Devils Kiss (26 page)
Once the animals were saddled and bridled, she and Whit led them out to the pump. A bucket was retrieved, and some moments were spent watering the horses. The mounts could not be fed, not with more hours of travel ahead of them, but their thirsts could be quenched.
At least some of us are satisfied
, Zora thought as she watched Whit.
, Zora thought as she watched Whit.
He sent her a look fraught with understanding.
She mounted her horse. Whit strode away and leapt into his own horse’s saddle. As he did this, she allowed herself the indulgence of watching the flex and pull of muscle beneath his doeskin breeches. Of particular note were his taut, hewn buttocks, revealed when the tails of his coat flared up as he moved.
Caught looking, she tipped up her chin, refusing to be embarrassed. He gave her one of his slow, wicked smiles that set fire to her very blood, then pulled his horse around and set the animal into a gradual trot. She did the same. They trotted away from the ruined house, down the lane and back onto the main road.
It was only later that she realized they had not spoken the whole time they had rested the horses. Yet more surprising, the silence between her and Whit had been charged ... but not entirely uncomfortable. They had easily communicated without words. No one, not even her closest kin, understood her half as well as Whit did.
The thought troubled her. Here was a man who readily admitted the darkness within him, who had tasted sinister power and found its flavor to his liking. If this man understood her so easily, as easily as she understood him, what did that say about her?
She was not certain she wanted to find out.
Whit consulted his pocket watch. It was a battered thing, hardly the finest timepiece a gentleman of his means might possess. Yet he owned no other.
His grandfather’s watch. The timepiece was old now, the luster of its case long worn to dullness by the hands of James Sherbourne, and his son, also named James, and eventually his grandson, the latest James: Whit.
This was the watch he always carried. Especially now, in the midst of chaos, it comforted him, somehow, to feel the permanence of his family, of their lands and legacy, manifested in one simple, rather battered object.
You will survive this.
The implicit promise offered by the watch. How far lost was he that he gripped at the hope offered by a tiny arrangement of metal parts.
You will survive this.
The implicit promise offered by the watch. How far lost was he that he gripped at the hope offered by a tiny arrangement of metal parts.
He stared at the timepiece now, turning its face in the last of the moonlight, as his weary horse walked on.
“Dawn’s an hour away,” he said. He slipped the watch back into its case and then into his waistcoat pocket.
“Lil-engreskey gav is half mile distant,” said Zora.
“What is Lil-engreskey gav?” He mangled the pronunciation. Romani was not half as easy as French.
“The Rom’s name for Oxford. It means ‘book fellows’ town. We’ve Romani names for every city. There’s a whole other country within England. A tiny country with its own customs and language and names for places.”
“But it’s a country without borders, without cities and a king.”
“We have our kings, and they are just as useless as yours. As for borders and cities, those are things only
gorgios
value.”
gorgios
value.”
“Values change.” His own, for example. He had lived, not so long ago, only for the gaming table. The winning of money and things—that had been his greatest pleasure, his sole pursuit.
The stakes were higher now. What he played for could not be counted.
He looked at Zora in the remains of the moonlight. She stared back at him, boldly, for everything she did was done boldly. If he licked his lips, he thought he could still taste pear, and he remembered her tongue lapping at his finger. A thick swell of desire coursed through him. It had not lost its edge, but had somehow grown sharper, more ravenous.
He tightened his hands on the reins. His time as the
geminus
echoed through him in waves that flooded and ebbed. There were moments when he felt controlled, balanced.
geminus
echoed through him in waves that flooded and ebbed. There were moments when he felt controlled, balanced.
Then the
geminus
within him would surge forward. His hungers demanded,
wanted.
It had taken more strength than he knew he possessed to keep from having her in that oast house, to fight the demon inside. Even now, despite hours in the saddle and no sleep and tension everywhere within him, he fought. To keep from pulling her down from the saddle and taking her right there. To lay claim to everything she was, everything she possessed, body and soul.
geminus
within him would surge forward. His hungers demanded,
wanted.
It had taken more strength than he knew he possessed to keep from having her in that oast house, to fight the demon inside. Even now, despite hours in the saddle and no sleep and tension everywhere within him, he fought. To keep from pulling her down from the saddle and taking her right there. To lay claim to everything she was, everything she possessed, body and soul.
Before the demands overtook him, he wrestled them back, clenching his hands so hard they ached. He had no soul and would not feed upon hers—much as he wanted.
Would this monstrous need to utterly possess her vanish once he reclaimed his soul? He prayed it was so, for his sake, and hers. Yet he knew that every moment without his soul drew him farther and farther into darkness. Until there would be nothing left of him, save malevolent hunger.
He kicked his horse to go faster. Behind him, he heard Zora speaking the Gypsy language to urge her horse on.
When the dark shapes of Oxford’s spires and the Radcliffe Camera’s dome appeared on the horizon, he allowed himself a brief sigh of relief. Soon. He would have his soul back and sever his link with the wickedness seeping through him.
They crossed Magdalen Bridge over the river and headed into town. Stillness and shadow hung thick in the streets. He had not been back to Oxford for more than a decade, and the sights of its mullioned windows and Headington stone buildings brought back ... not nostalgia, but half-remembered impressions of someone else’s life.
He felt the
geminus
everywhere, a sinister web clinging to the faces of the buildings. With a silent roar, the darkness within him answered, nearly blinding him.
Prey here, ready to be hunted. Take from them.
geminus
everywhere, a sinister web clinging to the faces of the buildings. With a silent roar, the darkness within him answered, nearly blinding him.
Prey here, ready to be hunted. Take from them.
Some servants, bakers, and dairymaids wended over the cobblestones toward work.
They have nothing of worth.
They have nothing of worth.
