Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

Magnus turned the pumps down another notch, and opened a vent to let the aether escape. The balloon began to subside onto the ground with a graceful sigh. Then he tossed a series of ropes over the edge of the basket and the waiting men caught them, hauling the craft down until Evelina felt the bottom bump the ground.

“There you are, kitten, welcome to Siabartha.”

She schooled her face, pretending not to recognize the name. It was a word in the old tongue, and something to do with the netherworld. Trust Magnus to go for the traditionally sinister . There was no way she was giving him the satisfaction of seeing her spooked any more than he already had.

She stayed put while Magnus swung his long legs over the edge of the basket, a superstitious dread taking her. She didn’t want to set foot in his castle, as if stepping there meant that she could never leave. But he held out his gloved hand, and, bound as she was, she had no choice but to take it and let him help her over the edge. And yet even his touch made her shudder.

“This way,” he said gallantly, taking her elbow to escort her toward the castle. “Once you’ve earned the privilege, you may feel free to roam the grounds as you please. The views are better from the tower, but there is no substitute for a walk in the fresh air.”

Evelina looked around at the dingy stone and scruffy grass. The most interesting feature was an old well that looked as if it was still in use. “And outside the walls?”

“Not much to see for a good fifty miles, although there is a certain charm about the place in spring.”

“In other words, no need for locks when there is no place to go.”

He gave her a tight smile. “For now you will be escorted. The balloon and stables are off limits and you will find them guarded by spells. But when you learn what I wish, you will have the power to leave. I’ve been patient with you in the past, but now it’s time you understand that when you do as you’re told, we both get what we want.”

I don’t do what I’m told. Not by you . “I want to go home.”

“And so you shall, when I deem you ready.”

That statement horrified her worse than anything else. Who will I be by then? A mad thing, like your dancing doll?

He signaled to one of the servants to open the arched, iron-bound door of the castle. From the way the man dug in his heels, the door was as heavy as it looked. Magnus strode in, grabbing a torch from its holder near the door. Evelina trailed after, agape.

It was a great hall, straight out of Ivanhoe , with high beams and a vast oak table dominating the room. Iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling on chains, ancient wax clinging to the black metal. Shields hung against the wall, though a few had toppled to the floor, but the dust was so thick Evelina couldn’t see the faded designs painted there.

“It’s been a while since I entertained,” Magnus said dryly. “It’s intolerably cold down here and impossible to heat. We live upstairs.”

With that, he led her through the hall and up a long, winding staircase that reminded her of the church tower she’d climbed with Nick. Arrow slits pierced the stone walls at every turn, letting in light and a brisk ocean breeze. It was almost colder here than it had been in the balloon, as if the black stone had soaked up the cold for centuries, never letting any of it go.

Evelina was feeling her muscles by the time Magnus stopped at a landing near the top of the tower. Three doors clustered there. “My rooms, your room, our workroom,” he said, indicating each in turn.

Frozen through, Evelina grasped the handle of the door meant to be hers, and tried it. It opened easily, and she looked in. The first thing she saw was a fire. It drew her forward like a magnet and she crouched before it, holding out her frigid hands.

Magnus followed after her. “I hope you like your accommodations.”

Evelina cast a glance around the room. It had a certain medieval splendor, with a velvet-draped canopy over the bed, tapestries along the walls, and a scatter of brass-bound chests. At least it looked clean.

“There are fresh clothes in the chests, as well as everything you will require for your studies. There is the workroom, of course, but I thought you might prefer a few things here to practice with. Your meals and hot water will be brought to you.”

“Very thoughtful.” Thawed enough to tear herself away from the fire’s warmth, she rose and held out her hands. “Are you going to keep me bound?”

Magnus flicked his fingers and the chain fell away, clanking at the floor near Evelina’s feet. “No need now that we’re here.”

They studied each other in silence for a moment, the air tense between them. He’d won her trust once, but it wouldn’t happen again. And yet they’d shared magic together. That created a familiarity that would never be brushed aside.

“How did you survive the air battle?” she asked.

“I’m very hard to kill.”

He’d died once before, that she knew of. That had left him looking older. Now he looked ill, the aquiline face thinner, his olive complexion pasty. And while certain things were the same—he was still the tall, slender, and elegant figure she remembered—not everything remained. Where there had been a few silver hairs at his temples, his dark hair and goatee were now salted with white. His depthless eyes were still intense, but they were lined and circled where the flesh had sunk against his skull. This time, it had been harder to come back. And there was something wrong—she wanted to use the word unstable —about his face. It was as if whatever measures he’d taken hadn’t quite worked. Worst of all, he didn’t smell quite right.

“How do you do it?” she asked, her voice gone hoarse with cold and revulsion. “Death magic?”

“Yes.”

Surprise arrowed through her. He’d always danced around the question of his sorcery before. “That’s blunt.”

“I’ve given up being coy with you. You saw what Serafina was to me.”

Evelina nodded. The mad doll had sucked the life out of her admirers and then fed it to Magnus. It had left the automaton—who was at least in part Anna—hungry, confused, and ultimately homicidal. “She did your hunting for you.”

“I thought to free myself of the burden. After you have lived as long as I have, stalking the unwary becomes a chore.”

Outrage twisted through her, drawing a strangled sound from her throat. How like Magnus, to reduce everything to its amusement value. “Don’t your victims deserve personal attention? Or is that just a bourgeois shopkeeper’s view?”

“Such sharp little claws.” Then he gave a short, mirthless laugh. “But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps the universe in its infinite wisdom is punishing me for my neglect, for in creating Serafina, I made a tactical error. I put too much of myself in her.”

He had split off a piece of his own life force to make Serafina live, but she wasn’t sure that was what he meant. “How so?”

“Now I discover I seem to have sacrificed much of my ability to feed. Not something I anticipated, let me assure you. And in my weakness I can’t breathe life into another such child of my genius. I have restored myself as best I can, but I must solve this conundrum immediately.”

“How?” she asked, but the word had barely left her lips before his eyes told her the answer.

“My dear Evelina, that’s where you shall play a role. You, my little cat, will learn to bring me my prey.”

And like that, her hunger woke, a flare of yellow eyes in the dark privacy of her soul. Eagerness and disgust hit her with a hurricane’s force. She remembered the taste of the guard’s life sliding inside her. She flinched as if Magnus had slapped her. “Dear God.”