A Shadow Bright and Burning (30 page)

“How would I receive your powers?” He said it casually, but his look was interested.

“Simple. You need to fetch my stave.”

He paused, then shuffled off and retrieved Porridge from somewhere out of sight. Good.

“Take some blood from me and rub it on your bottom lip.”

“That's disgustin'.”

“I know, but it's the only way.”

He opened the door while I sat there, chained and ever so proper. Winking, he rubbed his thumb across my cut lip, the result of Palehook's attack. I forced myself not to shudder when he lingered. He painted the blood onto his own mouth.

“Now?”

“I confer the power upon you.” I touched my thumb to my blood and traced the image of a five-point star on his forehead. “Let's see if it worked. Take the stave, place it to the ground, and say its name: Porridge.”

He did, and Porridge glowed blue. I gave as much of a girlish clap as I could, wearing those manacles. I knew that men loved being praised beyond life itself. Indeed, the guard looked as if he'd been appointed prime minister. “That it? I can use your power?”

“Absolutely. There's one more thing you need to do to have complete control. Hold the end toward yourself—that's right—and now twist it in your hands two times to the left.” I kept my breathing steady. If he heard the slightest waver, the barest hint of excitement…

“Why?” Did he sound suspicious? Was that my imagination?

“Because it conveys my power to you. Imagine that the power is rushing out of the stave to meet you.” I kept my hands in my lap and a smile on my face. I was the image of sweetness.

Pleased, he did as I'd asked. Warded force struck him in the face and chest, and he collapsed to the floor. A quick examination showed me he was still breathing. Relieved, I took up Porridge and got to work on my manacles. I adjusted Mickelmas's teapot-to-rodent spell, and within seconds had transformed the shackles into white mice. They scampered down my dress and raced across the cell floor. I was free. Stepping over the fallen guard, I took his key ring and was in the process of locking him in the cell when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Enough, Joe. It really is your break,” the young guard said as he returned, and stopped dead. “What the blazes—”

“Stay back!” I cried, thrusting Porridge at him. The guard took off his hat and stepped out of the shadows, revealing a familiar shock of auburn hair. “Magnus? What in God's name are you doing here?”

“Saving you. How the devil did you get free? And knock out the guard?” Eyes wide, he took the keys from me and locked the door. Voices shouted and echoed above us. There was the sound of many feet running in unison down the stairs. He winced. “Smollett and Fisher must've spoken to each other and realized I shouldn't be here. Come on!” He took my wrist and led me down the long corridor of cells.

“How did you know where I was?” I couldn't believe it.

“That's something we really should discuss when we're not running for our lives,” he said, looking up and down at the rows of cells and counting on his fingers. Now the guards spilled into the corridor from the stairwell. “Would you care to unlock number six?” he said, handing me the keys. “I'll distract them.”

Magnus strode back down the hall. With an expert move, he slammed his stave into the floor. The stones beneath the men's feet turned into soft mounds of sand, and the guards fell on their faces. With another movement, Magnus created a blast of wind that rocked the corridor, coughing up a cloud of dust that blinded the men.

I found the key and opened the door. We ran inside, locking it after ourselves.

“I just escaped from one cell, you've put me in another one?” I said, bewildered.

“Try to have some faith,” he muttered, looking around.

“It was a brilliant escape!”

“Hush!” He started touching the walls, the bars, a puzzled look on his face.

“What?”

“There's something we can use to flee.”

Frustrated, I searched the cell for a trapdoor, only to discover a circle of carvings. They looked amazingly odd, like squiggles and backward letters. “A porter's circle!”

“Yes, that. Get us out of here. As the resident magician, you'll have to figure it out.”

“You know?” I felt naked before him. Yet Magnus had still attempted a rescue, knowing full well what I was.

“Never mind that now. Get us out of here.” He pushed me into the circle, and as the guards came, he blasted them with a shock of energy, mangling the door in the process.

I knew what to do, but there was room for only one. “Magnus, how will we both fit?”

“Don't worry about me. I'm doing splendidly.” He called the moisture from the stones in the ceiling and drooled brackish water onto the men below.

“I won't leave you here.”

“Stop the heroics and go, Howel,” he snapped. Well, that decided it for me. I leaped onto his back, wrapping my legs and arms about him as best I could in my gown. Magnus teetered backward into the circle.

“Let's ask it nicely to take us home,” I said.

As the now-soaked guards pulled the cell door down, the image of the house in Hyde Park Corner sprang into my mind. The world disappeared, and we fell into blackness.

