Ward Against Darkness (Chronicles of a Reluctant Necromancer) (17 page)

Celia gritted her teeth. Her emotions were getting the best of her. It didn’t matter what Allette wanted. Ward was going to steal those spell books whether Celia liked it or not, and Allette was their only chance of getting them. Celia needed to ensure the vesperitti still planned to help.

This needed to be played carefully—particularly since Celia had already shown her anger.

“Please. This is my only chance,” Allette said.

“The decision is Ward’s.” Goddess above, it burned to say those words.

“Can I see him?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Macerio’s test is in an hour and a half,” she said, her voice small.

“So you’ll see him then.”

Allette hesitated, but then sagged a little more into herself and left.

Celia’s insides twisted. She couldn’t tell if Allette was lying. Instinct screamed Allette was dangerous and wanted to use Ward, keep him for herself. That last thought made Celia fear her judgment was wrong. She’d never been jealous before, so something must be influencing her—it had to be Ward’s spell on her. She hated to admit she had anything in common with Allette, or even Lyla, but they seemed to share a similar experience.

That didn’t sit well with her. Neither did the idea that her feelings for Ward were some magical aftereffect and not real.

Chapter Twenty-four

Ward gasped and opened his eyes. He’d been dreaming about… He couldn’t catch the thought. There’d been pain. Unending agony. And Celia in Val’s arms.

Above him, shadow and light danced across a rough-hewn ceiling. Why was there a ceiling on the other side of the veil? Of course, there could be ceilings and all manner of mundane things. He’d never crossed over, never been within the Goddess’s embrace, so he wouldn’t know.

Wood squeaked somewhere to his left. He tried to move his head, but every muscle burned, and the effort left him panting.

A wave of pain poured over him. Goddess, would it ever end?

He tried looking toward the sound again. Just a fraction. Muscles screaming, he nudged his head. Darkness threatened his consciousness, and he gulped air, fighting it, waiting for the pain to pass.

Val shifted on a stool a few feet away. “Welcome back.”

The image of Celia in Val’s arms, kissing him, flew into Ward’s mind. It hadn’t been a dream. He’d been dying, and Celia had—

He shoved the thought away. He really wasn’t sure what he saw. It could have been a hallucination induced by the Baarasena. What did it matter? Celia could kiss anyone she liked.

“Can you sit up and drink?” Val pointed to a glass on a stool-made-table beside Ward’s head.

Ward eyed it then glanced back at Val. It felt like he was thinking through water. Why was Val here? Why not Celia? He didn’t know if he could trust Val, but it didn’t look like he had a choice. He could barely move his head, let alone fight off a vesperitti.

“Your aura is mostly clean of the poison. Take a few deep breaths and drink the water.” Val frowned. “I don’t recommend revealing a weakness in this house.”

And lying around, half-dead from poison, was definitely a weakness. If Rodas didn’t jump on the opportunity, Lyla would. Ward moved his arms to brace himself. His body screamed in protest. He concentrated on breathing. Focus. In and out, releasing the pain. He’d done it when Celia had stitched him up, and when he’d drained his wound. He could do it now.

In and out.

He shifted up.

More agony.

In and out. In and out.

Val adjusted the pillow, and Ward inched back, propping himself against it and a rough granite wall. Bright specks danced across his vision and all focused breathing dissolved into panting, but he was upright.

“How—?” Ward’s voice came out a hoarse whisper. He reached for the glass, his trembling hand sloshing the water, but he managed to get it to his lips. “How do you know the poison is gone?”

Val quirked an eyebrow. “You really aren’t what you seem, are you?”

Ward was too tired to argue. He’d shrug, but suspected that would hurt. “Mystic blindness.”

“And yet you have the ability to cast blood magic.”

“Anyone can cast blood magic with enough blood.” It wasn’t easy, but it could be done.

“But to weave it with such precision to create a vesperitti…or whatever Celia is.”

“So she told you.” Ward wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Celia was revealing secrets, just not to him.

“She didn’t have much choice.” Val’s expression grew melancholy.

And now he knew the kiss had been real.

Ward took another sip of water. His hands had stopped trembling, and the pain burning through his limbs was subsiding. “Where is she?”

“Getting food. I figured you’d wake soon—”

“From the look of my aura?”

