Dead Magic

by Kara Jorgensen

The cat leapt onto the back of the armchair and stretched across it.

  “What about protection?”

  He chewed on his lip. “Look at the bottom of your shoe.”

  Adam’s brows furrowed as he crossed his legs. Beneath the dried dirt, he could make out a wavering figure carved into the sole. He released a tense breath, caught between annoyance and flattery.

  “I put them all over the doors and windows, too. Seeing Lord Rose made me paranoid. I figured we would be safe if I warded the whole house.”

  “A sound thought. So, what are we going to do about your little friend? Do you think it will wear off?”

  “I have no idea. I could ask Miss Elliott or Peregrine tomorrow, but for now, I think our deceased Siamese needs a name. I wish I knew his real one, but his previous owner never said it.”

  “What about Oscar?”

  Immanuel cocked a blonde brow. “No. I hear enough about him already.”

  “Fair enough. What about Percy? Percival. Formal but sensible for a cat.”

  “We can’t exactly call him Fluffy, can we?” Immanuel said with a laugh. “Percy it is.”

  Adam snapped his fingers and clicked his tongue until the cat languidly strolled over. His hand hovered above Percy’s meatless back. For a moment, the image of Immanuel months ago flashed through his mind. Skin and bones with nothing but a faint glow of life. He had loved him then, and really Percy wasn’t so different. Putting his hand out, he let the cat rub his bare head against the back of his palm. If he looked at him from the edge of his vision, he could almost make out the phantom outline of ears.

  “Do you think they remember?”

  “They?” Adam asked.

  “Bones. Do you think there’s something deep in our bones that remembers everything? Our memories, hardships, trauma. Do you think they become a part of us? That one day someone could study our bones and learn all the secrets we strove to hide, or maybe we could rise like Percy, fleshless but in full knowledge of what we were.”

  Adam looked up to find Immanuel regarding him, his eyes far away.

  “Do you think they ever forget?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Unseen Complications

  “Something is wrong, Cecil. Something has gone horribly wrong,” Lady Rose cried as she grabbed a bottle of wine from the service near the window.

  Standing in the doorway of her suite at the Eidolon Club, Cecil released an irritable huff and pulled the door shut behind him. What now? All he had wanted was a night with Emmeline away from the Eidolon Club and especially away from his aunt, but a messenger had come knocking at his lodgings before he could even finish his note to Emmeline’s uncle. If they were to marry, the Hawthornes should get to know him better, but as he drove to the club, he wondered if he and Emmeline would still be together after the gala. If he was her, he would run upon learning of Lady Rose’s plans. He wished he still could.

  “What now?”

  “Alastair never came back. I don’t know where he is.”

  Her bronze hair sprang from its pins in wild waves while her flushed face glistened with moisture. If he hadn’t heard her voice, he wouldn’t have recognized her. Even when he rescued her from the asylum, he had never seen her unhinged. Reaching into the trunk at the foot of her bed, Lady Rose retrieved a shallow black bowl and a set of vials. She rushed into the sitting room, spreading her equipment around the bottle of wine. Cecil did a double take at her trembling hands as she poured the wine into the bowl. Drips dotted the lace tablecloth with each slosh of liquid.

  “I thought you hated him.”

  Lady Rose wiped her flushed cheeks and swept the matted hair from her face. “I don’t hate him. I need him.”

  “Are you joking? You don’t need him. That repulsive man sent you to the madhouse, so he could have dalliances.”

  “It’s complicated, Cecil. You wouldn’t understand,” she snapped, tipping a bit of each vial into the bowl.

  “I don’t understand? I understand that he locked up my only living relative and that it took me months to find you after Mother and Father died in the dirigible crash. He made certain no one would find you. What he did… what he did made you like this.”

  “Like what, Cecil?”

  His throat tightened as the words he longed to say for months burst out. “You sold me, so you could gain power from some… some creature you can’t even see. Do you know how pacts with the devil end? Everyone ends up screwed.”

  “You know nothing about any of this,” she growled, the lights overhead dimming.

