Poison in the Blood (22 page)

“Can you give me your guarantee as a seer?” he asked.

“I haven’t had a vision, but I have faith. Sometimes faith can be more reliable than magic. Or at least more reliable than seer magic,” I corrected with a sheepish smile.

Dr. Bennett nodded and donned his spectacles. I said another prayer for Justine, and Michael took my hand.

“How does one fight a faerie?” I asked Simon.

“I will handle that. You three concentrate on defending yourselves and rescuing Miss Dubois,” Simon answered.

It was less than encouraging, but it was a plan.

Though we had spied the building in the mirror, I was unprepared for the size of the estate. It was almost large enough to be a palace. Did the Infernus faeries have mortal descendants living there? A fire sorcerer could be related to them, or perhaps the faeries had killed the rightful owners to take possession of the building.

“No guards,” Simon commented, peering out of the window.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Perhaps.”

We piled out of the carriage and hurried toward the house. Simon tried the latch on the front door, and finding it locked he leaned into it and shouldered it open. The wood groaned and splintered, and the door burst inward. Simon led the way, and we followed.

A servant rushed toward us, and he was devoid of any magic. “Mortal,” I warned.

“Allow me,” Michael replied.

“I demand to know who you are,” the servant sputtered. Michael waved a hand over the man’s face, and the servant crumpled, instantly unconscious.

“What did you do?” Dr. Bennett asked, sounding alarmed.

“Sleep spell. I’ve always wanted to use it.” My husband grinned. I whapped him on the arm.

“Whyever didn’t you use that on the children? It would be so helpful.”

“It doesn’t work on magicians,” he replied.

“Pity.” For a moment I’d thought we had finally found the solution for getting Robert to sleep soundly through the night.

We hurried down a corridor lined with large windows and spotted Helen standing at the end. Simon raced after her, a sudden dark blur of supernatural speed. The faerie darted to the left, but when we reached the junction a tug of magic pulled me toward the right.

“This way,” I ordered. Michael and Dr. Bennett skidded to a halt.

“But Simon went that way,” Michael protested.

“But Justine is this way. Trust me,” I insisted. Though Michael hesitated for a moment, torn between following his mentor or his wife, he joined Dr. Bennett in accompanying me.

I followed the pull down into the servants’ area until we reached the door of a wine cellar. I paused, remembering the perils of the wine cellar at Lord Willowbrook’s ball, where Mr. Farrell had nearly killed both me and Michael.

“I’ll go first.” Michael opened the door and led us down, and we found a large, open room with no wine whatsoever, but a few surprised Infernus faeries who were guarding Miss Dubois.

Either the faeries had decided to treat Justine with more respect than the other women they had abducted, or the guardian had put up more of a fight than they were expecting, because most of her clothing was still intact. The sleeves of her gown had been ripped away, her skirt was shredded and her shoes and stockings had been removed to facilitate the bleeding. Blood oozed from wounds slashed across her wrists and ankles, dripping into waiting vessels.

“We will accept your unconditional surrender on behalf of the faerie council,” I offered.

Apparently they were not in the mood to surrender, and they rushed us. Michael and Dr. Bennett engaged them, and I wove through the melee to Justine’s side. Her eyes were shut, and I felt for a pulse in her neck. She was chill and pale, but still alive. I shook her shoulder.

“Justine? Can you hear me? It’s Emily.”

Her eyelids fluttered and she groaned, but she didn’t wake. I turned my attention to the fight. The battle was a blur of movement, color and the occasional flash of fire. Dr. Bennett was quite the warrior, and Michael’s borrowed shield gleamed as he bashed a faerie and knocked his opponent back.

Dr. Bennett peeled off from the battle and joined me at Justine’s side, leaving Michael alone to defend us.

“You heal her, I’ll unshackle her,” I ordered.

He nodded, and went about closing her wounds. I wasn’t sure precisely how I was going to free her, for it was a task that was easier said than done. The shackles needed keys to unlock them.

“We need the keys,” I shouted to Michael.

A strange, hollow sound rang through the room as Michael struck a faerie in the head. The blow stunned his opponent long enough that he was able to tear the faerie’s ring of keys free from his belt, and he tossed the keys to me. Thankfully I had grown better at catching things through dealing with small children who enjoyed hurling toys, and I successfully caught them.

There had to be fifty keys jammed together on the ring, and I scowled down at it. I ran my fingers over the collection, hoping one would have a strong recent impression of energy. Finally I came across one that burned me like touching a hot coal, and I hissed and grabbed it, jamming it into the first lock. The key turned and the shackle opened, and I crowed in triumph.

My success was short-lived due to a blast of fire that sailed above our heads, so near that for a moment I was afraid my hair was singed. I turned to Michael and noticed several tears in his jacket that hadn’t been present a moment ago. He was outnumbered, and fear for his safety squeezed my heart.

I turned to Dr. Bennett. “Perhaps you should—” I began, but then a black blur that I assumed was Simon streaked down the cellar stairs and joined the fray. I resisted the urge to shout that it was about bloody time that he arrived, and focused on my task.

I freed one wrist and then the other, but when I moved to her feet I was interrupted by a sharp tug at my hair and the bite of a blade against my skin.

“
Enough
,” Helen shouted. “One more move and I slit the seer’s throat.”

I had never wished for proper shields so fervently as I did in that moment. Sadly a seer’s shields are of the mental variety, and I was unable to physically shove her away from me. Helen dragged me back, putting myself between her and my chronicler bodyguards.

“I should have known it would be you to arrive first,” she growled.

“Unhand her,” Michael demanded.

“Let her go and we will allow you to leave unharmed,” Simon said.

The faerie laughed. “You will
allow
it, child? That is quite amusing.”

