Guilty as Sin (43 page)

On three, he swung himself through the right-hand window feet first, a long knife

naked in his hand. To his left, Lise flung up a wing to shield her face as she flew into the

casements like a feathered battering ram.

The shabby room exploded in a shower of wood splinters and glass, just as Dax

burst through the door, roaring. The two men inside froze, bent awkwardly over a

small camp table, their mouths dropping open. The fitful light of the cheap lamp

hanging from the rafters showed faces gone pasty with terror.

Michael grinned, falling into a knife fighter
‟
s crouch. It must feel like the end of the

world—Lise standing straight and slim and strong, like a rapier; Dax growling, his

wings mantled with fury and bare steel in his hand; the chamber so full of the promise

of violence there was no air left to breathe.

With a flourish, Lise produced a roll of parchment from her belt pouch. She took a

couple of paces forward. “Veryl of Valaressa, I have a warrant for—”

“W-wha—?” mouthed a skinny individual with a beer lover
‟
s paunch and a droopy

moustache. Thaniel. He straightened, releasing Veryl
‟
s arm, a small pair of scissors in

his other hand. They
‟
d obviously started the treatment because the table was littered

with the tools of the apothecary
‟
s trade, two chipped bowls, sponges, bandages, a

wooden box and a cluster of stoppered vials. The air smelled of chemicals, sharp and

harsh.

“Fuck ye, bitch,” snarled Veryl. Seizing a pot at random, he hurled it at her head.

Lise simply swayed out of the way, but Dax stepped closer, every feather bristling.

Veryl grabbed Thaniel
‟
s shoulder with his good hand, sending him stumbling into Dax.

Bending low, he made a dive for the open door but Lise pivoted smoothly to meet him,

poised and deadly. A blur of movement, a shuffle and a cry, and she had her arm

around Veryl
‟
s throat from behind, the tip of her blade caressing his jugular.

Michael relaxed, the breeze from the open window teasing the hair on the back of

his neck. It was immediately apparent the man only had one working arm, the other

hung useless, the skin around the gaping gash swollen and shiny. The wound had been

clumsily stitched, red streaks radiating from each tight black knot. Rumor hadn
‟
t lied.

“Now,” Lise said, a trifle breathlessly. “Let
‟
s start again. Veryl, I have—”

“Wait,” croaked Veryl. “
Look
.” He opened his hand to reveal a small vial. With his

thumb he levered the cork out. “
Hellfire.
”

Michael
‟
s guts turned over.
Gods
.

199

“What?” Dax took a pace forward, but Thaniel gripped his arm with both hands

and hung on.

“
Don’t move!
” he bleated, his voice as thin as an old man
‟
s.

“So?” Lise moved the knife gently against Veryl
‟
s throat. “What
‟
s
hellfire
?”

His head tilted at an awkward angle, Veryl
‟
s eyes glittered. “Not so clever now, are

ye, birdy? Tell the bitch how she
‟
s gonna die, Thaniel.”

200

Alchemy—
Hellfire
:

The compound commonly known as
hellfire
exists as a liquid or a gel, depending on its

temperature. In either state, it is highly corrosive, capable of etching solid metal. It should be

stored with the utmost care, as it is extremely unstable, exploding if shaken or dropped.

Despite its dangerous properties,
hellfire
has a variety of uses—for example, as an explosive

for demolitions or in deep mines. Fortunately, it is so problematic to transport that no army has

yet succeeded in making use of it in warfare.

An interesting footnote: Diluted,
hellfire
can be applied in a poultice to cauterize footrot in

large herbivores such as
vranee
or
herdbeasts
.

Excerpt from the
Great Encyclopedia
, compiled by Miriliel the Burnished.

* * * * *

“It-it burns.” The apothecary began backing away, only to come up against Dax
‟
s

unyielding bulk. “To the bone. And it
‟
s v-volatile.”

With a rasping chuckle, Veryl shook the bottle and Thaniel shrieked, “Fuck!

No…don
‟
t. Gods, don
‟
t…”

Michael couldn
‟
t move. He literally could not fucking move.
Hellfire
. Twister
‟
s balls.

“It
‟
s explosive,” he whispered. “If he drops it—” His mouth was so dry, he couldn
‟
t

continue.

