The woman pulled a knife from her blouse, threw the basket of cleaning supplies at him and lunged, swinging the knife with expert ease.
Ferran jumped back a few paces and grabbed a poker from the fireplace. He swung, connected with her knife, and sent the blade spinning over her head. She grabbed the iron rod in an attempt to twist it from his hands, but he used it to slam her against the bookshelf. The impact knocked loose a heavy tome from the top shelf, which fell directly onto her head with a heavy thud. The assassin instantly went limp and fell on the ground. He shook his head, wondering at his luck.
He turned, ready to flee, but heard more distant thumping that didn't sound like footsteps. He hesitated, but his curiosity got the best of him so he followed the sound to a door across the hall. The pounding intensified. He tried the knob but it was locked, so he sprung it open and peered inside. A short staircase led down into an underground room.
His eyes widened in excitement. A basement! The sewer access tunnel must be under the house after all. The metal clanging continued. With a frown, he started cautiously down the staircase. He didn't know what he might find, but at least he could take a quick peek.
The short staircase let him to an empty room with a metal grate in the center of the floor, from which the rhythmic pounding issued, sounding like someone was trapped on the other side of the grate.
He opened the grate, and a massive set of shoulders came into view. He barely recognized the man’s smudged face and blood-matted hair, but the pointed ears were unmistakable. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Burn!”
The Wolfy blinked and gazed at Ferran with obvious exhaustion. Slow recognition registered on his face as Ferran grabbed his forearm and hauled him out of the tunnel. Burn collapsed wearily on the floor.
“You’re alive, you lucky bastard!” Ferran uttered under his breath. “How did you escape? Are you being followed?”
The Wolfy could only shake his head. “No,” he grumbled. “I think not.”
“Come with me,” Ferran murmured, and helped him to his feet. “A carriage awaits us outside. You’ll be off your feet soon….”
That seemed to motivate him. Burn stood a bit straighter and walked determinedly toward the staircase. His eyes appeared to be glazed over with pain.
Ferran followed Burn's slow progress up the staircase, then escorted him through the silent house. He was more than relieved to exit the front door, though disturbed to see the female assassin was gone from the front room. It wouldn’t be long before the Shade discovered The Book of the Named was missing.
“Where are we?” Burn muttered as Ferran led him back to the Ebonaire coach, thankfully without incident.
“The Regency in The City of Crowns,” he replied. “Don’t worry, old boy. We’re headed to safety.”
CHAPTER 29
Krait’s head spun. She felt delirious from dehydration, but wouldn’t touch the food or water laid out before her. Normally she could fast for quite some time, but her head pounded and her muscles quivered in her weakened state. She still hadn’t recovered from the Harpy’s use of the sunstone several days ago.
She hadn’t seen the Harpy in hours and didn’t think he was aboard the ship any longer. There was a vague hubbub from the upper deck, a shout of laughter, then a door slamming. She listened intently. The energy on the ship felt different this evening, less frantic, more subdued. She didn’t hear the crew’s usual commotion and wondered if her Grandmaster was moving forward with his plans, or if he had forgotten all about her. Would he leave her to rot here indefinitely? She hardened herself to the idea. If she was to die here, she would do so willingly. At least she had served the Dark God’s will to her last breath.
She let her head roll down to her chest, closed her eyes and muttered a prayer: Dark Redeemer, come for me, she thought. Return me to Your shadow. Engulf me in Your flames. She imagined a wave of black fire consuming her body until, with a billow of ash and smoke, she was released into the realms of the underworld.
When she next opened her eyes, she found the ship’s hold darker than before. She quickly scanned the room; a pool of shadows condensed at the opposite end of the hold. A familiar shiver of fear moved down her back. My Master comes.
The shadows pooled like ink on the wooden hull of the ship. The timbers creaked as a long body materialized from the very wood. Her Grandmaster’s aura was immediately recognizable. She knew no one except Cerastes and Cobra who could open such a portal, and Cobra’s magic was not so gracefully executed as her Master’s work. Krait bowed her head in reverence.
