Of the Abyss (23 page)

He didn't wait for Xaz to reply, but went to the hollow Xaz had considered before realizing how dangerous it was. As Alizarin paced the spot, kicking at the sand, a half-­dozen creatures rose and scampered away, including a second jellyfish-­beast and a strange mass Xaz might have mistaken for a brightly-­colored dust bunny if it hadn't moved with deliberate speed away from the Abyssi.

We would never have made it through the night without him,
she realized abruptly.

The Abyssi sprawled out on the sand, and Xaz thought for a moment he was going to leave the rest of them to find their own beds. Then he stretched, and looked up at them. Specifically, he frowned at Cadmia. “Why are you glowing like a Numini?”

“Antioch hurt me,” she answered. Xaz wasn't sure if the Sister of Napthol kept the words simple in deference to the Abyssi's simple nature, or if she didn't want to dwell on her near death. “Xaz healed me.”

Alizarin began to growl, then swallowed it. “Sleep here,” he said, tapping the sand near him with his tail. “Nothing will try to eat you beside me.”

There were two ways to interpret those words, but Cadmia clearly took them to be reassuring, because she accepted the offer. Xaz squelched an instinctive, irrational moment of jealousy as the Abyssi invited someone
else
to snuggle close. Yes, her power drew her to him, but she wasn't a slave to her power.

Besides, the cold wouldn't bother her as much as it would Cadmia.

With the magic gone and the fear of Alizarin's absence abated, the anxiety and lack of food or water during the previous day caught up to Xaz. All her muscles felt so weak she could barely stand. Cadmia lay down inches from the Abyssi, and Xaz took the spot next to her.

That left Hansa and Umber. As if on cue, the guard's sharp protest reached Xaz's ears.

“Don't
touch
me.” All day long, Hansa had gone back and forth between moving close to Umber and pulling away. Xaz had resisted the urge to needle him about it only because she remembered her own reaction to Alizarin, the physical draw of Abyssal power that craved the slide of skin on skin—­or fur, in that case.

“Come on, Hansa,” Umber sighed.

“It's not cold enough to freeze to death,” Hansa said, “and I doubt anything really dangerous will come close with Alizarin here.”

Umber's reply was too soft to hear, as was Hansa's, but it must not have been flattering because Umber didn't bother to lower his voice as he grumbled, “Have I done
anything
to suggest I might be interested in assaulting you in your sleep?”

More muttering from Hansa, but this time Umber laughed. A brief, quiet conversation later, and Xaz heard the two men's quiet footsteps on the sand moving toward them. She judiciously kept her eyes closed, pretending not to notice and sparing Hansa's . . . whatever it was that was stopping him from being practical. Pride? Shame?

“Sleep, Hansa,” Umber whispered, when Hansa again hesitated to lie down. The words were quiet, but they reached Xaz on a wave of power; Hansa's knees buckled and Umber caught him and lowered him gently to the ground.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. It shouldn't have taken so much energy to knock out a human unless something equally strong was fighting to keep him awake.

“Is
anything
?” Umber replied, before giving a long, drawn-­out sigh and pointedly turning his back.

In the darkness, Xaz listened to the sounds of the Abyss at night: rattling, hissing noises from the stones around them as smaller creatures marked their passing; distant, baying howls too deep and undulating for dogs; and the occasional, piercing shriek as some distant creature . . . died? Was that what it was here?

Would they find out firsthand?

 

CHAPTER 27

I
t was nice to be warm. That was the thought Hansa woke up with. It was nice to be warm, and it was nice to be safe, to be in someone's arms and held gently—­

The sense of peace shattered as he remembered where he was, how he got there, and who he was with. His head was on Umber's tanned arm; his own arm was around the other man's waist. And the worst part was, that was where he had wanted to be all the day before. Umber thought Hansa was worried the spawn would assault
him
if they slept next to each other. Hansa's real fear was that
he
would pounce on the spawn with less inhibition than an A'hknet monger.

For now, Umber was still asleep, black lashes making soft crescents on his honey skin. In sleep, his full lips were relaxed instead of quirked up in the half smile, half sneer to which Hansa had become accustomed. His lithe body was finely muscled, his chest lightly dusted with black hair, his—­

“Fuck,” Hansa breathed, squeezing his eyes shut. This was supposed to wear off.

Eyes open again, he tried to gather the willpower to sneak out of Umber's arms. He didn't want to be this close when the Abyssi-­spawn woke. If Umber said anything snide—­and how often did he say anything else?—­Hansa was going to have to hit him.

He lifted his arm from around Umber's waist, but that was as far as he got.

The hair on Umber's chest was softer than it looked. Lower down on his stomach, it was almost fine enough to be fur, like the Abyssi's. The skin beneath was smooth and hot.

Umber's eyes shot open. They seemed to hold a thousand different colors of blue, even in the fine band left by dilated pupils. “Hansa?”

Hansa shoved at the other man, tried to push himself to his feet, and then fell, breathing as if he had just run an uphill race and lost. “Why hasn't this worn off?”

Umber rose to his knees and helped Hansa do the same, hands on his wrists the only thing that kept Hansa from reaching out again. “ ‘This'?” Umber echoed.

