World Weaver (The Devany Miller Series Book 4) (28 page)

I snorted. “Sneaky, underhanded …”

He tugged me close and kissed me. “Yes,” he said when we came up for air. “All those things and more.”

I formed the hook to take us to Bayladdy, but hesitated before stepping through. “Will we get her back?”

“We will.”

I struggled with the words, not wanting to voice them aloud for fear that would give them power. “What if the Anforsa hurt her?”

“Your daughter is strong. And we will not rest until she is home safe. This I promise you.”

I hoped to hell he could keep that promise.

***

We chose to go to Bayladdy first, to track down Zephyrinia and Mal and find out what had happened after the borders closed. The city appeared unaffected by the disappearance of the Omphalos. Perhaps living with the tides had made the citizens of Bayladdy better prepared for the changes. I had no idea how other places were dealing with the new world order. Perhaps it was mostly the Anforsa and her ilk who would be devastated by the loss of their magic-machine.

We found the sky captain’s ship still docked, and when we hailed the burly sailor standing watch near the gangplank, he called to one of his fellows, who called to another, her name like pearls on a string of voices. It wasn’t long before Zeph herself came to greet us. She pulled me into a tight hug that I returned, praying it wasn’t a herald of bad news.

“I feared you’d been killed,” she said, gesturing us aboard ship.

It was cool and shaded under the gigantic gasbags. I craned my neck, watching with wincing horror as two sailors climbed nimbly upwards, obscenely high. I had to look away when one of them turned and jumped to another rope, a distant yip of excitement telling me she made it. In the middle of the deck was a large grate and as we walked past I peered down. Witchballs lit up what looked like a storage area full of bales and barrels.

The ship was noisy: wood creaking, sailors yelling, and a hiss of sound from high above.

Zeph led us into her quarters, sitting down at a small wooden table with a mosaic top similar to the patterned sidewalks in Bayladdy. When she saw me admiring it, she said, “I had to have it when I saw it in a store window. The only thing of beauty I’ve found in Bayladdy.”

We settled around the table and she said, “It was a rout, after you were tossed away. Your father was taken captive, as was your daughter and the witch who took her. Mal was injured—when the border closed, the power of the Omphalos flared, searing anyone using magic near the Anforsa.”

So bad. So very bad. “Will he be okay?”

She nodded. “He’s recovering. It’s made him grumpy, but he’ll survive. He’s down in the galley now, driving Petra mad.” Her eyes were on me, well, on my gloved hand, curious. I thought she’d ask what happened, but instead she said, “The Anforsa forced us onto our ship and told us we would be executed if we stepped on shore again. I’m sorry we weren’t more help in the interim. I thought it best to retreat here and wait for your return. You did it, didn’t you? Destroyed the Omphalos?”

“Returned it to its rightful owner.” And not without suffering the consequences. “The Anforsa probably returned to the capital. That’s where I have to go next.” I plucked at the glove. “Once I deal with her, whatever bounty that’s on your head will be gone.”

“You mean to kill her, then?” Her question was matter-of-fact.

“Yes.” I’d wanted Krosh to keep me from killing Arsinua. I wasn’t going to ask him to do the same for the Anforsa. She’d hit my daughter.

She was toast.

“How long will you stay docked?” I asked.

“The tides will roll in a few days from now. We’ll stay until after they roll out again.”

I nodded. “When I get my daughter back, I’ll keep my promise.”

Her face was grim. “I didn’t keep my end of the bargain.”

“You helped. It’s not your fault the outcome wasn’t the one we wanted. If there’s more for you to do, I’ll ask, all right?”

She reached across the table and held out her hand. I clasped it, her touch only a distant pressure on my ruined, gloved hand. “I hope, for your daughter’s sake, you are successful. I would not wish the Anforsa on anyone but my worst enemy.”

Well, that didn’t make me happy. “Is there anything else you can think of that might help?”

She pondered that, her eyes gone distant. Finally, she said, “The Anforsa must have loved ones too.”

I blinked. By god, she was right. Why hadn’t I thought of that? ‘Because I’m not a sociopath,’ I said to myself. Still. If there was one thing I knew, it was the power of leverage. All I had to do was figure out where to stick the knife and how hard to twist it.

TWENTY-TWO

Without the Omphalos, magic in the witch lands wasn’t as rigidly reliable as it had once been. I managed to hook to Marantha’s, but we ended up down the block from her house rather than inside it. Krosh noticed the change in the magic when we stepped from the hook, and he had a fierce grin on his face.

“You need a t-shirt that says, ‘We told you so,’ huh?”

His smile widened.

There were small cottages all around us, each with a yard filled from sidewalk to sidewalk with whimsy. Floating fountains in one, naked statuary in another. All the homes looked alike, and in that it resembled a typical housing development on Earth.

Except for the fairies and sundry other magical creatures.

We walked up Marantha’s sidewalk to her doorstep. I reached for the doorbell--

—Magic exploded outward, tossing Kroshtuka and I backward. He hit the neighboring house hard; I skidded several feet on the road, the concrete tearing through my shirt and skin. Gasping in pain, I pushed to my feet, dropping a protection bubble around me. “Krosh?”

He grunted something, and rose unsteadily.

Marantha’s door was a gaping black maw, the burning wood sizzling in the aftermath of the blast. I eased closer, craning to see if she was inside.

Empty.

Every step jounced my back and hurt like a thousand fire ants nomming on my flesh. I paused long enough to push some healing magic into the wounds. It didn’t do much beyond numbing the pain a little. “I’m going to check inside. Will you be okay?”

“Coming,” he said, his voice tight.

“How bad are you hurt?”

“Ribs broken, I think.”

