoon, while they were still fifteen miles from Salisbury, Joaquin suddenly blurted, “Grandmother?”
Pierce halted his mount beside him.
“Come again? Did you say Grandmother?”
Joaquin’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment.
“Did she speak to you?” Taisia asked, steering her mare around.
“Aye,” he admitted sheepishly.
“She spoke to me that way once. In the Netherlands, when I needed to find Pierce.”
Pierce nodded. “She did the same to me shortly after I freed her powers.”
Learning this seemed to ease Joaquin’s humiliation, and the red in his cheeks faded.
“I reckon we left that part out of our story, eh?” Pierce quipped to Taisia.
She snorted and turned to Joaquin.
“What did she tell you?”
“She wants us to go to Stonehenge.”
“What?” Pierce moaned. “That’s going out of our way a tad. If we stick to this road, we’ll be back at ol’ Indigo’s by noon tomorrow.”
“They’re at Stonehenge, waiting,” he explained. “Everyone is.”
“Why?”
Joaquin moved on. “We’ll find out once we get there, eh?”
After a few hours of riding, they reached Stonehenge. The family was there as promised, and it seemed they had been very busy decorating. Around the wooden circle, a wide loop of six thin poles jutted up from the ground. Tied to their top ends were long ribbons of cloth in the colors of white, pink, and burgundy. They fluttered leisurely in the gentle breeze. In the center of the circle stood a simple but elegant arch decorated in vines and flowers. A few tents were setup nearby. Nona and Jasper stood by a small Dutch oven, seemingly cooking.
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