Bound (9 page)

She willed her arms to remain still and slowly, Hannah started to rise.

Before she made it to the surface, something grabbed her. A slimy tentacle wrapped around her waist. Another tightened around her chest. She kicked wildly, but couldn’t fight it off. The monster dragged her down, deep into the black of the canal, twisting her so much that she lost track of which way was up. Tentacles squeezed tighter.

She couldn’t see anything, could barely feel anything. Her energy failed. She stopped resisting. Hannah expected a light at the end of a tunnel or voices calling her to the Beyond. She had no idea what was supposed to happen after death. The Ilsans didn’t believe in an after life, just a decomposing body. Glory here was all that mattered. Of course, she had heard the barbarian myths about a thousand Heavens and Hells. Could Jason have lead her to her death so they could be together in the after life?

That couldn’t be what he wanted. He had to be alive. He was going to save her. Right . . . ?

Her arms and legs went numb. The last of her breath bubbled out.

Then, just before she let go of everything, a deep amber light burned her eyelids.

A foggy glow raced toward her.

The water warmed. Amber light turned bright gold. A thousand tonnes of water pressed harder against her until she thought her skull would explode.

Hannah was thrust from the canal and dumped on land.

She coughed and sputtered. The monster had dropped her onto a muddy shore. Inhaling frantically, she dragged herself three or four stretches away from the terrifying canal. She rolled on her shoulder and retched more filthy water.

Hannah lay on the beach for a long time, painfully stretched out. Her skin numb. Head pounding wildly.

She didn’t care. She could breathe.

Eventually, the cold became more than she could bear. She crawled toward an outcrop, using it to push herself up so she could look around. She stood on a dark, abandoned beach on the outskirt of the city. To her left, a river flowed into the canals. Waterways diverged and sidewalks snaked through the islands.

Got to get moving. Somewhere warm. Have to find Jason.

She inspected the beach more closely. Where would she be safe? None of the buildings looked inviting. There were no other people around. Just a small map standing next to the sidewalk leading into the city.

Why did the map look so familiar?

She shuffled towards it remembering her Taker of the Dead training. When she sorted the bodies, she had to decide which of the wounded could be saved and which were too far gone even though they all called for help. Often it was the smallest thing – the position of a cut or the amount of blood lost – that caused her to decide.

Attention to detail,
she constantly told herself.
Every little thing matters.

The Animate’s second image popped into her mind. The city map. Well, not quite. Some of the lines angled at different directions, some lines were missing altogether. The answer struck her like a fist.

The differences formed a path.

The squid had dragged her to the second clue.

Her body warmed slightly.
Jason really is alive. He’s guiding me.

She set her feet to Jason’s path. Her clothes felt like they weighed a million pounds, her legs cried out for rest, her brain begged for sleep, the wind whispered “hypothermia,” but Hannah trekked deeper into the city. Jason was going to save her.

She passed through the Working Quarters. Half-made metal monsters peaked from behind coverings. Coils of electrified copper wire snaked between the constantly hissing steam pipes carrying heat into the ramshackle warehouses. The buzz of electricity, whir of cogs, clicks of automota and hiss of steam sang a strange symphony of progress. She’d never heard anything like this in the Trenches. Cold wind whistled past the brick buildings. She rubbed her arms, hoping to create some kind of warmth with no success.

One foot in front of the other
, she told herself.
Attention to detail. Look for Jason’s next clue.

Hannah found comfort in her lullaby, their secret song.

Sing to me a song little child.

That I may know your secrets and your fears.

Hold you close through the night.

And chase away all your tears.

A train whistle punctured the soundscape. She made it to a rail-line.

Storm clouds were building in the sky. Hannah had to get indoors.

Derelict buildings slouched on either side of the street. No canal flowed here, but the smell of fetid water hung in the air like an ever-present watchman. She noticed a sign hanging from a post above the door. The third image: a lonely tree assaulted by lighting. Beneath the image, in crooked, broken letters read, “The Electric Lounge Wayhouse and Pub.” The face of the building sagged, covered with peeling and splintered paint, creating the vague form of an unhappy face.

She stepped onto the porch, wood creaking eerily like a warning. Hannah took hold of the knocker.

I hope you know what you’re doing, Jason.

She knocked three times.

Cabbot took the dagger and slid the blade across her finger. The edge was sharper than she expected. Drops of blood clung to her hand and trailed down her arm. Two crimson lines snaked across the golden blade.

Snyder closed his eyes and began to hum a chilling melody. It slipped in between her soul and skin, rattling and shaking, dissidence and harmony, familiar and unknown. The knife burned Cabbot’s hand. The tip disintegrated, crumbling down the hilt until the charm became a pile of dust in her palm. Fire hot dust. Whispers echoed. The air in the room vanished and dizziness overtook her, but Cabbot didn’t flinch.