Cerastes stepped from the portal. He wore black and purple robes. Ice poured from his presence. His skin looked paler than before and thin as parchment, as though he could tear off his own face with his hands to reveal some monstrous sight hidden beneath.
Their eyes met. He crossed silently to her side, cut her bonds with a knife and inspected her bleeding wrists.
“Master,” she murmured, her voice raspy. “They used a sunstone…I tried not to speak….”
“Hush,” Cerastes intoned. “Where are they?”
She frowned. Did he mean the entire crew, or just the ones who had captured her? “Not on board. I haven’t seen anyone all day.”
“Hmmm. Pity.” Her Grandmaster headed for the ladder to the galley.
“Master….” She began, then paused. Cerastes looked tense, as though angered. She decided not to interrupt, and fell into step behind him. He didn’t seem interested in her presence. She doubted he came only to rescue her.
“I expected you to make your way back to us sooner,” he told her, opening the hatch and entering the galley above. “Well? What kept you?”
Krait hesitated before walking through the ship’s kitchen, but was surprised when she found the upper cabins deserted. Where were her guards? Or the crew, for that matter?
“The Harpy kept me confined,” she explained.
“He questioned you?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you say?”
She felt guilty, though she wasn’t sure why, and did her best to resist the Harpy’s interrogation. “I couldn’t answer…but you know this, Master. I have no knowledge of your secrets.”
“Did you tell them of our presence in The Regency?”
Krait’s throat tightened. She felt immediately apprehensive. “Yes…but I thought it of little consequence. You rarely go there….”
A livid expression briefly crossed her master’s face, then vanished like smoke. His cold facade returned. “I always knew you were weak,” he said bluntly. “Your betrayal will not go unpunished. I have half a mind to leave you on this ship. I may still.”
Krait’s eyes widened. She didn’t know how to reply. The Harpy and his companions must have used that information somehow. “Master, I didn’t mean…I will do anything to redeem myself in the eyes of our God….”
“Enough simpering,” Cerastes snapped. He gave her a disgusted look, then turned away.
“Grandmaster,” she tried again. Near-panic welled up in her throat. “I wouldn’t betray you. I am loyal to the Dark God….”
“Yes,” he said shortly. “And a dog is loyal to the one who feeds it…but it is still a dog.”
His harsh words made her sick. If she lost his instruction and her place in the Shade, she would have nothing. Did her Grandmaster not see her devotion? Could he not forgive a simple mistake, while she was helpless in the thrall of a Harpy’s voice? Perhaps not, she reasoned. He was stronger than the teachers she knew in The Hive, which made him much more ruthless.
She followed him through the silent mess hall and into the snow-spattered daylight. They exited to the aft of the ship. Four Dracians stood at the railing, casting lures into The Bath. They wore heavy cloaks and hats against the blustery weather.
Two of the sailors turned when Cerastes appeared on deck. Their eyes widened. One dropped his pole in surprise.
“Aye!” he yelled. He half-pulled a saber from its sheath, but his cloak got in the wa
y. “Stop there! Who are you?”
Krait stepped forward, but Cerastes held out his hand in a silent command to stay. “Ignorant Dracians,” he said softly. Then, in a louder voice, he called, “What is the name of this fine vessel?”
By now, all four Dracians faced Cerastes in confusion. Krait watched them with open malice.
“The Dawn Seeker,” one said, and shared a bewildered glance with his fellow.
Cerastes seemed amused. “Then we shall light it up…like the dawn….” A soft laugh escaped his lips. He raised his hands and a long stream of words began under his breath. The back of Krait’s neck tingled as she felt Cerastes’ aura intensify, until it seemed to cloud the air like smoke. She felt decidedly warm, despite the snowy weather, glanced at the deck and saw the ice begin to melt around his feet. She rarely witnessed her Master at work. His magic was far greater than a simple heat-spell. Summoning his demon’s fire must feel like a mere parlor trick.
A gut-wrenching realization dawned. Her Grandmaster was going to burn down the ship, and had threatened to leave her on board…to be engulfed in flames. He was enraged, even if he hid it well; she had let him down beyond measure. She wondered what the Harpy and his companions had done to make Cerastes attack so openly. It was not his way. Surely, he could have sent others to do this task.
