Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2) (12 page)

He stopped the horse. Taking her hands, he met her eyes. “Tell me.”

He was hiding much from her, and perhaps he dreaded a stronger connection between them for fear she would discover his mysteries. She deserved her own secrets, didn’t she? She deserved to see Sarah again.

“There is nothing to...” The inn hung in her periphery, a testament to her lie.

He looked, then back to her. “She is there?”

She bit her lip. Miles had once warned her about trusting too easily. Kiren himself had warned her against laying herself entirely at his mercy. This once she would use her own discretion.

She would face Sarah.

Alone.

He volleyed into the saddle behind her. The reins snapped and wind howled past her ears. He crushed her to him, the rhythmic knock of his heart heightening her own. The sun dipped toward the horizon.

The exactness of her vision stole her breath—the rickety porch and added gazebo off to the east, the scythe and cracked wide stump out front, the square door with two small glass panels above it, the framing widows to either side and bays protruding from the upper floor, the two very large chimneys and slatted-wood roof that nearly domed rather than slanting... Mae would be inside, knitting a brown scarf to match her apron and the dog at her feet would be panting quietly.

Kiren pulled to a halt. Her chest ached from the hammering within as he slid from the horse, and she couldn’t decide if he was pretending at a sudden calm to ease her nerves.

“Come now, Alexia.” He took her hands, steadying her when she met the ground, legs trembling. “Are you all right?”

She looked at him in horror, his words the very tone of her nightmare.

He slipped a cloak about her shoulders. “Let us find you something to eat, shall we?”

The door creaked open. Mae’s needles clicked rhythmically and the dog on the floor lifted his head. Flickers of light romped across the room from the fire, elongating the distance with ominous shadows.

Kiren guided her in. Instant gloom—an absence of warmth she’d never known—filled her lungs. She turned to him.

The healthy glow of his skin had paled and tired lines hung under his eyes. His grip felt less stalwart. His hair held less body, his lip cracked from dehydration, but his eyes—they remained true.

“Wh-where are we?” she whispered.

“Scorched earth.” He smiled. “Here all beauty, all strength, all extremes of emotion or hunger are diminished.” His eyes touched hers. Something more hid in the strain of his tenor.

She grabbed his arm. “The Soulless are powerless here?”

His smile soured. “And they are not the only ones.”

Her fingers bit into him. “You are saying I cannot halt time here?”

Severe sapphire flashed at her. “Trying could kill you.”

And by extension, him. She shuddered. “How did you find this place?”

He waved at the room. “We built it.”

The structure was an echo of his home in Wilhamshire, the elegant use of windows to produce an airy feel, lighter woods, and a hearth at the heart of the building which must warm the entire place. Above, a balcony curled around the great room, a narrow staircase along one wall leading upward.

Mae’s gingerbread bun bobbed and she turned. “Have you finished in the doorway, or shall I ignore your presence longer?”

Her needles had long since ceased to move, scarf set aside. Brown wisps framed her smiling cheeks, eyes blankly fixed their direction, one lid nearly closed.

Kiren squeezed Alexia’s shoulder. “Mae, you are looking well.”

Her grin widened, crystal-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Who have you brought me then?” 

Kiren cleared his throat. “May I introduce Dana’s child.”

She reached for the chair arm and missed. Catching it the second time, she pushed up and tottered forward, arm extended. Kiren took her hand and guided it to Alexia’s.

Mae’s warmth thawed through her skin. “Welcome. I have waited long for you, Alexia.”

“For me?” She turned a questioning brow on Kiren. Had he intended to bring her here all along?

Mae’s nose flared. “But I smell blood?”

Kiren exhaled. “She will need a change of clothes, a bath, and a washboard. Oh yes, and a meal. What would you have me do to help?” 

Their hostess waved a hand. “You are exhausted from the ride.” His mouth opened and she lifted a finger, silencing him. “I can always detect the exhaustion in your voice, and if you do not relent, I will tell her what else I hear.”

His nose twitched.