Showing was easier than forming words. Umber released Hansa's wrists as Hansa pushed forward to wrap one hand around the back of the Abyssi-­spawn's neck and pull him forward to kiss him. Dear Numen; he tasted even better than he looked, and felt even better than that. Umber didn't object. He twined a hand in Hansa's hair and pressed his other hand to his lower back.

Hansa barely noticed when Umber shoved him back and his shoulders impacted the black sand beneath them. He also barely noticed the swift kick someone delivered to his shoulder, despite the fact that it was hard enough to make his fingers tingle.

Umber
did
react, slowly lifting his head and turning from Hansa to snarl at Xaz.

“Glare all you like,” Xaz said. “I thought I'd warn you before Alizarin decided to make this a threesome.”

The possibility of suddenly being joined by a full Abyssi was just enough to jolt Hansa back to reality and make him realize what he had been doing. He pushed Umber away, but didn't get much further than that. Umber stood. Hansa stayed on the ground, knees up with his head resting on them while he relearned how to breathe.

Cadmia asked Umber, “Is he all right?”

Umber paused, thinking too long for Hansa's taste, before he answered, “He could be much worse.”

If he let go of his knees, Hansa was sure he was going to throw himself at Umber again. “What in the name of the Abyss have you done to me?” he gasped.

“Me?
” Umber asked. “Done to
you
? This, dear Quin, is your own fault. And I find it beautifully ironic.”

“If you two are . . . awake,” Cadmia said, with a judicious pause that made it clear she had to consider whether or not to comment on what she had just seen, “Alizarin brought food.”

Hansa pushed to his feet, shaking himself. He felt like he had taken a beating, and he was still exhausted despite having slept deeply and dreamlessly. He vaguely recalled Umber convincing him that sleeping next to each other wasn't a fate worse than death, and then . . . nothing.

Xaz had gone back to dissecting some kind of purplish fruit, and Cadmia was examining a broad, shallow shell serving as a platter for what Hansa could only assume was meat. Looking at either option made Hansa's stomach roll.

That wasn't what he wanted.

He crossed his arms, fingers bruising his own skin with the effort it took not to close the distance between himself and Umber, who had joined the others at their meal. This wasn't as bad as yesterday—­it was
worse.

I did warn you,
Umber said silently.

Hansa tried to think of a way to change the subject, to focus his mind on the task at hand, but he
couldn't.

Don't think about Umber. Think about why you
're here.

He tried. He remembered what Xaz had told them about Ruby's body being burned, and the Numini's desire for some sorcerer, but he couldn't even begin to process what that meant for their next steps. All he knew was that thinking about Jenkins and Ruby and all the others
should
make him sick with grief, but when he tried to let that emotion in, it was shoved aside by the longing for Umber's skin against his.

As if desperate to start a conversation that didn't involve Hansa's relationship with Umber, Cadmia asked Alizarin, “Why are you wearing pants?”

The question was so bizarre it momentarily drew Hansa's attention. Xaz snickered.

“No one else finds this odd?” Cadmia asked defensively.

“A little, only now that you mention it,” Umber said.

Hansa thought he would have noticed immediately if the Abyssi
hadn't
been wearing pants . . . maybe. He thought back to the other Abyssi they had seen in this place. He had been far too distracted by his terror and focused on details like teeth, claws, and poisonous spines to take note of Abyssal wardrobe choices.

Alizarin tilted his head in the teasing way he had. “Humans find nakedness distracting.”

“I didn't realize one of your kind would worry about that,” she remarked.

Hansa had already given up all his preconceptions on Abyssi. It had never been his job to know more about them than he needed to fight their Abyssumancers, so he dealt with being wrong with relative equanimity, but Cadmia was clearly more intent on understanding.

He wished he had learned more about the spawn, though. Maybe he would have known . . .

Trains crashed in his head as he considered what he
did
know about Umber's kind—­specifically, as he recalled Umber's warnings when Hansa had summoned him to the jail cell.

Hansa had demanded a third boon. He had sealed it. Just before they stepped into the Abyss.

Mm-­hmm,
Umber said. He excused himself from the others and returned to Hansa's side.

“This . . . isn't going to go away.” Hansa resisted the urge to look at Umber because he didn't trust himself if he did, but he desperately hoped the other man was about to snicker and call him an idiot. Just as long as he told him he was
wrong.

The third boon creates a bond,
Umber reminded him.
It's permanent
—­or at least, as permanent as your life. I've yet to find anyone who checked to see if it carried over to the afterlife.

Much as Hansa hated having the spawn talk in his head, he preferred not to have Cadmia and Xaz overhear this particular conversation, so he responded the same way.
So what does that mean, really?

It means . . . it means, in many ways you are lucky.
Hansa snickered at the absurdity, but Umber continued undaunted.
I wasn't making idle threats before. I've seen bonds that destroy both parties. I've seen soulbonds where the submissive party weeps whenever his master's attention turns elsewhere and would starve if his master didn
't force him to eat. I've seen bonds go so mad they had to be locked away. You're obviously still capable of thinking, and just as obviously not terrified of my displeasure, so all things considered, you're lucky.

