Not Your Average Love Spell, page 11
Sydney put up her hands as if warding off an attack. “Whoa. One at a time.” She began descriptions, and they all had words that needed further defining, and it sounded wonderful and magical and otherworldly. With a little prompting, Sydney expounded beyond physical descriptions and into what certain surroundings or events made her feel until Ember could picture herself in those places, surrounded by those people.
“You’ve never been out of the mountain before?” Sydney asked.
“Well, I’ve been outside the mountain on the slope but never far. Rowena says I’m not ready, that there’s too much I don’t understand, and that lack of understanding can get me killed, but I know how to fight, and I know how to run away, so I still don’t see what the problem is. And now I’m out here finally, and it’s not nearly as bad as Rowena feared.”
“Are you Rowena’s daughter? Were you born in the mountain?”
Ember cocked her head. “I guess you could say I’m her daughter in that she made me, but since I carry part of her life force, you could say I’m actually part of her, but that all sounds a lot like philosophy, which I’ve never been very good at. I guess you could say it’s also magic, which I’ve done some of, but I wasn’t very good at that, either. I was born there, but I didn’t come out of anyone like human babies do, which sounds very messy and painful, and if I’d come out of someone like I am now, I think that someone would have exploded because I’ve never been smaller than this—”
She noticed that Sydney had stopped some paces back. “You’re not…human?” Sydney asked. Her hand wandered to her sword grip again.
“Well, I look human, and I have all the requisite human parts, so I guess you could use philosophy again to say that I’m human even though I’ve always been this size, and I didn’t come out of anyone.” She pointed to Sydney’s hand. “Do you want to spar some more?”
Sydney froze as if just realizing what her hand had been doing. “I…” She licked her lips. “If you’re not human, what are you? There are no more, um, sentient non-humans. They were magical and were destroyed long ago.”
“You think I’m magical?” Ember was delighted. She’d read about dragons and fairies and whatnot. She loved those stories and had wept when Rowena told her the creatures were no more. “Magic creatures were all so wonderful and powerful. I guess it’s nice you think I’m wonderful, but I don’t have any special magical abilities. I can fight well, and I’m a little tougher and faster than other people, regular humans, if you want to think of them that way. Rowena said I’m a homunculus, which is very hard to spell, so I don’t use it that often. It’s really just a person who’s built instead of being born, though both kinds of person started from nothing and became something. It’s just that Rowena built me with her hands, where other people are built on the inside of a person…somehow.” The books she’d read were unclear on exactly how that worked.
Sydney was frowning hard. Maybe the fact of the matter was that she was “a little slow,” as Rowena said. Some of those who’d come to visit the mountain fit that bill. Sydney didn’t seem slow, though. She’d been very fast when they’d fought.
Maybe she was just slow on the inside.
“She created you,” Sydney said slowly. “How?”
That took a while to explain, though at least Sydney started walking again. By the time Ember was through, Sydney seemed to understand a little, and she’d begun to stare, which was all right because that meant Ember could stare back.
“You obviously think,” Sydney said. “Can you feel?”
“I feel a lot. Happy, sad, angry. I think I’ve done them all.”
Sydney touched her wrist softly, a nice touch. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes. I like touches, but pain isn’t very much fun. Rowena has patched me up every time I’ve been broken, and I would describe it as interesting but not fun. She says I’m lucky that I’m tougher than other people because I’ve done some ‘stupid bloody stunts,’ but I didn’t think they were stupid because she says the quest for knowledge is never in vain, and that’s all I wanted. Then she argued that I could just read about broken limbs and such; I didn’t actually need to experience them, but I disagreed because I read about how a broken arm felt, but that was nothing to actually knowing how it feels, which is bad.”
“We differ there.” Sydney had a funny look on her face, somewhere between sad and scared and mystified. “I just need to know it hurts. I don’t have to try it.”
“That difference between us probably qualifies as philosophy,” Ember said, “which I’ve never been very good at, if you remember.”
