Fearless (30 page)

‘You heard the Witch,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll be here a few days. So sleep! It’s not the cosiest of places, but much better than the one we came from, don’t you think?’

Fox didn’t answer. Her eyes wandered to his chest, to where the moth was hiding beneath his shirt. She hadn’t forgotten about death. From his backpack, Jacob pulled the necklace he’d taken from Ramée’s granddaughter. Her face incredulous, Fox touched the black heart.

‘Two treasures in one go,’ Jacob whispered. ‘I’ll tell you the whole story. But now you have to rest.’

She was so pale. He felt as though he could see through her skin.

Outside, one of the devil-horses whinnied.

Fox sat up.

The horse was quiet again, but it wasn’t a good silence.

She was quicker to the stable door than he. His eyes couldn’t make out anything suspicious between the dark trees, but Fox reached for the saddlebag with her fur dress.

‘Someone’s there.’

‘Let me take a look.’

She just shook her head. Jacob watched the trees while she put on the fur dress. The horses were still restless. Maybe they just smelled the Witch.

No, Jacob.

It was a moonless night, and he barely noticed the vixen dart off. There was still light behind the Witch’s window. A dog was barking somewhere.

Why did you let her go, Jacob?
She was too weak. He could still see the pitcher, filled to the rim with her fear. Again, a dog barking. His hand reached for his pistol. He was just about to go after her when the fur of the vixen brushed against his leg again.

‘They are over there, to the left, between the trees. The Bastard and five others.’ Fox pulled Jacob away from the stable door. He thought he could still feel the fur on her hands. ‘You can smell the Waterman from miles off. And they have two bloodhounds.’

Damn.
How did the Goyl get there? Jacob seemed unable to shake him off, like a shadow. Jacob rubbed his bandaged arm. It was his left – the heart arm, as the Witches called it. Sadly, it was also his better shooting arm. Not to mention the blood he was missing, and he still had the fight with Troisclerq in his bones. The Bastard would take the heart, and it would be like taking it off a child.

‘Maybe the Witch can help us,’ Fox whispered.

‘Perhaps. But I can’t afford to give another two cups of blood. And have you forgotten about the Waterman?’ Witch magic was as powerless against Watermen as a lit fuse thrown into a pond.

‘I can try to lure them away.’

‘No.’

She knew him well enough to know that this ‘no’ was final.

Jacob looked towards the devil-horses. Even if he and Fox managed to get away, what about Donnersmarck?

Damn. Too little time in the wrong place.

He took the black heart from his pocket. Fox flinched as he put the necklace around her neck. Jacob had wrapped the stone in a piece of cloth so it wouldn’t touch her.

‘Take it off before you go to sleep, and make sure the stone never sits on top of your heart!’ he whispered. ‘The cloth will only protect your skin. I’ll try to get you at least an hour’s head start.’

‘No!’ She wanted to take the necklace off, but Jacob grabbed her hands.

‘Nothing will happen to me. I’ll surrender myself before things get too hot.’

‘And then what? That Goyl already tried once before to kill you!’

‘He won’t, as long as I am his only chance of getting the heart! You just can’t get caught. Meet up with Valiant. Let the Dwarf deal with the Bastard. There’s an empty watchtower by the Dead City. I’ll tell the Goyl that’s where you’ll be waiting for him.’

She leant her head against his shoulder.

‘It’ll be all right,’ he whispered.

‘When?’ she whispered back. ‘Let’s try together. Please! We’ll be on the horses before they can start shooting.’

‘And Donnersmarck?’ Jacob brushed a will-o’-the-wisp from her hair. An hourglass. He’d find one. But the moment was now lost.

‘Take the rear.’ He drew his pistol. ‘The wall’s so rotten, I’m sure you’ll find a crack over there.’

Fox turned around, but Jacob pulled her back once more. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Her heartbeat was like his own.

Something stirred outside between the trees.

‘Run!’ Jacob whispered.

Red fur where just a moment before was pale skin.

She was gone before he had turned around again.

CHAPTER FIFTY

A TRADE

Y
es, the vixen had spotted them. However, the stable she’d disappeared into had only one door, and Louis would hit anything that came out of there. He yawned as often as he breathed, but his eyes were halfway clear again, and he was a decent shot.

‘Shall I let them go?’ The dog man could barely hold his panting charges.

‘No. Not yet.’ The thought of them tearing the vixen to pieces made him nauseous. It wouldn’t take much and soon he’d be throwing up at every turn, like Lelou.

Speaking of the Devil . . .

‘Are you sure he’s in there?’ The Bug stared at the stable as though he were trying to burn a hole into the brittle walls. He was very proud of the pistol he’d started to carry in his belt.

‘Yes. He’s standing right behind the door.’

Reckless thought the darkness hid him, but he’d forgotten he was dealing with a Goyl.

‘I’d best hit him straight in the head.’ Louis trained his rifle. ‘Or do we need him alive?’ His clan’s passion for the hunt. The excitement even made him forget to yawn. They still believed the story about the Albian spy.

‘No. Just shoot him dead,’ Nerron replied. He didn’t want Louis to think he was softer than him. And, anyway, Reckless wouldn’t be so stupid as to run out in front of his rifle. Nerron was sure he had the heart. Once more, Reckless had been faster.
Two to one for him, Nerron.

Lelou nervously licked his lips. The pistol on his belt had not made a warrior out of him. Eaumbre was with Milkbeard by the Witch’s house. After what had happened in Vena, Louis had become even harsher towards the Waterman, but Eaumbre bore the insults with a stoic expression, and he kept acting as if he’d never given up the bodyguarding business.

