Of the Abyss (8 page)

“I thought you couldn't hurt me,” Hansa managed to choke out.

“ ‘Hurt' is a relative term.” Umber pulled away with a grin whose joviality was disturbing in context. “I'm off to meddle with the legal system. Hansa, I'm sure your fiancée will come running up, eyes swimming with her apologies. Give her a kiss for me.”

At that, he walked away, pausing only to close the cell door behind himself again with the words, “We wouldn't want anyone to be suspicious.” How he had opened it in the first place was a mystery.

Hansa collapsed to the ground, cutting the back of his shoulder on the same burr he had used to slice open his thumb earlier. “Damn it,” he cursed, pressing a hand to the new wound. The others, he realized only then, had both closed. The one on his thumb was gone completely, and the hand-­long slice across his stomach had faded to a shiny scar.

 

CHAPTER 11

“M
ancer?”

Xaz grumbled, and tried to turn about in her sleep.

“Wake up, Mancer.”

“Five more minutes.” Pulling the edge of her cloak more tightly around her, she rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the fluffy silk and fur beneath.

Someone crawled onto her back. She was almost awake enough to protest when he nipped her on the fleshy bend between her neck and shoulder, hard enough that she yelped and jerked up—­slamming Alizarin into the ceiling of the coffin. He hung on, so when she fell back to the coffin's floor, he collapsed on top of her.

“Awake now?” he asked.

“Yes, I—­stop that.” That last, as he started to lick the side of her neck, lapping away blood. The bite hadn't been hard, but an Abyssi's teeth were sharp like daggers, and cut through flesh easily. “Get off me.”

Instead, he started to purr, the deep rumbling making Xaz's whole rib cage and spine vibrate.

“You taste uncomfortable, and a little angry,” Alizarin pronounced. “But you also taste of power. A little dusty, cold like the Numini, but still power.”

“Okay. I'm awake,” she snapped. “What did you want?”

“I don't remember,” he said.

She drew a deep breath, resisting the urge to cuss, before she asked, “Did it have to do, just
maybe
, with our leaving this Abyss-­spawned
coffin
?”

“Maybe it did.”

She waited patiently, but no more information was forthcoming. “Get off my back,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “You're making me nervous.”

“Am I?” He nuzzled at the back of her neck, and then leaned his cheek against hers. “You and I are going to have to deal with each other, Numenmancer. It would be best if we learned to get along. Or something like that.”

“It would help if you would get off me,” she answered, “and then promise not to bite me again.”

He did roll to the side enough to let her shift onto hers, but he chuckled as he did so. “Mancer, Mancer, you forget who you're talking to. Letting a little blood occasionally shouldn't upset you.”

“Well, it
does
.” She raised a hand to where he had bitten her, now that she could. The wound was gone, though there was a warm wetness, almost like her own sweat, from his saliva. “And I have no desire to do it again.”

“Pity.” He wrapped his tail around her waist, holding her close. “Because I
do
. And you're going to have to deal with the fact that you are not dealing with one of the Numini. Hold on now.”

“Hold—­what?”

She clung tightly to his shoulders as she felt the world dissolve and spin. Suddenly she was upright, aboveground, standing—­clinging to him—­and
freezing,
wondering why she had wanted to come back up to the surface.

She pulled back, which made her immediately realize that she was still wearing nothing but her nightgown; she had lost her robe in her struggle with the guards, and the following flight. The cotton was thick and warm for its intended purpose, but it did not provide nearly enough protection for what seemed to be midafternoon in the city of Mars.

“Where are we?” she asked, through chattering teeth, though a moment later she recognized the salt tang in the air. “Are we at the waterfront?”

“Not far from it,” Alizarin said, “but ­people do not go to this section much since the Abyssumancer was discovered here. They do not like to walk where demons have been called.”

“I c-­can't imagine,” she drawled, through chattering teeth. “I need to g-­get ins-­side, and warm up. Need cl-­clo-­clothes,” she added. She couldn't walk into any human establishment looking like this.

“This way,” he said.

He put an arm around her waist, and despite her intellectual desire to pull away, she could feel his heat radiating through her nightgown and into her, and she was glad for it. As he had said, the Numini were cold creatures. They didn't produce warmth. Abyssi were creatures of fire.

