Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
The collector screamed right back, and when Lux ran, barreling past him, he didn’t react until she was already lengths ahead.
“Death to the Devil! What is going on?”
“Ms. Thorn!”
“Is she all right?”
“Grab her!”
Lux ran up the steps—where the other two men stood stunned—and grabbed hold of their robes. One was Kent; she could tell by the size. “Get this devil out of my head!” she cried. “It tried to drown me!”
“That can’t be true. It wouldn’t—there she is! Ms. Otterbee!”
Artemis.
Lux was flung off by Kent and into the arms of the healer. She shoved him away. Cecily moved as quickly as she could, her gait made awkward and slow by the shackles. She ran for the gate.
When the collectors from the garden paths moved to chase her, Lux leapt down the steps and shrieked again.
If I must be mad, let me be mad.
The pair whipped backward to see the reason for her cries, and she knocked into them both. One went sprawling into the gravel. The other latched onto her upper arm.
“That’s enough of that!” he shouted.
Lux recognized his voice as Tobias, the one who had come to them with the cook’s injury. “It’s the devil. It tells me you’ve done evil things.” She sneered at him. “It tells me you lock children away at night.”
She kicked him in the shin with all her strength. The man howled and dropped her arm while the other struggled up from the ground. Lux lifted her eyes to the gate. To see Cecily heave against it without success. The girl began to climb.
“Saints, no,” whispered Lux. The spires were many and so thin they glinted like they’d been layered in ice. No sane person would think of climbing over them. But there the girl was, scurrying up the gate anyway.
Cecily glanced back briefly, her eyes wide and panicked. Lux slipped through the collector’s grasping hand, but his next, she couldn’t dodge. The fallen one had risen to his feet, and now they both held onto her arms and would not let go. The girl reached the top.
“No, Ms. Otterbee! You don’t understand, the salt-sick has hold of you! You have to fight it!”
But Lux met Cecily’s eyes and shook her head. The girl ignored Artemis. She wedged her small foot in between the spires—and leapt.
The rip of fabric and a faint cry was all Lux heard before being dragged backward.
“Get your hands off me,” she yelled. “I’m a guest here!”
“You’re insane! You need to be medicated,” said the collector on her left, meanwhile the other reached down for a palm full of gravel. Lux hardly acknowledged his muttering into the rocks as Kent and Artemis sprinted for the gate. Please. Let her get free.
Suddenly, she choked.
The collector’s hand was over her mouth, gravel on her tongue, and it was tumbling down her throat.
Lux kicked and flailed. She saw shifting lights outside the gate. She heard a singular shout. The gate swung in at the same moment the man’s hand fell away, and Lux spat at once. Dirt and rocks. She heaved a breath and coughed until she tasted blood.
Her head began to spin.
A carriage. There was a carriage outside the gate. And there was a collector climbing down from it, hauling a body draped in a white nightgown toward the vehicle’s interior.
Lux’s chest grew heavy. In fact, every part of her did. Her legs, her arms, even her torso—all seemed like it weighed ten times as much.
“What did you do to me, you wretched old man!” she shouted, horrified.
“I weighed you down. You think I don’t know the tricks of stones? I practically built this manor on my own, girl. You will never be able to run now. You’ll be lucky if you can walk without needing a respite.”
“We cannot tolerate disobedience here at Mothlock,” said Tobias, shaking her until her teeth clacked.
“Be careful,” warned the other. “She’s Alistair’s latest project.”
Lux’s chest burned. There was blood in her throat and a heaviness throughout her. Not even anger would save her now, though it flared molten hot. Her chest had turned to stone; she was sure of it. She couldn’t breathe.
“I… Wait…”
But they wouldn’t. They didn’t notice or they didn’t care. They pulled her away.
“I…can’t…”
“Do as I do.”
For once, it was not the nightmare speaking. Lux pressed her eyes closed and clawed, frantic, into the memory. Outside it, the collector said something, but water had returned to her ears. She could not hear.
“Inhale with me.”
She could see him so clearly. Could almost convince herself she could feel his skin against her own. His breath, warm and sweet, against her lips. And though he was so very far away, his heartbeat pulsed steady against her palm.
“…know to find me.”
She had. Through all the time and distance. She could hardly believe it.
Her lungs filled, full and—while not easy—decidedly less difficult. When Lux opened her eyes, she discovered Corvin bent to a knee beside her. His shadowed brow was etched in concern.
She’d been set on the foyer floor.
Corvin dragged his hood down, and she sucked a breath at the sight of his eyes. They were swollen—only slightly, and likely on par with her own—and that didn’t draw her attention so much. The redness did; the state of every vessel marring the white.
“Lux.” His hand reached out to cascade over her salt-damp hair. “What have you done?”
