Accursed (33 page)

T
HE ALLEY STANK
of urine and human refuse. Tamara had to lend William her handkerchief, which she had perfumed that morning with lavender, so that he could cover his nose and mouth against the stench. “Thank you,” William said, his voice muffled by the press of the cotton.

It was still afternoon, and the loud throng of voices and of cartwheels slapping against cobblestones filled the air around them, giving them a false sense of security. Here in Shadwell, no matter how many people passed by in the surrounding streets, Tamara and William would be considered fair game. Indeed, they were
too
fair, too cleanly scrubbed, and far too well dressed to be inconspicuous here. The accursed men, those twisted, reptilian monsters, would be less out of place in the winding streets and unwashed throngs.

“Come on, William,” Tamara said, taking her brother’s hand. “Let us go to meet Horatio and Colonel Dunstan. We cannot be far from the hospice Horatio described for us.”

That was the magic of translocation. Even if you didn’t know precisely how to reach your destination by foot, the spell would still manage to place you within walking distance. As long as you kept focus on what you desired, magic always knew. Their recent missteps had been prompted by William’s inability to focus, the result of which was that they found themselves in the oddest places.

Fortunately, Tamara had taken the reins this time, and she knew enough about Shadwell to get them to the general neighborhood where they would meet with Nelson. She had spent time down here, among the sick and destitute, delivering food and old clothing. As much as William complained that they had been ignoring the plight of the poor, Tamara doubted he had ever set foot in these slums.

Blessed with good fortune and health, she had felt it her duty to assist others who were not so fortunate, making certain they had the basic necessities. She and several of her friends had donated their time, bringing supplies to the women and children who inhabited these streets. She and Helena, who had a particular fondness for sketching the street urchins, had come here together, accompanied by a few of the other women from the charitable society.

Sadly, recent events had caused her to discontinue her efforts.

“This way,” Tamara said, leading William through the zigzagging alleyways. Turning a corner at a brisk pace, she uttered a small gasp and stopped abruptly in the middle of the narrow alley they had entered. William almost ran into her.

“What is it?” he asked, but he practically swallowed the last word as he saw what it was that had given her such pause.

A large green toad sat on a loose cobblestone, staring up at them. It made a loud croaking deep in its throat, and, as if summoned by the first, three others hopped from the shadows.

The toad
like
creatures—for upon closer inspection they seemed quite a contrast with any toads Tamara had ever seen—had small, glittering red eyes that fixed unblinkingly upon the siblings. Their bulbous, sludge-covered bodies shimmered darkly in the obscured light that streamed through the narrow gap between the roofs of the tenement buildings.

“What in the Lord’s name—” William began, but his words died in his throat when he heard the clicking of something sharp against cobblestone.

“William,” Tamara said, her voice a measured contralto. “Look.”

A pair of long, dark shadows blotted out the light that came from a filthy lane running behind the tenements, intersecting the alley they occupied. The figures moved toward them, and their features became clear.

They were enormous, hunched demons with mouths full of gnashing, dagger teeth and skin like rough leather where it wasn’t covered in filthy, matted fur. Their eyes were yellow, and crusted with a sickly glaze.

“Run, Tam!” William shouted, trying to pull his sister back.

“Are you
insane,
Will? You need my help!”

Tamara stood her ground, her head bent low, her eyes watchful as the creatures picked up speed and loped toward them. Their feet cracked cobblestones as they ran, muscles taut and shifting beneath the sheath of their skin. They opened their jaws in silent howls, further baring the rows of fangs that jutted like daggers in their angular mouths.

“Ignate!”
William thundered, throwing his hands up in front of him.

A ball of red fire formed from the tips of his fingers, and he hurled it at the closest demon. Its eyes widened and it tried to escape the spell, its claws scoring the tenement wall as it lunged aside. But it was too late. The magical fire engulfed it, and it fell to the ground writhing in pain, its howl no longer silent.

Distracted by the stink of burning demon and the unearthly screech of its death throes, Tamara misjudged the speed of the other, and as it leaped at her she had no time to cast her own spell. She dropped to her knees and rolled out of the demon’s path in a desperate move that slammed her shoulder into the tenement wall. She cried out at the impact but instantly climbed back onto her feet, her eyes wet with pain.

Her fingers were twisted into the sigil for a spell, but her attacker had been diverted by the screams of its companion and now rushed at her brother. William screamed as the monster raked its claws across his chest. He staggered backward and fell to the ground.

As the demon crouched to attack once again, William stared up into its tiny eyes, terror jamming his throat and paralyzing his body.

“Ignate!”

Tamara shouted the spell and the magic erupted from within her. The look on her face was almost one of ecstasy. With a thrust of her hand and a flick of her wrist, the arcane fire burned across the alley and struck the demon, spreading quickly along its shoulders and back. It turned on her, enraged and in pain, swiping wildly at her with its claws.

Still sprawled on the ground, William raised his hand, and the flame poured out of him as if he himself were ablaze with it. Already burning, dying, the monster could not escape. The fire engulfed it entirely now, burned away the matted hair on its body and then quickly set to work melting the flesh and muscle away until the thing was nothing but bone, and it collapsed into a heap on the cobblestones.

Tamara ran to her brother, helping him to stand. She fussed over him, looking at the scratches the thing had given him. Its claws had mostly torn his jacket and shirt, but there were thin gashes across his chest as well, and the blood was staining cloth.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I think I will be. Though I wonder if the claws of that creature could carry the infection . . . the curse.”