  “I know you used to be kind to me. I went looking for you because you were like my mother, but not anymore. Did you even think about how tying me to that thing would affect me?”

  “I don’t recall you fighting when you pledged your life to the Eidolon Club’s benefactor. You seemed quite pleased until you realized you might have to make good on your offer.”

  Cecil clenched his fists so hard his nails bit into his palms. “What do you want with me? I have plans tonight.”

  Staring deep into the murky water of the bowl, she held her hand up for silence. From her lips came a low chant. The words grew louder and louder, their meaning unintelligible, but he knew she had to be scrying for Alastair Rose. Cecil relaxed his body and mind until the pulse of energy washed over him and through his feet. The only repulse he felt came from his aunt. It was a more than welcome change after feeling the constant suck of the revenant’s shadow.

  The string of ancient words grew ragged, her voice and face straining with each refrain, until she leapt from her seat. The bowl tipped on its side as she slammed her hands down on the table. Shaking her head, she stared out the window at the waning summer sun as it passed behind the rooftops.

  A smirk crossed Cecil’s lips. “Perhaps you wore him out. I told you it was too soon to put him in another body.”

  “He isn’t gone!” she cried, her voice rough and foreign. “If I tore him apart, I would know!”

  “Maybe he left you again. He was good at that, wasn’t he?”

  Lady Rose’s eyes clouded, darkening until they were nearly black. The chandelier danced overhead, its lights blinking erratically as a weight fell against Cecil’s chest. He planted his feet to counteract the futile urge to run, knowing she would never let him get that far. Glass bulbs shattered overhead as Cecil ducked behind the table. Wires sparked in the empty chandelier and the filaments buzzed with excess power. She crossed the rug, energy spiraling around her as she approached him.

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to leave.” As the porcelain scrying bowl cracked and exploded in a hail of shards, he cried, “Claudia, get a hold of yourself before you kill us both!”

  Lady Rose locked eyes with him as she stood over him, the blackness surging deeper, but in an instant, they turned to green as if nothing had been amiss. The pressure receded like the tide, taking with it the room’s heat. Cecil exhaled, watching his breath roll out in a puff of condensation. For a moment, he wondered if there had been a reason she spent time in the madhouse after all.

  “Did you see anything?” he asked hesitantly as he rose, brushing the glass from his trousers.

  “No, but I can feel him somewhere,” she finally said. “He’s too far. He’s beyond my control again.”

  “Well, what did you do with him? I thought you sent him after the vivalabe again. He couldn’t have gone far in that flea-bitten body.”

  “I don’t know. He was following the boy. He was supposed to break in and steal it, but the boy warded the whole house with protection sigils.”

  “Alastair couldn’t just batter through?”

  “The boy used blood,” she spat as she gathered up the vials and the large shards of glass and dumped them into the bin. “As long as he’s alive, the house is sealed.”

  “He’s a practioner?”

  “Alastair insisted he wasn’t when he previously dealt with him. Then again, he said Miss Jardine was of little consequence and look what’s happened. Cecil,
the boy knows what happened to him, and I think your little friend has been keeping a secret from us, too. She is more than she lets on.” Lady Rose stared at her hand as a bead of blood ran from a cut in her palm. “We shouldn’t have brought her in. We should have taken the book by force and been rid of her. We still can.”

  The hair rose on Cecil’s neck at the thought. From across the room, he gave her a look he hoped would strike her dead. “Emmeline is to be my wife, and if you have any love left for me, you will leave her alone.”

  A cackle escaped Lady Rose’s lips. “Of course she is. Never could separate yourself from business, could you? I never should have brought you into this. You’re as useless as your uncle.”

  “I wish you hadn’t.”

  “Well, your little friend would be dead if you didn’t. Always remember, you wanted it.”

  No. No, she lured him. She made him. She did it. Grabbing her arm, he growled, “You played on a child’s need for protection.”

  She met his gaze, unflinching. “I played on a man’s need for power.”

