Shadows of Asphodel (15 page)

Ardis’s hand twitched to her sword, and she unsheathed Chun Yi in a cascade of sparks. The blonde pulled a pistol from a holster on her thigh and sighted down the barrel with cold determination in her eyes.

Ardis squared her shoulders. “The Hex might still reach this far.”

“Want to risk it?” the blonde drawled.

“Who are you?”

“Really, darling? You don’t know?”

The blonde thinned her lips, and Ardis realized she was older than she had thought. Maybe a decade older than her.

“Natalya,” the blonde said. “Your superior.”

Ardis narrowed her eyes at the insult. “Superior? Doubtful.”

“Go back downstairs,” Natalya said. “Nobody has to get hurt.”

Ardis shook her head. “You already poisoned Diesel.”

Natalya rolled her eyes. “Amateur.”

“What?”

“He’s only unconscious.”

Ardis glanced down at Diesel, listening to him wheeze for breath, and Natalya slid her foot forward. Her gun gleamed in the starlight. Ardis tightened her grip on her sword and tensed the muscles in her thighs.

“Listen, darling,” Natalya said. “You brought a sword to a gunfight.”

Then why wasn’t she firing?

Ardis decided to find out. She feinted right, then swung left at Natalya’s neck. Natalya ducked—the blade whistled past her ear—and kicked Ardis in the kneecap. Ardis’s leg buckled, and Natalya shoved her sprawling. Ardis hit the deck hard, and the blonde aimed a kick at her face. Ardis rolled and sliced at her leg.

Natalya danced back. “Put down your pretty little sword.”

This pretty little sword wanted to taste blood. Ardis could feel Chun Yi’s thirst like a pulse in the palm of her hand.

Muscles bunching, Ardis surged upright and lunged at Natalya. She judged the angle to hit a vital artery and swung Chun Yi.

A blur of movement.

Pain exploded in Ardis’s head. Pistol-whipped, she crashed to the deck. Stars danced before her eyes, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She clamped down on her fear and pushed it far away. Fear could be fatal.

Blinking fast, she crawled to her knees and raised Chun Yi. Natalya wasn’t standing in front of her anymore.

There was a grunt, and a scraping noise.

Head spinning, Ardis staggered to her feet. Natalya dragged Diesel to the railing, hefted him onto the steel, and pushed him over. She watched him fall, and waited until the splash. Then she glanced back at Ardis.

“You saw nothing,” Natalya said. “If you want to survive.”

She vaulted over the railing and dove overboard. Ardis followed in her footsteps.

A long way down, the choppy waters of the English Channel unfurled.

Nausea washed over Ardis, and she retched. She stumbled to the stern, where the giant propellers of the steamship churned the waves. Out in the darkness, between tatters of fog, she saw a light bobbing in the waves.

A boat.

Shadowy figures dragged two people aboard—Diesel and Natalya. The light flickered out, and the boat vanished into the night.

Ardis slumped on a chair in the deserted dining saloon. The electric lights hurt her eyes, and her stomach still churned. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, and tried to concentrate on what they were saying.

The steamship captain frowned and scratched his mustache. “He must have been drunk.”

“I didn’t see him drink any wine,” Carels said. “Diesel was an abstemious man.”

Nearby, Luckmann wrung his hands and kept quiet.

The captain bent down to Ardis’s level. “You saw him fall overboard?”

She nodded, and the movement nearly made her vomit.

“There—there was a woman,” she said slowly. “A waitress. She was pretending to be a waitress. She gave him poisoned coffee.”

The captain folded his arms. “Poisoned coffee? Preposterous.”

When she tried to remember, it was as if her memories were drifting farther away. Carels and Luckmann shared a glance. Even though she was having a hard time focusing, she could see the skepticism on their faces.

The captain pulled Carels aside, and muttered to him.

“…she must be intoxicated…”

What if this was more than a concussion? What if she had been poisoned, too? Fear chilled her blood, and she tried to stand. She staggered to her knees. The men caught her by her elbows. Bitter bile crept into her mouth.

“I feel sick,” she gasped.

They brought a bucket, thankfully, and she emptied the contents of her stomach. After vomiting, she sat shivering on the floor.

The captain touched her shoulder. “Bring this young woman to her room. She’s unwell.”

Crewmembers escorted her to a cabin and helped her lie down on the narrow bed. She squeezed her eyes shut against the spinning.

Listen, darling. You brought a knife to a gunfight.

Put down your pretty little sword.

Ardis tried to summon the memory of Natalya’s face, but she saw Diesel falling over the railing into the churning dark water.

You saw nothing.

~

The steamship docked in Harwich at six o’clock in the morning.

Fog cloaked the coastline of England, and Ardis’s mind felt equally obscured. She was steady on her feet, at least, and no longer nauseated. But she couldn’t remember many of the particulars from last night with Diesel.

She had to tell the archmages, before she forgot anything more.

Quickly, she found the nearest telegraph office. It was a relief to hear English spoken at last. She dictated her message to the telegraph operator in English, as well, since she knew Margareta would understand it.

Diesel overboard still alive taken by mercenary reply at once

She waited for the reply.

Return by airship immediately

Ardis had enough money to stay several nights—she had meant to book a room in Diesel’s hotel upon arrival—but instead she caught a train from Harwich to London, and then a direct flight from London to Vienna.

The airship was a lumbering beast of a zeppelin, scheduled for a two-hour journey.

In the cramped seating, Ardis rested Chun Yi across her knees and leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the porthole window. Below, England drifted away like a patchwork quilt of green fields and gray city. The zeppelin’s shadow rippled over the English Channel, which looked almost insignificant from the air.

Diesel could be anywhere by now. If Natalya had an accent, she couldn’t recall it.