A wry smile pulled at Val’s lips. “Yes.”

The door opened, and Celia entered with a platter of food. She rushed in, setting the tray on the stool beside him. Val stood and crossed his arms. Yes, that kiss had definitely happened.

“Hey.” She sat beside Ward, her hip brushing his through the thin blanket covering him.

“I should…” Val glanced at the door. “I should go.”

“I need to talk with you,” Celia said to him.

Ward’s throat tightened.

“I’ll be in the hall.”

Celia watched Val leave, and Ward watched Celia. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She looked tired, ashen instead of alabaster.

The door closed, and she hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. “How do you feel? Val said you’d be better soon.”

Val said. He didn’t want to think about Val. “I feel fabulous.” Ward couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice.

“That good, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Her chin quivered. “I thought—” Her eyes grew glassy, the dim light glinting on the forming tears.

He reached a tentative hand for hers. She’d never been like this before. Celia didn’t…cry. She growled and killed whatever bothered her. He had no idea who this strange feminine creature was sitting beside him.

He opened his mouth, but no words came to him.

Her eyes hardened. “Let me guess, you still want to go through with your crazy plan to steal Macerio’s spell book.”

“I have a responsibility.” He held his breath, waiting for her argument.

But she sighed, instead. “Then you have about an hour to feel better.”

He forced a smile. “I’ll get right on that.”

Celia stepped into the narrow hall, closing the door to the temple behind her. Her chest ached with relief and fear. He was well and still wildly foolish. She turned to Val, a dark shadow leaning on the opposite wall. A hint of light from the crack around the temple door gleamed in the whites of his eyes.

There was going to be a lot of explaining to do.

“So Ward, huh? Not Quirin.”

A lot of explaining. “It’s complicated.”

“And that fight in the stable? How you disarmed that soldier?” He cocked his head to the side. “Oh, and then attacked me in the garden.”

“Really complicated.”

“I’m beginning to get that impression. Who are you, Celia Carlyle, and who is that man?”

Where did she begin? If Val stayed after she and Ward left, what could she say that wouldn’t help Macerio find them when he realized his spell books were gone and one of his vesperitti was dead?

“Does it really matter? The plan is still on.”

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea anymore.”

“Well it happens in an hour or it doesn’t happen at all.”

“Even a naive noble would count her losses while she’s ahead. Your master’s a fool for forcing you to do this.”

“He’s not my master. He’s…” Dark Son’s curses, she had no idea what he was. She knew what she wanted, but that wasn’t reality. Allette’s words were messing with her thoughts. That had to be it. That and how useless she’d been the last couple of days. It would be a relief to do what she did best, if only for a foolish moment. “Allette wants Ward to sever her soul chain to Macerio.”

Val didn’t move and, in the dark, it was impossible to read his face.

“She says it’s the only way she can die in peace.”

He remained still, his eyes locked on her.

“Is this true?” she asked.

“If Ward can do it. Yes. But a soul chain can’t just be severed.”

Of course it couldn’t. But then, she’d known it wasn’t going to be that simple. “Ward says Allette needs one of Macerio’s spell books to do it.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if there’s something in one of those books. This is his great plan? Trusting Allette?”

“It’s the way to weaken Macerio. It’s the way to gain your revenge. Your part hasn’t changed. You just have to keep an eye on Ward while he keeps Macerio distracted.”

“It’s a bad plan,” Val said.

He didn’t have to remind her of that, but Ward was right about one thing. “Macerio can’t have the power in those spell books.”

“Brina and I will get through this. Convince Ward to leave.”

“I can’t.”

“At the risk of his life?”

“Unfortunately. Ward gets determined about these kinds of things.” And it was one of the many things she loved about him—if, in fact, she did love him. Damn it, she was not going to think about that. Not until all of this was done. In this situation, Ward was a fool, but he was an honest, noble one trying to do the right thing. Goddess, she just wanted to fight someone, vent her frustration. Be normal. Right now.

Perhaps she could. “How much can we trust Allette? She needs Ward alive to free her. Can we trust her to watch him while we take care of some other business?”

“Other business?”

“You can enthrall people. Can you permanently make someone think they’ve done something?”

“Yes.” He shifted. “You really should convince Ward to leave.”

She’d love nothing more, but it wasn’t going to happen unless he was unconscious and she dragged him away—which looked more and more like a better option. “Can we trust Allette?”

