Heart Search (45 page)

Read Heart Search Online

Authors: Robin D Owens

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal

BOOK: Heart Search
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FamWoman?
“Sorry, scrying a glider now. You’ll have to go alone. I have to save Senchal, he’s in danger. I have to report my uncle’s death.”
FamWoman!
In an explosion of static and sound and more screams, her scry panel came on, her father’s face red and contorted. “What did you do, you flitch! My brother is
dead
!”
He knew.
“I did nothing!” Camellia protested. “It was an acci—”
“You don’t think I knew you’d ’ported home?” Spittle hit the scry screen. “Him there, for your personal gilt. Me here, for the gilt in the tearoom. Then we’d meet and get your scrip.”
“What!” She’d been so focused on her father that she hadn’t checked the small bit of surroundings behind him. Darjeeling’s Teahouse. More screams.
“With the amount of this gilt, we’d live easy for the rest of our lives. I will kill you for this.” Her own words, back at her.
“An accident!” she shouted.
“No! My brother is dead!” he raged. More horror as he grabbed a candle, flung it at a lace curtain, and flamed it into a streak of burning fire with a Word. When he turned back to her, she saw his fists clenched around gilt. Good, Aquilaria hadn’t fought. He bared his teeth at her. “I’ll kill you, for sure, but I’ll kill that brother of yours first.”
Sounds of breaking china, destruction—he’d enjoy that. Much as she hated hearing it, his rampage could slow him down. She saw the broad back of him as he upended the closest table, went on to another.
Aquilaria came into view. “Camellia, we need you.”
Aquilaria’s face was pale. Disaster had struck again.
For a few seconds, Camellia hesitated. Her teahouse or her brother? Her beloved business or a man who had always disappointed her like every other man in her life before Laev?
No question.
“Take care of the teahouse, Aquilaria, I can’t handle it right now. Call the fire mages and the guardsmen. Report everything. Assure the customers that—I don’t know, that we’ll pay or compensate, or give them free—I trust you. I
must
go.”
“Camellia, let me help you. Talk to me!”
“No time!” Camellia swallowed. “Call the guard for my place, here, too. My uncle teleported into a wardrobe.” She forced down her gag instinct. “It’s terrible. Contact Death Grove.”
“What!”
Mica mewed.
“And send someone over here to take Mica to D’Ash’s. Please, Aquilaria. That’s how you can help!”
From the chaos on the scry panel came an authoritative man’s voice, vaguely familiar. “What’s going on here!”
Camellia recognized the profile. “Trust that guy, Primross! Gotta go!” She used the fear pumping through her to teleport away to the closest public pad that she knew of in the warehouse district.
It was dark with only a few spellglobes in occasional brackets in the buildings. The area was mostly populated by day. Camellia shivered, pulled the crumpled piece of papyrus from her sleeve pocket to check the address. Two streets north, then angle west. Hurry!
She ran, glad of her recent physical training, though her energy was draining. Maybe she had enough strength to teleport herself and Senchal . . . where? His place, maybe. Worry about that later.
Then she was there, standing before the hole of a door in a crumbling brick warehouse. The place was more than damp, it was at the edge of an old dock and she could see that the ocean had made inroads and was claiming the building.
With a whispered word, she lit a spellglobe that would precede her, saw a slight path through rubble. It looked like something had been dragged, like her brother’s body.
Beyond the darkness of the door came the splash of water, the tide was rising.
“Senchal?” she called. Nothing. Taking step by cautious step, she followed the bobbing light into the building, and the blackness was even more complete.
Harsh breathing sounded counterpoint to water lapping. “More light!” she commanded, spending energy recklessly. The whole room brightened with a multitude of miniature suns. There was a drop-off in the floor, then it angled down to an open wall that faced the sea. Senchal was propped in a corner of the lower level, his face splattered with blood and a wound on his head. His legs were underwater, his torso shuddered with cold.
He wasn’t conscious enough to save himself. She jumped down into the water; it splashed up to her knees, soaking her trous.
Then an emotional blow flattened her and she fell face-first into the chill water.
Her father was dead?
Had she felt the violent snuffing of his life?
She rocked to her hands and knees, panting. Again she tested the bond, but it had been so tiny that she couldn’t tell whether it really was gone.
Senchal thrashed and groaned. Grabbing her brother, she used more Flair to lift them to dry ground. She banished all but one faint light, regretting the energy she’d spent.
“Safe, you’re safe,” she sobbed as she held Senchal. They trembled and she thought the shudders came from them both. Swallowing hard, she reached into her trous pocket and brought out a softleaf, wiped his bloody face enough to see the purpling bruises underneath. He was holding his arm oddly and Camellia thought it might be broken.
“Can’t . . .” His whisper sounded scraped from his throat. “Can’t . . .”
“We’ll ’port to AllClass HealingHall.” She scrambled for the coordinates, the image and light of AllClass HealingHall, trying to set them in her mind so they could ’port successfully.
I can take him.
The telepathic voice was low and growly, heavy. Camellia’s visualization wisped away as if torn by the wind. She turned her head slowly. “Who’re you?”
A large, old, and ponderously moving dog nudged them. Senchal struggled against Camellia’s grip and she let him wrap his arms around the dog, who looked at her with calm eyes.
I am his Fam, Cherripunji. We found each other just today. Took me a long time to get here from his rooms.
“They didn’t hurt you. They didn’t!” Senchal cried.
No.
Cherripunji turned and licked Senchal’s face.
They hurt YOU.
He looked at Camellia again.
