The Lantern's Ember

  Ember wriggled in her cloak. “You can set me down now. I think I can walk.”

  “Are you sure?” Dev’s grin was even more visible in the dark, his teeth gleaming in the light of the moon.

  Ember could no longer see the sharp points of his now retracted fangs and thought that was probably a good thing.

  “You’ve given me enough power to carry you around the Otherworld eight times,” he added.

  “That’s…good, I suppose,” Ember said.

  He set her down gently, her booted feet striking the cobblestones. The city smelled cool and damp, with the bite of smoke tickling her nostrils. Carefully, Ember unwound the cloak, checking the deep pockets to make sure she still had all her vials.

  “I’ve got everything, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Deverell said. He pointed to her bag slung across his shoulder. “Your weapons are inside.”

  “Thank you. I can take it now.”

  “There’s no need,” the vampire replied. “Like I said, I have enough energy to fly to the moon and back. The least I can do is offer to carry your bag. Despite my…overtures, I do consider myself something of a gentleman.” Where did that come from? he thought. Dev had said such things before, but with Ember, he meant it.

  Ember’s eyebrow rose. If Deverell, the vampire, was what passed for a gentleman in the Otherworld, then she was in trouble. He seemed totally unperturbed about the wide expanse of his chest on display. He still had on his poor ruined jacket, but its cut was purposely wide so as to reveal the lovely vest he’d once worn. Ember wondered where the remains of his shirt were and had the vague memory of her fingers ripping it.

  Heat crept up her neck and she tossed him her cloak. “Here. You have more need of this right now than I do. You look like you’ve been robbed.”

  Dev smiled. “And so I have been. I’d be proud to share the tale of the witch—though, on reflection, I should perhaps change that to ‘wench’—who held me immobile. She was lovely, yet merciless, as she waved her sawed-off musket in my direction, forcing me to remove my starched shirt and cravat so she could have her way with me.”

  Ember’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not what happened at all.”

  “Perhaps not,” Dev said as he tossed the cloak around his shoulders with more flourish than Ember could ever muster. “But you have to admit, my version is much more exciting.”

  Ember cocked her head. “You’re not at all what I expected a vampire to be like.”

  “Thank you, I think,” he said, tucking a length of his brown hair behind his ear. “And you’re quite different from the witches I know.”

  “Do you know a lot of them? Witches, I mean?”

  “I’ve known a few,” he said as they headed down the cobblestone path. “Stay close now. Most Otherworlders avoid vampires, and they’ll likely assume you’re one too.”

  A few townsfolk joined them on the road, and Ember couldn’t help but gape at the wide assortment of beings. She saw a man so tall and thin, she could practically see through him. He lifted his bowler hat and gave her a skeleton smile. A short, stocky man came toward them. He wore an apron stained red and carried a leather satchel. When he looked up, she saw that his eyes glowed red. He hurried along, ignoring Ember’s stare.

  There was a large woman walking down the path that intersected with hers. Ember could only see her from the side at first. She was shaped like a barrel, with no discernable waist. Her dress fit like a potato sack, and her hair hung in long, droopy ropes. When she turned and Ember got a good look at her, Ember shuddered. The woman’s nose was as big as one of her aunt’s heavy zucchinis, and worse, there were warts all over it in varying sizes and shapes. She had sausage-fingered hands with curly hairs on her knuckles. Her eyes were small and squinty, and when she stared at Ember and Dev and hurried past, Ember could see only black stubs where teeth should have been. “Ugly” was too nice a word for her.

  Then there was the smell. The woman reeked of brackish swamp and mildew.

  She had a bag slung over her arm, and a little green head peeped out. It hissed at Ember and bared its teeth. “What…what…?” Ember sputtered, not knowing how to politely ask what she wanted to know.

  Dev leaned over and whispered, “She’s a troll. The creature in her bag is a pet gremlin.”

