Hearts of Darkness (26 page)

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Authors: Kira Brady

BOOK: Hearts of Darkness
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“I have admitted my mistake,” Corbette said, “and do not have to explain myself to you.”
Kayla took a breath to argue, but Hart stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Doesn't matter,” he said. “You going to let us go, or what?”
“Why,” Corbette asked, “are you here?” His voice crooned, and the Aether answered him like a loyal hound. It swirled around Hart, extracting the words, one by one, from his tight lips. Inside, the Wolf gnashed its teeth.
All together, the story was a grim one. Lies. Violence. Betrayal. His freedom in exchange for another's. Corbette's face was impassive, but the air grew hot with his anger. Kingu's necklace. The weakened Gate on Nisannu eve. Desiree Friday's failed escape and last request. Hart tried to keep the words inside, holding on to each until it was ripped from his tongue. The Aether stole every secret from the depths of his tarnished soul.
When he reached the end of the tale—moonrise the night before when Kayla was thrown into the cell with him—Corbette interrupted. “Thank you. That is enough.”
Thank the Lady. The tips of Hart's ears burned. He couldn't look at Kayla.
Corbette tapped the tip of his cane thoughtfully. “Rudrick has been keeping secrets.”
Hart could think of a few reasons the sentinel might avoid telling his boss. If Rudrick told Corbette of his plans, but failed to deliver the necklace, it would be his life on the line.
“Maybe he wanted to surprise you,” Kayla suggested.
A heavy beat of silence.
“And this necklace is now, once again, in Norgard's possession.” Corbette turned to his right-hand man. “Lord Jace, alert the four Houses. Level five, if you please.”
“Yes, sir.” Jace turned and retreated up the stairs. The Kivati princess passed him on the way down. She had transformed from the last time Hart had seen her into the perfect Kivati Lady. She could have walked off the canvas of some Belle Époque painting: a gown of pale blue, blond hair swept back in curls and covered by a beribboned straw bonnet, white lace gloves. A mouthful of bubble gum ruined the picture. Good for her.
“I instructed you to stay upstairs,” Corbette said without turning.
“I got bored.” She blew a pink bubble with her gum and popped it obnoxiously. She was painfully young. Her bravado was all for Corbette. Her eyes lit on Kayla. “You again! Hullo, there.”
“Hi, Lucia.” Kayla held up a hand in greeting. A faint blush tinged her cheeks.
Lucia grinned, strolled over to the cell, and leaned lazily against the bars. “Looks like you had fun last night.” She gave Hart an appraising once-over.
“Um, yeah,” Kayla answered sheepishly. “You could say that.”
Lucia laughed. “What're you still doing in the cage? Corbette, let them out.”
Corbette closed his eyes. Hart smirked. The girl had balls of steel. No one spoke to Corbette like that. They'd kill each other before the honeymoon was over. Hopefully not before the wedding. His bet with Oscar was still on.
“How do you know Miss Friday?” Corbette asked.
“Butterworth's,” Kayla supplied. She turned to Lucia. “You get home okay?”
“Of course,” Lucia said. “Hard not to with the X-Men trailing my every step. I can't sneeze without three of them handing me a tissue.”
“Something's come up, Lady Lucia,” Corbette said. “I'm sorry, but I have to break our date.”
A flash of disappointment crossed her face. She covered it quickly, indifferent as only a teenager could be. “As you wish.” She shrugged and blew another bubble. “I'm going anyway. It's so rarely good weather for sailing.”
“Take Johnny and Charlie with you,” the Raven Lord ordered.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to Kayla. “Darling, may we meet again as the Lady wills it.”
“Have a good sail,” Kayla said.
The princess gave a parting wave and flounced up the stairs.
Corbette turned to Kai. “Take our guests into custody.”
“But we haven't done anything wrong,” Kayla protested.