Sydney barked a laugh. “Me neither, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately, ever since my life stopped being so black and white.”
Ember thought about that one. “There are lots of colors. Can you not see them?”
Sydney gave her a flat look. “Not that kind of black and white. Before now, people were either good or evil, just like choices. Now, nothing seems simple.” She opened her mouth as if she would say more, then didn’t. “I don’t want to bore you.”
That tickled. Ember laughed until she felt sick. “You can’t be boring. Only my home is boring.”
“Good to know,” Sydney said, and she seemed a bit happier. “I hope we find my comrades soon. Are you certain you don’t know where they’ve gone?”
“Oh yes. I would tell you if I knew.”
Sydney’s crooked smile stirred Ember’s interest even further. “I’d think any compatriot of the Hawk’s would know how to keep a secret or tell a lie.”
Ember tilted her head. “I know how to keep a secret sometimes, but I like talking much better than silence. I’ve never seen the point in lying.”
This time, Sydney’s smile was so bright, Ember was tempted to kiss her just to share in it. “Me neither.”
“Once you tell one, you just have to keep going.”
“Exactly.” She seemed as if she might say more, but a dark look passed over her face as if someone had pulled a curtain that changed her expression. She looked away.
“What’s the matter? Are you hurt this time? You were smiling, and you stopped very quickly.”
“It’s just…” Sydney swallowed. “Forgive me. After some recent troubles, I don’t know whom to trust anymore.”
“Oh, that’s easy. You can trust me. And you can trust Rowena to help the people of Kingston. If she thinks you’re trying to hurt people or her or me, she might hurt you, but I doubt she’d kill you, not unless she had to. And she won’t hurt Camille; you can trust in that. Even if she gets very annoyed, which I have seen and felt, I doubt Camille can talk as much as I do, so Rowena probably won’t get as annoyed with her as she gets with me, so that’s all right.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t know many other people very well, so I can’t say whether you can trust them or not.”
Sydney’s smile was back, a little less glorious and a little more amused, if Ember was reading it right, but she was happy to see it again. “And if we meet someone else, and I’m not sure if we can trust them?”
Ember nodded as she thought about it. “I’ll help you. You’re probably better with expressions than I am since you live out in the world, but if any people we meet say something, I’ll ask them if they’re lying, and then you can tell by their expressions, and if they say something else, I’ll ask if that’s a lie, then I’ll keep asking them things and remember what they’ve said before, and if they get something wrong, I’ll tell you.”
“And you’ll do all this just for the experience of the thing? Why do you trust me?”
That one was easy. “Rowena said you’re one of the few knights who seems as honorable as she claims, even if you’re still a buggery Knight of the Flame. She doesn’t speak with just anyone, you know.”
Sydney was quiet a moment, her expression thoughtful. That was fine; thinking was good, but talking was so much better. “A week ago, I would have said you could trust any knight,” Sydney said, “but now, I’m not so sure. Thank you for trusting me. I won’t betray it.”
Ember beamed. “Of course not. And even if you decided to attack me, I know I can beat you.”
Sydney frowned. “Because of that little outburst?” She pointed behind them toward where they’d started their walk. “I was emotional. That wasn’t a proper match.”
“I don’t know what a proper match is, but I did do better than you.”
Sydney’s mouth opened and shut a few times. She seemed a bit angry, but Ember wasn’t sure why. They had fought, and Ember had been better. She’d blocked all of Sydney’s attacks and was certain that if she’d launched her own, they would have landed. To say otherwise would have been a lie. Unless…
“You didn’t think it was fair, maybe?” Ember asked. “Even though we both had weapons. You weren’t ready? But you were the one who attacked.”
Color had risen in Sydney’s cheeks. “All right, all right. You could have bested me back there. All I’m saying is that you can’t say which of us would win were we to spar again.”
“Oh, I see.” She put her hand on her sword grip. “We can try again if you’re ready now.”
