Alchemist's Kiss (13 page)

“Give me The Hand.”

“Icarus, you said never...”

“Cora, please.”

He knelt in front of her and took her free hand in his. The hum of the aether was more insistent and his hand was throbbing with the searing heat of the magical rune. Whatever she saw in his face must have scared her, because she grew pale.

“No.”

“Cora. Please.”

She dropped The Hand to cradle his face in her palms. “Please don't do this.”

He grasped the talisman in his gloved palm, the connection between its magic and his rune enough to make him stiffen in pain. He pulled hard, breaking the chain and taking it from her neck.

There was a loud creak and the sounds of an explosion as Levisque cursed. The glass in the wheelhouse window cracked, a long line running down the center as Nickerson fought to keep the balloon in the air.

“You don't have to sacrifice yourself.”

He kissed her lips, not giving a damn what etiquette demanded or who might be watching. “If I'm lucky I'll survive.” He looked over his shoulder at Levisque. “We all will.”

“Then do it.” The Captain was holding on to the wheel, helping his XO keep them in the air. His face was strained with the effort it took to hold them steady. “Fast.”

Icarus stepped into the rain and tasted the blood on the air. His father was playing a very dangerous game indeed. The rain was sharp, slicing at him as he clutched the talisman tightly in his ungloved palm. He looked over his shoulder once, and could see the shadow of Cora staring out from the wheelhouse at him. The ship lurched hard to the right and he stumbled, cursing. He made his way to the bow, climbing up to the very edge as he had when he'd released Machiavelli's feather to the wind. He could still see it ahead of them, spinning wildly as it continued on its magical quest to show them to Croft. His duster was caught in the gale, blowing out from his body and letting him become soaked to the bone in seconds. Had he mentioned that he hated rain, he wondered. With The Hand tight in his fingers he lifted his arms and held them straight out from his body. He tipped forward as the wind tried to pull him into the cloudy abyss, but he managed to hold himself up with sheer will and upper body strength.

“Deffro i mi,”
he said through teeth clenched in cold and pain. He felt the talisman grow hotter as he spoke to it in its native tongue, “
Rhannwch eich pwr gyda mi.”
Awaken unto me. Share your power with me.

The Hand and his rune were on fire, but he bit his lip to hold back a cry of pain and held it tighter. The ancient magic of the Celtic talisman mingled with his own, and the aether around him came alive. Like fireflies in the summer night the air around him lit with static electricity and the aether glowed. A cloud of golden aether particles swirled all around him. He managed a smile as the world around him darkened and narrowed.

“Not now.” he gritted out, keeping his consciousness with his own stubborn refusal to go down.

“
Glanhau.”
he begged the aether. It could read the hearts and minds of a man; he knew it as clearly as he knew his own strength was nearly gone. It was not an inanimate source of magical power, but a sentient thinking thing. Many thinking particles that hated the stench of the blood magic as much as he did. Cleanse, he asked it.

Once he'd told Cora that The Hand was a tool of dark magic, but as he held it he felt what she must have felt in the train car with his father. The Hand was loyal to Cora. It wasn't emotion he felt from the talisman's magic, but he knew it like he knew his name. The Hand wanted Cora. Would do this thing for him because Cora loved him.

Icarus nearly lost his balance as the thought blasted through his mind. Cora loved him. He'd hoped she cared for him, at the same time feared she might. He'd tried to shake off the responsibility that came with love, but here it was as clear as glass. Cora loved him. The Hand knew it. Now Icarus knew it too. He could no longer pretend that Cora's infatuation would end someday when the right man came along. He was the right man. Cora's man. All that remained was to say the words.

The aether spread out around him, the glow visible for a far as he could see across the great expanse of sky before him. Everywhere it moved it sizzled against the aether tained with his father's dark magic. They collided and the dark aether was burned out by the light of his own. The magic was draining him quickly, and his sudden infusion of spirit at the knowledge of Cora's love had only bolstered him for a moment. His arms were leaden as the last of his father's magic was eradicated and the storm began to clear. He smelled smoke, but knew the ship was no longer in danger of falling from the sky. The aether was surrounding it, keeping them in the air.

His head was heavy with a fog of its own as he felt the last of his strength give way. He moved his arm, letting The Hand fall to the deck behind him. As the tunnels of darkness that he dreaded closed in around him he pitched headlong off the ship and fell toward the city he loved.

***

In the moment that the storm was burned off by the aether I saw Icarus drop The Hand. I pulled open the wheelhouse door with the Captain quick on my heels. I must have screamed when Icarus went over the edge, because the Captain and all his men stopped to stare at the bow of the ship where their savior had only moments before been standing.

