Ward Against Darkness (Chronicles of a Reluctant Necromancer) (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

When Celia returned with Allette, Val was outside the open door looking sullen, and Ward was inside the temple examining the carvings on the altar looking exhausted. Something had happened between them. She was dying to ask what, but given their expressions and the fact that everyone had to play nice to get through the next hour, silence was more prudent. After the theft, whatever lay between them wouldn’t matter.

The only person who seemed marginally happy was Allette, whom Celia had left in the hall with Val while she entered the temple. When she closed the door behind her, Ward glanced up. The circles under his eyes were as dark as they’d been when they’d first entered the house. Perhaps even darker. He was alive and breathing, but the poison had taken its toll.

That thing in her chest contracted, and she ground her teeth against the sensation. She would see action soon. They both would. “You need to convince Allette we still plan to steal the spell books.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We’re not having this conversation. You’re a disaster as a thief. I won’t allow you to screw up a perfectly simple job by letting you do it by yourself.” She was angry at herself and fate and everyone—everyone except Ward—but she was damned if she’d show him how much she cared about him. It was bad enough he’d almost seen her cry. “You can’t trust Allette.”

“I’m well aware of that.” He rubbed his face with his hands, making him look even more tired.

“You must say whatever you think she needs to hear to trust you.”

“That’s the assassin’s way?” he asked.

“That’s the survivor’s way.”

His expression hardened. It hurt to see him turn cold like that.

“I have one more thing I need to take care of to ensure our escape. I’ll tell her to wait for you to call her in, so you have time to figure out what you’re going to say. Be ready when I return.” She threw the door open and stepped into the dark hall, unable to keep looking at him. If she did, she’d break down.

Allette pulled away from the wall.

It was Ward’s spell on Celia…it wasn’t Ward’s spell…it was her new realization about life. It was—something she’d deal with later. “Give him a moment,” she said to Allette, closing the door before the vesperitti could enter.

Allette ran a hand over the closed door. She’d probably only wait until Celia was out of sight, but hopefully long enough for Ward to decide how to manipulate her.

Celia turned to Val. “Come on. This shouldn’t take long.”

She headed down the hall, trusting Val to follow her.

“So you want me to enthrall someone?” Val asked.

She briefly explained the situation. “But only one of them.”

“Except you just said there are two.”

“There are.”

Val grabbed her arm. “What are you planning?”

“There’s a bounty on Ward and me. I need to take care of that. Can I count on you?”

“A bounty? What kind of trouble did you two get into?”

“It’s complicated.”

He snorted. “I believe you’ve already said that.”

“And yet you don’t seem to believe me.”

“I might be changing my mind on that.”

“Good. Things will happen fast. I need you to keep up.” She cracked open the door to the outside and checked for trouble. Darkness still blanketed the meadow, but dawn was only an hour away. Crickets chirped and a nightingale sang, indicating no one was around. Good. “Ready?”

“You seem awfully familiar with this kind of thing. Who in the Dark Son’s name are you?”

She’d forgotten Val had no idea she was really an assassin, but there wasn’t time to explain. The next few minutes would be a shock. She just hoped he held it together as well as Ward had when he learned the truth.

Celia slipped outside. This door faced the river and the hill where she’d last seen the bounty hunters. Hopefully, they were still there.

Something moved at the edge of her vision. Close. Far too close.

She jerked to the side, shoving Val back. A sword swung past her, and one of the two bounty hunters stepped from the darkness.

He sneered and whirled his sword in a showy pattern. “Where’s the necromancer?”

“Where’s your partner?” Celia asked.

The other man, half a head shorter with shoulder-length matted hair, emerged from the shadows to stand beside the first. “Bakmeire told us to be careful of you.”

Val tensed behind her. As a noble, he had a basic understanding of swordplay, but bounty hunters fought dirty with poisoned blades and nasty tricks. And, really, this fight needed to be over before it began, to avoid unnecessary attention.

“Surely, two big men can handle me. I’m just a girl in a dress.”

“But
he
isn’t.” The first hunter pointed his sword at Val.

Boy, these guys were green. Too bad that one wasn’t going to live long enough to learn a lesson. Celia leapt inside his guard, yanked her dagger from her bodice, and plunged it into his neck.