“What else do you hear?” Alexia asked.

The woman squeezed her arm, drawing her face to face. “What has he put you through?”

“It was not him.”

Mae’s frown relaxed. “Come. Have a seat. Allow someone less foolhardy to take proper care of you.”

“Mae.” Kiren crossed his arms.

She pointed that finger at him again. “You have a horse to stable.”

Alexia couldn’t help her grin, adoring Mae already. The woman pushed her into a chair and swept through a doorway.

Kiren’s chuckle lightened her heart further. He placed a kiss to her forehead. “You could not be in better hands.”

“I could be in yours.”

He tipped her chin toward him, his white scar standing out starkly against tanned skin. Alexia followed each zag. Had he obtained this cut while saving someone’s life or while battling for his own? She ached to know.

“I will only be a moment.” He rubbed a thumb down her jaw. “You cannot be harmed here.”

“They know you do not have your pendant, or they will soon.” She glanced to the dimming daylight through the windows.

His head shook. “You are safe on scorched earth.” He straightened, rising. With a glance back from the exit, he winked and slipped from view.

Something wet raked her hand. The dog sat panting at her feet.

“And what are you? Some kind of guard hound bred by our kind?”

His head tilted.

She patted him, the mutt was as benign as in her dream. Her gaze landed on the ring stationed over her left finger. It glittered marvelously in the room, scattering twinkles over the furniture.

She inhaled. Why had she let him go? Any instant Sarah would appear. Somehow she would slip by him.

The dog growled, nose aimed toward the exit.

The door moved.

Alexia pressed back into her seat, gripping the wood, wishing for the strength to slow the minutes.

Long dark curls spilled over the proud set of shoulders so well known to her, face obscured by a hood. Flowing black skirts dusted across the floor, pale hands illuminated by the fire. A chill followed her in, and a paralyzing silence.

“Sarah,” Alexia breathed.

The cloaked woman halted in the middle of the room.

Her hood fell back. Olive eyes sparkled in the firelight, unadulterated surprise the only emotion in her blazing red pupils

Twenty-Four

Bread Crumbs

How Lester did it, Miles would never know.

He nodded to the old man in the crimson light. With the elder’s speed and bizarre foresight, they had discovered the cave far faster than he’d thought possible. His palms were damp from the anticipation of entering the Soulless consciousness. He’d had glimpses: the call of people claiming to be his parents, the recognition of a hundred hive-mind creatures who mimicked that fondness for him and lusted after both his health and his reunion with them...

Miles shook the thoughts away. Tracks scattered dirt in front of the cave entrance, eleven sizes and weights, all aimed in different directions.

Lester stepped into each scuffle pattern of steps, gauging height and speed from the lengths—something Miles only knew because the elder had educated him.

He liked the runner, how easily he kept everyone out of his head. There were so few people who could. It was a relief to not be overwhelmed by his companion’s thoughts and emotions. Even though he’d developed a means to block out most distractions, there were just some instances where he got sucked in.

Like Alexia.

“These be the ones what were carryin’ more than their own hides.” The old man traced five separate paths with the stick clasped in his hand. Glancing at the sky, he grunted.

Miles leaned back, crossing his arms. “You mean to run them all down and figure out which one has the medallion?”

Lester grinned a toothy grin and tapped his head, then pointed at Miles. “You’ll be the one what does the askin’.”

He groaned, trying to ignore the chill of mist across his skin, the living kind that whispered in his head as it passed. He expected Ethel’s thoughts, but suppressed rage smacked him like a tidal wave.

“Lester—”

The old man lifted a hand in a shushing gesture, crouched forward, and stepped gingerly into the darkness of the cave. Miles glanced warily at the sky before following. He didn’t like this.

A desperate hiss refracted off cave walls, startling him. How had he not heard it before? He squinted into the pitch, then closed his eyes. Reaching out mentally, he stepped in and sent his mind spinning toward any consciousness present.