“
T
HAT WAS A STRANGE SENSATION,
”
M
AGNUS
grunted as we tried to reorient ourselves. He took a few steps forward and stopped. “Howel, you're a lovely girl and not terribly heavy, but I think we'll make better time if you get off my back.” He set me down. We'd landed in a wooded area, the mud squishing beneath our feet. “It's Hyde Park. Never mind. I know where we are. Follow to the right, we'll make the rendezvous in five minutes.” We set off through the trees.

“Rendezvous? The others know?”

“Every one of them.” And apparently none of them cared. The relief was sweet. We walked for a bit, and then he stopped. “Howel, are you all right? They didn't hurt you, did they?” He touched my chin, studying my cut lip. “Because if they did, I can always turn around and go back. Stuff them into a kettle and make tea, see how they like it.” He tried to keep his tone light, but I heard the anger underneath. I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, without thinking. He touched his face in surprise.

“Thank you for coming to help me,” I said.

“We had to. You're one of us. The boys would do the same for me, after all.”

One of us.
The thought made me smile. “So would I.”

“Well, then the rescue would be guaranteed to go well. Er, Howel?” Even in the moonlight, I could see he was blushing. “What I said in the stables, about you being awful for wanting to be kissed? I didn't mean it. Really, you can kiss anybody you like. You can kiss the whole lot of us. Good old Dee could use a kiss, really. Kisses. Wonderful things. I'm babbling. I'm sorry for what happened.”

“You snuck into the bloody tower to save me. That wipes your debt away. There's no need to apologize.”

“Then I take it all back.”

I gave him a playful shove and we moved ahead. I bunched my skirt in one hand, a bit sad, even now, to think of the gold back trailing away in the muddy ground. Eliza had been so proud of it. “What will they do when they find out you helped me?”

“What matters is you'll be safe and far away from here by then.”

I hooked my arm through his. “You're a true friend.”

His face lit up. “I am your friend, aren't I?”

“Of course.” I squealed as he picked me up in his arms and carried me.

“To hell with this. I won't have you sully your dress on the ground.”

“I can walk. Please put me down.” I laughed. He did, reluctantly.

Within a moment we saw the house ahead of us, lit like a beacon in the night. The boys stood at the park's edge, all newly commended and wearing the black silk sorcerers' cloaks. Snatching up my skirts, I ran for them. We were reunited within moments. Dee caught me up in a tearful hug. Wolff and Lambe patted my back.

“Come,” Blackwood said, looking about. “We have to move quickly. Before they—”

There was a great booming noise. The ground trembled, and overhead there came a piercing scream. Black shapes skirted the top of the dome. The Familiars had arrived, dozens of them, maybe even a hundred.

The bells began to toll. “He's come back,” Blackwood whispered. “And he's brought an army.”

Korozoth had made my escape far more difficult.

We ran down the steps to the servants' entrance, seeing no one as we moved through the kitchen and toward the stairs. We had to find Rook. Blackwood and I ran to the attic.

Rook's door was unlocked and open. Inside, we found the bed had been flipped, the pillow torn. These were signs of struggle, and Rook was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” I said. My voice sounded small.

“Howel!” Dee thundered up the stairs, the floorboards trembling as he arrived in the corridor. “Lilly's in your room. She's crying.”

We found Lilly curled up in a corner, her cheeks marked with tears. She burst into fresh sobbing when she saw me.

“What happened?” I said.

“It's R-Rook. Th-they snatched him.” She couldn't get enough breath.

“Who?”

“Master Palehook and his young gentlemen. Master Agrippa let 'em in about an hour ago—”

“Master Agrippa's here?” I said, my blood running cold. I'd hoped he'd still be at the ball.

“Yes. Soon after he came home the men arrived. He let 'em in and they went up to the servants' rooms. Master Palehook waited in the hall while his men went inside the room. Rook fought them off. I tried to help, but it all got so strange. The room went dark. They were screaming, like they couldn't get out of it. Then Master Palehook put a knife to me.” She began to sob, her chest heaving. “Said he'd kill me if Rook didn't go with them. The darkness vanished, and then they knocked him senseless and took him away. I wanted to help, but they were rough with me.” She covered her face with her small hand. Her wrist bore a patterned bruise, like finger marks.

“Where were they going?” My head was buzzing.

“I don't know,” she wailed.

“Where's Agrippa?” God, I would make him sorry for this.

“In the library, I think.”