“The consequences will be far worse if you harm her,” Simon assured her.

“Perhaps I will take her with us. She has proved fertile in the past. There may yet be something of use left in her blood,” Helen said, and I shuddered with revulsion.

Michael snarled, and he pointed at the faerie. “Harm her and you will die in agony.”

“How dare you threaten me! Fool, do you know who I am?” she roared.

“The face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ilium?” I guessed.

The quote drew her attention back to me. Her arm wavered for a moment, and with the mad thought that if nothing else, Dr. Bennett could heal me, I sank my teeth into the bare skin of her forearm. She shrieked but I held fast, and the moment of distraction was enough to give my defenders the chance to attack. Simon wrenched the knife from her grasp as Michael struck Helen with his shield. The impact knocked her back, and Simon lunged after her.

Michael knelt next to me, keeping his shield between us and danger. “Hold still,” he said. The smell of blood was the first clue that I had been injured. I hadn’t felt a thing, and I hoped that wasn’t a bad sign. Prickly healing tingled across my throat—chronicler magic, reminding me of the effect that came with healing a bite—and then he embraced me.

“Thank you, darling.” I smiled up at him.

“I think we may have to buy you a suit of armor,” he joked.

A mewling gurgle caught my attention, and I peeked over the wall of Michael’s shield to see Simon strangling Helen. I was certain he was not supposed to execute her, so I cleared my throat and called out for further reinforcements. “Lady Hippolyta! We have found Helen!”

A blinding flash of light filled the room, and when I was able to see again I spotted the heavily armed faerie guard and the faerie council. Simon released Helen, and she was set upon by the faerie guardsmen. They bound her with so much silver chain that she looked like a shining mummy.

“Are you well, Guardian Dubois?” Lady Hippolyta asked.

I turned and found that during the chaos Dr. Bennett had undone Justine’s remaining bonds and finished healing her. He held her clasped in his arms, her face hidden against his chest. Justine nodded, as much as she could manage, and the doctor stroked her hair. I blinked as the image of the two of them in wedding attire swam before my eyes, and I had a strong feeling that Dr. Bennett would not hesitate to inform her of their soul-mate status the moment they were alone.

“Miss Dubois has lost a great deal of blood and needs immediate rest,” Dr. Bennett informed the councilwoman.

“Of course. We thank all of you for your help in this matter, and we apologize for any injuries you have endured at the hands of the Infernus clan. They will be dealt with harshly.” Lady Hippolyta frowned at Helen. “I will return you to your homes. Blessed be.”

We were flashed from the room, and Simon, Michael and I reappeared in Thomas’s library. The three of us stared at each other for a silent moment, and then I turned to Michael.

“We should stay in town long enough for their wedding,” I said. Both men laughed.

“I think your sister may have something to say about that.” Simon dabbed at a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, the result of his brawl with the faeries. I withdrew my handkerchief and handed it to him. For a moment he froze, and then accepted it with a nod of thanks.

“I doubt they’ll wait very long. We didn’t.” I hugged my husband for emphasis, and he kissed the top of my head. “You’ll have to return those weapons. Though I hope Justine won’t need to fight dragons any time soon.”

“Of course. Well, now that this matter is resolved, I hope you’ll keep out of trouble for the near future,” Simon said.

I smirked. “Oh, on the contrary, I intend to get into trouble for a very long time. Forever, in fact.”

Epilogue

I died on the following Samhain. It was a Monday evening, exactly one year after my husband’s death, and it rained all afternoon.

We had returned to Yorkshire after the wedding—I saw a brood of tiny guardians in Justine’s future, and I knew she and her new husband would be quite happy.

Convincing Simon to allow me to undergo the ritual required a Herculean effort, but we managed it. It helped that I continued to have prophetic dreams of a future in a strange land with my husband, where we were happy and undead together, but there was still no certainty that I would survive. More than half of the apprentices who underwent the ritual to become chroniclers died, and the bastardized spell that Simon concocted came with no guarantees of success, even with the modifications he and Michael made to it.

I was terrified that I might not survive, and that I would leave my husband alone and our children without a mother, but I was also determined. I wanted that future with the lighted boats and towering buildings, where my husband still looked at me as he did on our wedding day after having spent over a century with me. Though of course I was terribly afraid of abandoning my children, there came a point where I had to decide which was stronger—the fear of dying or my faith in my magic. Once I accepted that my visions were right and I would live, I knew that not only would immortality allow me to look after my children for the rest of their lives, but their children as well. Together Michael and I would protect and provide for generations of our descendants.

Aside from the risks, the political ramifications were daunting, for I would fall under the control of neither the Order nor the necromancer council. Again, I would be unique among magiciankind, but I was used to that after a lifetime lived as a seer. My magic would be as isolated in death as it was in life.

After a great amount of heated arguing, it was decided that Michael would perform the ritual. My husband had campaigned that he should be allowed to do it, believing that our connection as soul mates would give the spell an extra edge. Though it was painful for him to admit, Simon pointed out that if that were the case, his wife would have survived. I was unsure of that, because I thought Genevieve’s witch heritage was the most likely source of the failure.

Simon also pointed out the fact that if the ritual did fail, he could take the blame, instead of Michael blaming himself for my death as Simon did for Genevieve’s. But it in end it was decided that Michael was the best choice, because our connection had saved us before, and it only made sense to continue to rely on it now. Thus on my final day as a living woman, Uncle Simon stayed with the children while I stood in our library, staring with trepidation at my husband as he prepared.

“Will it hurt?” It seemed a bit late to be asking the question, but I had avoided it until now.

Michael paused before he set another candle in the circle ringing the table. He looked up at me with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, darling, but yes, it will. Death is not a pleasant experience. Will that change your decision?”