Alchemist's Kiss (3 page)

“Would you rather I kiss your cheek?”

Icarus shrugged off the big man's arm and slumped into the chair by the fire. Cora set about pouring them tea and he took his cup with a nod in her direction.

“How do you feel?” she asked as she handed Archimedes his cup. She smoothed a hand over Icarus' forehead and combed back his hair and he leaned into her touch for a moment before she pulled away.

“I've been worse.”

She sat in her own chair and tucked her ankles primly beneath her skirts. “You were muttering and tossing curses about when we returned you home. It shattered nearly every mirror in the room.”

“Apologies.” he muttered, staring into the fire. His magic was volatile and most often destructive. Any time he lost control of himself, or became unconscious, it leaped on the opportunity to wreak havoc. He sipped his tea and made a face.

“What the devil is this?” He held out the cup and shook it. “It tastes foul.”

“It's called coffee. It's all the rage back home.”

“It disgusts me.”

“Ever an Englishman.” She took his cup and poured him a steaming tea from the second pot on the table. “I happen to like the taste.”

“Bitter isn't your style, Cora.”

She smiled, but there wasn't a drop of humor in it. Things between them had deteriorated to sniping and sometimes out right jibes. He hated it, and hated the idea that he'd hurt her in some way. Unfortunately he'd warned her years ago that his nature was a solitary one, and still she clung to her hope that he might change. He rubbed his fingers over his palm absently. It was still warm from last night.

“What do you think is happening in London, Icarus?”

He tore his gaze from the flames in the hearth and looked at Archimedes. The man was stretched out against the settee, his long legs crossed at the ankles as he sipped his tea. He was the kind of man Cora should love, Icarus thought in the moment. Strong and brave and kind when he could be. Despite his clockwork parts he
was
still a man in all the ways that counted. For some reason the idea of his brawny friend with the fiery-haired Cora set his heart to galloping. He swallowed a gulp of tea to calm it.

“Nothing good.”

Archimedes raised a dark eyebrow. He was used to Icarus' ways, and knew the sharp tone indicated irritation. He also knew that Icarus would elaborate when he was ready.

Cora, on the other hand, had no patience for his ways. “Explain, Icarus. This is our fight, too.”

“I specifically recall telling you to remain here where it was safe.” he countered, his cup rattling on the plate as he slammed it to the table.

She leaned forward, her dress, a pale yellow today, baring the tops of her creamy breasts. “I do not recall asking for your dictate, Icarus Kane.”

“It's dangerous for you, Cora. We've discussed this. The Hand draws the evil to you.”

“I have accepted the danger. You trained me yourself. Why can you not trust that I can care for myself?”

Archimedes, sensing the tension that grew between them, put his cup on the table and shook his head at both of them.

“Squabbling amongst ourselves won't solve our problems.” He looked between them with narrowed eyes. “We are strongest together, remember?”

Icarus' eyes were locked on Cora's even as Archimedes spoke. She was far too lovely a creature for magic, he'd always thought. Her hair was sunset, her eyes the color of the Gwydir Forest where he'd lived as a boy. Even now, as angry at her as he was, he had to use every ounce of his strength not to touch her creamy skin. She pursed her Cupid’s bow lips and scowled at him.

“Don't look at me with your blue bonnet eyes and think you'll change my mind, Icarus Kane. I will not see you die because you're too stubborn to accept my help.”

“No one is dying.” Archimedes' voice was stern. They broke their stares to look at him. “Tell us the truth, Ic.”

Icarus knew he was lucky to have friends such as these. He'd saved them both once upon a time, and they'd both saved him in return. He'd been set on a dark path before he'd found Archimedes dying in a London back alley. Without his friendship, Icarus had no doubts he might have turned his magic on himself in a few months’ time. Cora had appeared to him as a vision on the hill at Gettysburg. The sunlight winking off the red of her hair and calling to him. He'd been tired of it all by then, and she had renewed his purpose. He'd sensed a power in her even then, and the fact that she owned the
diabhal laimhe
could not be by chance.

“I am worried.” he admitted at last.

Both sets of eyebrows went up. He was not a man beset by worries on a normal day. He looked away from their eyes and down at his hands.

“When we returned to London after the war I began to feel another magic near.”

“That long?” Cora's gasp was quiet. “Is that why you shut yourself away from us?”

“In part.” Icarus poured himself another cup of tea and sipped it as he leaned back. Now that he'd begun his tale he knew he would have to finish it. “After Gettysburg I was....”

He trailed off and the room was silent except for the ticking of Archimedes' clockwork.

“After Gettysburg I threw myself into training my protégé.” He smiled at Cora briefly. “But I was tired. Tired of magic and demon-hunting. Tired of death.”

Archimedes nodded, and Icarus could see that, he, too, recalled the senseless violence of the American Civil War. They'd traveled to the states in pursuit of a demon, and had gotten caught up in the death and destruction of the battle.

“Soon I began to feel something when we would walk the streets of London. Some invisible eye that watched me from afar. Another wizard.”

“But London is your territory!”

He smiled at Cora's outrage. It was true that he'd claimed the city of London as his own when he'd expelled the dark wizards living there and had taken the city under his protection.

“Indeed.” Archimedes sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. The gold of his metal arm winked in the firelight. “There aren't many wizards with the power to confront you.”

“Not many.” Icarus agreed. Because he'd been bonded to his magic on a soul-deep level, he had more control over it than most. Spells and alchemy came easily to him, and his magic was eager to do his bidding.

“Whoever it is, they've been sending the demons into London.” Cora stirred a bit of cream into her coffee and frowned at Icarus. He hated to see the lines crease her forehead as she worried over it all. “They were controlling the ones we saw last night. Whoever this
Master
is.”