“She needs Ward alive to sever her soul chain. From what I can tell, the last fifty years haven’t been good to her with Lyla at full strength.”

“Not surprising.” Even if Lyla was due for little revengeful justice, she was powerful, and there were more important things Celia needed to accomplish.

She’d convince Allette she believed the vesperitti’s story and get her to guard Ward. With a little luck, by dawn a bounty hunter would be returning to Brawenal to claim a bounty, Allette would find peace in the Goddess’s eternal embrace, and Ward and she would be miles from this madhouse.

Celia amended her thought. She was going to need a whole lot of luck.

The door to the strange room opened, and Val returned. Celia didn’t. Ward wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t want to spend more time with the vesperitti she’d been kissing.

Val sank onto the stool by the granite block and leaned back. “We have business to take care of first, but then you can steal your grimoires and kill Allette.”

“We?” Ward didn’t want to ask—he already knew the answer—but he couldn’t help himself.

“Celia and I.”

“I see.” And he did see. Celia had far more in common with Val than she did with Ward. She and Ward had been an unlikely partnership from the start.

“She seems to think you were worth saving and you’re worth helping.”

Ward blinked.

“She thinks there’s nothing wrong with what you did to her.”

“What I did?”

“Making her your creature,” Val said.

“She’s hardly mine.” The words jumped out before he could stop them. A haze in his mind billowed, and he struggled to focus.

Val’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. “Her soul chain might be impossible to see with my mystic sight, but I have no doubt it’s there. She’s enslaved to you.”

“Just because you’re chained to Macerio doesn’t mean you know anything about Celia and me.”

“I don’t need to know. I can see. She’s going to risk her life for you because you’ve tricked her into thinking you’re not a monster like Macerio. I know why you really want those grimoires.”

Ward’s thoughts whirled, unfocused, just out of reach, like when Lyla had used her thrall on him. Now Val was trying to thrall him, but he couldn’t figure out why. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Val leapt off the stool and shoved an arm against Ward’s chest, slamming him into the granite wall. Ward struggled to raise his hands and fight back, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even feel the pain through the enthrallment.

“Forget about Allette and forget about stealing Macerio’s grimoires.”

“I can’t.” He fought to shake his head, twitch a finger, anything. The thrall filled him. A flurry of thoughts rushed into his mind: fight, punch, attack. He couldn’t, not after what he’d done to Quirin, but his hand swung around, desperation winning over fear, and slammed into Val’s face.

The haze cleared, and Ward threw another punch, the muscles in his arm screaming with pain.

Val caught Ward’s hand and twisted. More pain shot through his wrist and up his arm. “You don’t have the right to risk her life.”

“Macerio can’t keep the grimoires. They must be destroyed.”

“I don’t believe you,” Val growled.

Ward slammed his forehead against Val’s nose. Pain exploded behind Ward’s eyes, but Val let go, and Ward scrambled toward the door. Val grabbed the back of his shirt and threw him against the far wall. Air burst from Ward’s lungs. His legs trembled, but he managed to keep standing.

Blood poured from Val’s nose. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, smearing it across his upper lip. “Celia doesn’t deserve what you’ve done to her. She’s better than you.”

“In so many ways. If she doesn’t want to help me, I won’t make her.”

“You know she’ll say yes.”

Ward barked a bitter laugh. This was ridiculous. Val had no idea who Celia really was. Even if he’d caught a glimpse of her martial abilities during the fight in the stables, he couldn’t possibly know the truth. But it wasn’t Ward’s place to destroy Val’s misconception. Maybe Celia liked being seen as feminine and helpless—or at least not cutthroat.

“I won’t ask Celia to help me steal Macerio’s grimoires,” Ward said.

“And you’ll protect Celia.”

Ward snorted at that.

“You’ll protect her,” Val growled.

“I’ll protect her.” Not that she needed protecting.

“Good.” Val jerked around and left, slamming the door behind him. It banged against the frame and bounced halfway open.

Ward sagged to the floor, his body screaming in agony. Celia was not obligated to help him steal the grimoires, but she would. Unless he made her realize she’d found a more appropriate companion. That was what he had to do. It was for the best. A friendship forged out of terrible circumstances between two completely different people could only last for so long.