At Nerron’s sign, Eaumbre kicked in the Witch’s door. Yes, he was useful, though one could never be too sure which side he was on. Probably his own. The child-eater fluttered past him and landed on her roof with a loud croak. The magpie was the Dark Witches’ bird of choice; the White Witches preferred swallows. Reckless had probably been watching, but there was no movement behind the stable door.

‘One thing’s for sure,’ Louis muttered. ‘When we find that crossbow, I get the first shot.’

‘Yes? And who would that be aimed at?’

Louis gave Nerron an icy look. ‘A Goyl, of course. And with the second shot, I’ll wipe out the Albian army.’

Eaumbre stood in front of Nerron. ‘Just one wounded man. He’s sleeping some kind of Witch sleep. Shall I bring him here to flush out the other one?’

‘No. I’ll get him out anyway.’ Nerron drew his revolver and checked the ammunition. Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun.

Eaumbre stood by his side. The well had obviously not dampened his lust for treasure hunting.

‘I’m coming as well.’ Louis suppressed a yawn.

To hell with Lelou and his toad spawn! Luckily, even the Bug understood that a dead prince meant a dead Arsene Lelou. ‘Best to let the Goyl handle this, my prince!’ he purred. ‘Who’s going to shoot the spy if he gets away from Nerron and the Waterman?’

Louis yawned once more. ‘Fine.’ He pointed his rifle at the stable door again. ‘What are you waiting for, Goyl?’

Nerron badly wanted to give him some of the lizard venom the onyx used to turn human skin into translucent slime.
The crossbow, Nerron. It’ll be worth it all!
He could already feel its wooden shaft in his hands. It would give all the treasure hunters sleepless nights. His ugly face would be on the front page of every newspaper, and princes and Kings would beg him for his services. Only the onyx would wish him dead, once Kami’en put the crowns of Lotharaine and Albion on his head. They would curse the day they’d sent a five-year-old bastard home instead of to his death.

Nerron left the dog man and Milkbeard with Louis. They were both loud and stupid, not worthy of this enemy. But he did give Milkbeard orders to set the devil-horses free. It would be far too humiliating should Reckless manage to escape on them.

Nerron stayed under the trees until he could no longer be seen from the stable door. Reckless didn’t have eyes that could see in the dark, and his skin wasn’t as black as the night, but the vixen was with him, and her senses were as sharp as a Goyl’s.

A few quick steps across the yard. The back against the stable wall. Reckless was no longer standing behind the door. Nerron could see that much.

Cat and mouse.

He squeezed through the door.

A cart. Bails of hay. Brushwood, the kind Witches used for their brooms. Especially the vixen could be hiding anywhere. Would Reckless shoot him without warning? Maybe. Though Reckless was more into rules than Nerron was. According to what people said about him, he had old-fashioned ideas about honour and decency, though he probably would’ve never admitted it.

Where were they?

Nerron briefly worried they might have escaped through some kind of spell – but here, in the Dark Witch’s territory, no magic worked besides her own. Hopefully, Lelou made sure Louis didn’t fall asleep.

The Waterman was still standing in the doorway. What? Was he suddenly afraid of the dark?
Go search, you idiot!

Nerron rammed his sabre into the brushwood.

‘I see you’re also quite good at playing hide-and-seek!’ His voice sounded like ground-up granite. The damp well was still sitting in his bones. ‘I just want the heart. Then I’ll let you and the vixen go.’ He might even keep that promise, but of course he couldn’t speak for Louis.

A follet ran past him, and there were rats in the hay. A cosy place, but the vixen’s company without a doubt even turned the filthy stable of a child-eater into a romantic venue.

There. He could hear someone breathe.
You have him now, Nerron.
All that hassle, just because he’d trusted the wolves.

A sound made him spin around, but it was only the Waterman who’d stepped into one of the Witch’s rat traps.
Scaly fool.
He groaned and cursed as he freed his boot from the iron jaws. The noise distracted Nerron for a fraction of a second, but that was enough. Before he could turn again, he heard the click of a pistol’s hammer.

Reckless was standing a step away, aiming at Nerron’s heart. Where had he been? Between the hay bales? Eaumbre took a hobbling step towards him.

‘I really wouldn’t.’ Reckless’s left hand was wet. His whole sleeve was dripping with blood.

‘Was that the payment for your wounded friend? How noble.’ Nerron waved the Waterman back. ‘Yes, child-eaters cut deep.’

Reckless shrugged. ‘Don’t worry. I can still pull a trigger.’

‘Yes, but how often? You’ll be dead before you get out that door.’ Nerron cast a quick glance behind Reckless, but the vixen was nowhere to be seen. ‘Come on now. Where is the heart?’

Reckless smiled.

Oh, Nerron, you are a fool.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

RUN

F
ear. And more fear. Too short the peace in between.

She was so tired that even the fur gave her no comfort. Fox had drunk her own fear, but she could still feel it. Like a tremor deep inside her.

Places, clinging to her heart like mould . . . the shabby house that smelled like the sea. The red chamber. They couldn’t just be left behind. No matter how fast the vixen ran. Jacob was the only one who protected her from them.

Fox wanted to sleep by his side. Just be with him and feel his warmth wash away the memory of the red chamber. And the house that smelled of salt.

But she had to run.

She was carrying his life around her neck.

Nothing had ever weighed more.