The Devil's Concubine (The Devil of Ponong series #1) (8 page)

But if someone came to check on the dirt
Thampurian, she needed to be awake to protect herself.

She unhooked the chain around her neck with
fumbling fingers and threaded it through the top of the black lotus vial. It
seemed to take forever to make her shaking hands work, and pain shot down her
arm with every movement.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes
without resorting to the vapor.

With a long sigh of resignation, she began a slow,
methodical search of the lean-to. She didn’t expect to find any record that the
dirt Thampurian had taken the Ravidians and their mysterious crates to a hidden
location, but it was something to do.

Finally, the only thing she hadn’t checked
was the body.

I made it the first ten minutes.
I’ll make it another ten before I give in. Save this for Jezereet. She needs it
more than I do.

She began her examination of the dirt
Thampurian at his feet. Across his toes, she found a welt like hers, only not
as red.

“Poor ghoul. How you must have suffered,” she
told the corpse as she closed his eyes. “But at least someone cared enough
about you to bring you vinegar.”

~ ~ ~

The sun took its damn time setting. The lavender shades of
twilight, which usually delighted her, lingered too long in the sky. A new
watch of soldiers had come and gone from the fortress ramparts before QuiTai
dared to leave the skiff.

Even in bright
moonlight, moving from boat to boat in the dark was difficult. Without using
her injured hand, it was almost impossible. QuiTai reached the dock and sank to
her knees. The pain hadn’t dulled during the four or five hours she’d spent on
the skiff, but at least her heart had stopped racing.

The beach sand
weighed down her steps. The harbor master’s office was dark, and the wharf was deserted.
By the time she reached the funicular station, tendrils of hair stuck to her
sweaty face. When she found the station closed, she leaned against the station
building. Her gaze rose up the long climb to the town square. Cursing, she
clutched her arm to her body and forced herself to begin walking.

Bats filled the sky
as she stumbled into the town square. A few brave Thampurians gathered inside a
café, but no one dared sit outside to enjoy the fine night. Even the Ponongese had
withdrawn from their verandas, closed their window screens, and bolted their
doors tonight.

She staggered past
the little tables outside the café into an alleyway and pounded on the kitchen
door.

“It’s full moon,”
someone called from the other side.

It had been two
years since the werewolves had terrorized Levapur during their full-moon shift,
but it was seared into the memories of the town folk. No one in their right
mind would open their door to her tonight. If they only knew that the moon did
not control the werewolves’ ability to shift, perhaps they’d never open their
doors again.

“Please! I need vinegar.”

The door cracked open. Fragrant steam, heavy
with the scent of Thampurian spices, rolled over her.

“Auntie QuiTai!”

She half-expected the man to slam the door in
her face: She loved her people, but they didn’t always return her affection.
Instead, the heavyset Ponongese cook shouted over his shoulder, “Bring a bottle
of vinegar!” as he glanced anxiously up and down the alleyway.

QuiTai wavered. She had no idea how to keep
going. She only knew that she must. “Forgive my manners. Have you eaten, uncle?”

“Yes. And you?” he asked. It was a rote
response while he uncorked the bottle of vinegar.

She winced as she extended her hand. Her arm
hurt all the way up to her shoulder. The sharp pangs ebbed as the vinegar
flowed over her skin. She drew her first deep breath in hours.

The cook held the door open to shed more
light on her hand as the other kitchen workers crowded near to look. “I’ve seen
stings before, but nothing like this,” one said. “Medusozoa?”

QuiTai shrugged. “That would be a story worth
telling, if I knew.”

“My brother is a fisherman,” the youngest man
said. “Should I warn him to carry vinegar on his boat?” Worry furrowed his
forehead.

Why did they bother her with questions she
couldn’t answer? Still, she bit back her sharp tone because they’d opened their
door to her. “I don’t know.”

“Is it something new? Did those damn sea
dragons bring a new evil to our waters?”

The Oracle’s vision had showed that the
stinger came from the Ravidians and their mysterious crates. Whatever it was
they transported in glass jars, she never wanted to touch one again.

An older man produced a damp towel. She
smiled her thanks. It felt cool and perfect on her face and neck.

“The jellies always bloom for the moon,” a
short, sweet-faced dishwasher said as he wiped his hands on his soiled apron.

So did the werewolves. There was no reasoning
with them while they were under its influence. As much as she wanted to go to
the Devil’s den and defend herself against any lies Ivitch had told Petrof by
now, she already knew what they were capable of once they were in their wolf
forms. She’d have to wait.