I held out my hand to him and pumped some Source into him. He stood a bit straighter afterward, though he, too, would need healing time. We stepped over the burning door jamb and into Marantha’s home. Right away I knew we wouldn’t find her; the wall Kenda had destroyed was still collapsed.

“Shit.” All this time, I’d thought she was okay and that bitch of an Anforsa had taken her. “Shit,” I said again, my eyes catching on a balled up piece of paper. My note made it through, for all the good it had done Marantha.

“What next?”

I shrugged and then regretted it, staggering at the pain that lanced through my shoulders. Krosh caught me before I tumbled over. “I don’t know. I’d planned to ask Marantha who Kenda cared for.”

“Who else would know this?”

We eased back out of the house, the stench of wood and magic burning making me sneeze. “I don’t know.”

He pointed to the witches standing outside their houses. Some of them scattered when they saw our attention swing their way. One man in baggy pants, his grey hair mussed, stood glaring at Marantha’s house. “They know. The Anforsa’s their leader, after all. They’ll know everything about her.”

But would they talk?

We asked several of the spectators, but they all shook their heads or hurried away. It was the grey-haired man who answered when I asked, “Do you know if the Anforsa has family in town?”

He pointed a blunt-tipped finger at the house. “She in there when it went?”

“Marantha? No. I think the Anforsa took her.”

He turned brown eyes on me. “Why?”

Something told me this man would sniff out my lies like a sommelier sniffed wine. “She’s my friend.”

“So?”

I pointed to my face, the movement pulling my ruined back and making me wince again. “Recognize me?”

He squinted, studying me, then he nodded. “You’re the one ole Kenda wants dead.”

“The one that fixed the Omphalos.”

His snort made me regret mentioning it. “That was a mistake. Now it’s gone, and good riddance.”

“I did that too.”

This time his snort was so loud it startled a fairy in a nearby bush. The poor thing panicked and flew into a window, stunning itself. Its little body fell into the grass. “You’re the Spider Queen?”

“No, I’m the lady who found her eye and gave her back her power.”

More rumination. “Kenda has a husband that keeps to himself. Lives over on Widders Lane. House two-fifty.”

“Does she care for him?” I asked, a cold elation spilling over me. Leverage.

“Not really.” My hope fell, but then he said. “It’s the other one she’s all gaga for. The young one.”

“A young what?”

He laughed, obviously enjoying himself. “A young man, probably twenty years her junior. Jax is the one you want, if you’re looking to hit her where it hurts.” He gave us the man’s address, even going so far as to describe the house, down to its metal lawn art and deep blue grass.

So much information. Was he too good to be true? “What’s your name?”

He considered the question for a moment, then said, “I tell you what. You figure out how to get rid of that woman, and I’ll give you my name when I buy you dinner. Until then, it’d be healthiest for me if I faded into the background.” He nodded to us both and walked away.

The address he’d given us led directly to Jax’s street. The indigo grass led us to his door. I knocked, and stepped back, hands clasped together in front of me. All I needed was a vacuum cleaner or a set of encyclopedias to complete the door-to-door saleswoman look. And as long as Jax didn’t insist on me turning around, he’d never see the shredded mess the road had made to my backside.

The door swung inward and a sleepy-eyed sex bomb stood staring at us. “What do you want?”

“Peace on Midia,” I said. I knocked him out with my magic and dropped him through a hook to the Slip. Krosh and I followed.

***

I spared only a stray thought for what Krosh would think of Tytan’s torture dungeon. He’d accepted me when I could change into a giant spider. This wasn’t too far removed from that, was it? I paused, waiting for Neutria to agree with me. Then I remembered she was gone and sadness crept in.

I’d made the choice not to take her back, but had I made the right one?

I left Jax in a cell and took Krosh upstairs to heal him more thoroughly. My magic worked better in the Slip, easier, and it was stronger, too. After we were both healed—except for my damned hand, of course—we went back down to Ty’s torture dungeon. It was uncomfortable having Krosh here; I worried he would see this place and reject me.

He squeezed my hand as if he understood my worries.

Krosh carried Jax to the operating theater, as Ty called it, and I watched with detachment as he secured the unconscious man to a pristine table in the middle of a bright, white room.

We hadn’t worked on Harrison here, Ty and I. We’d made a mess of that man farther back, where it was darker, where the shadows sometimes danced of their own accord.

“Thank you,” I said, biting back my need to apologize or make excuses. I wanted Ty here. Ty who would see what needed to be done and help me do it. I didn’t want Krosh to see this side of me. Didn’t want him to look at me differently.

Jax moaned, sparing me from any more burdensome thoughts. I moved to his side, adjusting the light overhead to shine directly in his eyes as they blinked open.

“What’s going on? Where am I?”

“The Slip.”

It had the reaction I wanted. He thrashed and hollered, yanking at the restraints until he was panting with exertion. I let him flail.

We had all the time in the world here.

It took him longer than I thought to convince himself that he wasn’t going anywhere. When he finally stilled, panting, I leaned in and smiled. Hard.

“Where’s my daughter?”

His look of confusion appeared genuine. “I don’t know what you’re talking abou—oh.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Kenda said she grabbed some kid down in Bayladdy. Some Skriven monster’s ki—oh.”

I almost felt sorry for him. He looked so pathetic every time he realized he’d put his foot in his mouth. “What did she do with that kid?”

His whole body shook from fear. “What are you going to do with me? Don’t hurt my face, okay? Or, like, any part of me, but especially not my face.”

“Your girlfriend hit my daughter. I’ll hurt whatever part of you I want.” I patted him hard on the cheek. “I’m a Skriven. I’m also a mother. You’d best be worried about that combination.”