The Warlock's Curse (56 page)

“But ... you’re my
mother
,” Will said. “You bake pies and feed chickens and grow flowers. How could you be ...
that
?”

“Leave her alone, Will,” Father growled in warning.

“Is that why you went mad after Catherine died? Because it was you who told the scientists to implement the Anodyne? Because you knew it was your—”

“Leave her
alone
,” Father roared, surging to his feet. He had to catch himself for balance when his game leg failed him.

“What really happened to your leg?” Will whispered, looking at his father. “Ben said it wasn’t a riding accident.”

“It wasn’t a
riding
accident,” Father hissed. “But it was an
accident
nonetheless.” He sat back down slowly, putting his body close to Ma’am’s trembling one.

“So I’m not the only one in this family who’s been cursed,” Will said. “Who’s been forced to live with something—terrible.”

He went over to his Ma’am and touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” She reached up and clutched his hand, but did not look at him.

“Now we’ve told you everything you wanted to know,” Royce snapped. “So tell us where Ben is.”

“You haven’t told me anything I
wanted
to know,” said Will,
releasing his mother’s hand. “And you certainly haven’t told me what I
need
to know. And that’s why Bernays—your employee, a murdering son-of-a-bitch—said what he said to me in Detroit. He said that his
boss
told him that I hadn’t had the Panchrest. But you were there, Uncle Royce. You helped Father give it to us. So why did Bernays say that?”

Uncle Royce narrowed his eyes, frowning at Will. But it was Father who finally spoke.

“Because I never did give you the Panchrest, Will.”

“
What
?”

“It’s why I didn’t want you to take the apprenticeship at Tesla Industries. It’s why I tried so hard to find you in Detroit, to make you come home. Because I knew there was a chance you might inherit the curse.”

“Why didn’t you
tell
me!” Will’s whole body felt suddenly numb. “Do you know, Father? Do you know what I did? What Cowdray made me do?”

Father’s eyes slid closed for a moment, his face anguished. “Yes, I know.”

“Why
didn’t
you give me the Panchrest?” Will’s voice was so thin it was hardly a voice at all, rather a thread of pain. “Why protect all my brothers but not me? Did you hate me even back then?”

“I never hated you,” Father said very softly. “And I’m sorry. But I had no choice. I swear it to you. I had no choice.”

Will stood looking down at his father for a long time. He didn’t recognize him at all. His face was familiar, he knew that it was his father ... but he didn’t know who the man
was
. The tension of the moment was broken when Uncle Royce stood, stretching with an exaggerated groan. There was a broad smile on his face—strangely enough, he seemed to have found the whole exchange darkly humorous. He clapped Will on the shoulder.

“You see, William,” he began, “your father—oh, and by the way, he and I are not really brothers, thank God, so you needn’t call me Uncle anymore—your father has always been, and always will be, a traitor and a cheat. And a liar, of course. But as the old saying goes, all credomancers are liars.”

“Father’s not a credomancer,” said Will.

“He used to be,” Royce said, leaning forward to put his head close to Will’s. “A very notorious one. So notorious he was forced to sell his name to the Institute simply to live in peace. And we have done so much with it ever since.”

“What name?” Will whispered.

“Dreadnought Stanton,” Royce said.

Will whirled on him, eyes blazing. “My mother’s Alcestis and my father is
Dreadnought Stanton
?”

“No!” Father barked. “I am
not
. I am nothing and no one. I’ve been a father and a husband for over thirty years—and that’s
all
. What the Institute has done with the name has nothing to do with me.”

“With one very notable exception,” Royce looked at Father hard, and there was challenge in his eyes. “The little matter of the Defalcation. Would you care to explain that to your son? Explain to him how you’re not only a liar and a traitor and a cheat, but a
welcher
as well?”

Father looked down at the floor, his gaze hard and resigned.

“You see, when your father sold us his name, all those many years ago, part of the deal was that he would never attempt to reclaim his power,” Royce said. “Of course, we knew better than just to take him on faith—we required him to seal the magical channels in his body so that reclaiming it would be a physical impossibility. In effect, he took the Panchrest himself, though in a much different form. This was our assurance that it would be safe to use his name to build our power.”

“Use
his
name—to build
your
power?”

“Dreadnought Stanton’s heroic exploits fuel the power of the Stanton Institute,” Royce said. “It doesn’t matter that they’re not the exploits of a real man. It doesn’t even matter that they’re not real exploits, just thrilling fictional accounts with the sketchiest foundation in magical truth. What matters is that people
believe
he is real,
believe
he is our Sophos, and
believe
that he is the most powerful warlock in the United States.”

“Then there really is no Dreadnought Stanton,” Will said softly. “So what is this—Defalcation?”

“It happened in 1892, just after you were born,” Royce said. “Your father decided that he wanted to be Dreadnought Stanton again.”

Ma’am was sitting up straight now, listening. Her violet eyes were intense and bright, and Will realized that they’d never told her any of this either. He felt a strange comradeship with his mother at that moment. You didn’t tell things to the magically afflicted—whether they were cursed by an ancient vengeful warlock or by the spirit of the Earth itself. You didn’t let them make their own choices. You made the choices for them.

“You developed Black Flu almost immediately after you were born,” Royce continued. “And if nature had taken its course, you would have died even more quickly than Catherine had, eight years earlier.”

