Ascendant (15 page)

“I don’t have a girlfriend, since you’re not bothering to ask,” Brandt said.

“I didn’t think you did.” I was tired of clutching the bloody knife, but I could hardly put it back in my purse. “Since you tried to kiss me.”

“I apologize for that, too. I read your cues wrong.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Wishful thinking, maybe.”

I snorted.

“Or maybe I just found it really sexy, the way you saved my life with a flick of your wrist.”

“I didn’t save your life,” I said, ignoring the “sexy.” Sexy! In bloodstained cargo pants? Right. “You’re immune.”

“A horn through the heart still kills, Astrid.”

I said nothing and ignored the way he was looking at me.

After a moment, Brandt sighed and opened the door to a small powder room nestled under the stairs. “If you want to wash the blood off your hands.”

Did I ever.

As soon as the door shut behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief. Even in this tiny, windowless room, I felt the shuddering fear of the unicorns. Now that I was alerted to their presence—and they’d been alerted to mine—I felt them out there, wandering, nervous, fearful of my unexpected and unexpectedly violent presence.

I scrubbed the blood off the knife as well as I could, but chose to dry it off on the leg of my cargos rather than risk staining one of Isabeau Jaeger’s fluffy white hand towels. I washed my hands, letting the water run as hot as it could until my skin turned pink. Steam billowed up from the faucet to fill the space and fog the mirror.

I covered my eyes with my warm hands and took several deep breaths, smelling herbal soap and no trace of unicorn blood. After a moment, I felt better. Maybe the unicorns were calming down, or maybe I was. I lowered my hands and went to wipe the steam off the mirror.

Sexy
. Ha! And trying to kiss me! Either Brandt was feeling pretty desperate these days or he truly was affected by the way I’d saved his life by killing that einhorn. And I found that a difficult belief to swallow, as the time I’d
actually
saved his life, back in Washington, he’d repaid me by loudly dumping and humiliating me in front of half our high school.

Look at me. My hair was mussed, frizzing up out of its braid, not helped at all by the dry recycled air of the plane from Italy or the motorcycle helmet Brandt had made me wear in Limoges. My T-shirt dye had faded from its multiple washings, since I had so few clothes in Rome, and my cargo pants were an unflattering mess. And then, of course, there were the scars. One alicorn scar laced down my left forearm like a twisted bracelet of shiny red flesh. I’d received that one in Cerveteri, as well as a matching mark in the hollow of my left shoulder. I had another on the back of my right wrist and still another on the inside of my right elbow. And these were just the scars he could see. I had alicorn scarring at the base of my ribs, in my left leg, and near my right hip. Bigger than them all was the enormous star-shaped puncture wound on my back.

I’d never thought of myself as beautiful like Phil, but before I’d started hunting, I’d always considered myself reasonably attractive. Cute enough to get the interest of someone as popular as Brandt back in high school. Cute enough not to repulse Giovanni when we started dating.

And yet, ever since he’d left Italy, I’d stopped caring entirely about my looks. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d worn my hair down instead of back in this utilitarian braid. I’d spent most of my days swathed in a camouflage-colored split skirt habit, and even when I wasn’t wearing nun clothes, I was dressed in bloodstained hunting gear. Scarred and grungy, yes. Sexy? Certainly not.

What was Brandt playing at?

I reached back into my purse, but this time, I pulled out my cell and saw a text message from Cory.

How’s it going? Did you find him?

   How was it going? Well, zero Seths, but my unicorn score for the day was already at one. I’m sure Cory would
love
to hear all about that. Not to mention that rather than following our plan, I’d been touring the Gordian Pharmaceuticals facility with my evil ex-boyfriend.

There was a knock on the door. “Astrid?” Isabeau. “You are all right?”

I shoved the cell phone back in the purse. “Yes. I’ll be out in a moment.”

I opened the door to see her standing there, her expression one of concern. “I understand we had an incident.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said to her. “I thought it was going to kill Brandt.”