I thought I might be frozen in fear or grief, but I dashed forward and grabbed my talisman from the deck. I could feel my heart racing as I looked over the edge. Icarus was holding on, but dangling limply as the wind buffeted him about like a child's toy. I got to my knees, tucking The Hand into my bodice, and reached for him. I grabbed hold and he raised his head. He was pale and I knew only moments from unconsciousness.

“Grab my other hand, Icarus.”

“I cannot.” His voice was a whisper, raw and agonizingly rough. He was shaking, every muscle quaking with the effort it took to hold himself to the ship. My arms screamed in pain as I tried to hold him up. The Captain was across the way, tending to a fire that had broken out on the deck.

“Icarus, please.” I begged, pulling with all my strength. I could not hold him and concentrate enough to chant a spell to help me with his weight. “Take my hand.”

“I am not gloved, Cora. I won't.”

I cursed as he quaked hard again, nearly losing his hand from mine. My palms were sweaty and he slipped away from me a little more. “I am willing to risk it, Icarus! You're going to fall. Take my hand. Please.”

He smiled at me and I felt a sob escape. I'd seen that smile before. Sad and full of soft apologies that Icarus Kane never needed to make. I clutched at him as he opened his hand and slipped away from me. He fell, and all I saw was a speck of herringbone tumbling end over end toward the ground below.

“Adept Jenkins,” the Captain knelt beside me, his face pale. He gulped, his large adam's apple bobbing as he stared wide eyed at Icarus falling. “I cannot bring the ship down fast enough to catch him.”

I untied my hat and handed it to the captain. It looked ridiculous in his large-knuckled hands, but I clutched The Hand tightly and stood at the bow.

“Continue to follow the feather," I said with proper severity, despite the fear bubbling in my gut, “and Icarus and I will be along shortly.”

“Adept, what are you doing?” the Captain grabbed my arm as I leaned over the edge of the decking. I shrugged him off and something in the jut of my jaw or the fire of my eyes must have convinced him that I was not to be trifled with in that moment.  He pulled his hand back and shook his head, “This is madness.”

I took hold of my skirts and held them tightly. The Hand burned in my palm and I wondered if my clothing could catch fire from the heat. The Captain was positively aghast as I raised my dress above my ankles and tensed.

“Good luck, Captain Levisque. Until we meet again.” Then I bent my knees and leaped from the side of the ship.

The fall was not as terrifying as the fear of landing. Hard. I felt my skirts fly up, covering my face and head as the air rushed up to meet me. I bent at the waist and my fall became a nosedive. The sound of the wind in my ears was numbing my brain, but I focused on the speck of black and grey that was below me. Icarus.

I clutched The Hand to my chest, feeling the twisted metal cutting into my fingers as I squeezed it so tight. I'd always thought it was just an object, but now I spoke to it in my mind like it was alive.

Please help me,
I begged,
Help me save him.

The jolt of magic through my system was hot like molten metal running through my veins. Black dots danced in front of my eyes as I blinked them back and hung onto consciousness with all my strength. Whatever The Hand had done, I could hear the aether clearly all around me. It sparkled and flitted around me, tiny dancing pinpoints of light.

Grab hold of him. Don't let him fall. I love him. Please don't let him die.

The aether was something
other
, but it had existed alongside us long enough to understand love. To understand how important Icarus was to me. I knew that if it helped me now it would be because it
wanted
to, not because I forced it to. I could try to force it to save Icarus, but I'd be just as likely to make the aether angry and we'd both plummet to our deaths as it watched.

The Hand send another bolt of red hot energy into my body through my hand, and I smelled burning flesh as it seared itself to my palm.

“Is this what Icarus felt,” I wondered, “when his father pressed the brand to his skin?”

I closed my eyes, praying to aether as one might pray to God. For all I knew, the aether
was
God. Or as close to it as one might find when falling a thousand feet to their death.

I was unsure if I lived or if my crash to the cobblestone streets had happened so fast that I'd died without knowing it. As the rushing of the wind died away I felt myself caught up in a buoyant net of something so soft it felt like feathers. I dared open my eyes, and I gasped at the sight. It was Machiavelli, the Grand Master's familiar raven, grown to nearly ten times his normal size. He'd swooped in below me and caught me up on his back. The down of his feathers was silky beneath my fingers as I buried my hands deep within the pelt of the bird. I blinked, unsure if this was a dream, or if souls were really borne to the underworld on the backs of great flying birds as my father had once told me as a child. The Hand had cooled, now only a regular magical talisman and not a conduit to the aether as it had been moments before. I tucked it carefully between my breasts and breathed deep.