“I ... had the Black Flu?” Will struggled against shock.

“Yes. And you would have died, and Emily never would have survived it.” Father’s eyes held Royce’s with the heat of an old fight rekindled. “I took just enough power to save him—to save my
son
.”

“You
vamped
on me,” Will murmured.

“No,” Father said. “I vamped on
Ben
.” He turned his green gaze onto Will. “I couldn’t have vamped on you, Will—you were already dying from Exunge allergy. Ben was there. He wanted to help.”

“He helped you—he saved my life—and then you betrayed him,” Will said. “You gave him the Panchrest. No wonder he hates you.”

“You’ve read
The Goês’ Confession
, Will,” Father said. “You know there are only two choices. It was either the Panchrest—or the knife.”

“Personally, I would have preferred to drown the whole litter of you—” Royce began, but Mrs. Zeno silenced him with a curt gesture. She turned her intense gaze onto Will.

“The Institute demanded that you and your brothers be given the Panchrest. Your father had violated his contract with us, and it was necessary to eradicate the possibility that he might attempt to do so again.” Mrs. Zeno drew a deep, weary breath. “But more importantly, Will, it was necessary to give the Panchrest to
you
. Because your father stole something far more precious than just a small amount of Dreadnought Stanton’s power.”

Father groaned softly, but did not speak. Will looked from him back to Mrs. Zeno.

“What did he steal?”

“A piece of Dreadnought Stanton’s soul,” Mrs. Zeno said. “He grafted it onto your own to give it strength. To save your life. But it did far more than that. It gave you a magical claim upon
all
of Dreadnought Stanton’s power. It is why you can use so much magic without physical harm. And it is why, I’m sorry to say, you’re so dangerous to us.”

“That means ... he’s like an Old User in a boy’s Body” Ma’am mused, almost too quietly to be heard.

“That’s
exactly
what he is,” Royce snapped at her. “A
boy
. A boy who has been handed power that he doesn’t deserve, hasn’t earned, and hasn’t the slightest idea how to use.”

Royce walked around behind Father. Resting his hands on the back of the chair Father sat in, he leaned over him to whisper accusingly, “But you just couldn’t stand the thought of really giving up all that power, could you? If all the boys had the Panchrest—why, that would be too
permanent
. Too final. You had to make sure there was still a loophole—one just big enough for a
rat
to scurry through someday.” Royce pushed himself up and stood straight. He looked at Will. “And so your father palmed the real Panchrest and gave you a dummy.” He shot an acid glance at Mrs. Zeno. “I
told
you I should have been the one to give them the Panchrest. You should have insisted.
Forced
him to comply—”

“He is their
father
,” Mrs. Zeno interjected softly. “And he was once my Sophos. I owed him that, at least.”

“An Old User ... in a boy’s body.” The words came from Ma’am. She had risen, and was clutching her gut. Her face was ghastly pale, and she looked stricken.

“Ma’am?” Will said.

“No,” she whispered, bringing her hands up to her head. “Oh God, no. No ...”

Father reached up to her, concerned, but she pushed his hand away, folding over herself in sudden pain.

“Why did you let me hear?” she screamed at them—at Father and Royce particularly. “Why didn’t you tell me to
leave
?”

She collapsed to her knees.

“Not Will,” she murmured, and her voice sounded strange—hollow and vibrating. “Not Will.”

But then she lifted her face.

And her eyes were entirely black, from lid to lid.

He must be destroyed
, Ma’am roared, her voice shaking the walls, shaking the floor beneath them with the force of an earthquake. It was not Ma’am speaking, Will realized. It was Alcestis, the voice of the spirit of the Earth, delivering a terrible judgment. Delivering it to the head of the Agency—

This is my command.

“Emily, no!” Father screamed, falling beside Ma’am. “Royce, help me!”

But Royce could do nothing as Ma’am threw Father violently aside. His body slammed against the wall with bone-shattering force.

You will comply with the terms of the Settlement.

Her voice was low and resonant and old, and it did not come from her Body but from all around her, from the very earth and air. She rose slowly, pulled up like a puppet on threads of magical brilliance. Her hand came up. She leveled a damning finger at Will.

Kill him.

“That. Is.
Enough
!” Mrs. Zeno, rising behind the desk, brought both fists down on the wood with a thunderous slam. The resounding power of the sound buffeted Ma’am, and she staggered. Anger crackled across her face like a snapped whip. She barked a command.

The panes of the stained glass window behind Mrs. Zeno wobbled, then bowed, then shattered inward. Will threw up his arm reflexively, but none of the sharp shards made it that far. Instead, with unerring accuracy, they pierced the body of Mrs. Zeno. She stood standing for a moment, her face sad and surprisingly lovely, and then she slumped forward slowly, blood spreading across the papers on which she had fallen.

Comply!
Ma’am roared. Cold air streamed in through the ruined window, and Ma’am’s skirt whipped around her ankles. Her hair,
unbound, caught flakes of snow as they blew in. Her black eyes gleamed. She turned to Royce.

Kill him.
She howled.
Kill the Old User.

Royce’s face was grim but resigned. Lifting his hands, he began to chant in Latin.

R
IDICULOUS,
Cowdray’s voice echoed in Will’s head.