“C’est pas grave,”
she said, waving her hand. “It might well have. Foolish boy, to tease it thus. I am glad you were there to protect him. I shall have a word with him. No doubt he was showing off for you, as young men will.” She clucked her tongue. “Shall we go for a walk in my greenhouse? There will be no unicorns—or young men—there to distract us.”

I was astonished. Isabeau Jaeger appeared to be the kind of woman to take everything in stride.

She led me back through the patio and toward the greenhouse, chatting about the history of the château—”it was once thought the spring near this property possessed healing waters purified by the horn of a unicorn”—and of her “abhorrence” of her estranged husband’s more “radical” ideas. I trailed behind her, soaking it all in.

We went into the greenhouse, and I blinked in surprise at the sudden silence in my head. From within, I could not sense the unicorns anymore, and the air smelled green and wet.

“Wow,” I blurted.

She smiled at me. “Yes, it is very beautiful, is it not? I love to walk here.” She reached for a nearby pot and broke off a twig of a leggy plant covered in tiny yellow and white daisies. “Here.”

I smelled the flowers. “Chamomile?”

“Oui, yes, very good. Do you have much interest in plants?”

“Um, not especially?”

“Pity.” Isabeau frowned. “I had heard you liked medicine.”

“I do,” I said, taken aback. “How did you know that?”

“Ma
chère
, you received an award for your service at the hospital in Washington. These things are online. Also, your science fair prizes.” She tapped her lips with her finger. “I could find much more given some time.”

“Right.” So she’d read up on me while Brandt was showing me around. I’m sure she’d gotten a full report from Brandt when I’d been washing up, as well.

“And of course, I have seen your mother on television.”

I forced a smile.

Isabeau turned and walked on. “My mother—she was a nurse. Very interested in natural medicine. She taught me so much. I studied biochemistry because of her. And yet, I believe many of the answers to our most pressing medical needs are hidden in plain sight. Not in chemicals, but in the bodies of the living things of this Earth.” She waved a hand back at me. “Take your chamomile. It grows as a weed, in ditches, on roadsides. And yet it is a miracle. It calms the nerves, helps you sleep, soothes your stomach”—she paused and looked over her shoulder at me—”or brightens blond hair.”

I grabbed for my braid. My hair was already way too light. Practically colorless. In the summer, if I swam in pools too often, it turned neon green.

“A weed that can do all that! Is that not a miracle?”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“So then imagine the potential of something much more rare. Something much more precious.”

“Like unicorns?”
“Bien sûr.”

“And that’s why you have the herd of einhorns back there.”

“It is a touch more complicated,” said Isabeau, examining the wilting leaves of another plant. She picked up a small spray bottle, spritzed the plant, and moved on. “Do you know how antivenin is made?”

“From horses, right?”

“Yes. The venom of captive snakes is milked then injected into captive horses. Over time, the horses build up immunity to the venom. The antibodies in their blood are then drained and processed to create antivenin.”

“Does that work for unicorns?” I asked.

“No,” said Isabeau. “Right now, the Remedy is the only known antivenin for alicorn poison. And we do not know how to make the Remedy. There is something still missing.”

But Marten had told me he’d discovered the secret. Had he just been lying to me in an attempt to save his life, or had he been telling the truth—a horrible thought—but never had the chance to pass it along?

“And yet, we keep the einhorns for the day when we can process vast quantities of Remedy. They are our horses and our snakes in one.”

“And you keep Brandt for the same reason?” I asked.

Isabeau gave a short, musical laugh. “He would not appreciate being thought of as a lab rat, I think, Astrid. You have heard, perhaps, of the creation of the first vaccine for smallpox? It was made from the antibodies of a young milkmaid who had survived a much less dangerous disease—cowpox. Cowpox made her immune to deadly smallpox, and thus, the vaccine formed of her antibodies was named for ‘vacca’—for cows.”

“So you’re saying that Brandt is a milkmaid.”

“In the end,” said Isabeau, “that is precisely what he will be.”

I bet he wouldn’t be happy about that, either.

“The making of medicine is not a perfect process. Look at the antivenin example. We must have captive animals, and the horses do suffer. The snakes as well. None of it is pleasant. But for that, how many lives—
human
lives—are saved?”