Lucky.

“Bastard,” Hansa mumbled. “
Lucky?
”

“Yes,
lucky,
” Umber insisted, replying aloud in response to Hansa doing the same. “In addition to everything else I just said, you could have been flesh-­bound to someone who didn't find you attractive, or wasn't attracted to men at all.”

He couldn't help but notice Cadmia's startled glance his way. She immediately looked forward again, but this time Hansa was too focused on his own concerns to follow her conversation with Alizarin. Umber hooked an arm around his waist, guiding them both further away for privacy.

“I'm
not attracted to men,” Hansa snarled. “Doesn't that matter at all?”

Umber lifted a brow, as if he might have the nerve to point out that there had been moments that brought that assertion into question. Hansa remembered once more the factious teasing with Jenkins that had once caused them both to be censured, and Ruby's resigned—­but unsurprised—­expression as she walked out on him for the last time, saying only,
I won'
t tell.

Instead, the spawn said, “Power easily and often overrides preference. You should know that from all the mancers you've arrested.”

“You're
thrilled
about this, aren't you?”

“I'm not exactly weeping,” Umber admitted.

“I'm not an animal,” Hansa said. “I have self-­control. I don't care what
power
says. I'm not—­” At that point, he remembered Umber's arm around his waist. He removed it and took a step away. “I
despise
you. I will never sleep with you. Do you understand that?”

“Whatever you say.”

“Son of a bitch,” Hansa spat, though even the epithet lacked the strength of anger.
Talking
wasn't what he wanted in that moment, and since Umber tended to read his mind, he had to know that.

“I'm not lucky,” Hansa said. “I can't think. I can be useful—­I
should
be able to be useful. I'm a trained soldier. But I can't focus long enough to contribute to any kind of plan or even to . . . to . . .” He lost the thought. This would be easier if Umber had a shirt on. He had taken it off to use as bandaging for Cadmia's wounds the day before.

Hansa remembered that moment, when he knew he should have offered help, should have been standing guard, should have at least
cared
that Cadmia was clearly dying—­but could only stare at the skin Umber revealed.

“You sealed the bond over twelve hours ago,” Umber said, his tone conversational despite Hansa's turmoil. “The fact that you're still rational enough to notice you're impaired is remarkable. I suspect you're one of those ­people who has a natural potential for power. That would explain your success in the One-­Twenty-­Six and why Antioch found you an attractive replacement for his mancer.”

Hansa hadn't thought to ask Umber about that confrontation, though he'd had plenty of questions at the time.

“Rational enough,” he echoed. “I can't live like this. If we make it back to Kavet, how can I possibly function?”

“That's an ‘if' I'm not certain of at all,” Umber said, sounding concerned for the first time in the conversation. His gaze and tone sharpened and he said, “The four coins of the Abyss are blood, fire, pain, and flesh. Some of the bonds form in emotion or thought, which is what makes them so devastating, but a fleshbond is simple. It wants power. It will steal your reason if it needs to, but if you keep it satiated, it will leave you alone. Right now it's starving, so it's directing all your attention to the source of its desired meal.”

Hansa blinked at him, trying to decipher the long string of words, half of which had been lost in a vivid, unwanted image of what Umber had looked like sprawled on Hansa's couch. He wanted to be angry, to yell and blame the spawn, but unfortunately he wasn't yet stupid enough to believe this was anyone's fault but his own. He thought he had understood the others saying his hysteria and demand for the third boon had been coerced by the Numini. Given the way their lives seemed to be going, he wouldn't be surprised if someone said the Numini had even put Rose into that jail cell to give him information about how to demand a second boon. But he had to accept responsibility for what he
could,
and that many of the decisions he made were his own. He had started on this path willingly, despite every Quin teaching and Kavet law warning him that any step toward sorcery was a slippery slope to the bottom.

He was at the bottom now.

Umber gave up waiting for a response, and rephrased in simpler terms. “The bond wants its flesh. The more you try to ignore it, the more insistent it grows. Like this.”

He leaned forward; Hansa saw the movement, but had no will to pull away. Umber kissed him, almost chastely, but the brief contact was enough to derail any futile attempt at logic and make his knees weak. Umber had to catch him around the waist.

“Ruby,” he protested, though he knew it was stupid even as he said it. Even if they were able to bring her back, even if their relationship hadn't been over before she killed herself, and even if she forgave him for practicing black magic to save her—­doubtful—­she would never accept his allying with the mancer and Abyssi responsible for her brother's death.

“I know I've screwed up,” he whispered, “but I want . . . I do hope I can recover . . . something. I had accepted that Ruby and I weren't going to work out before she—­hurt herself, but that doesn't mean I've given up on the kind of life I wanted. It isn't just the Quinacridone talking, saying that this, with you—­” He broke off, and tried again. “Quin, Napthol, Order, mancer. It isn't a matter of ‘religion' or ‘morality' at this point. I want a life. I want to be able to have a family. I want . . .” Numen, he
wanted
to wrap his arms around the Abyssi-­spawn and kiss the line that had formed between his brows as Hansa spoke.