“Do you need shelter, auntie?” the oldest man
asked. He seemed to regret the invitation as soon as he uttered it, but being
Ponongese, he’d never take it back. He corked the vinegar bottle and handed it
to her.

“Your kindness does you credit, uncle, but I
must be on my way.” He didn’t offer again, although at least twice was custom.
She bowed and headed down the alley. Behind her, she heard the door slam shut
against the night.

Despite the relief of the vinegar, her hand
still hurt. She touched the vial of black lotus on the chain around her neck.
Somehow she’d managed to get through these painful hours without its help, but
her resolve was ebbing with her energy.

Jezereet would be crazy with need by now. And
all Qui Tai wanted to do was sleep. For once, she could risk spending the night
next to Jezereet.

Only three more blocks to go.

She heard a sound behind her. Not paws: a
footstep. Ears sharply focused, she kept walking. At the next alleyway, she
hurried to the main road.

Another sound.

Tapping deep into the last of her energy, QuiTai
ran, weaving across verandas and over railings. By the time she reached the vine
at the back of the Red Happiness, she heard no more tracking sounds behind her.

Staring up at the vine, she was tempted to go around through the front
doors. Waves of exhaustion swept over her. Then, gritting her teeth, she tucked
the back of her sarong into the waistband so the skirt wouldn’t tangle in her
legs, gripped the vine, and began to climb.

QuiTai
paused
on the door of Jezereet’s room, leaning wearily against the frame.
Jezereet smiled at her: The long scratch marks on her arms had faded, and she
had dreamer’s eyes.

“I’m relieved to see
you so tranquil,” QuiTai said. “Do I smell vapor?”

Jezereet wrung her
hands together, then darted to her window and knelt on the divan to push open
the window screen. “It’s hot in here. You must smell my sweat. Isn’t that
breeze nice?”

QuiTai heard
footsteps in the hallway. She stepped into the room and shut the door behind
her. “I thought you hated the feel of the air on your skin.”

Jezereet hugged herself
and rocked side to side.

QuiTai looked
longingly at the bed. The soft mattress would feel so good… But until Jezereet
got her pipe, there was no chance of sleep.

The footsteps in the
hallway were closer. Heavy; a man. QuiTai turned to the room door.

“Why are you going
already? You can’t leave. You can’t!” Jezereet stumbled to QuiTai and gripped her
arms.

“I’m not leaving, I’m locking the door,”
QuiTai said calmly.

“No one will bother us.”

“I wanted to be certain. I think I was
followed...” But no, she should not mention that. Jezereet might think of
wolves and panic.

Jezereet sighed loudly. “I hate it when you
think too much. It makes me tense.”

Not too far down the hallway, a door closed
with a quiet click.

“Anything for you,” QuiTai said.

Jezereet laughed merrily: if QuiTai hadn’t
heard that musical laugh so many times as she waited offstage for her cue, she
might have believed it was real. Jezereet kept looking toward the window as if
she expected a customer to stroll by on the veranda. It struck QuiTai as a
little odd that she hadn’t demanded black lotus yet. Then she felt bad that
Jezereet always had to beg. “Get the kit,” she said.

Jezereet clapped her hands together and
bounced. “You brought me some?”

“I promised.”

Jezereet rushed to grab a small cabinet from
her wardrobe, and then shoved everything on the low table beside her divan onto
the floor to make room for it. She licked her lips as she watched QuiTai cross
to the divan.

QuiTai opened the cabinet doors and folded
down a wooden tray. Delicate clay pipes with tiny bowls and long slender stems
clattered out; a short glass spirit lamp nestled inside the purple velvet, but
the black leather restraints that held it in place hadn’t been snapped closed.
She took the glass flue off the lamp and trimmed the wick, something she always
did before she put it away.

“You used this,” she said.

Jezereet’s feet tapped against the floor as
she shrugged up at the ceiling.

“What did you do? Scrape it from the bowls
and recook it?”

“Um. Yes.” Jezereet nodded hard. “That’s what
I did.”

“I wasn’t aware you knew how.”

“I watch you all the time.” Jezereet rose
from the divan. “You didn’t bring me any for so long, and the bugs were under
my skin, and then the wolf came...”

Overcome with guilt, QuiTai rushed over to hug
her. “Hush, now. That was a long time ago.”