I nodded in agreement. Animal testing: horrible, but capable of producing life-saving results. We’d reached the back of the greenhouse by now, and Isabeau drew her hand over the condensation gathered on one of the triangular glass panels.

“Do you see that?”

I peered through the glass. About a hundred yards away, a tiny tent village blossomed among the weeds beyond the edge of the manicured lawn. I saw people moving around the tents, hanging laundry, cooking meals. “Who are they?”

“People whose passions run as strong as mine,” said Isabeau. “That is public land, and as near as they can get to our unicorns. They protest the use of animals in medical testing. I think it bothers them most that the animals are as beautiful as einhorns.” She straightened. “I also think they would not like what you did in the forest.”

“I bet.” I stood up, too. “And the fact that unicorns are endangered probably makes them more vehemently against you.” Against both of us. They should probably be talking to Phil.

“Oui.”
She plucked the chamomile from my hands. “Pity they are not so sensitive about the poor flowers. I understand their desires. Like I said, it’s not a perfect system. But more than that, I understand the desire of the mother who loses her child to tumors. Or,” she added, “of the daughter who loses her mother to a loose unicorn. Like your friend Cornelia.”

“You know Cory?”

“Bien sûr
, Astrid. The Bartolis came to Gordian for help when they first tried to open the Cloisters of Ctesias. It was there that my husband and I first disagreed. It was there that we went our separate ways.”

“Oh.” I frowned.

“I still do not believe in my husband’s ideas. However, he was right about one thing. We did need hunters. We do need them. Perhaps Brandt told you how we first came to capture our herd?”

“He said it was a hunter. Who was she?”

“A young woman who wished to live a private life. She has left her hunting behind her now, and we have promised to keep her identity confidential.”

“Does she have any sisters?”

Isabeau laughed again. “I don’t think so. But what I do know is that while she was here, it was easier to keep the unicorns quiet and at ease. A hunter can soothe their thoughts, even as they excite hers.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do. You have a pet zhi at your Cloisters, do you not?”

“Yes.”

“And you can give her orders?”

Not ones she’d necessarily listen to. “Yes, but zhi are different. They’re domesticated.”

“Einhorns are different as well. You shall see.”

Um, not so much, unless there were a lot of einhorns in England.

Isabeau circled around me in the aisle between the plants and leaned against one of the trays. Giant exotic flowers created a golden halo about her head. “Astrid, these protesters are a problem. Their presence incites the unicorns, and an incident would jeopardize our entire operation. What has happened today has made me realize how dangerous our position is, even with our current precautions. We need a fail-safe.” She placed her hands on the tray on either side of her. “I have a proposal for you. I would like you to stay here and guard the einhorns.” I merely blinked in response.

“I understand that the Order has had some money problems since your falling out with Marten. If you would agree to stay here, we could pay them for the trouble of lending us one of their best hunters,” Isabeau continued. “If we cannot get you, I would be more than happy to hire another one from Rome. But I would prefer it be a trained hunter from the Cloisters, rather than a girl with hunter powers who does not know how to use them. We have had problems with that in the past.”

“Oh, you mean like when your husband drugged up Valerija and kept her around like unicorn catnip?”

Isabeau pursed her lips. “How horrible. I didn’t know about that. And it isn’t what I’m speaking of. You have seen Brandt here. He is very happy. I would have you work for me, Astrid, not be my captive.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” I said. I should probably be heading back to the airport now.

“I believe your coming here was an act of providence. I would like to mend fences with the Order of the Lioness. We need your expertise and abilities, and you need our financial support.”

“Not really. The Church has been helping us out.”

“And you find the strings they attach more tolerable than those of Gordian?”

“Less dangerous to our health and happiness, that’s for sure,” I replied.

“I am not my husband, Astrid,” Isabeau said. “I do not know how to convince you of this but to repeat the ways in which this is so.”

I looked away. This was true, and perhaps it was uncharitable of me to snap at her like that.

“As I said, I would be willing to hire any experienced hunter to guard our unicorns, but I would prefer it be you.”