“We can't let ­people see us,” she protested, as he led them into an alleyway that would cut into one of the busier streets.

“It will be fine,” he assured her. “No one in there has the sight, and I can hide us from anyone else.”

Nevertheless, she cringed as he guided them both past a pair of men speaking in furtive tones at the alley's mouth. Xaz brushed against one of them accidentally, but he did nothing more than scratch at his arm after she passed.

Alizarin pushed open the door of one of the most popular taverns on the wharf, and she tentatively followed. If any of the sailors here
did
notice a scantily-­clad woman walking into this kind of place, she was going to be in trouble. Or, they were going to be in trouble, since Alizarin was likely to kill them all.

No one even glanced their way.

The demon walked past the innkeeper, who didn't blink as Alizarin put a hand to the door to the back room and pulled it open. Neither did the matron tending the kitchen, as Alizarin and Xaz stepped inside, the Abyssi guiding his mancer to the fire.

“If you wait here, I can find you more suitable clothes,” Alizarin said.

“Don't kill anyone?” she asked, knowing she was powerless to keep him from doing so, if he wanted.

“Then you'll have to wait a little longer. Warm up. Take food if you want it. No one will notice you. I will be back.”

He turned and disappeared into the main tavern hall.

Xaz's willpower lasted perhaps a heartbeat, and that was only because she was still unconvinced that no one would notice her, especially now that Alizarin was gone. Her shivering body and empty stomach swiftly vanquished her fear of being caught, as well as any vestigial desire to obey the law, and she edged past the kitchen matron in order to serve herself a bowl full of the stew being kept warm on the back of the stove.

There was something fundamentally unnerving about being in a room with someone who was absolutely oblivious to her presence. On the other hand, it was far preferable to being in a room with Quin guards who
were
aware.

She snatched a piece of bread before retreating to the fire. She wondered what the matron
did
see. Surely she would have noticed floating food, or if the things Xaz took just disappeared.

Those thoughts didn't last long, as Xaz began to scarf down the food, burning her tongue on the thick venison stew, nearly choking on a piece of bread as she inhaled the nourishment she so desperately needed—­as well as the blessed, blessed
heat.

She had finished the bread, and was down to only an inch left of soup, when a pile of clothing fell with a
fump
to her right. “I had to seduce a barmaid out of it,” Alizarin drawled.

Xaz turned, prepared to say something witty in response, but her mind went blank as for the first time she actually
looked
at the Abyssi she had pulled through a rift and onto this plane. She hadn't been able to see him when they had been in the coffin, and she hadn't been aware of much of anything besides how
cold
she was when they first got to the surface.

She knew Abyssi had fur, fangs, claws, and tails. That was an intellectual kind of knowledge. What she had not known was that they looked like
this.

He stood just over six feet, and was mostly shaped like a man. His chest had muscles as well-­defined as a lifelong sailor's, which could be seen despite the soft pelt of fur that covered him everywhere she could see. The fur itself was shiny, mottled blue and green, like the plumage of exotic birds. It was thick and luxurious like a short-­haired cat's fur along most of his body, but shortened until it was the texture of moleskin on his palms. She had actually stood and reached out a hand, drawn to touch it and learn if it was really as soft as it looked, before she realized what she was doing.

His face looked almost like a man's, though it was androgynous, slender, with high cheekbones and full lips. His almond-­shaped eyes were surrounded by lashes that were actually white, making the iridescent orbs stand out that much more. Atop his head, the fur changed to hair, which was inky black with highlights the same colors as his fur; it tumbled to his shoulders in a waved mass.

His tail twitched, wrapping his body, drawing her attention downward, at which point she found herself grateful that he, too, had found at least
some
clothes. He was wearing oiled black suede breeches, of the style that was common among men who worked down on the docks, though he had slit the back a bit in order to accommodate his lashing tail. He had not chosen to add shoes to the outfit; his feet were also covered in only short, fine fur, and he stood balanced on the balls, catlike, apparently comfortable that way.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

It wasn't until then that she realized she had been standing, staring, one hand half lifted. She shook herself and took a step back, trying to resist the continued instinct to touch him, to lean against him and rub herself along that so-­soft looking fur.