  With a twitch of her hand, the air squeezed from his throat. Cecil groped for his neck but found his hands forced to his sides. Her lips twisted into a sharp grin as she drew closer until they stood eye-to-eye. Cecil’s body jerked with each failed breath, his eyes widening in alarm. His vision tunneled nearly to pinpricks as his head was forced back by unseen hands. The pressure grew greater until he feared his neck would snap, and in an instant the whole world would go black. A small part of him wished it would.

  In a rush, the sensations ripped away and he tumbled forward. Staggering into the table, Cecil gripped the edge and drew in a ragged breath. His neck and chest ached and the world spun around him. Before he could orient himself, Lady Rose grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him against the wall. She brought his face within a breath of hers, her green eyes glowing.

  “Get me the boy tomorrow or you and Miss Jardine will pay dearly. Do you understand me? Bring him to me.”

  “You would have me disrupt our plans for some petty revenge? Have one of your street roughs do it if you want him so badly,” he wheezed, his throat raw. “Besides, you should be happy Lord Rose is finally gone. He treated you like dirt. He was dead weight—”

  The slap came hard and fast, insulting in its simplicity and pain.

  “You will do as I say, do you understand? We need him more than I need you.”

  “Fine!” He shoved her away, brushing the touch of her hard fingers from his clothes. When he looked down, he found his coat covered in streaks of bright red blood. “I will do it, but you have to leave Emmeline out of this.”

  “You and I both know that isn’t possible. She’s as deep in this as you are. Maybe more so, since she is doubly involved.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lady Rose turned from him, walking into her bedroom without looking back. “Ask her who she shares a blood-bond with.”

  As the door shut, Cecil’s eyes ran over the carnage of blood, glass, and broken wood at his feet. When had his life become this?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Blood and Lace

  Adam grimaced at the ripping, hiccupped sound of Immanuel retching behind the bathroom door. “Are you all right in there?”

  “Uh huh,” came the faint reply.

  Pushing open the door, Adam found his companion kneeling beside the toilet with his arms on the seat holding his head. Adam wetted a washcloth and squatted beside him. With gentle strokes, he wiped away the sweat from Immanuel’s cheeks and the tang of bile from his lips, but his companion didn’t move. He kept his eyes locked on the floor.

  It took everything in Immanuel’s power to not think for a few seconds, to not set his mind and heart racing until he could no longer stomach the pace. It was only for Adam that he stopped. If he vomited on Adam’s best set of tails or his favorite shoes, he would never forgive himself.

  “You don’t have to go, you know. We could stay home. They won’t be able to get to you or the vivalabe with the wards, right?” Adam asked, shooing Percy away from the open toilet.

  Immanuel shut his eyes and rubbed his hand across his pulsing sinuses. “I don’t know. Either way, I can’t stay here. I only think they need the vivalabe, but if they don’t, something horrible could still happen. There are only a few of us who know, and— and— I can’t let your sister and the Earl go there without any idea of the danger they might be in. I have to go.”

  “That and you’re afraid Sir William will sack you.”

  “That’s the last thing on my mind right now.”

  He inhaled slowly, fighting the urge to belch and vomit again. All those people would be at the museum. There had been pages and pages of names in Sir William’s desk, and they would all be at the mercy of a few. What could he do? When the mere thought of getting dressed in tails and showing up to mingle made him ill, how could he stop a cabal of practioners? Grabbing the edge of the bowl, he released a mouthful of vomit. His stomach cramped against the unnatural purging as he coughed against an already raw throat.

  “Immanuel, I would like you to think of yourself for once,” Adam said softly as he rubbed his back. “What good will you be to anyone in this state?”

  Ignoring his question, Immanuel flushed the toilet, wiped his mouth, and staggered to his feet. Percy nuzzled at the backs of his legs as he crossed the hall with a heavy, swimming head. Adam stood somewhere in the haze of his vision, but he kept him from sight as he buttoned his stiff shirt and slipped on the trousers Adam had carefully tailored the day before. Raising his eyes, Immanuel stared at his reflection in the mirror, but before he could see himself, Adam slipped in front of the glass and held his gaze.