Kai pulled the lever to unlock the cell. The gears ground against each other, whining. The lock slid open with a
thunk
. Hart and Kayla weren't handcuffed—that would be too uncivilized—but Kai stalked behind them up the stairs with a heavy hand on the hilt of his scimitar. Hart's body felt like it'd been chewed up and spit out by Mount St. Helens. Kayla, on the other hand, practically bounced up the steps. Kai noticed Hart's strained gait and smirked. Bastard.
In the main armory, the blacksmiths and weaponsmiths had disappeared. Two female Kivati warriors joined their little band: a Cougar named Elinor and a Bear named Nita. The female warriors wore battle dress: leather knickers, sturdy knee-high boots, and boned leather corsets that served to protect the internal organs rather than squeeze the waist. Their leather arm bracers were both black, because they belonged to Kai's Western House. Leather boleros covered their shoulders and bone chokers protected their delicate necks from clavicle to chin. The Cougar was an archer, with Thunderbird arrows and a heavy yew crossbow. The Bear favored brute strength; the ax was her weapon of choice.
If he hadn't been so on edge, Hart would have enjoyed his first trip in a Kivati steam car. The ride was smooth, yet the landscape blurred past as the engine easily topped a hundred miles per hour. The only noise was a quiet bubbling of water in the glass boilers beneath the hood.
Kivati Hall lorded over the city from the top of Queen Anne. The Georgian monstrosity dated back to the early days of Seattle. Diamond-paned windows set off the yellow façade, and a wraparound porch with ionic columns gave the place a deceptively friendly feel. An imposing iron gate surrounded the grounds, each spike topped with little tinkling bells to keep out wandering spirits.
“Nice view,” Kayla said when Kai helped her out of the steam car and she stood for the first time on sacred Kivati ground. Downtown Seattle rose in front of them, looking flimsy and fleeting beneath the looming gaze of Mount Rainier. To the west, storm clouds gathered, hiding the Olympics from view.
Kayla didn't seem afraid of the Kivati anymore. She had a new confidence, like a chick after its first flight. When she glanced at Hart, she blushed.
He almost tumbled her to the grassy lawn, Kivati be damned.
Down, boy
. He turned to Corbette. “Now what, oh benevolent Lord? Shall we take tea and chat about old times?” Perhaps sarcasm wouldn't get him what he wanted, but he couldn't help himself. He wouldn't bow to Corbette if his life depended on it.
Kayla's life, on the other hand . . .
Hart shrugged off the queasy feeling in his stomach. The Raven Lord was sworn to protect humans. He might be a bastard, but he was honorable.
“Patience.” Corbette led them around the side of the mansion to a long lawn. The colorful daffodils and crocuses in the flowerbeds contrasted sharply with the weapons and siege supplies piled high on the green grass. A small army of warriors sharpened knives and arrows. Most had steadfast rifles and revolvers too. One never knew when a burst of Aether would render more modern guns useless. It was best to be prepared for any situation.
Hart's fingers itched for his broadsword. He wondered what Rudrick had done with it, and if he'd ever get it back.
The perimeter of the yard and upper balconies of the mansion were guarded by modified crossbows. A hand crank turned six barrels in rapid fire. A small steam-powered engine could propel the heavy arrows all the way to the skyscrapers downtown and through the thick scales of a flying lizard. The war preparations resembled those of an earlier age, but they represented the future. Nothing plastic. Nothing requiring electricity. Nothing vulnerable to a large surge of spirits.
Hart looked thoughtfully at Corbette, whose blank expression said he was furiously plotting something within that thick skull. “You planning to attack the Drekar?”
“Not originally, but now—who knows? It's the fifth day of the Babylonian New Year. I like to be prepared.” Corbette waved to a man wearing a red armband. The white feather in his hair signified a recent personal loss. Hart wondered if Norgard had lashed out against the Kivati after last night's debacle.
“So?” Kayla asked. She looked warily at the weapon field as if she could already see the future carnage.
