10. Experiments
CHAPTER TEN
Experiments
Iscooted the vial over so Hester could place the beaker beside it.
“We crushed the stems as you directed. It is now a fine powder,” Hester whispered.
“Perfect.”
A wave of relief dropped my shoulders. I had worried they would not understand my directions, but they managed well.
For a sennight, we worked side by side as we helped Al.
I had put all my efforts into being as helpful to Al as possible.
I was desperate for distractions, and hated the reason I needed it all the more.
Cassiel had yet to wake. And I could not toss away my concern.
“—her willingness.”
I only caught the last portion of her comment as we strode back to Al. I must have misheard.
“You spoke of this to Ida?” I asked, slowing.
She turned around from the few paces she had walked ahead of me. A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth as she approached me.
“We did not mean to, but she found Vera, Branwen, and me in the midst of crushing it.”
I struggled to inhale. This would destroy our plan—
“She will aid us,” Hester insisted. “She can be trusted.”
“Eye of newt!” Al exclaimed at the workstation. He dabbed the tip of his finger to his tongue again. “Amara, come stir.”
Hester continued watching me, raking her teeth over her bottom lip. “She had come in. There was no option but to tell her—”
“It will be okay,” I interrupted her rushed words and squeezed her arm as I passed her.
Al lifted his head to look at my approach. I smoothed my expression, stifling the doubt. Part of me, an enormous part of me, did not trust Ida, but there was no use debating what could happen. She knew, and if we had yet to be dragged out of here by our throats, it meant she had kept her word.
It was all we could hope for.
I took the spoon from Al and continued stirring as he had. The liquid, if it could be called that, turned in a slow glide. It had a thick, slimy consistency and was a burnt orange color.
“Keep at it. Eventually, it will become fluid.”
Al rifled through a satchel he set upon his metal table. Glass clinked together, banging and clashing. He plucked out a small jar full of what looked like hair. With a push of his thumb against the cork, it popped open. He took the tweezers and lifted a single strand, bringing it to his nose.
“Hair of boar.” He placed it into the beaker, and it dissolved on contact.
“What are you concocting?”
“An attempt at a truth serum—one of many things I have been tinkering with,” he responded casually, waving his hand about. “Vaner has not ceased pestering me. He’s in quite a tizzy after you told him about your ability to read Larien. He is convinced you know where the Lore of Old is.”
It took every piece inside me to keep my composure.
“Did the prophet never help you decipher it?”
Al snorted. “She was a slippery one. I know not whether the woman I came to know spoke any truths.” His bushy brows rose. “I have no doubt my falling out with Lucinda was not coincidental.”
“You fell out with Lucinda?”
“Before you were present to aid me with experiments, it was Lucinda. Yet, one day, she attempted to escape. Coincidentally, it was a fortnight before you arrived at the Citadel.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “It must have been purposeful so I would have need of you.”
“Lucinda would assist you?”
He whistled. “That girl can dissect a body, but I taught her everything she knows from the moment she was old enough to hold a blade. Hester!” he bellowed.
She straightened where she had been reorganizing the beakers on the first shelf.
“Go to the top of the stairs. A servant should be waiting. Bring the creature to me.”
“Yes, my lord.” She rushed past.
“A creature?” I asked, dread increasing.
Al did not respond to my question. Instead he crouched to reach under the desk, pulling up the handles of a tin, flat box, then placed it on the table with a loud bang.
Two vials dangling from an iron holder attached to the side clinked together.
The effigy they used to control Cassiel lay in the middle of the box.
I did not miss how Officer Jahrod watched me with more focus, arms crossed. I curled my fingers into the hem of my frock.
Leather bound the crude figure with the limbs poking outward stiffly. Al lifted the vial. Black glinted inside it. He took a syringe lying to the side and slipped it inside. Half the vial emptied into the syringe.
“Warlords are meant to have magick resistance. Why can this harm Lord Draven?”
Carefully, Al began to inject the liquid into the effigy. Where the heart was, where the legs were. The bubbles that formed created a textured surface. One of the first injection sites deflated.
“Because it is not magick. It is a binding, and the binding thins if it is not fed. A sennight, maybe two, and the effects fade from the leather—so I renew it before each use—just in case.” He looked down at the effigy with almost fondness.
“When Lord Draven fed on you feeders, the Elixir adhered to every organ and bone. Adding fleurlet powder to the Elixir causes it to bind the poison to him.” He tapped a fingertip on the jar full of black liquid.
The very substance he had put inside me and all the other feeders. “Alchemy at its finest.”
They used me to put Cassiel in that cage. It was a truth difficult to swallow. I had to escape. I had to take the grimoire. The Resistance needed more strength against the Council. If there were multiple Warlords . . .
“How are Warlords Awakened?” I blurted, my voice muffled beneath my thundering pulse.