Yet the hunger shrieked at him as two senior college fellows staggered toward him down the middle of the street, their velvet caps with gold tassels listing over their eyes, bright silk and gold lace gowns hanging off like molting plumage. Noblemen lurching back to their chambers after a night’s carousing in the senior common room.
He locked his thighs tight against the saddle and made his horse walk around the drunk students.
But they would be so easy to take from, to trick into betting more than they realized.
Money, possessions. A quick game of cards and he could ruin the young men.
But they would be so easy to take from, to trick into betting more than they realized.
Money, possessions. A quick game of cards and he could ruin the young men.
Fight this
. An icy sweat clung to his forehead and filmed his back. Yet he let the students continue on.
. An icy sweat clung to his forehead and filmed his back. Yet he let the students continue on.
“Yes,” he said once he and Zora had passed the fellows. “That was me.”
He had continued that venerable tradition after graduating university. At the least, he and his fellow Hellraisers took carriages home rather than stumble about the streets.
Those days, and the Hellraisers, were gone from him now. What he had now was this monstrous, dark hunger.
His pulse came too hard in his throat to speak anymore. It was here. His soul was
here
, and the nightmare would end.
here
, and the nightmare would end.
But the exhausted horses moved too slowly. When he passed a sleepy crossing sweep, he whistled at the boy. The child immediately shot to his feet.
“Watch these horses.” He tossed the sweep a thrupenny bit and dismounted. As he handed the reins to the boy, Whit glanced up at Zora. “It will be faster on foot. You can stay behind if you want.”
She shot him a speaking glance that said under no circumstances would she remain behind. He did not expect otherwise.
Once the horses were tended to, Whit set off at a run. He couldn’t control his movements any longer. Either find his soul or else give in to the predator within. Memory and the dark energy of the
geminus
pulled him along. He sprinted through the maze of streets, both wide and narrow, that wove around the university. Dimly, he heard Zora’s light, running steps behind him.
geminus
pulled him along. He sprinted through the maze of streets, both wide and narrow, that wove around the university. Dimly, he heard Zora’s light, running steps behind him.
He ran past a gowned proctor patrolling for errant fellows. “Oi there!” the proctor shouted. Then, “Beg pardon, my lord.”
The proctor exclaimed in surprise when Zora sped past. Whit rounded a corner, Zora following him, and they left the proctor behind.
Whit came to a stop. Zora skidded to a halt beside him. They stood together outside an alehouse,
the
alehouse. It was a freestanding building, two stories, squat, with a listing chimney. A sign hung from its post, depicting a painted bird perched atop a swayback horse. The Grouse and Nag. He’d thought it a very clever name when he was a callow boy. Not a trace of humor touched him now.
the
alehouse. It was a freestanding building, two stories, squat, with a listing chimney. A sign hung from its post, depicting a painted bird perched atop a swayback horse. The Grouse and Nag. He’d thought it a very clever name when he was a callow boy. Not a trace of humor touched him now.
“Doesn’t look as though they’re open,” Zora said quietly. The narrow windows were dark, and no sound came from within—no music, no laughter.
He strode to the door and pushed. It rattled on its hinges but did not open.
Damn
. He thought the odds were his to control, but not this cursed night. His fist came up to pound upon the door.
Damn
. He thought the odds were his to control, but not this cursed night. His fist came up to pound upon the door.
Zora’s light touch on his sleeve stopped him. “No need to wake the house.”
“I have to get inside.” His voice was a growl.
“A moment.” Then she slipped away into the shadows.
He scowled at the place where she had just stood. This seemed a badly timed moment to sneak off somewhere for God only knew what reason.
The hell with it.
He lifted his fist again to hammer on the door but stopped in midgesture as he heard the bolt sliding back. The door opened on a creak and Zora’s face peeped out at him. Before he could mutter his surprise, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him inside.
He lifted his fist again to hammer on the door but stopped in midgesture as he heard the bolt sliding back. The door opened on a creak and Zora’s face peeped out at him. Before he could mutter his surprise, she grabbed his sleeve and pulled him inside.
She shut the door as quietly as she could and slid the bolt back into place.
“Your fire magic,” he whispered.
Her smile was a silver gleam. “No magic but the wiles of the Rom.”
They stood in the main taproom, and the room was just as he had seen it during his time as the
geminus
. But the settles were empty, and no one sat at the tables over pots of ale. The fire had gone cold and dead. A thick smell of people, smoke, and spilled ale filled the dark room. Stronger than this, though, the
geminus
’s black energy choked the space, choked him.
geminus
. But the settles were empty, and no one sat at the tables over pots of ale. The fire had gone cold and dead. A thick smell of people, smoke, and spilled ale filled the dark room. Stronger than this, though, the
geminus
’s black energy choked the space, choked him.
“It was here, then,” she said softly.
“I ...
it
... stood there.” He pointed to a spot in the room. “And made a bet with a fellow no more than a boy. He didn’t know what we gambled for. I took a token from him—the pledge of the boy’s soul.”
it
... stood there.” He pointed to a spot in the room. “And made a bet with a fellow no more than a boy. He didn’t know what we gambled for. I took a token from him—the pledge of the boy’s soul.”
“And after?”
But he was already walking. Vaguely, he knew he ought to have removed his boots so he’d make less noise upon the floor, yet he could not wait any longer. He paced through the taproom and entered a cramped corridor. Just as he had seen, a few doors lined the passageway, and on the wall hung the cracked print of Christ Church Cathedral.
It’s here. I will be whole and free soon.
It’s here. I will be whole and free soon.
He turned to face the door leading to the vault. Zora appeared beside him. With his hand upon the doorknob, he took a deep, steadying breath. Opened the door.
And stepped into a tiny storeroom.
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