“Norgard has taken a special interest this year in celebrating his ancestral festival,” Corbette explained, “in addition to stepping up attacks. He set a new record in the past two months for civilian casualties. Indifference or arrangement?” He stopped to speak with the man he'd summoned. The eagle-shifter's red-rimmed eyes and stony jaw reminded Hart of Kayla the first time he'd seen her.
He shook off the thought. He tried to remind himself that emotions made an operative sloppy. He needed to stay sharp.
If the Southern House warrior had lost someone, Kivati honor demanded that he drew first blood in retaliation. The guy certainly seemed motivated. He glared at Hart as if blaming him for the Drekar's strike.
Kayla frowned. “Why would Norgard want to kill more people? Doesn't he eat them? Or can he get their souls after they're dead?”
“No, Drekar need living victims,” Hart told her.
Corbette dismissed his officer and turned back to Kayla. “Why does Norgard do what he does? I only knew the attacks had escalated, so gave the order to mobilize. Recent information”—he gave Hart a stern look—“shines new light on his actions. We all know the Drekar seek to return to power. They tell their children bedtime stories of Kingu's glorious battle before Tiamat, goddess of chaos, fell. The Lady knows, many have tried to spring Kingu from the Gate. A few have come terrifyingly close.”
“Norgard is trying to weaken the Gate further by flooding it with the newly Dead,” Hart suggested.
Corbette nodded tightly.
“What about the Nisannu ceremony?” Kayla asked. “Desi was researching it. Can it stop Norgard from opening the Gate?”
Hart felt a little ill. He squeezed Kayla's hand. Inside, the Wolf rose to its haunches, ready to defend her.
“It can be used to reinforce the Gate, or to open it,” Corbette said. “Nisannu occurs on the Spring Equinox, an auspicious time for any great work of magic to be performed. The festival consisted of the Descent, the Sacred Marriage, and, most importantly, the Determination of Destiny. Through the ceremony, the king was able to summon the gods to fix the destinies of the universe.”
“Could these gods return the Drekar to power?” Kayla asked.
“Yes,” Corbette said. “But the gods are capricious. Norgard must have some way of controlling Kingu once he frees him.”
The sun slipped behind a cloud and Kayla shivered. Hart brushed her arm with his, trying to give her some of his warmth. He wished he could hold her. “How would he do it?” he asked. “What's he need for this ceremony?”
“The Descent involves atonement of sins,” Corbette said, “for which the king sacrifices a ram.”
“He needs livestock?” Kayla asked.
“A human would be better,” Hart said.
Corbette nodded his agreement. “Part one—a human sacrifice. Part two—the Sacred Marriage. The king reenacts a ‘wedding' with Ishtar, the goddess of love and fertility.”
“Sex,” Hart said.
“With anyone?” Kayla asked.
Corbette's fingers flexed around the silver handle of his cane. “A virgin sacrifice is the most powerful—”
Kayla's eyes flickered to Hart, and she blushed. He was immediately glad Kayla no longer fit the bill for Norgard's plans.
“—but not strictly necessary.”
Damn.
“Should Norgard carry out the first two ceremonies,” Corbette said quietly, staring out toward the distant Mount Rainier, “he may summon the gods to do his bidding. The Gate will fall, releasing Kingu and whatever army he possesses.”
Hart scratched the stubble on his jaw. Did the gods still listen to mortal requests? Perhaps the magic of the old covenants was strong enough to wake even the most recalcitrant deity.
“Lord Kai,” Corbette called to his general, who had been conversing with various warriors off to the side. “Summon the four Houses. Every able-bodied Kivati needs to soldier up. Get the vulnerable to the safe houses.”
“What about the humans?” Kayla asked.
Hart snorted. “The humans will never believe this.”
“But we have to try. You could tell them it's a terrorist attack or something. Call the military—”
“Miss Friday.” Corbette laid a hand on her shoulder, but removed it when Hart growled. “It would be a massacre if the humans got involved. There's nothing we can do—”
“Bullshit! We have to warn them—”

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