The Labyrinth of the Dead (19 page)

"No, I’m afraid not. I am not coming
out until I have done a bit of research. I can’t set foot over this threshold
like you can. The living world is a bit precarious for a soul that has no body.
Just ask Imogen." He craned his neck forward and made as if to peer out onto
the balcony. "Imogen? Oh, where has she gotten to? She was here just a moment
ago! Ah, well. Say, sister-sweet, would you care to join me in the library? I
suppose not. You’re a bit…
tied up
I see." He laughed at his own joke and
shook his head at her once more. "Oh, Portia, my dearest love, what would I do
without you? I know we’ll meet again soon. In fact, I have no doubt. But for
now, sweet sister, I must bid you farewell.
Farewell
." He inclined his
head and disappeared into the stairwell, his unhappy specters trailing in his
wake.

"No! Stop!" She managed to wriggle her
left arm free and snatched at the air between them, losing her grip on the axe.
It fell to the floor of the balcony only inches from her hand, but where she
could not reach it. "You don’t know what you’re doing," she screamed up to the
airships. "I am one of
you
! He’s the threat! Let me go!"

Portia hesitated to unleash her power
upon them, the innocent humans. They hauled her up like a fish-laden catch,
upending her in the process. Portia watched the tower fall away as they dragged
her into the dirigible’s cabin, listening to them pray and curse in equal
measure. Her wings, she realized, were still there. And so were her fathomless
golden eyes.

The airship crew stumbled back away
from each other at the sight of her. They poked and prodded and swore. Portia
kindled her fire to give them a scare, nothing more, but an icy gas clamped
down upon her, rendering her numb and breathless. She could not summon the
slightest strength to fight them off.

Sighing, she let them bind her ankles
and wrists before they cut her free of the nets. Their terrified faces
surrounded her, and she could see their fears hovering over their shoulders
like birds of prey. Their words fell one over the others’, some praying to her,
some praying because of her.

"Blessed be God in Heaven," one man
said, striking his fist to his chest. "A real bloody
angel
." His face,
flushed with emotion, was the last thing Portia saw before he dropped a burlap
coffee sack over her head. "We’ll be living high on the hog when the circus
finds out what we’ve got!"

* * * *

Not so far away from the rugged seashore that had
sprouted a lone tower like a strange lighthouse made of opal was a field on the
outskirts of Penemue.

In that field sat a ramshackle one-room
cottage, the occupants of which had held a long vigil over the body of Imogen,
lying within the white circle painted on the floor. They watched the door at
the far end of the circle and did not speak above a whisper, always listening
for a sign that Portia had been successful and returned home to the realm of
the living. Captain Cadmus Gyony left his post only to sleep for three hours
each night. Lady Claire Aldias simply napped at her desk. The others came and
went like clockwork, taking shift after shift for days on end.

They were understandably surprised when
Imogen suddenly opened her strangely dark eyes with a loud gasp and sat up, her
pulse throbbing in her throat for the first time in many long years.

Acknowledgments

AS ALWAYS, this book was not born of stardust in a vacuum. I’d like to thank Crema Coffee in Nashville for their patience and for that
last stool at the window where my shapely behind lives during deadline season.
They keep me calm, caffeinated and inspired.

Also, my fabulous beta team: Ferrett,
Julia, Elizalis, Kat, Catt, David, and Ailsa. And of
course, Jason Sizemore, who despite a few early, rocky reviews of book one,
kept the faith and kept me sane going into book two. And I can’t forget my
amazing editrix, Deb Taber, slayer of passive voice
with the magical ability to find the gold under any amount of dross.

I’d like to thank Melissa Gay, a queen among amazing artists, for
her tireless and heartfelt devotion to the series, producing such perfect
images that I swear she picked them straight out of my brain!

I appreciate all the conventions that allow me to come and talk
about my work, the retweeters and Facebook likers, and all of you out there that buy books, read
them, and then tell all your friends. I’d be nothing without y’all!

And last but not least, I’d like to thank the illustrious and
talented Cherie Priest for her support of the series, including her blurb on
the cover of this book. She has a tight schedule and I am so pleased that she
was able to find some time to read through my work, and extra happy that she
loved it!

Bios

SARA M. HARVEY made her fiction debut in 2006
with the romantic urban fantasy
A Year and a Day
. In 2009, her dark
fantasy,
The Convent of the Pure
, was published—the first in a novella
trilogy set in a Steampunk universe.

Sara is also a costumer and works as an assistant costume
designer, an instructor in costume and fashion design, as well as a contributor
to costume history textbooks. She lives in Nashville, TN with her husband and
fellow author, Matt, and their dogs, Guinevere and Eowyn.

More information on Sara and her work can be found on her webpage, www.saramharvey.com.

* * * *

AS A longtime avid fan of the
speculative fiction genre, MELISSA GAY is at her most relentlessly perky when illustrating science fiction, fantasy, horror,
or role-playing games. Her work has been featured on numerous covers and in the
interiors of works in these and other genres, including scientific botanical
illustration. Her passion is creating poetry in sweeping lines, bold shadows,
and intriguing details. She looks to the works of illustrators, painters, and
comic book artists such as Arthur Rackham, Alphonse Mucha, Don Maitz, Bernie Wrightson,
and Bryan Hitch for inspiration and education. She will noodle with a finished
painting until someone forcibly takes it away from her. ("I’ve just got to move
this one line over five microns, then I'll put the brush down, really! Hey, gimme that back!") She received a B.A. in painting from the
University of the South at Sewanee, Tennessee, and currently lives in Nashville with her husband and son.

Visit Melissa at her website: www.melissagay.com.