Snyder’s hums were met by a chorus of unseen, haunting voices. No words, just a rising, Enchanting, bitter sweet tune that brought shivers to her spine. Finally, the dust became too hot and she tossed it over her head. The ash hung like storm clouds and shifted into the form of a face, twisting in pain. A scream pierced the whispers. Every glass item in the room shattered, shards falling to the floor and turning the ground into a glittering sea.

Then, everything stopped. The whispers. The pain. Even Snyder’s song.

The cloud fell, disappearing before it touched the ground. A shudder ran the length of Cabbot’s body. She knew little about Majick, but she somehow felt the charm had worked.

“What happens now?”

“The mirror,” replied Snyder, touching her shoulder. Cabbot jumped.

“Walk to the mirror,” he repeated.

Cabbot searched the room. One mirror survived the storm of broken glass on the floor. It sat against the far wall and reflected a strange red light, through no lamps shone in the room. She stood in front of it. Her reflection showed the same as it had in Madigan’s blade.

Snyder crept behind her. “The second price is a set of rules.”

“What am I supposed to–” She stopped. Her reflection hadn’t mirrored her words. She raised her arm, turned her head, and leaned in close.

Mirror-Cabbot only blinked, then opened its mouth. “You? How was I bound to someone so clueless?”

A Phantom had been chosen. She felt the Ghoul bound to her, slimy and hot.

Snyder crept closer to Cabbot, insulating himself from the mirror. “And mute too?” Mirror-Cabbot snapped. “Per-fect.”

Snyder whispered. “Don’t let it speak to you like that.
You
must control
it
. “

Cabbot put on the face she used when torturing. “What is your name, abomination?”

“Names,” Mirror-Cabbot replied airily, “are a human obsession. And I can see through your scary-soldier face. It’s boring, really. Tell me why I am here.”

“To do my wil1.”

“We’ll see.”

Snyder chimed in. “We need to talk about the charm rules. Ask the Ghoul.”

“I command you–”

“No!” Snyder hissed over Cabbot’s shoulder. “Not command.” He looked at the mirror. “Ghoul, please tell Cabbot the rules.”

“A waste of good manners,” Cabbot jeered.

Mirror-Cabbot smirked. “Is that your father? You should listen. Daddy’s wise.”

“The rules,” she growled. “Slave.”

The Ghoul folded its arms and looked away.

Cabbot swallowed her pride like a knife. She finally mumbled, “Please.”

The Ghoul looked half-pleased. “We’ll work on that. Rule one: three commands. I am bound to fulfill three commands.”

“Go on,” prodded Cabbot.

“Rule two: binding. I have been bound-”

“Enslaved.”

“–
bound
to you. Whatever enchanter created the damn charm thought well enough that you should be bound to
me
as well.” The Ghoul rummaged through its cloak and pulled out a medallion with the image of a cobra flanked by two black spears.

Cabbot’s world stopped spinning. She should have thrown the crest away years ago.

The Ghoul smirked. “You’re right, you should have thrown it away. This medallion is never to leave your hand - even for an instant. If it does, I will be free to follow my own will. Free to carry out my own wishes on
whomever
I please.”

Cabbot nodded, eyes narrowed.

“I must warn you,” the Ghoul said, chuckling. “This medallion will try to escape.”

“Understood.” Cabbot said with finality. “Now, your first command.”

“You already know what you want. This might not be so bad.
For me.
”

Cabbot ignored the Phantom. “Give me Hannah Blue.”

Wolves

The door of the Electric Lounge flew open. Light escaped from the inn, blinding Hannah and causing her to stumble backward. A rough hand caught her. When, she opened her eyes, the person standing before her looked more like an ogre than a man. Hair sprouted from nearly every inch of his hands, arms, neck and face.
   

Hungry eyes undressed her. Callous fingers gripped her. He rumbled, “what business have you here?”

Hannah could not will herself to speak.

“You’re sopping wet. Been for a swim in the canal?” He laughed.

She didn’t see the humor.

His fingers trailed on her skin. She thought of Jason’s touch. Always caring. Always tender. He would
never
have touched her like this.

The man pulled her closer. His rancid smell filled her nostrils while his swelling emotion made her shiver with fear. After an agonizing moment, the man let go of her arm. “If it’s in you want, there’s a cover charge. Have you any becketts? Coin?”

Hannah’s face slackened. She’d never had money.

A treacherous smile formed on the ogre’s lips. “You’re in a bad bit of town, poppet. As wet as you are, and pretty too, death’ll find you before the sun. Inside, we got a good fire, warm food, a bed for sleep. I think we could rustle up some new clothes, too.” He pulled her closer again, fingers fondling her arm.

Hannah tried to pull back.

“But inside’s gonna cost. You ain’t got no money.”

She shook her head.