Then, without warning, a piercing vibration crashed over the deck with enough force to push Krait from her feet. She fell back and caught herself on the galley door. Even Cerastes staggered against the sudden wind. The Dracians all shouted and pointed at the sky.
Light burned her eyes. Krait lifted her arm to shield her gaze. Hatred smoldered within her: the seraphim had arrived.
* * *
Caprion hovered just beyond the aft of the ship, his wings blazing strongly against the overcast evening sky.
Two members of the Sixth Race stood below him on deck. Krait, he recognized, but he didn’t know the pale, long-haired man next to her. The insidious stranger looked like a powerful enemy: a black aura surrounded his body, and his skin appeared sallow and loose. Caprion knew the signs. This Grandmaster’s demon was so strong, his human form was practically melting from his bones.
A Grandmaster, he thought. And, he suspected, the leader of the Shade. He met the man’s piercing gaze without fear. He had faced demons before—his first demon, in fact, had been an ancient and powerful specimen—but this Grandmaster held a strength he hadn’t felt before. The air seemed toxic. He could feel the force of the man’s aura clogging his throat, attempting to stifle his Song, and the demon wasn’t even transformed.
“Release your servant,” he said, and pointed to Krait, who cringed from the light of his wings. “She is mine now.”
The Grandmaster smiled, a horrifying look. “Take her, then. Kill her if you wish. She is of no further use to me.” He spread his hands. “A pity your fellows are not here. I hoped to burn you all while you slept. I suppose I will throw the two of you instead to the Dark God’s fire.”
Caprion released another crushing vibration from his wings. “Your cult is a twisted lie,” he rebuked, “and you are the king of liars.” He drew his sword from his belt. Sunstones studded its hilt. The blade glowed with crystalline light. “Stand back, demon,” he challenged. “Your servant is under my protection.”
The Grandmaster sneered. “You are a child,” he said, “untried and unskilled. I am not afraid of you.”
“Nor am I afraid of you.” Caprion allowed his second set of wings to glimmer into existence.
His opponent glared up at him with narrow eyes. “You dare challenge me?” the Grandmaster hissed. “So be it.”
Caprion felt the demon’s power surge. Black fire spread from his feet to engulf the deck. The four Dracians, who had silently watched the confrontation, shouted in alarm and ran away from the fire. Without hesitation, all four leapt over the aft of the ship into the freezing waters of The Bath.
With a few gestures, Caprion surrounded the Dracians with white light and lifted them to the docks. The black fire spread down the side of the ship and across the surface of the water, melting patches of ice. The water did not douse the flames, and soon The Bath began to steam.
Caprion turned his attention back to the Grandmaster, who swept the flames back with massive wing strokes as he tried to approach the two figures on deck. He knew the Grandmaster could open shadow portals and probably intended to escape soon, but he wouldn’t leave Krait alone, helpless on deck. Not in the hands of this demon.
Finally, the flames parted and Caprion saw his opening. He focused his power and released a blinding flash of light, then dived through the flames and dropped between Krait, who huddled on the deck near the galley door, and the Shade’s leader.
The Grandmaster shouted some grotesque curse and swept his hand forward. A wave of black fire moved with his hand, but Caprion’s giant wings deflected the rush of burning darkness. He gritted his teeth against the pain as black fire burned his wings. The scorching heat was unexpected, and his feet dropped solidly to the deck. He planted himself between the demon and the fallen girl and raised his sword before him. The blade shone like the sun against the black fire and smoke.
“Fight me now, or leave,” Caprion growled. He allowed the power of his voice and Song to swell through his body. His sword hummed like a tuning fork, its metal specially designed to amplify his voice.
They stood facing each other, neither moving as the flames spread. Caprion became aware of a crowd growing on the nearby boardwalk. Many people pointed at the bright flames spreading along the side of the Dawn Seeker toward its central mast.