Tamara frowned. “We’ve no reason to expect that. Even werewolves have to bite to pass along their curse. Still, a strong healing spell ought to close those wounds and protect you from infection, as well.”

“We hope,” William replied.

Tamara nodded. “We hope. How does it feel?”

He winced. “It stings quite a bit, but I’m mostly worried about wandering around with bloodstained clothes.”

“Here?” Tamara asked wryly. “No one will notice.”

With that the terror left her, and the excitement of the moment subsided. She smiled and began to laugh softly.

It must have been contagious, for William joined in.

“How did you manage that, anyway?” she asked. “I’ve never seen that spell work so intensely before. It consumed that creature until there was almost nothing left. Tremendous magicianship, Will.”

William shook his head. “I don’t know, Tam. I was afraid for you, and then it just
happened.
All in a day’s work, I’m afraid.”

But despite his casual words, he beamed at her compliment.

D
EMONS WEREN’T NECESSARILY
confined to darkness, but they did seem often to prefer the night. So Tamara and William had been surprised by the daylight attack in that filthy alley, and as they proceeded toward their destination they moved with a new wariness.

They sought the temporary hospital that Colonel Dunstan had reported, which the locals had set up. Twice Tamara pressured William to ask people for directions as they passed on the street, which he did, but they received no cooperation. In the end, they found the place largely by the stench of sickness and human waste, baking in the spring sunshine.

“Tamara!” a familiar voice called as they walked toward the building, from which issued the moans of the suffering.

She and William turned and saw a doorway lost in shadows; upon the doorstep were the gossamer images of a pair of ghosts, the specters of Admiral Nelson and Colonel Dunstan. The way they wavered with the interplay of sunshine and shadow, passersby would hardly have noticed a disturbance in the air. Tamara herself might not have been able to see them had she not heard Nelson’s voice.

As surreptitiously as possible, William and Tamara pretended they were speaking only to each other. Horatio made his introductions, and Tamara related the tale of the attack that had just taken place. Colonel Dunstan frowned several times and stared at the stains on William’s shirt as Tamara told the tale. Horatio was near apoplectic, particularly that the siblings had not summoned help.

“We were perfectly capable of defending ourselves, thank you,” William sniffed.

Nelson’s ghost stared at him with a dubious expression. “And what is that upon your breast, then, my young friend? Some sort of dye? It was reckless of you not to call upon me, knowing I was so close.”

Tamara sighed. She would never get used to having to smooth the ruffled pride of men. “Honestly, Horatio, it was over almost before it had begun. Had it gone a moment longer, we would have realized our predicament and summoned you straightaway. I should think you’d be pleased that we acquitted ourselves so well.”

The specter calmed at that. “Well, yes, of course, though I expect no less from the two of you. I daresay you’ve come a long way under the tutelage provided by Bodicea and myself.”

William smiled. “Indeed. Thank you.”

Nelson watched him to see if there was any sarcasm in William’s tone, but after a moment he seemed to decide that the response had been genuine. Throughout the entire exchange, Colonel Dunstan only watched with interest, nodding gravely from time to time. Now he gazed at Tamara as he spoke.

“Very few have been the prey of Rakshasa, and lived to tell of it,” Dunstan said. “You are fortunate.”

He was a small figure, like Nelson, and there was a fierce intelligence burning in his translucent eyes. With his thick dark hair and olive skin, Tamara thought him handsome for an older man. Nelson seemed often to tremble with the need for action, but for his part Colonel Dunstan exuded a quiet strength. He was the sort who would examine every aspect of a situation before determining his course, she decided.

“What more can you tell us about them?” William asked. “If we’re to encounter more, it would be helpful to know what it is that we face.”

“Rakshasa,” Dunstan said, “are the ghouls of the Hindu Pantheon. They usually hunt in pairs, though not packs, and their minds are small, easily harnessed with dark magic.”

“They were horrid,” Tamara said, remembering the yellow eyes, the crouched, feral stance, and the sight of those claws slashing at William. “Were it not for our magic, they would have had us for their dinner.”

Suddenly the door to the makeshift hospital opened, and an elderly Indian woman stepped out. William and Tamara glanced at her, but the woman did not seem to even notice them—as if they were ghosts, as well. She turned to the right and started off along the narrow, twisting street, soon disappearing from sight. Then they were alone again.

Just as Tamara was about to speak up, there was a disturbance in the air a few feet away, at the entrance to an alley that ran between buildings, a place so narrow it could barely have been called an alley. The world seemed to flicker there, with a haze like the heat of a summer’s day over dark brick or flagstone, and then the ghost of Queen Bodicea appeared. Like Nelson and Dunstan, she was remarkably transparent, merely a wisp of a phantom, an image upon the air, but she was there nevertheless, spear in hand, and looking as grim as Tamara had ever seen her.

William rushed to her, Tamara close behind him, and soon the two of them were crowding into that narrow gap. Nelson and Dunstan followed at a calmer pace.

“What’s happened, Bodicea? Have you emasculated yet another of our enemies?” William asked archly.

The spectral queen lowered her chin and gazed at him through slitted eyes. Had Tamara not known better, she would have thought Bodicea about to run her brother through.

“I will not apologize. No one lays a hand on Bodicea and lives.”

“Yes, of course,” William replied quickly. “Too right. You went easy on the filthy tadpole, that’s what I think.”

Tamara would have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t been concerned about offending Bodicea herself. Her brother was a strange man, courageous in the face of evil and yet intimidated by a strong-willed woman.

“After the frustration of my failure at Carstairs’s residence last evening,” the spirit continued, “it was a pleasure to have an enemy I was
supposed
to destroy.