Solatium (Emanations, an urban fantasy series Book 2) (16 page)

“It exploded?”

“Yeah. Flattened everything for a quarter mile. Thank god the estate’s barrier held and that we were behind it. We owe Gwen our lives — all of us. Innin’s people too. If she hadn’t ordered us through … well, none of us could’ve made a personal barrier that’d stand up to something like that.”

I lay there, shocked speechless. I thought back to the struggle to hold the barrier, how the youngling pulled and Williams pulled back. What had Williams been pulling on, exactly? I felt like I’d understood it at the time, but now I couldn’t remember.

“Williams should’ve just let it go,” I said. “It would’ve dissipated. Letting it explode … that’s awful.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “It’s hard to know when to let a working go, when you’re in the thick of things. If we could pinpoint the right moment, we’d never have them get busted.”

Kara didn’t have a problem with Williams. They were both stationed in Minneapolis, so they worked together quite a bit. Maybe it was stretching it to say they were friends, but they were on good terms, and she seemed to respect him. I could only assume she didn’t truly know what he did for Cordus and how much he enjoyed doing it.

“So why didn’t the explosion kill me? I was right there.”

“Williams got a protective barrier up in time. Must’ve been a rough ride, though. Based on where we found you, you guys must’ve bounced up the outside of the estate barrier and then rolled back down it at a different angle.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah. Pretty bad head injury, but he’ll be fine.” She paused. “I really wish you hadn’t had to go through that. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

I hadn’t been thinking of that, but as soon as I did, I got angry. I’d never experienced such pain before. The memory of it brought a wave of nausea. Why the hell hadn’t Williams let Kara sedate me? It was just cruel. The idea that I had to be alert to control my gift was absurd — nothing but a lame excuse. I had no control over it in any state.

I remembered Graham calling Williams a sadist. Truer words were never spoken.

Kara was watching me and looking upset, so I tried to pack away my anger. There was nothing I could do with it right now, and I sure didn’t want her to feel guilty. It wasn’t her fault.

“It’s okay.”

It came out funny, since it really wasn’t okay, and I can’t lie worth a darn.

We sat there awkwardly for a few moments.

I cleared my throat. “So, Lord Cordus got back in the nick of time?”

“Yep. I guess he got to the estate just before the explosion. Rushed out there on horseback.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Rode up on a fucking white stallion.”

The only white horse in the estate’s stables was a gelding, but I didn’t quibble.

“Zion and Liz had a line on you guys, but we couldn’t get to you. There was just so much debris in the way. So the bossman gallops up, right? He’s all like, ‘Where is Miss Ryder!?’ and Zion points the way. So he hauls me up on the horse’s ass and takes off, just like in some old movie. The horse reared and everything. So we go charging over to you, and the debris just disappears in front of us the whole way.”

“Wow.”

“Yep. Beats me what kind of working that was. The ground in front of us just turned into this nice green lawn.”

“Huh.”

“So we find you, right? Williams is out, but you’re half-conscious. That Thirsting Ground thing’s right there — like, right next to you. It’s about to eat you. So Lord Cordus jumps off the horse and does battle with it.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “Did you just say ‘does battle’?”

“Honey, there’s no other word for it. It flew right at him, and he just stared at it and held it off. It was a duel. That lasted for like a minute. Then he started trying to put barriers around it, but it kept breaking out.”

“Wait, it got away?”

“No, he got it in the end. Just seemed to take him a while to find the right thing to hold it.”

Something knotted up hard and tight inside of me began to relax a little.

“Where is it now?”

“Beats me. On the estate somewhere is my guess. I sure as hell hope he can hold it.”

“Me too. So he didn’t put it through the carven strait?”

She shook her head. “Williams didn’t have it on him. We haven’t been able to find it. Might’ve been destroyed in the explosion.”

“Wow.”

If that was true, Graham was trapped in that isolate forever. But he was also safe from Cordus.

“You know,” Kara said, “if the fragment wanted to get into the estate, what better way than to let itself get caught and brought inside?”

“Playing a trick like that would take some serious brain power. Sturluson said it had no mind, couldn’t learn.”

“Yeah.” Kara shivered. “Let’s hope she was right. Anyway,” she said, picking up the thread of the story, “once the fragment was squared away, we did a little healing to stabilize you guys and brought you in. You were pretty out of it — kept saying you were dreaming and talking to some guy.” She laughed. “Sounded sort of sexy, actually.”

“Um … I don’t remember any of that. Must’ve been the head injury.”

“Probably. Lots of people do a sort of broken-record thing after a concussion. Get stuck on one thing and just repeat it, even if it doesn’t make much sense.”

I nodded and hoped Kara was too preoccupied to notice how red I’d turned.

I examined my two pairs of tan slacks, trying to remember which was more flattering. I held them up in front of the mirror. Well, I wasn’t about to go through my closet trying stuff on. I put the boot-legged ones back in the closet. The straights were fine.

But which shoes? I didn’t have that many pairs, and I had a feeling none would be quite right. I put that issue off and started looking through my tops. The navy, cap-sleeved blouse was nice. But tan and navy … that was so boring. I pulled out a maroon knit. It was perfect for my mother’s silver figaro necklace, which looked nice with my hair. And speaking of my hair —

What am I doing?