  After the woman turned, heading down another street, a gang of young boys hooted at them from a dark alley and called out as they passed. Dev bared his teeth. His eyes glowed blue, and she heard their jeers become whines. When she peeped around Dev, she saw gleaming yellow eyes and heard a howl.

  “Werewolves?” she asked.

  Dev nodded.

  Ember licked her lips. “Jack said I should be afraid of goblins. Are there any here?”

  “Goblins exist in every city of the Otherworld. They’re commonly the tinkers—the ones who create all the machines and gadgets you see. They have long, dexterous fingers, powerful eyesight, and a knack for figuring out where things go and how to make things run. They’re part of the working class, and the best of them are sought out to fill positions in the capital.”

  “But do they nibble on witches’ toes?”

  “I’m sure if they caught one they would. They love nothing more than gnawing on bones, sucking the marrow out for a treat. Usually, they stick to animal bones, though, there are rumors of some hermits in the wild that would kill you as soon as talk to you. They’re ugly, coarse, and mean, but for the most part they’re harmless.”

  “Right. Harmless,” Ember said.

  “It’s not the ones who look different from you that you should be careful around,” Deverell said. “It’s the ones who look human.”

  “Are there a lot of those?”

  “Do I not look human?” he asked, throwing out his arms and pirouetting.

  Ember’s lip twitched. “I suppose you do.”

  “And am I not the most dangerous creature you’ve ever met?”

  Ember didn’t know how to answer his question. He was dangerous, certainly. But she didn’t think he was dangerous in the way he meant. “I…I suppose so,” she answered.

  “The correct answer is yes. Vampires are extremely dangerous, but not so much to witches. What you need to be worried about are succubi and incubi.”

  “And those are?”

  “They are of the same race. Succubi are female and incubi male. They…um…take nourishment from seduction.”

  “Really? How does that work, exactly?”

  “Once they…mate, their chosen victim is under their thrall. There’s no escape from it. The lucky ones end up as slaves.”

  “And the unlucky?”

  “Their souls are slowly consumed, drawn out through a kiss until the body dies. It can be a slow process or a very, very long process.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “The sad news is no. Most would rather take the slow death.”

  “Still, I could think of worse ways to die,” Ember said, thinking of what she could remember of Dev’s vampire kiss and wondering if Jack’s kiss might be even better.

  “You wouldn’t say that if you saw one of their spellbound,” Dev said. “And let’s hope you don’t.”

  The vampire rattled off several more facts about the Otherworld and pointed out the shops they passed along the way. They approached a signpost and Ember read a sign that said WELCOME TO PENNYPORT!

  “It activates when you touch it,” Dev said.

  Ember found a black button, and when she pressed it, she heard a whirring and clicking as something rattled inside. A section of the box opened and a horn made of shiny, thin-pounded metal shifted out and angled downward in mechanical jolts. She turned to Deverell.

  “Show us the Brass Compass,” he said.

  The horn retreated, disappearing back into the box. Then a large map wound down with a smooth shifting of gears. On it Ember could clearly make out the city, each build
ing a raised bump.

  “Amazing!” she exclaimed, turning to Deverell. “It’s a map!” When Dev didn’t look at it, she said, “You already know where it is, don’t you?”

  “I do. I just thought you might like to see the map.”

  They paused at a dressmaker’s shop with a glass display window. Ember started when she saw a woman behind the window move. She was made of metal and turned one way and another, showing off the latest designs.

  In front of a haberdashery, a copper man doffed his hat to every passerby and pointed to the clicking buttons on his vest, to the cuff links on his shirt, and then to his cane. Then, with a flourish, he bowed his head and gestured that they could find such wares inside the closed shop.

  Dev paused and examined the vest on the humanlike machine. “I do like those buttons,” he said. “I’ll have to return later for a new vest.”

  Ember squinted in the darkness, moving closer as she tried to get a better look at the tiny moving buttons that rotated in and out of the buttonholes all on their own, and a light over the store suddenly turned on, encircling the metal man and glinting off his shiny head.