I told him not to trust Father and Uncle, but he is not smart. I know AllClass HealingHall well and can take him there, but not you. We will go there. You will follow?
“Yes.” She wiped her arm across her face, uncaring that she smeared sweat and tears on her arm.
Again she tried to sense her father. Again she failed.
Finally, finally it was all over.
Her gilt and business were safe. She and her brother were safe from the two men who should have protected them, yet abused them all their lives. “We’re safe.”
She took a pace back, watched, sniffling, as the big dog and her brother vanished.
Before her breathing had time to steady, she heard footsteps and whirled.
“They may be safe, but you aren’t.” Feam Kelp stepped from the shadows, a shine highlighting the edge of his long, sharp dagger. “I’m glad I didn’t have to kill the dog. It would have been a pity.”
Cold spread within her, grabbed her breath. She was in more danger now than when she’d faced her uncle. She
forced
her lungs to move in and out.
“I don’t understand.” She lifted her hands to tuck them into her sleeves.
“Hands out where I can see them,” Feam snapped. His face twisted into rage.
“Why do you hate me so?” she whispered.
He jerked a shoulder. “I don’t. I hate
him
.”
“My brother? Senchal is harmless.”
A rasping laugh. “Not
him
. You’re as much of a stup as he is, though.” Feam turned the long knife back and forth so it caught the light.
“My father, my uncle.” She lifted her hands. “Whatever they did to you, they harmed us, too. They were bad men.” Her mind felt dizzy at the thought of both of them being dead. Focus! This was
not
the time to lose concentration. “We’re as much victims as you.”
“Victim.” Feam smiled and it wasn’t nice. “You, my victim. I like the sound of that.”
She was in trouble. She sent her mind questing to all the teleportation pads she knew—her own, the Licorices’, the teahouses’. All in use. She couldn’t just teleport to her house, there were bound to be people in it.
Feam’s arm swept out and something flew to her, struck her in her chest. She stumbled back and hit her head against the wall of the building. Pain exploded and slid wetly down her head. Blood. A fighting baton she hadn’t noticed fell to her feet and rolled.
Bad enough head injury that she couldn’t ’port at all now. Her spell-light had vanished. His was bright white.
Feam laughed. He could afford to. She could barely move, barely blink.
“Look at
me
!” Feam demanded and Camellia slowly turned her aching head to face him.
He flipped the knife, again seeming fascinated with the blade.
“Why?” she formed the word with her lips, but the sound faded as soon as she said it. Feam seemed to understand, though. He gave her one of those enraged smiles.
“Why? Because I loathe him and he loves you.”
Comprehension snuck through her pain-dimmed thoughts. “Laev.”
“Ha!” Feam shook his head theatrically. “At last she understands. Yes,” he hissed. “Because of Laev.” Feam’s mouth curled cruel. “He hurt her so much.
Tortured
her. Neglected her in her final sickness.” His brows lowered. “He killed her, you know, hid the act and pretended that the sickness had carried her off. But it was him. Always him.”
“Always him she stayed with, never you,” whispered Camellia, deducing the path of Feam’s fantasy.
His free hand fisted, he prowled forward. “She loved
me.
He only caused her pain. He tortured her,” Feam repeated. “Like I will torture you.”
Camellia didn’t think so.
“She knew he had a HeartMate. That hurt
her
so much. She wept in my arms.” His face turned fierce. “But we had some revenge. We hid his HeartGift. She took prizes from T’Hawthorn Residence, some we left on tables at the Salvage Ball.” He grinned. “Some we gave to thieves to sell.”
“So you knew my father and uncle. And recently you found out about me.”
“It didn’t take much”—Feam shrugged negligently—“just keeping track of your so-noble Sire and uncle.” His lip curled. “They’re lazy men, and once I found their lair, it was easy to listen in on them and their plans. I let them torment you a little, but it wasn’t enough.”
Strength was soaking from her into the cold wall, the cold ground, and she didn’t like the way Feam carved the air. One. Last. Chance.
She gathered her energy, her Flair, surged toward him.
He yelled. The knife slid into her like ice. She flung up her fist, broke his nose. But didn’t send the shards of bone into his brain. She hadn’t had the power. He fell and didn’t move.
She fell, too, limply. Pain gnashed on her with jagged teeth and dimness threatened.
She was dead and nothing mattered but her mistakes. She loved Laev but had sent him away.
But she could call him. That was truly her last chance. Trust that he wouldn’t abandon her. That he would come when she needed him. That he wouldn’t ignore her because she’d caused him so much pain. She’d treated him, her HeartMate, worse than she’d ever treated anyone in her life. Dared to hurt him more than she’d ever dream of hurting her friends.
Because
she’d
been afraid.
And it didn’t matter if he saved her, though she wanted that. The yearning filled her until it overwhelmed all other pain. All that mattered was that he knew she loved him, respected him, honored him. She flung the bonds between them, bonds she’d kept narrow for most of her life, wide, wide, wide.
Found that his side was not as threadlike as she’d imagined. Not huge, but solid.
Laev!
she shrieked mentally, with all of her strength.
Laev! Love you. Lov . . . lo . . . y.
Camellia! What! Camellia!
Dy-in’
. . .
No!
His anger, fear, blasted her senses.
Where!
he roared. But the angle of her vision changed and she knew he could see through her eyes . . . feel the draining of her blood sinking into the ground.
And he was there.
“Hold on. Hold on. We’ll get you—”
“Love,” she managed on her last breath before darkness bit into her and rended her and swallowed her.
 
 
F
ear spurted through Laev. Camellia lay crumpled at his feet, a
blacker shadow in the darkness. He’d focused on her, teleported a half meter from her. Risky, but it had paid off.

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