Icarus?
I thought to the aether around me. I could still see it twinkling faintly as The Hand's connection died away, but I knew it could still hear my thoughts and feel my question burning deep within my heart and mind. I knew the aether had called to the Grand Master, and he'd sent Machiavelli to save me. I waited to see if the aether had saved Icarus as well.

The myriad of voices that came to me was that of a crowd, many tones and timbres mixed together but beautiful to hear all the same
.
He lives.

Tears spilled from my eyes, and the aether flitted nervously around me as if concerned. I sniffed, wiping away the moisture. 
Thank yo
u
.

Rest now.

I could not resist the overpowering fatigue that rolled over me like a wave. My eyes closed of their own accord, and I slept.

When I came back to myself my first thought was of Icarus. With his name on my lips I sat up, the world whirling around me.  I found my bearings and locked eyes with a normal-sized black raven watching me from atop the bedpost. It cocked its head and stared at me with eyes far too wise for any normal bird.

“Grand Master.” I greeted Orrin with a dip of my head.

Despite having been in his company before, it was still quite off-putting to hear Orrin's voice coming from the beak of the bird.

“Adept Jenkins. We were beginning to worry.”

“My head is a bit foggy, but I'm alive. Thank you.”

The raven's head bobbed as the Grand Master laughed. “Thank the aether and Machiavelli, Adept. As it was, your sudden, and very loud, cry for help unseated me from my chair in the middle of a meeting with the American warden. It was only by the grace of God that Machiavelli remained in London for this trip.”

I felt a blush of embarrassment climb into my cheeks. “I apologize, Grand Master, but Icarus was falling–”

“And you jumped off the ship after him.” the Grand Master finished. The raven's eyes narrowed as the bird hopped from foot to foot on the bed post. “A most intriguing show of devotion, Adept Jenkins.”

“Is he alive?”

“He is.”

I breathed a long sigh of relief, the sound shuddering from the very deepest part of me. I raised my head to the raven again as the Grand Master spoke,

“Tell me what he did.”

I recounted the story of the storm, most likely conjured up by blood magic, and of Icarus' selfless act as he allowed the magic of The Hand and his rune to touch. At my mention of the dark aether the Grand Master cursed.

“Captain Levisque and his crew were continuing on to find Croft?”

“Yes. Icarus and I will devise a plan to search him out and meet them there.”

The Grand Master's laugh was a croak from the throat of the bird. “How is it that Kane can garner such intrepid loyalty?” he murmured thoughtfully. The bird jumped from the bed post and hopped to my lap. I held out a hand and lifted the Grand Master up to meet my eyes.

“Tell me, Adept Jenkins, do you love Icarus Kane?”

I didn't speak for a moment as the question rattled around in my head. Of course I loved Icarus, but what could that mean to the Grand Master I wondered. I weighed the sensibility in admitting my feelings but in the end I could find no reason to lie to the most powerful wizard in the world.

“I do.”

“Interesting.” The raven tilted its head and looked at me with sharp black eyes. “Then perhaps you can save him, whereas I cannot.”

“Save him, Grand Master?” My heart began to pound, “Is he injured? Take me to him.”

The raven moved to perch on my shoulder, and its sharp beak pecked the top of my head. “Let's go, then.”

Orrin directed me down a long hallway, and I realized we were in the Grand Master's house. It was silent and empty, with all of his retinue in the Americas with him. I followed a shining mahogany stair rail to a room at the far south corner of the house. When I reached for the door the raven pecked the top of my head again.

“I must warn you, Adept, that contact with dark aether can be devastating to a wizard as sensitive as Grand Adept Kane.”

I paused with my hand on the doorknob. A question burned on my tongue, and I let it slip knowing full well the Grand Master could singe my eyebrows from America if he so chose. “Why are you hiding in America when a threat as big as Victor Kane is raining hell down on London?” I rushed on with the sincere hope I'd live to finish my thought, “You're the most powerful wizard in the world. Why aren't you here fighting for our city?”

“You think me a coward, Adept Jenkins?”

I relaxed when I heard only mild curiosity in his voice. I looked at the bird on my shoulder, “No. But you never do anything without a reason. Icarus says you're a shrewd strategist, and you're always six moves ahead. So what's your play this time?”

“The world is going to be a very difficult place for wizards in the next few years, and the people of London will never respect their Grand Adept if I step in and smite all the villains for him. They need to respect Icarus; maybe fear him a little. This battle will prove to them that he is willing to lay down his life for the city.”