  Looking up at the light, Dev said, “Looks like your power is coming back. We should press on.”

  “But, how does he work?” Ember asked, walking around the man in a circle.

  “He’s an automaton. A bit like a fancy pocket watch, only with larger gears. He’s wound up through an opening in his back, hidden beneath his vest. He’ll run for a week before he slows down and needs to be reset. We’ll have more time to explore after we get some of that tea inside you,” Dev added, taking her arm.

  They passed an alchemist’s shop; a tannery; a place with a sign that read SOUL COLLECTOR; a store that advertised the most accurate foretelling, card readings, and séances; and a millinery. She paused when she noticed a clock shop. Everything from grandfather clocks to devices that whirred and ticked across the shelf to pocket watches was waiting for her to discover it. The gleaming gold pocket watch resting in a bed of red velvet reminded her of Jack. She wondered if he was searching for her right now. Ember felt a little tinge of regret for not leaving him a note. Maybe he’d find the one she left Finney.

  When they turned onto the next street, they were suddenly in a very different part of town. Each building had a thin coat of soot, and instead of the high-rise buildings with living space on top and shops beneath, smoking chimneys coughed their plumes over structures that sat next to mountains of metal, coal, or heaps of discarded refuse, creating a fantastic layer of smog that sat over the city like a filthy cloud. “There are bound to be cutpurses lurking in the shadows of the train yards. The mechanists have all headed home by now.”

  “What’s a cutpurse?” Ember whispered.

  “A man bent on stealing from you. Or worse.”

  Ember’s eyes shifted to the dark spaces between buildings and she quickened her pace. Things started happening around them. Machines came to life. They rumbled and spat smoke in the air. One such contraption roared, bathing them in golden light.

  “Is it me?” Ember whispered. “Do you need to take more blood?”

  Dev shook his head. “Try to do what you did before. Tamp down on your power. We’re almost there.” Under his breath, he added, “We never should have come through the ironwork district.”

  Ember could tell the vampire was worried. He glanced nervously in nearly every direction. Finally, he pointed ahead to a building with wide doors and brightly lit windows. Apparently, the establishment was relatively unaffected by the power outage. Either that or they had the means to recover quickly.

  It stood apart from the other businesses surrounding it. Ember caught the tang of salt and brine in the air and wondered if there was a river or ocean nearby. As they drew closer, Ember could hear music and laughter. More of those curious lighted globes swung back and forth as an evening breeze stirred, illuminating a moving sign.

  A set of gears whirred and ticked over the shop. It was a giant metal compass complete with a moving needle. But unlike any compass Ember had ever heard of, the shifting needle pointed straight down, either to the ground or to the establishment it lent its name to. They approached the door, and Dev, giving her a nod of reassurance, pushed it open and tugged her inside behind him.

  The music suddenly stopped and the laughter died as every patron turned to look at the pair.

  A beautiful barmaid—very scantily dressed, Ember noted—sauntered up to Deverell, picked up the mug of ale on her tray, and tossed the contents in his face.

  “Deverell Christopher Blackbourne. How dare you show your face here!” the woman exclaimed.

  With ale dripping from the tip of his nose, Dev said, “Glad to see you still remember me, Serina.”

  Jack searched in vain through the second city he’d traveled to in the Otherworld for a sign of Ember. He felt like a greenhorn having been taken in by a steam spinner. He should have known that it was impossible for that many creatures to pass over his bridge or enter his territory without his knowledge.

  Still, the bats had been real. He’d had no choice but to follow the colony of metal-winged bats. It wouldn’t do to have them mingling with the native bats in the human world. Jack had to wait until they found a nesting spot and settled down; then he had to angle his pumpkin just right to capture all of them in its light at once. He couldn’t afford to miss a single fluttering creature. The shrieking they made when the light fell upon them was earsplitting.