He staggered back, dropped his blade, and clutched at the dagger.

The other man growled and drew his sword. She left the dagger in the first man’s throat—it wouldn’t do to get blood sprayed all over her dress—seized the other hunter’s sword hand, and twisted.

The sword fell from his numb fingers. She wrenched him around and shoved his face into the dirt. With a jerk, she locked his shoulder back and rammed her knee against his armpit to keep him secure.

He writhed in her grasp. She wrenched back on his arm, drawing a whimper.

“Great Goddess!” Even in the pre-dawn darkness she could see the whites of Val’s eyes. His gaze leapt to the first man, dead with the dagger in his throat, to her and the second man.

“Work your magic,” she said, her voice soft.

“But you just— And so fast—”

“Yes I did.”

“You don’t get that kind of skill when you become a vesperitti.”

“No, you don’t. I suggest years of practice.”

That only made his eyes grow wider. “Who in the name of the Dark Son are you?”

“No one anymore.” The words stung, but they were true. She was no longer the daughter of Lord Carlyle, no longer the Dominus’s daughter, and no longer an assassin—even if the moves were still instinct. “Now, please. Convince this lucky bounty hunter he killed Ward and me and he’s returning home to collect his money.”

Val swallowed and didn’t move.

“We don’t have a lot of time. I’d rather not leave Ward with Allette any longer than necessary.”

“Of course. Right.” He didn’t sound certain, but he knelt and grabbed the bounty hunter’s head, forcing him to make eye contact. “You’ve fulfilled the bounty.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve—”

“You’ve fulfilled the bounty.”

The man shuddered beneath her but didn’t fight her hold on him. “Yes, I’ve killed her.”

“And Ward,” Celia said.

Val leaned closer, his forehead inches from the bounty hunter’s. “You’ve killed both of them.”

“Yes. Both.” The bounty hunter stiffened. For a heartbeat, Celia feared he’d fight, but his eyes rolled back, and he went limp.

“Is it done?” She didn’t want to let him go until she was certain.

Val leaned back. “I think so.”

“You think so?” Not what she wanted to hear.

“He might have doubts in a couple of months, but the compulsion should hold for that long. When he wakes up, he should head off to collect the bounty.” Val didn’t sound happy, and his gaze kept jumping back to the dead bounty hunter beside them.

“Good enough.” She released the dazed man, grabbed her dagger from the dead hunter’s throat, and cleaned it on the corpse. Then she cut off a lock of her hair and pressed it into the dazed hunter’s hands.

Finally, something had gone right. It even felt good to do what was familiar—so long as she didn’t think too much about Ward’s disapproval when he discovered she’d killed someone else. In the very least, something had been in her control, and she’d taken care of it. No more feeling helpless.

They dragged the bounty hunters away from the house, left them by the river, and headed back. The long grass undulated around them, sweeping up the rise to Macerio’s mansion. Only a few lights shimmered in the windows and nothing about the waystation indicated what kind of evil lurked within.

They approached the servants’ door, and Lyla eased around the corner of the building and out of the shadows.

“Well, well, well,” she said. “Looks like someone’s been doing something they weren’t supposed to.”

Ward stared at the door. Celia had said Allette was on the other side, and he needed to ensure she still planned to steal the grimoires. He didn’t know how to manipulate anyone. Except he’d been lying for days about who he was, and Allette had asked for help. A part of him, the foolish, insane part, didn’t want to refuse her.

The same thing had gotten him into trouble with Celia. Except she’d called on his Physician’s Oath, and he couldn’t refuse her without incurring the curse of an Oath-breaker. Allette hadn’t called on his Oath, she didn’t know he’d taken it, but he still wanted—with every fiber of his being—to ease her suffering, even if he had to do that as a de’Ath and not a physician. To do that, he needed to get those grimoires.

He opened the door. Allette stood on the other side, her hand raised to knock.

“We have trouble,” she said. “Macerio has ordered me to fetch you.”

“But Celia said you were waiting in the hall. How—?”

“Macerio can will his thoughts into my head.”

“Because of the soul chain?”

“Yes. Now grab a candle.” She pointed to the one on the altar.