By the time Ardis arrived in Vienna, she had a lingering headache. Gingerly, she touched the right side of her head. The pistol had left a painful lump. She stopped by a café for some ice, and wrapped the cubes in a napkin. Ignoring the stares on the street, she held the ice to her head as she walked to the Hall of the Archmages.

The Council Chamber was empty, so Ardis knocked on the door to Margareta’s office.

“Come in.”

Ardis let herself inside and sat at Margareta’s desk, the ice melting and dripping down her hair. She didn’t care how she looked.

“Ma’am,” Ardis said.

“What happened?” Margareta said, without any proper introductions.

“We were attacked, after dinner, on the deck of the
Dresden
. This blonde dressed as a waitress—Natalya—she pistol-whipped me.”

Margareta thinned her lips. “It looks rather painful.”

Ardis nodded and kept a straight face.

“And Diesel?” the archmage said.

“Gone. She… she poisoned him. I think. I’m having a hard time remembering.”

“What
do
you remember?”

“Diesel fell overboard, and Natalya jumped after him. A boat came from the fog and took them both aboard. I’m sure of that much.”

Margareta said nothing for a long moment. “He was drunk, wasn’t he?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t think he was.”

“He was drunk,” the archmage said again, “wasn’t he.”

This time, Ardis realized it wasn’t a question. “Ma’am?”

Margareta steepled her fingers and looked her directly in the eye.

“Diesel had too much to drink and fell overboard. An accident. You have no reason to believe otherwise. That is what you saw.”

The sickening truth of it settled in her stomach. She dropped the ice in her hand on the carpet and watched the widening puddle.

Ardis’s voice sounded hoarse. “This was staged?”

“Although it didn’t go according to plan,” Margareta said.

Ardis pointed to her head. “Was
this
part of the plan?”

“Of course not. But we didn’t anticipate that you would be so aggressive. Since when did you use an enchanted sword?”

“Since before I left.” Ardis balled her hands into fists. “Why did you hire me at all?”

Margareta shrugged. “Backup. We had reason to believe that our enemies might try to make a move on Diesel before we could carry out our plan. Our other mercenary couldn’t guard Diesel as well as carry out her mission.”

“What mission?” Ardis said stiffly. “Drugging and abducting Diesel?”

Margareta’s eyes glittered like frost. She slid open a desk drawer, grabbed a coin purse, and tossed it in Ardis’s direction.

“Your compensation,” she said.

Ardis resisted the urge to hit Margareta’s desk. “But I
failed.
”

“There’s no need for melodrama. You know now that our mission with Diesel was a success. You played your role.”

“As your pawn.”

Margareta’s nostrils flared. “Perhaps you would like some time off from being a pawn? Three weeks sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Face on fire, Ardis shoved her chair away from the desk and stood.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said hollowly. “That sounds nice.”

She turned to go, but Margareta cleared her throat.

“Ardis?” she said.

“Ma’am?”

“Don’t forget your money.”

~

Disgusting. She had been so stupid to think they trusted her with Diesel.

They didn’t even trust her with the truth.

The thought of it burned in her throat like a hot coal. She stumbled into the nearest tavern, half-blind with anger. She would drown it all with ale. After knocking back two tankards of beer, she ordered dinner. Pricier than usual, since she hated the weight of Margareta’s money in her pocket. Then she ditched the tavern and checked into the guesthouse. With a long sigh, she kicked off her boots and fell onto the bed.

Her head sank into the pillow, and she began to feel better. Sleep would do her good.

Sunlight slanted across the wall, then faded into the cool light of dusk. Her eyelids slipped shut, and she lost track of time.

A knock on the door echoed in her room.

Ardis blinked herself awake. Outside, the sky lingered between purple and black, and the moon sailed between stars like a silver balloon. Another knock. She crawled out of bed, dragged on her jacket, and opened the door. The light from the hallway dazzled her eyes. Squinting, she saw only the silhouette of a man.

“I’m back,” he said.

Wendel.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she couldn’t speak. She was afraid this was another dream like that lonely night in Vienna—

“May I come in?” he said.

His honey-gravel voice invoked a shiver down her spine. She nodded, and he stepped into the room. He stood close but didn’t touch her. Why wouldn’t he touch her? What had he done in those days they had been apart?

She knew the truth might shatter this moment, and she might never want it back.

“Wendel,” she said. “Shut the door.”

He did, and they stood in shadows together.

“I don’t want to know,” she whispered, “where you were. What you did to get here. Not now. Just—please don’t tell me.”

He was silent for a moment. “Then what do you want?”

“You.”

He stepped forward, but still he didn’t touch her. Her pulse rushed in her ears.

“Are you sure?” he said, his voice rough.

Ardis balled her hands into fists, her fingernails biting into her palms. Hot shame spread over her face. She felt desperate and it disgusted her. He planned to use her and leave her again. He wouldn’t stay. Not for her.

She forced the words past her choked throat. “Why did you come back?”

“Because I said I would.”

“Because you owe me?” she said. “Because you feel guilty?”

He said nothing.

Tears of frustration stung her eyes, and that frustrated her more. She wouldn’t be emotional when he was so damn calculating.

“Get out,” she said.

He retreated from her. “Why?”

“I would rather you left now than in the morning.”

“Ardis,” he said.

Wendel took her by the arms, his fingers so tight they almost bruised. In the narrow gleam of moonlight, his eyes were intense.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he said.

She challenged him with her stare. “Prove it.”

He arched his eyebrows, then bent closer, slowly, with immense restraint. A sliver of a space remained between them.

“Like this?” he said, his whisper on her lips.

She closed her eyes and kissed him. He groaned and drove her backwards against the bed. She couldn’t get enough air in her lungs.

“Wait,” she gasped.