Jezereet seized QuiTai’s hands and pressed
them to her cheek. QuiTai yelped and pulled away.

“I didn’t do anything.” Jezereet wailed.

“It’s nothing, my love.” QuiTai gripped her
hand to her waist.

“Then why did you make that sound?”

She didn’t want to explain. All she wanted to
do was sleep. But she showed Jezereet her hand. “A medusozoa stung me. Then I
hurt it again on the vine climbing up.”

“I can see the pain in your eyes.” Jezereet
caressed QuiTai’s face. “I wish I could take care of you the way you care for
me.”

“It’s been a very long day,” QuiTai said.

QuiTai led Jezereet to the divan. She stuck a
long ivory pick into the vial around her neck and withdrew a lump of black
paste. As the tar cooked in the small bowl of one of the delicate pipes, it
filled the room with a sweet, resinous scent. Dark brown bubbles broke in slow
motion around the edge of the bowl. QuiTai moved it on and off the flame to
keep it from burning.

Jezereet leaned over the spirit lamp and
inhaled. “Lovely.”

“Hold your hair back if you’re going to do
that.”

Jezereet sat back. Her curls fell around her
face and hid the sharp planes of her cheeks and jaw. In the soft glow of the
lamp, she almost looked like she had when she’d graced the stages of the
continent’s glittering cities. “Is it done yet?”

QuiTai smiled down at her. “Patience.”

“You are going to smoke with me, aren’t you?
You know how much I hate going into the vapor alone.”

The temptation was almost overwhelming. In
the vapor, she wouldn’t feel any pain. “I shouldn’t. Whoever followed me might
be waiting for me to leave.”

Jezereet’s eyes widened. “You were followed?
You saw him already?”

“I told you when I arrived that I thought I’d
been followed.” But Jezereet only looked more confused. “Never mind,” QuiTai
said. “Everything will be fine. The pipe is almost ready.”

Jezereet rose to her knees and pressed her
lips to QuiTai’s neck. “Please come into the vapor with me.”

QuiTai sighed as she turned the pipe.

“Please.” Her hand slid between QuiTai’s
thighs. That was temptation QuiTai could not resist. “All right. A little.”

“You first,” Jezereet urged her. But Jezereet
usually took the pipe the second it was ready. Something wasn’t right. The open
window, Jezereet’s artificial laughter... Everything inside QuiTai told her to
be cautious. But Jezereet’s hand was persuasive, and QuiTai was too tired to
fight fate.

“Don’t you trust me anymore?” Jezereet asked.
Tears brimmed in her eyes.

Jezereet was the best crier the stage had
ever seen.

~ ~ ~

QuiTai came to consciousness to find someone rhythmically
slapping her face. Kyam’s voice cut through her fog. “Lady QuiTai! Wake up!”

It was a vapor
nightmare if Kyam Zul had invaded it. If she couldn’t sink back into the warm
comfort of the nothingness, she could at least make him stop. Her fist struck
out, but hit only air.

Cold water poured
over her head. Sputtering, she forced herself out of her stupor. “What do you
think you’re –?”

Kyam put his hand
over her mouth. Grimly, he steered her attention to his side.

Jezereet lay on the
floor near the door. Pink marks marred her perfect throat. She stared unblinking
at QuiTai.

QuiTai pushed Kyam
away and scrambled off the bed. She stumbled to Jezereet and gripped her hand. Still
warm. “Jezereet!”

Kyam put his hand
over her mouth again. “We must get out of here right away,” he whispered.

Just blink. Just once. For me. Please, love.

Kyam whispered
again, “You can’t do any more for her. You’ve already done too much.” He
sounded as if he hated Jezereet.

QuiTai yanked away
his hand and bared her fangs at him. She felt the heavy tug of her pale green
venom hanging from the tips. He had no idea how fast she could drive them into
the meat of his hand, or how willing she was to do it.

“Put those away.
They make my skin crawl.”

The fangs made her
lisp slightly as she asked, “Did you kill her?”

“No.” He pulled
QuiTai to her feet. “Can you walk, or do I need to carry you?” When her legs
failed her, he grabbed her roughly around the waist. She couldn’t take her eyes
off Jezereet. This had to be a nightmare.

“Do you know a
private way out of here? You’re in no shape to climb down the vine, and the
front staircase is a little too public,” Kyam said.

QuiTai shook her
head hard. That only made it spin more.

