Shadow's Son (10 page)

The old man's heart was gone.

Kit twirled a piece of silver hair in her fingers. "Okay. The job is done.
Let's just get out of here before someone finds us with this old relic."

"No one's going to-"

The door opened. Caim had a knife out before he was fully turned. He
checked his movement as a girl entered. No child, but a lady in the first
bloom of womanhood. Her delicate frame was wrapped in a high-necked
nightgown; its diaphanous panels glowed bright in the wan light of the
bedchamber. Wavy midnight hair curled about her ivory shoulders to
frame aristocratic features. Her eyes, twin gimlets of emerald, pierced the
darkness like jewels of green fire.

"Father, I want you to reconsider-" She froze as she saw Caim.

Then, her gaze fell to the old man in the chair. She lifted a hand to
her abdomen as she swallowed a sob and opened her lips.

Caim leapt.

osey stared up at the sheer white canopy draped over her bed and
tried to get comfortable on the feather-down mattress, but sleep was
the farthest thing from her mind. Her stomach twisted in knots. Despite
cudgeling her brain for the past two days, she hadn't found the solution
to her dilemma. At supper Father had told her that her ship was set to
depart tomorrow morning with the rising tide. Tomorrow!

After Father had retired, she had called for the carriage and went to vespers-not to the basilica that, despite its gold-plated finery, she found cold
and forbidding, but to her childhood parish off the Forum. Though small
and unassuming with plain plaster walls and a simple altarpiece, the priory
at St. Azari's exuded a comforting atmosphere, like having Father's arms
around her as a child. Safe. Protected. However, not even the familiar hymns
and solemn liturgy had been able to quell the angst raging inside her. Unable
to find solace in prayer, she'd returned home as despondent as before.

Before bed she had written a letter to Anastasia, an earnest apology
splashed with genuine tears. In it she explained how sorry she was to miss
her dearest friend's wedding. With every word her heart moved farther
away from her father's love, and by the end she could almost say she hated
him. Despite her agony, Josey realized he was doing what he thought was
right. As a dutiful daughter she ought to respect that. Instead, it made
her want to fight him all the harder. She was not a child any longer. She
could decide things for herself.

Finally, she could take the tumult inside her head no longer and got
out of bed. She didn't pause to light a taper for fear she would lose her ire
in the delay, but marched straight from her room in the dark. She hesitated for a moment in the hallway as she considered what to say. He had
defeated all of her logical arguments for staying. How else could she sway him? For a moment the specter of apprehension almost overcame her. She
could wait until morning, appeal to him when he was rested and most
inclined to indulge her.
No, I must do this now.

She tiptoed to his bedchamber. The door was partway open, and a
faint light shined from within. He was awake, likely reading as was his
habit at night. With a deep breath, Josey grasped the knob and pushed
open the door. She began her argument right away, before her willpower
could falter.

"Father, I want you to reconsider-"

The words died on her lips as the ghastly scene unraveled before her.
The dull glow of the fireplace showed Father sitting at his worktable, his
head thrown back. A deep, red wound gaped in his breast like an obscene
second mouth. Over Father hovered a man clad in muted gray and black
from head to toe. A gush of hot bile filled Josey's throat. She put a hand
to her middle as her stomach threatened to void the remains of her supper.
Terrified, she began to scream.

The man in black leapt.

She had never seen anyone move so swiftly. His movements were sure
and quick, almost graceful. Before Josey could get the scream out of her
chest, he had seized her with one arm and clapped a gloved hand over her
mouth, bruising her lips.

Josey stood rigid with terror, the taste of leather in her mouth. The
killer's hands were strong, too strong for her to break their hold, but when
he dragged her toward the bed, a will to resist bubbled up inside her. She
shook and flailed, kicked with her feet. The man in black lifted her like
she was a child and thrust her down on the firm mattress. He let go for an
instant and she clawed to get away, but a heavy weight pushed her flat
onto her stomach. The sound of ripping cloth presaged her hands being
yanked behind her back and bound in strips of torn blanket, and the same
for her ankles. A wad of cloth was forced between her teeth and tied
behind her head. She lay on the bed, chest heaving, straining to hear a
sign, a clue of what the killer intended next. Suddenly, the weight was
gone from her back. She waited for something dire to happen.

"Now we can go," the killer said.

Josey twisted her head around. Was he talking to her? She wasn't
about to go anywhere with him! Yet the room was empty except for the two of them and her poor, departed father. The horrified expression on
Father's face bludgeoned her from across the room. Every time she tried
to comprehend what he had suffered, she shivered with fury.

A loud crash from downstairs shook Josey from her misery. Heavy boots
pounded on the stairs. Someone was coming! Fenrik must have awakened
and called for help. Elation surged through her.
Now you'll face justice!

The assassin didn't wait to be caught. He darted to the window and
climbed out. Josey struggled against her bonds. If she could get free, she could
tell her rescuers which way the killer had gone. However, the bindings refused
to cooperate. Every wriggle she made only seemed to twist them tighter.

The bedchamber door slammed open and four men in the uniforms of
the Sacred Brotherhood burst into the room. They fanned out with naked
blades in their hands and lanterns raised high to pierce the shadows. Josey
shouted as best she could through the gag, but the soldiers paid her no
mind as they searched the chamber. She tried to nod toward the window
and could have sighed with relief as one guardsman went to the aperture,
but he was satisfied after a cursory look and turned back to face the
murder scene. She kicked and screamed.