After a long minute, he sensed the Grandmaster’s power recede. The black fire on the ship slowly changed to a more natural orange. Still, the destruction was too widespread—the fire couldn’t be stopped now. Silas’ ship was doomed.
Finally, the master assassin took a step back, seeming more put off by the crowd than the battle before him. “Another day,” he said briefly. Then, with a flurry of shadows and smoke, he disappeared, leaving Krait behind on the burning deck. In her weakened state, she had passed out from smoke inhalation.
Caprion lifted the woman into his arms. Even though she was unconscious, he felt her resist him, becoming stiff when his arms encircled her. He tested his wings experimentally and lifted up from the deck. Pain shot down his shoulders and back; singed feathers fell to the deck of the ship. He could fly, but not far; his wings had never been damaged like this before. He hadn’t thought it possible for them to physically burn—but the Grandmaster’s fire was not natural. That worried him. The power of his star energized his wings; the demon’s magic shouldn’t be able to affect him like this. Perhaps he didn’t know as much as he thought about the abilities of the Sixth Race.
He launched swiftly into the air and circumvented the docks, struggling over the waters of The Bath until he landed a brief distance away from the gathering crowds. He stumbled when he landed and almost fell to the icy mud. Tall pine trees and thick foliage hid him from the peasants gathering on the boardwalk. As he peered through the trees, he watched a group of sailors run across the docks in an attempt to rescue other vessels. The orange flames from the Dawn Seeker leapt and spread ravenously, with a supernatural appetite.
Then, with a fierce gust of wind, snow began to fall heavily.
Caprion banished his wings, pulled his cloak about his shoulders and his hood low over his head, and left the shelter of the trees. Carrying Krait in his arms, he slipped behind the massing crowd toward the southern gate to the city. Between the weather and the fire, no one paid him any mind. He didn’t see any Dracians in the mix; perhaps they had already left to find Silas. He wondered how the poor captain would react when he heard about his ship.
Once inside the city walls, he tried to flag down a coach, but was refused service as he didn’t have any coinage to pay. Distracted people rushed by him in the streets, jostling him to and fro. He watched the crowds carefully, but saw no sign of The Shade. With no other
option, he began to walk back to The Regency with Krait clasped close to his chest. He couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Once he reached Ferran and the others, they could decide what to do.
The sky continued to darken as the snow thickened, and he hoped he reached the Ebonaire manor soon, before he was forced to take shelter elsewhere.
CHAPTER 30
Viper flew toward the south end of The City of Crowns, to the Smokeshaft district, or so it was called by locals. It had a proper title, Enderlane View, but no one used that other than the King’s tax collectors. As he flew, the snow thickened into gale-force flurries. Billows of white frost and mist obscured his black wings.
In the Smokeshafts, the buildings, made of plaster walls and tin roofs, were tucked close together. Stories had been stacked on top of each other with hardly any structural foundation, until the apartments resembled broken accordions all laid upright, ready to tumble to the ground. A dense forest of chimneys spewed gray-and-black smoke into the sky, thick as fog. Residents of the Smokeshafts burned peat, not wood. What snow didn’t melt turned sooty-gray and hurtled down to the streets below.
Viper swooped through the gritty air, with Sora held tightly against his broad chest, until he found the rooftop he sought. The upper floors of the building were abandoned after a long-ago fire. The bottom level contained an herb shop—an apothecary of sorts—which he remembered well. He lived here once, briefly, while still on the run from Volcrian.
Viper landed on the clay tile. A flame-ravaged gap in the tiles provided easy entrance to the attic below. He dropped down and landed on the floor. Humans couldn’t climb this high into the building; the fire-eaten staircase wouldn’t hold.
Viper easily traversed a large hole in the floor where part of the third story had caved in. This level once housed six small apartments, all of which appeared uninhabitable, except for one at the end of a long hall, where the fire hadn’t quite reached. He walked carefully toward it and nudged the old door open with his shoulder. It creaked on its hinges, ready to collapse. He scanned the small, single room for ladders or ropes, or some other means of access, but it appeared impossible to reach from below and completely abandoned. He entered the open doorway cautiously.