“You
‟
ll die too, Veryl.” Lise
‟
s voice was as steady as her hands, but she
‟
d gone as

pale as paper.

Veryl
‟
s laugh was ugly. “Do ye think I care?” He paused. “Or…me and you can

walk out of here together, nice and quiet. Cunt.”

“That
‟
s a very small bottle,” rumbled Dax thoughtfully. He stepped forward.

Thaniel slid behind him and faded back toward the wall. “Three foot radius,” he

said. “B-boom.”

Michael stared. Again, he was fucking doing it
again
, turning everything to shit.

He
‟
d probably survive, but Lise and Dax were near enough to…to… He wanted to shut

his eyes in agony, but he knew he mustn
‟
t. His fingers tightened so hard on the hilt of

his knife that they cramped.

Veryl
‟
s eyes met his. “Nu-uh.” The fleshy lips pulled into a death
‟
s head grin.

“Move a muscle and yer birdies go bye-bye. Won
‟
t be nuthin
‟
left
‟
cept the feathers.” A

low chuckle. “Jest enough to stuff a mattress.”

201

Helpless
. Just as helpless as the endless night he
‟
d spent watching Tannio die. He

thought he
‟
d learned everything there was to know about rage and fear and guilt all

those years ago, but this? This was a fucking revelation. He could have disposed of

Veryl perfectly well himself, but no, he had to show off for his Aetherii, and now…

Oh fuck, he was going to get them killed.

Veryl
‟
s face was flushed. “C
‟
mon, bitch, let
‟
s go.” Raising the bottle, he pressed the

open mouth of it against the back of Lise
‟
s hand and she gave a choked cry, every

muscle in her body locking tight.

Automatically, Michael lunged, peripherally aware that Dax was moving too, but

Lise shouted, “No!” and he stopped, shaking with the effort, biting his lip so hard he

tasted blood. Dax froze, murder in his eyes, his mouth set in a
fellwolf
snarl.

“It
‟
s all right,” Lise said through clenched teeth. On her pale skin, a circle of burned

flesh flared an angry red. Michael
‟
s belly roiled. Gods, he could almost swear he could

smell it cooking.

Catching her eye over Veryl
‟
s shoulder, he realized she
‟
d made a decision. His

terror ratcheted up another excruciating notch, filling his head with a litany of

gibberish, endlessly repeated and all of it useless.
No, no. Don’t, ah, love, don’t—

Too late. Always too fucking late.

As if she
‟
d practiced the maneuver a thousand times, Lise
‟
s tail whipped up and

curled around Veryl
‟
s fist, squeezing his fingers tight against the bottle. Simultaneously,

she shoved the edge of her blade right up under his ear. “Do not move,” she hissed.

For a moment they stood frozen in a strange tableau, then Veryl began to scream

and thrash like a madman, regardless of the blood coursing down his neck. Released,

Michael leapt, but Dax was there before him. Two huge hands grabbed Veryl
‟
s head

and
twisted
. A sodden crack and the man went limp, his fingers releasing the
hellfire
.

Lise cried out, her tail clenching on the smooth glass. In a desperate lunge, Michael

grabbed the bottle from underneath, his heart beating like a bellows right up into his

throat.

With the utmost care, Dax lowered the body to the floor, Michael following it

down, every muscle in his arms locked. “Got it?” Dax said, his voice like gravel.

Michael let out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah.” Then to Lise, “Let go now, love. It
‟
s

safe.”

With one hand, she fumbled behind her for the support of the table. “You sure?”

Her lips were bloodless.

“Absolutely.” Michael straightened. He held the bottle up, so small to contain so

much horror. “See?”

Dax bent to scoop up the cork from a corner. He held it out. “Here.” He was as pale

as Lise, the flush of life gone from the smooth golden skin of his cheek. When their

fingers touched, Michael flinched. Gods, colder than Veryl
‟
s cooling corpse, his

beautiful eyes just as empty.

202

An icy weight growing in the pit of his belly, Michael pushed the cork home and set

the bottle in the padded box that was clearly intended for it. “Safe now,” he said.

