Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

And then the smell of the room changed to a choking smoke. Hard hands grabbed her, dragging her from her feet to the floor. She was aware of something heavy smothering her and she beat at it feebly, her arms no longer obeying her commands. Dimly, she realized it was the blanket from her bed and someone was using it to put out whatever was burning.

“Did you mean to set yourself on fire?” Magnus barked harshly. “Fashion be praised, at least there were layers of petticoats between your skin and the smoldering fabric.”

Had she blundered into the fireplace? Evelina struggled to focus, but the world around her was a vague shadow beyond a searing wall of hurt. She tried to lift her hands and wasn’t sure she succeeded. Her mouth worked, chewing at the words before she could get them out. “Get these off.”

She felt his hand, cold as death, through the biting agony. He lifted her wrist, cursed, and dropped it again. A few heartbeats later, she realized he was gone. She surrendered, her limbs going boneless. There was nothing more she could do.

And then he was back, busying himself with tools. He spoke a handful of words she didn’t understand, and the right bracelet sprang open. He tossed it aside and began working on the left. “Buck up, my girl; this is the last of Keating’s hold on you.”

But Evelina remained sprawled on the floor, barely twitching as he worked. The pain didn’t stop immediately, and when it did begin to recede it left her like a drowned body washed up on shore. Magnus picked her up and deposited her on the bed.

“I apologize for not noticing the condition of the operating spell before now. I should have seen it winding down, but there was rather a lot going on.”

And it was a sign of how much he had lost. The old Magnus would have spotted it in seconds. Evelina blinked, the first motion that didn’t make her nerves squeal. She realized that she could think again.

“Thank you.” She still wanted to stab Magnus through the heart, but she was prepared to give credit where it was due.

He turned, his dark eyes guarded. “You’re welcome. Those bracelets are a vile contrivance.”

Then why didn’t you take them off before? But there was no point in asking—this was Magnus. “I had hoped somehow they’d break when the laboratories burned down.” Her voice was thready, and she coughed. That still hurt.

“I’m afraid they don’t work like that. There is a controlling mechanism operated by sympathetic magic. It probably sits on Mr. Keating’s shelf. No doubt it just put out a piercing alarm to indicate that you have slipped his leash.” Magnus propped her up with another pillow, but the motion made her dizzy. She lay back, closing her eyes in hopes the world would stop spinning.

“Let me get you some sherry,” Magnus said with a note of concern.

Evelina gave a weak smile and opened her eyes. Then she cursed softly. Now that she was sitting up, she could see the ruin of her dress. She’d been lucky he’d pulled her out of the fire.

He chuckled. “There are more clothes in those trunks.”

“I liked this dress.”

“Consider it a fair trade for disposing of your unwanted jewelry.” As if by magic—which was entirely likely—one of the taciturn servants appeared with a bottle on a tray, and Magnus poured out a measure, handing it to her.

Her hands were just steady enough to take a sip, but the smooth, sweet burn of it made her take another. It was very good quality, no doubt stored in the castle cellars for a very long time. She immediately began to feel better.

Magnus picked up the remains of the bracelets, opened the casement window, and hurled them into the gathering dark. “Good riddance.”

She could tell he was putting on a bit of a show, but she was still grateful to have the bracelets off. “Will there be any lasting effects from those?”

“Outside of a dislike for silver bangles, I think not.” Standing with the mullioned window behind him, his features lost in the soft, firelit shadows, he looked like himself again. “I think we shall resume your lessons tomorrow, now that your collar and leash are off.”

Evelina finished the drink and set the glass aside. “I think not.”

“No?” Magnus asked, his voice silky.

She pretended a poise she didn’t feel. “I don’t want your instruction. I don’t deny that you taught me well, but your lessons come with a steep price.”

“Your innocence, perhaps?” he asked, the sarcasm plain. “By all means, let’s preserve that. No doubt the teachings of the Wollaston Academy for Young Ladies have served you better.”

“That is hardly a fair comparison.”

“But isn’t that what you mean?” Magnus made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Ladies turn the other cheek. But what is the etiquette for a war that threatens to extinguish your very species, not to mention whatever friends and family you call your own? If I sent you home to London, would the Gold King merely pat you on the hand and apologize for nearly exploding your skull with agony?”

Evelina bit her tongue, because he had a point. She’d thought to take vengeance on Keating once, but had let him take her captive to save Nick. She’d based her tactics on a fair bargain, and the Gold King had played her false.

Magnus lowered his voice. “You need what I have to show you, because you’re not going to survive out there any other way.”

“But is it worth it?” Sudden tears ached behind her eyes. “Every time I learned something from you …”

“Every time?” Magnus smiled.

“Many times that I learned something from you, my magic grew a little bit darker. And hungrier. I don’t want to be a sorcerer, and I don’t want to know about death magic.”

“Your objections are noted, though I should make it clear that I didn’t bring you here at knifepoint for you to learn to crochet. This is your path, Evelina. You’re a fighter, and power is your natural weapon.”

He was right. Magnus usually was in these arguments—and yet it still might be better to lose than to win on his terms.

“There is the chance,” he added, folding his arms and taking a swaggering step forward, “that if you learn what I have to teach you, you might best me at my own game. I told you once that you might be my equal.”

Evelina jerked with surprise—and some revulsion—at the idea. Now that she was feeling well enough to move, she swung her feet off the bed. Lying there felt too vulnerable. “I know better than to think you would let me win.”

“But the notion intrigues you, does it not? All that dislike you have for me, and finally there is an outlet, something positive you can do about the Magnus problem.” His smile would have done Mephistopheles proud.

“You must think I’m an idiot,” she shot back, getting to her feet.

And then she noticed a shadowy shape lurking behind Magnus. She started, feeling her eyes going wide. It wasn’t quite solid, showing the diamond leading of the mullioned window through its body, but she still could see details of its waistcoat buttons. It had too many limbs, though she couldn’t quite tell—and didn’t want to know—where that extra one attached. Its head bubbled and sagged like melted wax and sightless eyes watched her with empty pits. “What’s that?”

Magnus glanced over his shoulder with obvious unconcern. “That’s right, you can see them, can’t you? Every castle requires a garrison. These don’t require feeding in the conventional sense and yet they do an excellent job of carrying out orders. I brought them along when I moved from the Black Kingdom. They have them by the bucketful down there. I think it’s the faulty drains.”

Evelina swallowed, fear jagged in her throat. Mouse had called those creatures the Others—the opposite of whatever kind of spirit the devas were. “I’ve only ever seen them after using dark magic.”