  The only other creature that had been real was the vampire. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that it had been the vampire that had tricked him. Every other creature he sensed wouldn’t have had access to a steam spinner.

  Worried about Ember, Jack raced back to the cemetery where he’d left her, only to find no trace of the girl. He did, however, find a smoking cravat, as well as a diamond cuff link that was unmistakably of Otherworld origin. She’d definitely fired on the vampire; had she scared him away? The alarm he felt quickened his pace. Vampires traveled fast. Once he got to the Otherworld with his prize, the game would be up. Rune would appear soon after, his face dark with fury, full of questions and demands.

  With his pumpkin lighting the way, Jack changed into fog and streamed in through Ember’s window. He hoped to see the diminutive girl bent over her cauldron or polishing her newly made pistols, a smug grin on her face. Instead, her room was empty and ransacked. Her cloak and vials were missing, as was her bag, and her chest of drawers stood open. Articles of clothing lay strewn about. A sort of horror gripped him.

  What happened? Jack thought. Was she taken against her will? The evidence pointed to no. A vampire absconding with a witch was nearly impossible, and he wouldn’t have thought to return her to her home and then stand by waiting patiently as she gathered her things.

  Did she trade blood for passage to the Otherworld? That was certainly possible. Just the thought of such a thing made Jack sick. For a fraction of a second, he imagined his poor Ember caught in a vampire’s embrace. His fists tightened, and the light in his pumpkin flared dangerously.

  A vampire would certainly have escorted her past the crossroad in exchange for a commodity as valuable as a witch’s blood. It was the only possibility that felt right.

  He raced to the bridge and crossed over into one Otherworld city, shining his light in every nook and cranny, hoping he wasn’t too late, and knowing that if another lantern saw his light, he’d be reported for abandoning his post.

  Hours passed in the Otherworld as he searched meticulously. He drummed his fingers and pulled out his Otherworld pocket watch constantly to check the time as he searched this second city. Then night fell and his pumpkin sailed over the dark city like a tiny moon, casting its all-seeing eyes on building after building. He closed his own eyes, willing his light to find that familiar golden soul, the light as recognizable to him as his own, his Ember. Panicked, he left the second town and crossed over the bridge, turning
his light onto the third metropolis.

  * * *

  * * *

  Deverell managed to find a small section of his damaged shirt intact and wrenched it from his body to sop up the mess on his chest and face.

  “And who’s this doxy hangin’ on your arm, then? Awfully brassy of you, Dev, bringing her here.”

  “It’s not what you think, Serina.”

  “Isn’t it?” The girl came closer to Ember, looking her up and down with an expression of contempt, then declared loudly to all the patrons, “She’s not even your type.”

  While Ember’s face turned red, Dev placed his hand on the irate girl’s neck, his thumb tracing little circles over the delicate blue vein. “Now, now,” he said. “There’s no need to go publicly checking me that way.”

  Her eyes drifted up to his face almost involuntarily, and Ember caught the sheen of blue on the girl’s cheeks as Dev used his power to soothe her. Her mouth fell open slightly as he mezmered her.

  “I apologize profusely for my ungentlemanly exit the last time I was here. It couldn’t be avoided. I was summoned away on urgent business. You won’t hold that against me, now, will you?”

  “Won’t hold it against you,” she echoed.

  “There’s a good girl. Now run off and tell your boss I have business with him.” She turned to leave. “Oh, and bring us some refreshment, will you, my dear? I’m sure my traveling companion is famished.”

  “Yes, Dev. Of course,” she said with a distrait smile on her face as she stumbled off.

  Ember glared at him. “What sort of way is that to treat a young lady—”

  He interrupted her with a laugh. “Serina? She’s no young lady. She’s one of those I warned you about. She’s a succubus.”

  Ember’s eyes widened. “You mean she…? And you…?”

  “I’m not nearly that naïve. As lovely as she is, Serina does not hold me hostage to her will, as much as she’d like to.”