Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

“I wouldn’t look too closely. There’s not much left of my son-in-law.”

A sound escaped Evelina’s throat, remembering the slice of fang in flesh. “Did he …”

“Bedtime snack.” Keating’s voice was hoarse with disgust. “It put them to sleep. All that poison is bound to give the lizard nightmares.”

But it wasn’t poisoned nightmares the beast was having. She’d somehow hurt it, and the Wraiths along with it. She guessed the vampirelike creatures were tied to the dragon through shared magic, and whatever damage she’d done to the Black King had shocked them, too.

Keating stepped forward, holding one of the Wraith’s weapons. Evelina quickly stepped between him and Nick.

The Gold King’s yellow eyes were both angry and amused. “How did you get away from Dartmoor?”

“Magnus. In the end, I killed him,” she said bluntly. There was no time to waste on a battle of words. Besides protecting Nick, she needed to save Tobias—if there was enough left of him to save. The flicker of his life was cupped in her magic like an egg in a nest, but it wouldn’t survive long. She could feel it fading already, dragged away piece by piece into the source of the dark magic as she wasted time on the Gold King. Anxiety made her heart race, leaving her slightly breathless.

Keating made a noise of distaste. “Good riddance to the sorcerer, but that leaves you. We had an agreement, but it’s clear you can’t be trusted.”

“Me?” But she stopped there. Enumerating the ways Keating had betrayed her loved ones would take all night—and right now she simply needed him to be quiet and go away.

“You.”

He raised the weapon—or started to. Impatient, Evelina raised a shield, slamming it into him with the force of a frying pan. He flew backward, a blast of blue fire shooting toward the ceiling. She almost enjoyed his look of surprise, but it didn’t last. Staggering, he caught himself and took aim again.

But by then Evelina had rushed him. There was no time for bargaining and finesse. She was fighting for people she loved. She grabbed Keating’s coat with both hands, pulled him close, and unleashed the dark hunger. It rose on a wave of anger, smoky and hot, and she made no effort to hold it back. Keating had no idea what to do. He was lost the moment she touched him.

There was no resistance, not like there had been with Magnus, and no uncertainty. This was retribution. It was for the thousands of lives broken for want of clean water, or heat, or medicine. It was for the Red Jack and the thousands of dead she had seen that day. It was for Nellie Reynolds and all the lives lost in Her Majesty’s Laboratories. It was for Nick, and Tobias, and Jeremy, and Alice. And it was for her.

She took no pleasure as Keating fell dead to the ground at her feet, but the world seemed a fraction cleaner. And then she turned and threw up.

There wasn’t much in her stomach, but it still seemed to take forever to vent her revulsion. Some of it was simply the thought of any iota of Keating inside her, but more of it was that she’d done too much magic that day. Overfilled and overstretched, her power spilled over, tipping and splashing like an imaginary cup. Every nerve in her body jumped, sending more bolts of pain and nausea through her gut. Flashes of light speared her vision, dazzling her until she didn’t know if she knelt or stood or had collapsed utterly to the floor. When she reeled forward, she felt the brush of Keating’s sleeve against her hand and she shrank back, repelled by even the dead shell of his being.

And then, horribly, she lost her grip on Tobias. She grabbed for that last glitter of light, but it was like darting to catch a glass before it fell. Her magic brushed it, but she was too late. A piece of her heart went with him as he sank into the darkness, pulled down by the primal magic she’d tried to use to save him. A final stab of sorrow doubled her over.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She had power, but it hadn’t been enough. The Black King’s estimation of her as a mouse was completely true.

When the spasms finally stopped, Nick was stirring. She was empty, scraped hollow as an eggshell and just as vulnerable. Thought and emotion had deserted her. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she rocked back on her heels, trembling and cold. When she had enough control over her limbs, she went to Nick’s side and helped him to sit.

“Keating?” he asked.

“Dead.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and gave a slow nod, holding his head. “About damned time.”

Evelina wrapped her arms around Nick, pulling him as close as she could. She needed his warmth and the rough brush of his cheek as never before. Tears leaked from her eyes.

“Hey,” Nick whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t save him.”

He stroked her hair. “I’m sorry. But you tried above and beyond what anyone else could have.”

She gave a shuddering sob, but swallowed back her tears. There would be time enough to weep later, but they were still in a dangerous place. Tobias’s face, and smile, and the sound of his cries flickered beneath the surface of her mind like a river beneath ice, threatening to crack her apart.

Nick got to his feet, pulling her up with him. “What’s wrong with the king and his Wraiths?”

“We fought.” Her numbed magic groped to read the dragon’s life force, feeling like a limb that had gone to sleep. She was just able to touch the Wraiths’ auras. They were weak, but alive. The Black King was another story. The dragon had yearned for death, and it had got its wish. Immortal did not mean invincible, especially when its will to live had worn away. “We fought, and we both lost.”

Nick’s eyes widened, but his only response was to slide an arm around her. They could both feel the magic of the place already weakening. “We need to leave,” he said.

For an instant, she remembered what the dragon had said about the underground needing a king to keep its denizens in check—but she was too tired to hold onto the warning. It slipped away from her, carried off in the torrent of her sorrow.

“What about Tobias? We can’t just leave him here.” She was starting to sob, horror giving way to grief.

Nick pulled her close. “Think of it this way. He has an entire kingdom for his grave.”

Unknown

IMOGEN FINISHED REPAIRING BIRD’S EYE, WIPING THE LAST smudge of glue from the creature’s brass hide. Bird blinked, cocking its head this way and that, then bobbing up and down with pleasure.

“Can you see?” Imogen asked.

Good as new .

“Hurrah!”

But I’d like to know why it is that every time I go on one of these adventures, I’m the one who requires reassembly?

Perhaps it is a commentary on your intelligence, proficiency, or skill level? Mouse suggested.

I don’t take criticism from a rat .

Nor I from a creature that tastes best dredged in flour and submerged in a vat of boiling oil .

“Gentlemen, please!” Imogen cried. She was glad they were back to normal, but their bickering was growing tiresome.

You’re quite right , said Mouse. We need to discuss next moves .

They’d seen no sign of Anna for what felt like days—although it was hard to tell exactly how long it had been since she’d rescued Bird. There had been enough time to visit Evelina, and then later slip into Poppy’s dreams. That had been—interesting. Her little sister’s sleep had been so restless, it was all Imogen could do to deliver her message about Evelina before Poppy bolted upright in bed, sending Imogen reeling back to the clock. That was a far cry from the Poppy she knew who required nothing short of wild horses to part her from her pillow. Why was she so on edge?