Lines around his
mouth and eyes radiated anger. Maybe he judged her for using black lotus. “Does
that mean no?”

“It means I’m trying
to get my brain working again. Have the soldiers been summoned? How many people
know –” A sob welled out of her. It burned in her throat; when she put a
hand to her neck, the flesh felt tender and swollen.

Take a breath, Jezereet. Breathe for me.

QuiTai bent and
pulled the hem of Jezereet’s dress to cover her thigh. QuiTai’s lips trembled.
There was nothing she could do. Everything she’d ever done was a waste now.

“It’s too late to give
her any dignity,” Kyam said. “You’re in danger. Do you understand that? We have
to get you safe.”

QuiTai shoved Kyam’s
arm away and lurched toward the divan. He glared at her when she hung the vial
of black lotus around her neck, but his opinion of her was the least of her
concerns. Then she slipped behind Jezereet’s dressing table and slid her
fingertips over the silk moiré pattern on the wall. When she felt a bump under
a rose print, she pushed. A thin door opened in the panel.

~ ~ ~

QuiTai headed down the dark, narrow stairs. When Kyam followed
and shut the panel, the passage went black.

“Hold still for a moment,”
he said.

She was angry with
him for daring to judge Jezereet; she was also strangely glad he was there. At
least she could trust him to do the smart thing. Right then, she wasn’t so sure
she could. Time seemed to have stopped, and her thoughts were wrapped in fog
inside a void.

Water dripped from
her hair down the back of her neck. “Did you have to empty the entire pitcher
on me?”

“You tried to hit me. It seemed safer than
touching you again.”

She heard a cracking sound, and then a blue glow
filled the hallway from behind her.

“Hold this.” Kyam passed a glowing glass tube
to her. There was another crack, and then enough light to make out the steps
ahead of them. The under-lighting cast sinister shadows across Kyam’s face as
she turned to him, holding the tube. “Instant jellylanterns. A Ravidian
invention,” he explained. “They don’t give off much light, but it’s better than
the dark.”

She tipped the tube back and forth to mix the
rest of the chalky chemical at the bottom of the tube with the thick electric-blue
slush that glowed brighter the more she shook it. “How do they work?”

“They dry the blue light jellylantern
medusozoa, then grind them up. Half the tube has the dust, the other half
water. When I push down the plunger, it breaks a thin membrane between them,
and the water mixes with the dust to reconstitute the bioluminescence. But it
doesn’t last long. Half an hour at most.”

Ravidian
, she thought.

They took the stairs downward. At the
landing, a long, narrow passage stretched before them.

“Where are we headed?” Kyam whispered.

She didn’t bother to answer; he’d figure out
soon enough that it was the café next to the Red Happiness, as the sound of
clanking dishes and voices came through the wall.

QuiTai held up the jellylantern until she spied
a metal slot in the passageway wall. Through the opening, she could see the
alley that ran behind the Red Happiness, and a bit of the lane beyond. It was
dark outside; she didn’t see anyone on the street.

On the floor under the spy hole was a large
black box covered with dust and cobwebs. She crouched to open it: The fingers of
her injured hand felt as if someone had taken a hammer to them and crushed
every bone. From the box, she lifted a jacket, velvet leggings, and hat. Kyam
had the good sense to stay quiet as she struggled to button the knee-length jacket
over her kebaya blouse, although their voices probably wouldn’t be heard over
the noise in the café on the other side of the wall. But he chuckled a little
as she wriggled into the thick leggings that went under the jacket.

She coiled her dripping braid into a bun and
held it in place with her injured hand as she pushed the hat down on her head
and jabbed long hat pins through it. When she was convinced it would stay, she
withdrew a small box from the larger trunk. Inside were two vials. She willed
her inner eyelids down, opened a vial, and carefully placed the contacts on her
inner eyelids.

“There. Good enough to pass in the night,”
she muttered as she pushed away tears and dust from her face. “I can’t see well
like this. Is anyone passing by right now?”

Kyam moved to the observation slot. “A full
moon, not many people out. A drunk is staggering toward the Red Happiness, but
after him, it’s quiet.”

“There’s a knob below the slot for the door.”

“Why did you climb up the vine when you could
take these stairs instead?”

“There’s no way to get in here from the
outside. And even if there were, sometimes I’m followed. There are spies
everywhere.”

He didn’t comment on that. She shoved the door
open and they stepped cautiously out onto the street.