“I believe so.” Icarus leaned his head back on the chair as it continued to pound. He'd become increasingly weak as the other wizard's presence had become more and more pronounced. Every time he used the power of the rune on his palm it took his body longer and longer to recover.

“But you've discovered something.” Cora drank deeply of the coffee, and he could feel her eyes on him. “We've not been out at night in months, but last night you insisted that Belch Alley was the place to be.”

“Tell us what has you worried, Ic.” Archimedes' hand was warm on his forearm. He raised his head to look at his friend.

“I believe I have discovered the identity of the wizard we've referred to as the Master.”

Cora put her cup on the table and patted her lips with her lacy napkin. “Well spill it then, Icarus. We haven't all day.”

He sat forward, and from their worried glances he knew he was as pale as he felt. He trembled with the effort it took to appear nonchalant.

“The wizard in London is my father.”

***

I couldn't bring myself to speak. The pain in Icarus' gaze was all consuming.

“Your father?” Archimedes took the words from my tongue. “The bastard who branded you?”

Icarus downed his tea with the singular intensity only he could manage. “The same.”

He turned his face to the fire, but I could see the lines of worry and pain around his eyes. That was my Icarus. Filled with sorrow hot enough to burn, but oh so cold on the surface.

I turned my cup on my plate. I longed to go to him and wrap him tight in my arms and offer him the comfort he needed. Needed, I reminded myself, but did not want. Icarus cared nothing for the niceties and softness of pity or grief. He would turn from me, scoffing if I offered. The great Icarus Kane needed no coddling.

I felt bitterness twist my lips. I loved the man, Heavens help me, but he vexed me to no end.

Thankfully, Archimedes continued on with the questioning of our resident wizard and alchemist extraordinaire.

“I thought the bastard was dead?”

“As did I.' Icarus rubbed his hand and I knew the burn of the rune must be excruciating for him. It always awoke fiercely when he was in emotional turmoil.

“And yet you believe him to be the man we seek.”

I turned my eyes to Archie. The first time I'd seen the man I'd swallowed a cry of fear. He was a beast, at least in appearance. His face leaned toward cruel, saved by the gentleness in his wide eyes. Nothing to rival the angelic beauty of Icarus, but handsome nonetheless. He encompassed the settee, his girth comical on the small piece of furniture. His legs were long and muscular, encased in enough tweed to clothe several smaller men. His eyes were narrowed on Icarus, a frown twisting his full lips. The telltale tick of his clockwork matched the tick of anger in his jaw.

“I recognized the signs almost at once.”

“But you didn't want it to be true.” I guessed.

Icarus raised his eyes to me. Gods, the pain. Searing and roiling in his cobalt eyes I felt it in my own heart.

“No, Cora. I did not.”

Our eyes were locked. It was a dance, this thing between him and I. We sparked fire, could burn the room to cinders between us, but something kept us apart. A wall between us that I could not knock down, and one he refused to dismantle. He, true to our history, looked away first.

“I had hoped I was wrong. Imagining things that existed only in my nightmares. But last night proved me wrong. Victor Kane is very much alive, and he's come to London.”

“What does he want, Icarus?” I put my cup on the table and rubbed my hands together, suddenly feeling a chill sweep over us all. The fire in the hearth crackled, sparks shooting up into the chimney as the curtains fluttered in the breeze.

Blue eyes narrowed, and Icarus shot to his feet. He breathed in deeply, and it was only then that I recognized the smell of roses on the air.

“Speak the message.” Icarus commanded.

Archie had moved more quickly than a man of his size should be able to do. He placed his hands on the back of my chair, his stance protective. I grasped for the
diabhal laimhe
, the twisted metal warming to my palm. Archie's hand squeezed my shoulder, and I kept The Hand obscured.

My son.

Icarus blanched at the words. Twin spots of red appeared on his cheeks as he visibly forced himself to relax. His hand, I realized, was still clenched in a tight fist.

I have missed you, my son.

Archie hissed out a breath and his grip grew tighter. I resisted squirming from the pressure and clenched The Hand more tightly.

“Speak, Victor. London belongs to me.”

Icarus' voice was infused with magical power and anger. I shivered as the physical weight of his words caressed the bare skin of my neck.

I have come home, Icarus. But I am not here for you.  Or for your city.

“Leave London while you can, Victor. I'm no longer the boy you tortured.”

I shivered at the words. Though Archie and I knew Icarus' childhood had been filled with painful secrets, he alone knew the depths of the darkness he'd survived. The ticking of Archie's clockwork sped up as he tensed.

The smell of roses intensified. I swallowed a gag as it rolled over us. Underneath the scent of roses was the squalid stench of dark magic.

You are the man I'd hoped you would become, my son. We will meet again soon.

The wind died down as quickly as it had come, and Icarus staggered. I jumped for him, clutching him tightly as his legs gave out. We went to the floor in a heap, his head resting gently on my shoulder. He was shaking, his body wet with sweat. I tensed for his usual derision at my nature as he shook off my help, but in this moment he clutched me tightly against him.

I smoothed the hair back from his forehead and laid my cheek there. My eyes locked with Archie's as he moved about the room, reinforcing the magical wards that protected our rooms.

“Dearest Cora.”

I smoothed my hand over Icarus's hair, the light curls springing up between my fingers. I quieted him with a gentle kiss against his curls.

“All will be well, Icarus. You are not alone.” I reminded him with a whisper.

“I'm a fool, Cora. A fool.”

“No.” I could not help but to revel in the feel of his arms around me. The smell of lavender and smoke that clung to him and then to me.

He pulled back, the color returning to his cheeks as Archie returned to the room and stoked the fire. Icarus looked first at Archie's broad back and then at me. “I cannot win.”