“Hasn't he done enough?” I shook my head, my voice cracking with an angry snap. “Does he have to die to prove his worth to the people of London once and for all?”

“I hope not, Ms. Jenkins.” The bird was somber as the Grand Master looked at me through his eyes, “And that is why Icarus will need you. Your love. Your strength. He will need every ounce of loyalty you can give, if he is to survive this.”

“And then what? A war?”

“Perhaps.” The Grand Master chuckled, “Perhaps not. Only time will tell, dear Jenkins.”

“I once told Icarus that a compromise can be made, but we're not the ones to make it. We can hold the line while you make the peace, Grand Master.”

“And that, Ms. Jenkins, is exactly the kind of thinking we will need in the coming days.”

I huffed in annoyance at his roundabout talk and pushed open the door.

Icarus lay on a bed covered in blue damask. He was pale against the coverlet in only his shirtwaist and his pants. Someone had removed his boots and duster and they lay by the bed in a heap. I hurried to his side and reached for his pulse.

His heart beat was strong but fast, and his skin was burning up against my touch.

“What's wrong with him?”

Machiavelli hopped from my shoulder to perch near Icarus' scarred left hand. “The dark aether has infected him.”

“An infection?” I laid a palm against his forehead and felt the fever that raged within him. “Can it be treated?”

“I've only seen this a few times, when a wizard used blood magic to enact a very dangerous spell. The aether is tainted by the blood, and becomes the antithesis of normal aether. It's angry and hurtful, and usually bloodthirsty.”

“Icarus didn't use blood magic.” I argued.

“He was open to the aether on a level most wizards can never achieve. The dark aether was able to infect him through this conduit.” Machiavelli flapped his wings and flew up to land on the bed post above Icarus' head.

“How do we cure it?”

“We cannot.”

I resisted the urge to swat the raven. “There must be something we can do.” I sat on the bed and took Icarus' limp hand in mine. His cheeks were chapped from the bite of the wind as he fell, and his lips were dry and cracked. “You said perhaps I can cure him.”

“I said perhaps.” the raven agreed. I narrowed my eyes to glare at the Grand Master, who was probably lounging in a ridiculously well-appointed mansion somewhere in America.

“Then tell me how.” I bit out each word, enunciating clearly in case he had difficulty understanding.

“I don't know how.”

What little patience I had fled, and I swatted at the bird with a pillow. “What good are you then?” I raged. My heart beat harder and my stomach turned at the thought of losing Icarus when I'd finally garnered the courage to make him mine. “The most powerful wizard in the world, and you don't know! Tell me how to save him,” I begged, tears gathering. I threw the pillow on the floor and bent over Icarus. “Just tell me what to do and I'll do it. Anything. I'll do it.”

The Grand Master's voice was speculative as he spoke. “Anything, Adept Jenkins?”

“Don't play games with me, Lucan Orrin!” I lost my mind and grabbed Machiavelli, shaking him in my hands. “This man was willing to sacrifice everything to save this city and I will save him. I will.”

I gasped as the raven nipped the skin between my thumb and forefinger and returned to his post by Icarus' head as I nursed my wound.

“That was either brave or balmy, though I've yet to decide which.” the Grand Master said calmly as the bird shook out his ruffled feathers. “But you love him, that much is certain.”

“Of course I do.” I smoothed a sweat-soaked curl from Icarus' forehead. “How could I not? He saved me. Saved me from a life that might have been happy and a little boring, but never as happy as I've been with him.”

“Know this, Adept Jenkins, what must be done to save Icarus is both dangerous and foolhardy.” A note of mirth crept into the Grand Master's voice, “But seeing as how you were willing to jump off a dirigible for the man, I can't imagine it will be too much to ask.”

“Anything.” I vowed. I didn't take my eyes off Icarus' face.

When I told Orrin I'd do anything to save Icarus I'd had no idea what “anything” really meant. A few hours later I found myself lying beside Icarus on the bed, holding his hand in mine. A tall woman with a short bob of silvering hair stood over us, a bowl of burning incense in her hands.

“This will not be pleasant or easy.” she warned. Her voice was deeper than Orrin's and her odd light eyes seemed to sparkle in the firelight.

“If I can save him then it's worth it.” I assured her. I thought I saw a ghost of a smile hovering over her lips as she bent over us, blowing the smoke of the incense into our faces.

I breathed in the sickly sweet smell and coughed as my head swam.

“Your man lies in a place between life and death; a place where the aether dwells. Most living beings cannot go there, but I can force your soul to follow his.” She turned serious eyes to me again, “It will hurt.”

“Do it.”