He glanced from one set face to the other, Dax like a ghost, Lise breathing hard, her

eyes shiny with the tears she refused to shed. Gods, it must hurt! His head swam and he

squeezed his eyes shut, clawing back his control.

Gently, he took her elbow. “There
‟
s water here.” He guided her to the bowl on the

table and dunked her hand. “None too clean, but we don
‟
t have a choice.”

He shoved a chair under her in the nick of time.

Dax stroked a shaking hand over her hair. “Ah, chick.” He spread a wing over her

hunched shoulders and bent to press a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Lise scrubbed at her eyes with the free hand. “It
‟
s so small,” she said. “But rip the

Veil, it hurts like a bitch.”

“Keep swishing,” said Michael. “I
‟
ll find you clean water in a minute.”

He looked around. Thaniel was long gone. Now he came to think of it, he had a

vague memory of a figure slipping out the door during the melee, feet pattering away

down the narrow stairs. Ah, well, why bother? The man was inconsequential.

Lise cast Veryl
‟
s corpse a venomous glance. “I wanted him alive.” Her elegant

mouth took on an ugly line. “The filthy, degenerate, godsrotted bastard.”

“My fault,” said Michael. “I should have known he
‟
d—”

“No.” Dax straightened, furling his wings before he turned to stare at the body, the

head twisted at a horrible angle, as if Veryl conversed with his own spine. He blinked

once, twice. “I did it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Did
that
.”

Oh
shit
. “You had to,” Michael said.

“You saved me,” Lise pointed out. “Saved us all.”

Michael stepped up close, grasping Dax by the upper arms. “Look at me,” he

demanded.

When Dax
‟
s eyes met his, he almost cried out. So hard and flat, bleak with the

knowledge of life and death and the thinness of the curtain between, of the destructive

potential lurking in the dark places of every human soul. All that cheerful innocence

gone forever, its sudden absence an aching wound that robbed him of breath. It sucked

at the foundations of his world, because Dax
‟
s solid, sensible goodness gave him

hope—oh, not for himself, he was beyond redemption, too set in his wicked ways, but

for others, children like Bitsy and young Peter, adults on a mission like Fledge. The

normal world, the one in which he had no part, might be breathtakingly mundane, but

the best parts of it were grounded in truth and honor and law—in people like Lise and

Dax.

Killing changed a man. Dax would never be quite the same again. Meeting his gaze

was almost more than Michael could bear.

“You killed the Hssrda and didn
‟
t even blink,” he said to the Aetherii, hearing the

hollow echo of the words.

203

Dax
‟
s lips barely moved. “Different,” he said.

“Yes,” Michael said, feeling abruptly at a loss. “Completely different.” He hesitated,

wanting desperately to make it better, cursing because he didn
‟
t know how. “The first

time is always…unsettling.”

Lise made a noise he
‟
d never imagined hearing from her, a tangle between a sigh

and a sob.

Dax gazed at Michael steadily enough, his face like marble. “Is that how it was for

you?”

“No.” Michael stiffened his spine, too raw for the comfort of falsehood. “Mine

deserved to die. I wanted to kill him with every particle of my being.”

“So did I.” The great hands clenched and the wings mantled, brushing the greasy

rafters. A spasm crossed Dax
‟
s face. “Gods, so much hate. Like a demon.” He thumped

himself in the chest. “In here, in
me
.”

Lise rose to press herself against his side, her tailtip meshing with his. “What do

you need, Dax?” she said. She displayed the injured hand. “Do I really have to tell you

there was no alternative?”

“I need— I need—” Dax hesitated then said in a rush, “I need to finish it.”

“How?”

Dax
‟
s gaze slid to the corpse and then back to Lise. “Will you be all right, chick?”

He stroked her cheek. “I won
‟
t be gone long.”

“Of course,” Lise said.

“I
‟
ll take care of her,” Michael said. “Where are you going?”

Dax ignored the question. “Just get her to the palazzo, to Tril. I
‟
ll meet you there.”

“Yes, but where—?”

The Aetherii wrapped his fingers around Veryl
‟
s upper arm and hauled him

toward the ruined window. Crouching, he threw a leg over the sill, the body lolling

horribly in his grasp. Dax didn
‟
t even glance down. “I
‟
m taking him back where he