A bug. The cave wall beneath him clung to his six feet. Large shadows blotted out the light. He tasted the air with his antenna, scenting sweat and anticipation. 

Miles abandoned the crawler and skimmed further.

No light. Agony! Acid slithered through her veins, tearing at her inner organs. Every muscle tensed, frozen in blazing pain. She was going to burst!

Ripping himself from the sufferer’s mind, he landed on his knees, gasping.

Lester’s grip rounded his arm. “What is it?”

Miles stumbled to his feet. “Hurry.”

They groped into the darkness, halting when raspy breaths filled their ears. Miles hesitated and reached out mentally, brushing just over the edge of her misery. He staggered under the distraction of her agony, grabbing her around the waist and lifting the girl off the cave floor, toward the cave exit and remaining day.

Sunset caught her hair, painting it pink. Her fingers grappled inwardly, crooked and tense. Glittering metal ringed her wrists—a thin gold chain.

He set her down on the ground outside the cave and her knees crumpled. He caught her and laid her down. Wrapping the edge of his sleeve over his fingers, he tore the links free. They bounced in all directions, refracting sunlight as they spun away.

Bellezza’s little body collapsed, panting slowing, eyes drooping.

Why hadn’t he felt her sooner? That kind of desperation should have smacked him over the head and dragged him into the darkness. But she had a way about her, a hush, all of her pain coiled so tightly inside.

It was swimming around him, swimming through hazy images of night skies, screaming, running, the bitterness of desperation, despair...

Blinking his vision straight, he startled at the sweat doused curls beneath his fingers as he finished smoothing them back from her face. Had she heard him through her misery and somehow mustered enough strength to call upon even a fraction of her gift?

Her eyes fluttered open, the chocolate swirls so innocent and vulnerable. He wanted to ask if she was all right, but the question would anger her. She wanted pity from no one.

With a smirk, he nodded.

Her lip twitched.

Curling his fingers into her hair, he delved into her mind.

Little sparkles glittered on the outskirts of her consciousness, quickly snuffed out. Blackness bubbled up, obscuring everything in inky rage. A grinning skull emerged from the pitch, beads of vibrant scarlet for eyes. Bellezza laughed inwardly as she imagined gouging out each eye with an iron dagger and then tearing his smiling head clean off. And she would.

As soon as she could lift her arms.

A deep chuckle startled her. A luscious sound. She forced her eyes open and stared into gray eyes, instantly aware of his touch at the back of her head.

Bellezza jerked free.

Miles jumped out of her head.

“Stay out,” she mouthed.

He nodded and rose.

Lester uncrossed his arms and approached. “And?”

“The Soulless,” Miles muttered.

The old man waved for him to continue.

Miles turned. “Bellezza?”

She rolled her eyes. “They were lucky enough to capture me,” her whisper was hoarse, tremors shaking through her thin frame. “They found out about the wedding. Attacked. Left me to die.”

Lester grunted, disbelief clear from his shaking head. “Here’s what I think happened. You made an accord with them what exacts yer whims, and they turned on you.”

She bit down, nose crinkling. Her rage permeated through Miles like a dense, overly-sweet smoke.

“Kin you tell us anything more?”

She rested on her side, quiet. Miles was ready to dive back in when she spat, “The one they call Joseph—he had the weapon.”

Miles knelt next to her. “Which direction did he travel?”

She pulled in a long breath, her chest rising. “Oxford.”

He met stares with Lester. The old man nodded. “We’ll go after we retrieve the Master.”

The Master.
Miles pulled a hand through his hair. “What about her?”

Lester’s head shook, voice lowering. “Ripe lot of lies. Coddle her and she’ll bite yer hand off.” And Lester would know.

Miles sighed.

“Ye’d be best t’ put her back where you found her, gold ’n’ all.”

Miles knew the two had some history, but he’d never heard the old man so insensitive with anyone. “You can’t be serious.”

“We haven’t the time or manpower to punish her proper. Set that chain ’bout her and I’ll send Ethel to fetch the wily nixie.”