Ward grabbed it and rushed back to her. “Can you will your thoughts back? Has he found out about our plans?” Did he have Celia?

“I can’t will my thoughts back, and I don’t think he knows. But we have to hurry. He’s mad.” She rushed him down a rough-hewn passage, up a set of stairs, and through the narrow, twisting servants’ halls.

Ward’s unease grew. Macerio had to know something was up, and Ward had no idea how to salvage the situation.

Allette opened a door to the outside. A cool breeze washed over him, blowing out the candle and drawing a shiver. Before them, the meadow rolled to a hill guarded by an enormous willow, and beside it stood a group of people. By the height of the one on the left, it had to be Val. Which meant Celia was likely there as well.

Allette grabbed Ward’s wrists, stopping him from running up the hill toward her. “She’s your pet. Act like it. If Macerio thinks you’re weak, all our souls are lost.”

She was right. Show strength, not the fear pounding through him. “All right.” He squared his shoulders and strode up the hill to meet Macerio.

The Innecroestri stood with his arm wrapped across the shoulders of a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old girl. Nothing about her indicated she feared being so close to Macerio—in fact, she looked dazed, as if she didn’t know where she was. Celia and Val faced them. Celia only revealed a hint of ice in her eyes, but Val’s rage was clear in his clenched hands and taut body.

Behind Macerio, Lyla stood with her arms crossed, wearing a smug smile. “Finally, we’re all here.”

Macerio shot her a dark look, and she snapped her mouth shut, her smile vanishing. “Remember when I talked about obedience earlier tonight?”

Ward forced himself to nod, his mind whirling.

“I can’t hear you,” Macerio said.

“Yes, I remember.”

“The relationship between master and pet is a complicated one.” Macerio turned to Val. “Isn’t that right, Val?”

Val unclenched his hands. “I thought you wanted Quirin’s troubles taken care of.”

Ward fought the urge to glance at Celia. She’d left to take care of business. It had to be the bounty hunters. But she could have done that by herself; she didn’t need Val’s help, which meant she’d wanted him around.

“I did, but you shouldn’t be making those decisions by yourself. And I’m sure you and the lady Celia came to the decision yourselves. Quirin couldn’t have been foolish enough to do something behind my back.”

Ward swallowed. Any answer was a bad one.

Celia shifted forward. “I wanted Quirin to start his apprenticeship free of the problems of our old lives.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” Macerio said, disgust dripping from his voice.

Celia pursed her lips.

“I obviously haven’t been paying attention to my youngest pet.” Macerio pulled the girl closer to his side, his gaze locked on Val. “It must be difficult spending day after day without Brina recognizing you, but it’s for the best.”

“Please,” Val said, “just let her go.”

“I can’t do that, but I suppose I can give you a moment together.” Macerio brushed a hand from the girl’s temple to the back of her head.

She gasped and blinked. Confusion clouded her expression for a heartbeat as her gaze darted over everyone before stopping on Val and brightening into a smile. “Val.”

The tension sagged out of Val’s posture. He rushed to her and wrapped her in an embrace.

“This isn’t home. I don’t remember— Where are we?”

Val eased back, holding her shoulders and staring at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “We’re at a friend’s estate.”

“The Carlyle estate?” Brina leaned close. “Did you finally ask her father?”

Val glanced at Celia with a sad smile. “No, we’re—”

“You must have a lot of questions,” Macerio said. “But your brother doesn’t have the time to answer them.”

“What time?” Brina shrugged to ease herself from Val’s grip, but he kept clutching her shoulders. “Val?”

He trembled.

Brina twisted, but Val held tight. “Val, you’re hurting me.”

Macerio raised his hand and slowly made a fist. “This is a lesson you need to learn. Pets need to learn their place.”

Val’s hand jerked from Brina’s shoulder and clamped around her throat.

“Val.” She grabbed his hand.

“No, please.” The muscles in Val’s arms flexed.

“Remember this, Quirin.”

Ward stared in horror. He’d never be able to forget it—Val wasn’t in control of his body, Macerio was.

“You don’t need to do this,” Val said.

“But I do.” Macerio flicked his finger again.

Val’s hand lurched up, raising Brina off the ground. She whimpered, grasping at his fingers, kicking and writhing, but Val held tight.