Sydney glanced at her weapon as if considering. “Well… No. We have to find the knights. Barring that, we have to find Camille. Unless we run into the Kells, in which case our fighting abilities will both be tested, though not against each other.”
“I’d nearly forgotten them,” Ember said, excited by the prospect. She’d never fought a real enemy before. She’d fought the soldier husks, and since they couldn’t be killed, she could fight to her fullest ability, but to face someone who actually wanted to kill her?
And whom she might have to kill?
That thought did strange things to her stomach. Meeting the Kells seemed much less exciting now.
Chapter Eight
When Camille brought Rowena some bread and cheese, she was happy to see that Rowena seemed to have settled down a bit. There were few things Camille liked less than being yelled at for something that wasn’t her fault, especially when she wasn’t completely sure what was going on.
Rowena mumbled a thanks as she read from a book. She was surrounded by bits of herbs and stone. Little jars and dishes littered the surface of the table, and several cabinets with tiny drawers sat along the table and walls. She occasionally tapped a pale finger against her full lips.
“You’re welcome.” Camille leaned against a table and studied the workroom as she ate an apple. She wondered where Rowena got her supplies since she lived in a cave. Camille hadn’t heard the sound of water or felt any discernible humidity. Based on what she’d read, that hinted they were above rather than underground. Maybe a hill or cliff or mountain. But for a woman who could move people across time and space, getting groceries was probably a snap.
Except she’d implied that transporting anything took a lot of effort. She must have had someone to make deliveries. But Camille hadn’t seen anyone else around. The redhead? She’d appeared out of nowhere, and Rowena had said something about a person called Ember. She must have been a helper or an assistant. Or a friend.
Or a lover.
Rowena did seem fixated on finding her. Whatever they were to each other, Camille told herself not to be foolish. She had no right to any kind of jealousy. She barely knew Rowena, and she’d been in a relationship with Sydney while she’d been communicating—flirting—with Rowena.
Ugh, stop. She was stranded in a possible cliffside cave with a witch she barely knew. She should not be thinking about flirting or jealousy or any other type of feelings.
Although…her eyes kept coming back to Rowena. Without the haze of the crystal ball, she was as lovely as Camille had imagined. She was pale, as if she hadn’t been in the sun in a long time. Her hair was dark brown, fading toward the ends, and the eyes that had blazed so green seemed darker in normal light, closer to hazel than the emerald shining from the crystal ball. Camille wondered if Rowena did that on purpose or if it was some side effect of the spellcasting. In Camille’s short absence, Rowena had donned a corset-like bodice over the loose-fitting black dress she wore. Its silvery surface glowed in the candlelight, revealing a leafy pattern and showing off her small waist and lovely curves.
Camille couldn’t help a smirk. Rowena was either vain, or she was trying to impress someone.
And Camille was the only person there. Interesting.
Even more surprising, Rowena had pulled part of her hair back; a heavy silver clip covered the white streak Camille had noticed just above her right ear.
Rowena glanced over her shoulder. “You going to help, or are you just going to stand there?”
Camille started, then chuckled. “I can’t pass up the chance to show off my skills. Give me a description of what happened.”
Rowena spoke quickly, the words clipped as if they’d had all the feeling sucked out of them, but the way she kept touching her chest said that the loss of the redhead, Ember, meant a great deal.
When the story was over, Camille catalogued all the information in her head and pointed over one shoulder. “How is your library laid out? I’ll start looking up this witchstone thing.”
“Just ask Dansk for whatever you need.”
“Who?”
“In the library.” Rowena sounded distracted as she bent over her tools again.
So, Rowena did have some helpers. There’d been no one in the library when Camille peeked before, but it had been very early. Maybe Dansk was up by now. Camille went to look again, stopping to ogle the shelves of books and the comfy-looking sofas and chairs. Put in a bed and set up food delivery, and she could live in this room.