One man came over to peer down at her. He held his light up to her
face. "What's she doing here?"

A young guardsman with a chubby face said, "Maybe she heard a
noise and came to check it out."

"She ain't supposed to be breathing anymore," the first said. "This is
all screwed up."

"What's screwed up?" a voice asked from the doorway.

Josey was perplexed by this bizarre behavior, but calmed as Markus
entered the room. He looked so gallant in his prefect's uniform that for an
instant she felt the tiniest bit jealous he was betrothed to Anastasia, but
the feeling passed as she focused on the here and now. She grunted
through the gag and shook her bound hands.

The first man pointed at her with the point of his sword. "He didn't
kill her. He just left her trussed up."

"So I see." Markus came over to the bed. "Where's the assassin?"

"He wasn't here," the guardsman with the lantern replied.

Markus smacked his hands together. "Damn! Epps and Lauk, go
search the yard. Whistle if you see anything."

As the two soldiers dashed out, the lantern-holder said to Markus,
"We could make this one look the same as the other."

Markus nodded to the first man. "Take care of it, but make it fast."

Josey tried to wriggle free once more, but the soldier straddled her
hips and yanked back hard on her hair. She screamed as a blade's edge
pressed against her exposed neck.

"No!

Josey shook with relief as the blade stopped. A large tear ran down the
length of her nose.

"Not here," Markus said. "Take her back to her own room."

What were they doing? Josey tried to shout, but the air whooshed
from her lungs as the guardsman hefted her onto his shoulder. The room
spun; the tableau of her dead father flashed before her eyes. She sobbed as
her captor headed toward the door.

Then, the room exploded into violence.

From Josey's vantage point it appeared that the shadows along the
wall came alive and attacked the man standing by the window. He fell to
his knees, his face as pale as a bedsheet. A ribbon of blood spilled from his
open mouth. Markus drew his sword. A silvery blur flashed. Markus fell
to the carpet, bleeding from a gaping cut across his throat. Josey's bearer
dropped her without warning. She landed hard on her hip. A moment
later, the man gasped before joining her on the floor with a ghastly wound
where his nose had been.

Josey curled into a tight ball and squeezed her eyes shut.
This can't be
happening!
But it was. She rocked and prayed for the nightmare to end.

It was over as quickly as it began. Silence fell over the chamber, except
for the crackle of the hearth embers. Josey yelped as powerful hands lifted
her into the air. She imagined a knife blade sinking toward her bosom, its
red tip eager to end her life. The room spun between the cracked slits of
her eyelids, and a cool breeze rustled the hem of her nightgown.

The window!
The beast was abducting her. She squirmed to get away.
She clawed with both hands. One of her kicks landed squarely and the
killer paused. Fingers grasped her hair. Then, a terrible pain shot through
her skull and her sight dimmed.

A cold wind caressed Josey's face as she floated through a gray-black
world of shadows lit by a smiling, silver moon.

aim's insides trembled as he stole across the midnight lawn. It
was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking. Five members of the Sacred-fucking-Brotherhood lay in a High Town mansion,
dead by his hand, and a plethora of questions raced through his head.
Most of them concerned the limp, sweet-smelling form slung over his
shoulder.

He regretted dashing the girl's head against the wall, but she had been
wriggling so hard he thought she might pitch them both out the window.
Anyway, it gave him some much-needed silence to think. He climbed over
the gate and dropped into the alley behind the house with a grunt. The girl
stirred, but did not waken. He couldn't help noticing her long legs under
the flimsy nightgown and the soft breasts pressed against his shoulder.
With a sigh, Caim shifted her weight and started hiking.

As he crept down the dark alley, he considered the carnage he'd left
behind. He had run into his share of crooked lawmen in his time, but he
had never seen any operate as boldly as the soldiers inside. They had been
downright cocky. How had they gotten there so quickly? Had they been
tipped off? That was a possibility. Even the men of the Brotherhood
weren't above the graft and corruption that flowed through Othir like a
foul air. The old man's death hadn't concerned them in the least, but
finding the girl still alive had caught them off guard. Why? What was her
place in this mystery? He needed answers, and he'd wager tonight's earnings she knew something.

At least one thing had gone right tonight. He had resisted the urge
to call upon his powers, but it hadn't been easy. He'd wanted that edge,
felt it calling him. Just a sliver; that's all he would need. But the memory
of what had happened at the Blue Vine and the monstrous presence that had answered his summons were enough to deter him. Caim shook his
head in the dark. What was happening to him?

Kit hovered over him. "How did the tinmen get here so fast?"

"Good question." He kept his voice low. Sounds carried a long way on
these quiet streets. "I wish I knew."

Kit floated closer to the girl. "Why did you take her? Not having
enough fun as a cutthroat, you've sunk to kidnapping now?"

The question was bothering Caim as well. Why had he gone back?
The job was a bust. He could have left the girl and fled the house, content that his part in the events would remain unknown. But overhearing
the soldiers' conversation, it became apparent that they meant to eliminate her, and something in him couldn't let that happen. So he had risked
everything he had built-his livelihood, his freedom-to save her. What
the hell was he thinking? The girl's bosom expanded and contracted
against Calm's cheek. She smelled faintly of lavender.