Dee helped Lilly off the floor and set her in a chair while the rest of us stormed downstairs. I entered the room first. We found Agrippa slumped in a chair before his fire, lost in thought. When he saw me, he leaped to his feet. We all five stood together in a half circle, blocking his exit. I pointed Porridge at his chest.

“What have you done with Rook?” I struggled to keep from shouting.

“What in God's name are you doing here?” He didn't seem angry so much as bewildered. “What is all this?”

“I ought to knock you straight into your own fireplace,” Magnus growled. He stood beside me.

“You don't know what she is.”

“A magician?” Wolff scoffed. “You think we care about that?”

“She's one of us,” Lambe said. He and Wolff went to Agrippa's other side; we were all circling him now.

“Where is Rook?”
I shouted.

“He told me it was the only way,” Agrippa muttered, the expression on his face torn between grief and terror.

“What does Palehook want with him?” Blackwood said.

Agrippa collapsed into his armchair. “I don't know.”

“You must have some idea,” I said.

“I was trying to remedy my mistakes. Was that such a terrible crime?”

“It is if it harms the innocent,” Blackwood said.

“I'm trying to keep her innocent! That's what's most important!” Agrippa looked like a caged animal. The doors boomed open, and Dee strode into the library, the tips of his ears flushed pink. We all scattered before him. He loomed over Agrippa, who shrank further into his seat.

“Did you let them hurt Lilly?” Dee's face turned crimson. I'd never seen him this angry.

Agrippa winced, his shame evident. Dee balled his fist and walloped Agrippa across the jaw, knocking the man over the arm of his chair. Lambe instinctively moved to tend to our Master, but Wolff held him back.

“Where have they taken him?” I said, tucking Porridge just beneath Agrippa's chin. He brought his hand to the already swelling right side of his face.

“I have no idea.”

“We trusted you,” I said.

Agrippa closed his eyes. “I wanted you to trust me. I never dreamed any of this might happen.”

The sincerity of his tone nearly undid me. “This
has
happened. Now help us find him.”

The library doors opened and the butler entered, holding a letter. He didn't seem to notice anything amiss as he threaded his way through one bewildered, heartbroken boy after another, nor did he seem to observe that I was in the act of threatening the master of the house. He approached Agrippa's chair.

“This just came for you,” he said. Agrippa reached for the letter, but the butler handed it to me and left.

“What is it?” I said, bewildered. The envelope bore my name, and nothing else. Agrippa moved, and I pointed my stave at him again. “I won't let you up until you help me,” I snapped.

“How am I supposed to tell you what I don't know myself?”

“God save us, if he's hurt, I'll—”

“Er, Howel, maybe you should read your letter,” Magnus said. He reached over to take the envelope.

“In a minute. Don't move!” I cried as Agrippa again tried to rise.

“It's rude not to read a letter addressed to you. Here, I'll open it.”

“Well, it's my letter, isn't it?” I clutched it to my chest.

“Just open the letter,” Blackwood said, struggling with a sense of urgency.

“Why is everyone so bloody interested in my letter?” I cried, half crumpling the thing in my fist. All the boys responded with gasps and pained expressions. Wolff pulled at his hair, and Lambe reached as if to snatch it from my hands. Mystified, I tore open the envelope. “This had better be something miraculous.”

I screamed as Mickelmas exploded out like a malicious jack-in-the-box. He rolled across the floor, sprang up, and hobbled close to the fire. Groaning, he rubbed his back and straightened his legs, composing a symphony of cracks and pops as he did so.

“Oh, my poor bones. Poor back. And you,” he said, whirling to face me. “The next time you get a letter,
open it
! Were you raised in a barn, you uncivilized snipe? It's rude!” I cried out in joy and hugged him, which softened his anger. “Well then, there's a good apprentice,” he said, patting my back. “I forgot how compressed one feels traveling by post.”

“That is ever so much better than coming through the front door,” Magnus said, watching our reunion with an amused expression.

“You.”
Mickelmas noticed Agrippa and walked toward the sorcerer. “I want my cloak and I want my chest, and I want them now.”

“I don't have them.” Agrippa stood and backed behind the chair.

“Come, a magician's rune cloak and an enchanted box? Those are priceless artifacts for a collector. This room holds books and paintings and tapestries enough to put the National Gallery to shame. Now, give me my things.”

“Palehook took them when he came to collect the boy.”