  “What are you doing?”

  “If you insist on going to the party, I want you to go with confidence. It seems like you will need it.”

  Adam carefully combed Immanuel’s golden curls aside to reveal his damaged eye and the long scar running across it. Grabbing the jar of pomade, he lightly rubbed it into his lover’s hair. Once he was satisfied, he straightened Immanuel’s waistcoat and jacket before carefully knotting his ascot. Finally, Adam stepped back and planted a reverent kiss on his lips. Immanuel closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Adam’s. There was no one he loved more than Adam, but that love tore at him like a knife in his ribs. He wanted him at his side in battle, but he wanted him home out of danger. More than anything, he wanted to ensure Adam would be safe. Immanuel coughed, fighting the tears knocking at the backs of his eyes.

  “Why am I always caught in the middle of something, Adam?” Immanuel croaked.

  “I don’t know, darling, but it will be over tonight,” he replied, his hand gently stroking Immanuel’s cheek. His face hardened for a moment. “One way or another.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  “I am, too.”

  Adam’s arms closed around him, pulling him so close he could scarcely breathe. Resting his head against Adam’s shoulder, Immanuel shut his eyes against the fear squeezing his ribs and threatening to send a wet cry from his throat. When Adam pulled back, he carefully brushed a loose curl from his face. His bright blue eyes passed over him, lingering on Immanuel’s narrow hips and blotted eye.

  “Here, take a look.”

  As Adam stepped away, Immanuel’s eyes lit up. For a brief moment, he saw himself as he used to be. He saw the untainted boy in Germany who floated through life with a naivety he envied. A smile spread across his face as Adam joined him at the mirror. Their fingers interlaced, their hearts pulsing as one. He looked like the man he wanted to be. With a gentle tug, Adam pulled the chain and vial out from under Immanuel’s shirt and let them fall across the front of his waistcoat.

  “Now, it’s perfect,” Adam said softly with a tired grin. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? Anything at all.”

  Immanuel opened his mouth to speak, but the words hung in his throat. “There is one thing. Unbutton your shirt.”

  Raising a hen
na brow, Adam unbuttoned his waistcoat and the shirt beneath it. “Do you really think we have time?”

  “Not that.” Immanuel swallowed against the knot in his throat. “I don’t know if I can protect you tonight, but I want you to have a chance no matter what happens.”

  Removing the boutonniere from his lapel, Immanuel jammed the needle into the tip of his finger. In one continuous stroke, he drew the sigil of protection over Adam’s heart. He pictured warm arms wrapping around him, police rushing in, bars and chains surrounding treasure, a dragon guarding its hoard. Instead of sealing it with a final tap of his finger, Immanuel kissed the spot directly over his heart. A shiver ran from Immanuel’s form through Adam’s. His companion stared up at him, his breath heavy and his pupil’s wide.

  “Is that what magic feels like?”

  Immanuel nodded as he lightly blew on the thin traces of blood in hopes they would dry.

  “Then, we must do magic most nights.”

  Immanuel laughed despite himself as he touched the sigil, satisfied when it didn’t smudge.

  The moment Adam finished buttoning his jacket a steamer horn sounded outside their window. Percy trotted toward the windowsill, but Immanuel snatched him up and deposited him on the bed out of sight.

  “That must be Hadley and Eilian. Are you ready?”

  Immanuel nodded as he grabbed the vivalabe from the top of the dresser and slipped it deep into his trouser pocket. Reaching into the inner lining of his jacket, he confirmed that the stiletto Peregrine had lent him was still inside. He hoped to god he wouldn’t have to use it. More than anything, he hoped he was wrong and that the gala would be as awkward and dull as he first imagined.

  At the bottom of the steps, Immanuel stopped in the parlor doorway. As Adam reached for the front door, Immanuel cried, “Wait, there’s something I want to show you.”

  Tucked behind his books on evolution, Immanuel pulled out a journal and a photograph. Immanuel gave the boy a wistful smile. It was time Adam got to know him.