No one sat in the chairs or behind the desk. Dansk must not be awake yet. With a sigh, Camille lit a few more candles and lamps, wanting all the light she could get if she was going to start poking through the shelves. She’d need a ladder to reach the higher shelves but didn’t spot one in the corners. Maybe there was a storage cupboard—
Camille gasped as she turned. A person had appeared in the shadows near the door, revealed in the stronger light. Camille put a hand to her chest and breathed out slowly. “Dansk? You scared me. I didn’t even hear you come in.”
The person didn’t respond, and Camille’s heart calmed enough for her to look closer. The eyes were white as if covered in frost, and the chest didn’t move. A statue? If so, it was the most lifelike one Camille had ever seen. She took a step closer, wondering where Rowena had gotten it.
Wondering why she’d dressed it.
It was too perfect.
Camille reached out a trembling hand and touched the still, cold cheek. Waxy and gray, but it was undeniably flesh. Dead flesh. Her stomach dropped.
“Dansk,” a voice from the doorway said.
The corpse stepped forward, and Camille backpedaled, hitting the arm of the sofa and tumbling over it onto the cushions. She scrambled back, her heart in her throat as she pressed against the farthest side. Her breath came in gasps as terror clogged her throat, but the corpse had stopped after one step.
“It occurred to me that you might not know how to use a husk,” Rowena said quietly. She stepped to the corpse’s side. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Dansk is designed purely to help in my study. It wouldn’t know how to kill you even if I ordered it to.”
The words entered Camille’s ears, but few made sense to her brain. Kill, she heard that one right, and she shifted upward over the arm of the sofa and staggered down, backing up until she hit the desk. “D…dead,” she said pointing at the corpse.
“Yes,” Rowena said slowly.
“That’s…a dead body.”
“Correct.”
“A dead body that’s up and moving around.”
“Wow, I knew you were good at research, but I had no idea you were this good.”
“Fuck you,” Camille shouted, unleashing the strongest swear she knew. “I have kept my composure so far, even though I have no idea where I am, and Sydney is who knows where, and you are not nearly as nice as you were in the ball, but that is a dead body, and it is standing and walking, and…” She felt tears coming and clamped down on them, hating that her go-to response to very strong emotions was to weep like some soppy hero in a terrible romance.
Rowena sighed and ducked her head, and Camille vowed to chuck a candelabra at her head if she laughed.
Her face was set, though, as she looked up. “Magic falls into two basic categories,” she said, her tone even as if she was used to lecturing. “There is creation magic and destruction magic. Both pull from a witch’s internal energy sources, but creation magic pulls from one’s life force, and destruction pulls from emotion.” She gestured to the corpse. “This is a husk. It once was a person, but the body was donated after death by a nearby village. I imbued it with a bit of life force and used creation magic to make it move. I gave it one task, which it will continue to do until it falls apart, an instance I prevent with occasional maintenance.”
Camille leaned back on the desk, her pulse calming in the face of learning even if she still avoided looking at the…husk.
“There are other husks here, all assigned to different tasks. Some defend the mountain, but you’re quite safe from them unless you begin a random assault. Which you won’t, yes?”
“Yes, I mean…no.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Good. Me neither. You have nothing to fear.”
Camille swallowed, feeling strong enough to glance at…Dansk. “So…it…she’s not…alive?” Like everyone in Kingston, she’d heard the lessons given by hierarchs every solstice eve when the seven bells rang seven times at midnight. They said flesh was a shell, and the true self fled at death to find the meaning of existence.
But to find that shell up and walking around horrified her.
“No, Dansk is no longer alive,” Rowena said. “All the life force is gone except the bit I gave her. All she does is find things in the study.” She turned. “Dansk, bring me information on witchstones.”
When the husk began to move, Camille couldn’t contain a little noise of alarm, but she watched in fascination as the husk moved to a shelf, climbed it, and brought down a book. It continued this throughout the room until it had left a pile of books on the table and went back to stand in the corner where she’d first seen it.