No,
she chastised herself. This attraction was a lie crafted by Abyssal power. She didn't have to give in to it. Instead she turned away, picking up the clothing he had brought.

“You weren't joking about seducing a barmaid, were you?” she asked, looking at the clothes. They were not badly made, but they were rough, and Xaz was certain the bodice had been designed for a woman with more curves than she had, and more of a desire to show them off. On the other hand, they were clean, and included an outdoor underskirt, and a heavy gray woolen cloak with a border of black fur. Last in the bundle were a pair of soft leather boots, also lined in fur. “Thank you,” she added. The dress was more risqué than she normally chose, but overall the clothing was practical, and fit better than she would have imagined. He must have made an effort to find someone the right size.

He seemed unconcerned about her gratitude. It was also quickly evident that he did not intend to look away to give her privacy to dress. She suspected that asking him to do so would only invite one of his dismissive remarks, so she turned her back on him instead and tried to pretend he wasn't present. After she dressed, she looked back to see that he had wandered over to the counter of food, and was looking at it skeptically. He picked up a cheese pastry, sniffed it, and then threw it at the cook. He hit her on the top of her head, making her start, and wave at the air beside her head as if to discourage an annoying fly.

Xaz couldn't help snickering, which made Alizarin smile. “There may be hope for you yet, Mancer.” He brushed flaky bits of pastry from the tips of his fingers. “So. What now? Do you run and hide? Smite those who have wronged you? Clear your name? Or just stretch your metaphysical legs, and see what you can do with them? Because, in case you are not aware, you currently have access to more power than you have ever had in your life. There's no knowing yet exactly what you're capable of—­a Numenmancer tied to the Abyss. But I, at least, look forward to finding out.”

Having for the moment nowhere else to go, Xaz sat in front of the fire, enjoying its warmth but not her own thoughts. Alizarin lounged next to her, his body bending in a way that suggested bones and joints not quite identical to a human's.

“I don't know,” Xaz admitted. “I'm being hunted. I cannot return to my own home.” For the moment, the demon was keeping her from being noticed, but his kind was not known for consistency. As soon as something distracted him, she would need to fend for herself. “We killed—­I don't know how many guards we killed. They will not stop searching for me. I will have to find a way to change my appearance. Flee to the countryside. I—­” She brushed his tail away as it wrapped around her, and tickled her nose. “Stop that.”

“You're being dull,” he remarked.

“I'm answering you.”

“The soldiers have already found their prey,” he reported. “The spawn saw to that. He fed them an Abyssumancer to appease their bloodlust.”

“What?” Xaz had heard of spawn before, but had never met one, and certainly never earned one's friendship or loyalty. “Why would one of them help me?”

“Not you,” the Abyssi answered, rolling onto his back and stretching like a dog who wants its belly rubbed. “The guard who led the hunt for you. The one who poisoned you. He summoned the spawn and had a second boon of him. The spawn's reply did not clear your name completely, but many believe the words against you and the Numenmancer's tools found in your home were an Abyssumancer's trick, to lure the guards close and make sure they prepared to face the wrong power.”

“They believe that?” she asked, incredulous. How would an Abyssumancer have acquired such belongings as they would have found in her home?

“It is easier to believe in an Abyssumancer's plot,” Alizarin replied, his grin revealing sharp teeth, “than to believe a Numenmancer breached the Abyss, and a loyal guard meddled with blood-­magic. That would be unthinkable.”

He sprang to his feet in a fluid movement that seemed to reveal shadow and flame beneath his otherwise beautiful, almost disarming, form. Xaz flinched back instinctively, and in the next moment he was gone. As she pushed herself up and looked around, it seemed that the cook turned at the sound; Xaz hurriedly sought the door, and as she pushed through it, she heard the cook call, “Hello?”

Likewise, back in the main room, she was once again visible. One man swatted her on the backside and called for a meal, mistaking her for a woman working in the tavern, but she kept moving until she was back outside.

Where did you go, you foul little blue beast?
she wondered.

No matter what assurances he had given her, she knew she needed to get away from the docks. She was too well-­known there, and if Cinnabar was the one who had reported her, then the gossip that she was a mancer had surely made it through the entire Order of A'hknet by now.