“Awakening a Warlord is tricky business.” He clicked his tongue, cleared his throat, and became serious. “Do not ask questions that will mean a much sooner death.”
His response was not what I needed.
He withdrew the needle from the leather and capped the blood to place it where the vials went.
Loud chittering came from the entrance. Hester hugged a cage to her chest.
“Set it here and return to your organization.” Al slapped the metal table beside the effigy. Hester did as he said, and Piper squirmed inside, under the straw. Al pulled on thick leather gloves and unlatched the cage. Her chirps grew louder as he reached inside and scooped her out.
She thrashed as if possessed.
Pressure continued to build in my throat. A weight bore down on my shoulders. Her beady eyes did not focus as they customarily would. She moved with panicked writhing that I did not recognize.
“Stop,” I choked out.
Al frowned over at me and pushed her back into the cage, leaving the gate open.
“Young lady, this creature is no longer your wraithling.” His gentle words did nothing to soothe the stab to my heart. “You know this.”
“We cannot be sure she’s not in there.” Desperate words spilled from my mouth.
Pity flashed across his features.
“Do not fool yourself.” He clasped my wrist and pulled me toward the cage. He was strong for an old man. My fingers tangled with the slim bars of the cage.
Even as I reached in the rest of the way, I knew there was no Piper left. Nothing that made her my wraithling. The small ferret remained still inside, huddled under the straw. My fingertips touched the tips of her soft fur.
In a movement so fast, she bucked and sank her teeth into my finger.
I grunted, pulling my hand out of the cage. The force of my retreat caused the little teeth to sink deeper into my skin. Blood dampened my fingertips, surrounding the puncture wounds.
“Oh dear,” Al said, wrapping my hand with his leather glove. I could not even feel the pain.
There was no more fooling myself or deceiving myself. She was gone. Overwhelming emotion made me incapable of speech. My chest felt as if it were collapsing. I staggered back and leaned against the side of the metal table.
I knew she was gone. Cassiel speaking in my mind had told me as much. If not the coldness that had taken the spot that held Piper. I could not breathe. My vision swam.
A bellow came, loud and rattling, reaching inside my chest.
“Cassiel,” I gasped. Al caught my arm before I bolted forward.
“Officer,” he ordered, and Officer Brandt approached.
Meanwhile, I collected myself, breathing through the urge. It was the first time Cassiel had woken in so long. Al allowed me a single peek at him each dawnlight. His wounds seemed to be healing.
“I apologize. I do not know what came over me.”
“It is completely ordinary to feel this way, Miss Amara.” He patted the top of my hand. “That is to be expected for Elysian Pairs.”
“It makes me . . . care for him?” A flush warmed my face.
“No,” he chortled. “It has nothing to do with emotion. I mean in a physical sense. Your urge to see him.”
“Oh.” I smoothed my hands on my frock, swiping the blood that continued to leak. He continued peering at me with a small, mischievous smile, as if he found my discomfort humorous.
“Come, we must check on the Warlord.”
I followed him unseeingly. Only the outline of his slightly hunched shoulders allowed me a point to follow. It felt as if water pressed around me, suffocatingly. I could not hear. Hester’s concerned face flashed in my vision for a split second, then I was past the entrance to the hidden chamber.
The gas lamp beside the entrance cast light across Cassiel’s features. He stood in the middle of the glass cell. The chain attached to the stone wall behind him stretched out as far as possible.
“Mortal,” Cassiel breathed. His hands flexed at his sides.
Now that he was standing, I could see the extent to which he had deteriorated. The hollows present on his cheeks had grown, and he looked close to ivory.
“He must feed,” I blurted.
“My lord!” Hester’s voice echoed.
“I will allow you some time together.” Al retreated to the door. “If you have need for me, call.”
He left, and I rushed toward the pane, pressing my hands against the surface.
“Where am I?” he croaked, voice muffled.
“Where they kept the prophet.”
My breath fogged the glass. He surveyed the chamber, his eerie eyes flicking around.
“Sound is muffled from within here.” His gaze fixed on a spot behind me. I followed his focus to the section where stone had chipped off. It showed metal through it.
His focus returned to me. “Are you well?” ‘How is your back?’ His lips tightened into a firm line.
“I am healed,” I answered.
A thud sounded and I whirled toward the bookshelf slamming shut behind a figure. He stepped into the lamplight.
“Amara?” Egan murmured, looking over the expanse of darkness I stood within. As soon as he saw me, he burst forward.
And he was not slowing.
“Stop,” Cassiel warned, but Egan did not even look toward him.
“I was so worried.” He clasped the side of my face, dipping and catching my lips in a kiss so devouring that I had no time to react.
‘No.’ Cassiel’s voice entered my mind.
Egan’s tongue plunged into my mouth.