“I—nothing. I’ve done nothing. There was a girl. And then the tide. I nearly drowned.” She couldn’t collect her thoughts. She couldn’t quit staring at Corvin’s eyes.
“You’ve interrupted Invocation. Mothlock can only remain as successful as the obedience of its members. Are you sure I didn’t mention it? I thought I would have.”
“…what?”
“Did you help her escape? Did you know she’s sick? She’s one of our staff, and she could have been really hurt tonight. Is hurt, in fact.”
“Help her escape? Is this place something to be escaped?”
“It is a place to be treasured. Venerated. The work we accomplish here will last through the ages. Of course it isn’t a place to be escaped. But if you’re ill. Not in your right mind…”
He let the sentence hang, and Lux didn’t know if he meant Cecily’s illness any longer or her own.
A collector came through the doors. Silas. She could tell by the walk. In his arms was Cecily, her face tucked against him, nightgown torn at her knees. A steady drip sounded in the silence. Blood splattered on the floor.
“Manphry,” said Corvin, and Lux shifted to see the tall man emerge from a shadowed corridor. “Take the girl to Lord Artemis’s workroom. Once he’s through, return her to her room. Make sure the fire is built and extra blankets laid out.”
Manphry acknowledged the command, and the transfer between him and Silas was quick. A soft cry came from Cecily at the movement.
I’m sorry, Lux said inside, because she couldn’t say it aloud. Manphry made for the stairs and Artemis followed suit. Lux pushed herself to her knees, though it took a great deal of effort.
“Do you need healing too?”
“No,” she growled. “I need your man to take his vile enchantment off me.”
“I hate to see you so upset. Don’t you think it’s best if you keep the stones? You need your sleep, and this might be the thing to encourage it. Hildred!”
Lux’s eyes bulged over the shouted name. She ducked her face.
Several silent moments passed. In which Silas left to return to whatever needed to be done about his carriage, and the other two collectors stood as barbaric sentries in the foyer. From here, Lux couldn’t tell who’d turned their brilliance against her and so she offered murderous glares to both.
“Death to the Devil,” grumbled Corvin. “I’ll have to ask Manphry about her. Godfrey!”
Someone shifted and soon scurried down the lamplit corridor. “Yes, Lord Corvin?”
“Please assist Ms. Thorn to her bedchamber. Ensure she keeps the rocks inside along the way.”
Lux’s mouth fell wide as the attendant came to do as told. “No. No. Corvin, what are you doing?”
“What is best for you. For us both.” His chin dipped, and suddenly his lips were a mere breadth from her own, his hand brushing back her hair. “Do this one thing for me. Have faith, Lux.”
She sucked a stunned breath; Corvin’s mouth brushed light and cold against her cheek.
Godfrey’s touch was not gentle. He looped his arm beneath hers and hauled her up.
Lux allowed the help as her legs were impossibly heavy.
Once steady, she glanced at the attendant’s profile.
His eyes settled on hers before shifting away; they were hazel but muted.
Dulled—same as Hildred’s. Same as Manphry’s.
Lux’s stare narrowed. She used their closeness as an opportunity to grab hold of his wrist.
His temperature was strange. Cool, but like the way an inanimate object was at the whim of its surroundings. She dug deeper. Her eyes unfocused; she shifted to his insides.
She waited for light but found none.
She searched for corruption. She found none of that either.
Devil below.
He was empty. No lifeblood. No soul. No…
Nothing.
Her insides clenched and then roiled. She opened her eyes and thought she might be sick over her shoes.
It’s wrong. It’s so abhorrently wrong.
She swayed as she returned to herself.
“This way,” said Godfrey.
He’d only shuffled her to the base of the first staircase when a pounding came against the doors.
Lux glanced over her shoulder. She wanted to see if it was Silas, if he’d come with another poisoned investor for the basement crypt.
She watched as Corvin moved toward the door, waving the other collectors aside to pull it wide.
Lux knocked into Godfrey.
“Up the stairs,” he said.
She ignored him.
The man at the door was not Silas. Nor any collector for that matter, she was sure. This man wore a thick, brown coat and matching cap, brown trousers, and fine, black boots. The shirt snagged her eyes last and held them longest: a silken, jewel blue.
His arm was outstretched, and his bare grip revealed an ivory card.
“Ah, and so the guests of honor begin to arrive. Welcome to Mothlock Manor,” said Corvin with a note of pleasant surprise. He took the card. His head snapped up after a short glance. “Ghadra?”
“Your invitation was well received by our newly elected mayor.” The man stepped over the threshold where the lamplight discovered the sharp angles of his face.
He removed his cap and unruly, copper locks fell free.
“Shaw Roser, delegate.”
His eyes lifted. Found hers. The warmest shade: the color of honey.
And Lux’s body betrayed her. Or maybe it wished to save her.
She turned her head and vomited gravel all over Godfrey’s boots.