“Have you hidden them in the servants' quarters? Shall we turn each room upside down in a merry investigation?” With a few muttered words, Mickelmas exploded the armchair in splintering wood and fluff. Agrippa stumbled aside.

“I tell you, Palehook has them!”

“Mr. Hargrove. I mean, Mr. Mickelmas,” I said, gripping his arm. “They kidnapped Rook. If you help us get him back, we can find your things.”

“How on earth did you escape?” Agrippa said, staring at the magician with horror.

“That tower is not exactly a challenge for one as skilled as I, particularly when the guards are tired or drunk. In this case, they were both. The thrill of the chase injected some excitement into their otherwise excruciatingly dull lives. Sadly for them, I was uncatchable.” He studied his fingernails with smug satisfaction.

So that had been the shouting and running I'd heard.

“I wanted to swoop in and rescue Miss Howel,” he continued, “but without a runic cloak, my methods of transportation were limited. Fortunately, your young charges,” he said, bowing to the boys, “are far more open-minded than I'd come to believe sorcerers could be.”

And this explained how the boys knew what I was.

“You remembered the porter's circle,” I said.

“And told your young friends, who sent a disguised Mr. Magnus in to save you, which I thought brave and ridiculous.”

“Well, I'm wonderful like that,” said Magnus.

“Just so we're clear as to what happened,” Mickelmas said to me, “Palehook rounded up my children. He told me that if I didn't give myself up and say those horrid things at the commendation ball, he'd kill the whole lot of the little darlings. I wasn't about to see my charges murdered. Do you understand?”

“Of course.”

“Now, my cherub, let's move on to more important things. My cloak and box and, yes, your young friend Rook. How are they to be rescued from the vile Palehook?” He tugged at his beard and scanned the crowd of young men. He caught sight of Blackwood and bowed. The young sorcerer nodded in return but looked uneasy.

“Why did they take Rook?” I said.

“My Lord Blackwood,” Mickelmas said, moving toward the boy, “your father was not a nice man.”

“I'm aware of that,” Blackwood said, and we both held our breath. Mickelmas couldn't reveal his secret here.

“Many years ago, when the war was young, Palehook was charged with discovering a way to create a ward to protect London from attacks. Everything he did failed, and Charles Blackwood, well—” I shook my head, begging him to be discreet. “He knew of my reputation. He knew I couldn't afford to be handed over to the Order, and so he captured me and forced me to help devise a system. Palehook made me do the most unspeakable things, reach across the farthest boundaries of the spirit world to find an answer.”

“But you found a way to do it,” Wolff said. As the warding expert, this had to intrigue him.

“Oh yes. Purely by chance, we discovered the only force strong enough to protect the city. The Unclean.”

“How?” I said.

“There is a spell, a powerful and very black spell, that allows a magic user to drain a person's life force, and use that power to increase their own. We tried draining the souls, for lack of a better word, of many people without success. We hunted the gutters, the poorhouses, searching for the lowest citizens to sacrifice. We left them lying in the alleys, certain the great machinery of London would swallow them whole.” Mickelmas stopped for a moment, struggling with the pain of the memories. “No matter how many we killed, there was not enough power. And then one night, while wandering along the river, we came across an Unclean man begging for food and drink. He'd been touched by Molochoron—it was obvious; his skin was bloated and rotted, beginning to fall off his bones—”

“I don't think we need any descriptions,” Wolff said, wincing.

“Palehook was the one who came up with the idea of using his soul. Why not? He was better off dead anyway. When the Unclean were murdered and their souls sucked dry, that was the only force powerful enough to allow Palehook to create the ward he needed. Something to do with the strength of the Ancients, I shouldn't wonder. Funny that their poison should prove the most effective block against them.”

I remembered the Unclean man I had seen sitting outside Mickelmas's flat, and how he'd disappeared. “They're going to steal Rook's soul to fortify the city?” I recalled how flimsy the ward had seemed recently, how paper-thin and rotten. Palehook had been running out of support.

“Yes. Charles Blackwood's colony in Brighton provided ready victims. He knew they would need a steady supply to refresh the ward from time to time. Wonderful man, really.” Blackwood turned to the fireplace, looking ill. “Rook's strength must have made him a tempting morsel.”

“Where are they now?” I said, tightening my grip on Porridge.

“There will have to be some obsidian present, but it won't be in an obsidian room. Black arts strip the power from a holy place. I haven't worked with him in over ten years, so I don't know where he's been going.” He spoke to Blackwood as he moved toward the fireplace. Lambe touched my arm.