I was never like this. To me, clothes were what you did so people didn’t call the cops because you were naked.

I stared into the mirror and forced myself to admit I was acting this way because Cordus was the person I was about to see.

He’s not your knight in shining armor or your cowboy in a white hat
, I reminded myself,
and he’s certainly not your boyfriend
.

He was a rapist, a slaver, and a master of hired killers. There was nothing admirable about him.

Yeah, and he’s also the guy you’ve been having dreamland sexy-time with for months.

And it wasn’t all dreams. Mostly, but not all.

I remembered the last time I’d seen him in the flesh — standing too close, his lips tracing the line of my jaw, his hand brushing against my breast. Desire flared deep in my body, and I shivered.

Jesus
. I really needed to get my head on straight. Cordus wasn’t some romance figure who was going to turn out to be a good guy underneath a crusty exterior. If I didn’t remember that, I was going to be in a world of hurt.

Besides, what I really needed to do with Cordus was share information. I needed to tell him I’d found a living link to the lost art of putting workings into objects. If the Thirsting Ground had absorbed some of the capacity of that man long ago, maybe it could do the same thing. Who knows — maybe Limu had learned the skill from Sturluson. Even if there was no connection, who knows what else Sturluson could tell us. Clearly, she was old. Maybe she knew something that would help us find Limu’s weapon — or at least figure out what it was.

I finished dressing without looking in the mirror.

I wish I could say I felt cool and collected by the time I got to Cordus’s office. Unfortunately, my heart was pounding, and I felt like I couldn’t quite fill my lungs. I stood there for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, and then knocked.

I heard him say “enter” through the thick wood and opened the door.

The familiar room unfolded before me: dark wood, old books, fine carpets, and Cordus himself, sitting at his massive desk, a phone to his ear. It all looked just the same, like the intervening months hadn’t happened.

He slid a thumb over the phone’s mic. “Miss Ryder. Come in.”

I stepped in and closed the door behind me. Light streamed through the windows behind the sitting area at the far end of the room. A single small brass lamp cast a pool of light on the papers spread across the desk. Otherwise, the space was dark, cavelike.

Cordus gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk. He smiled at me slightly as I sat, his eyes lingering on me for a moment. Then he said, “If you will excuse me,” and stood, walking over toward the windows to finish his call.

I tried not to watch him as he paced slowly back and forth, but I couldn’t help myself. His face was all contours and angles, which made the sensual mouth all the more striking. The light fell across his features, rendering them black and white. He tipped his head, listening silently, and his glossy black hair fell forward toward his face in distinct locks. One of them brushed his slightly aquiline nose. His body looked lean but strong. Every movement was balanced and graceful, yet unstudied.

He was, in a word, perfect.

He must have made this form
, I reminded myself.
It’s “perfect” because he’s been tweaking it for more than a thousand years. He’s sex on a stick because it serves his purposes.

My brain nodded soberly. The rest of my body rolled its eyes and turned up the music.

“I understand the situation,” he said. “Nevertheless, you are needed here. Now.”

I found myself standing and stopped, confused and embarrassed.

Then I got it. There’d been compulsion in those words. I’d caught the edge of it.

Whoever was on the other end of the line was probably high-tailing it to the nearest airport at that very moment.

He closed the phone and looked up at me, his face gentle. Then he held out a hand.

It wasn’t a “please be seated” kind of gesture. It was a “come take my hand” one.

I felt myself flush.

Friggin’ pale skin.
Honest to god, I was the world champion of turning tomato-red.

I walked over, focusing on not falling down, and slid my hand into his.

He tugged gently on me, guiding me to one of the two armchairs. He sat down in the other. He didn’t let go of my hand for several long beats. The chairs seemed a lot closer together than they used to be. He was right there. Like,
right there
. I could hear him breathing.

“Please forgive my rudeness. That call was important.”

“Of course. I mean, it’s no problem. I mean, of course they’re important. Your calls, I mean. All your calls. I’m sure.”

Jesus. Be a little more awkward, could you?

He smiled.

He’d never really smiled at me before. Like,
really
smiled. I sat there, speechless, my brain coughing and stuttering like an old lawnmower.

“Miss Ryder,” he said, “you alone within my household may have guessed where I have been these last months.”

That got my brain up and running again.

“Investigating Eye of the Heavens?”

“Exactly.”

What I’d wanted to tell him sprang to mind.

“Hey, we found out the Thirsting Ground was created by someone who could fix workings in objects. Created by accident, I mean.”

The story Helen Sturluson had told tumbled out of me.

Cordus listened, nodding occasionally.

“Yes,” he said when I finished, “I have heard of this discovery. Mr. Yellin found it nearly as exciting as you do.”

“Oh.”

I felt myself turning red again. Of course Yellin would’ve reported all information about the Thirsting Ground. Cordus had to decide what to do with the youngling fragment, after all.

“But the connection you are suggesting — that the Brooklyn fragment represents a living link to the practice of object-fixed workings … that is intriguing.”

His gaze grew distant for a few long moments, then came back to me.

“Are you thinking that the Thirsting Ground may have gained some of its creator’s gift, and that the Brooklyn fragment could thus have helped Lord Limu make the object that was stolen from him?”