Heirs of Chrior: The Empty Throne Part 27

With a mixture of excitement and fear pumping through my veins, I hastened after him. I entered the shop, then followed the trail of destruction through the merchandise that evidenced the path the culprits had taken. Ignoring the curses of the proprietor, I pushed through a door and into another cluttered room. It was much darker than the main room, the only light coming through a door that stood open to the alley, apparently the exit used by Tom and the men he'd been chasing.

When my eyes had adjusted, I swept the room, taking in an array of disorganized merchandise-saddles, weapons, paintings, clocks, coins, a red double-breasted uniform coat and insignia, gemstones, a cherub statue of the type I'd seen at the Governor's home, a tiara, a conduit blade-and it dawned on me from the difficulty of obtaining many of these items that I was probably looking at stolen goods. This shop seemed to trade in contraband.

I was just about to head out the door when a strange play of shadows drew my attention. I slowly looked up, then backed toward the wall. Several sets of Faerie wings were suspended from the ceiling. Even in the dim light, their translucent membranes shimmered, the interplay of colors like a sunset reflected on water, their beauty in sharp contrast to the pain that had been inflicted to claim them. I stared, both horrified and mesmerized, until the colors seemed to melt and run, forming droplets on the bottom edges of the wings, droplets that pooled on the floor, gradually darkening to crimson.

"No, no, no," I wailed; then I jerked...

...as an arrow shot through my wings, pinning me to a tree.

I dropped to my knees, excruciating pain searing through me. My vision darkened, filling with spots, and I fought to remain conscious. A figure loomed in front of me-a broad, grimy, stringy-haired man. I looked past him to see more humans, one woman among four men, and I trembled. I knew what they were going to do. In desperation, I tugged against the arrow, only to cry out in agony. Fate was staring me in the face and there was nothing I could do to change what lay in store for me.

A man bearing a halberd stalked toward me, raising it high over his head. I cowered, my breathing ragged, but that didn't stop him from bringing it forcefully down on me-not once, not twice, but three times, severing my glorious wings from my body.

Weeping, I collapsed on the floor, body shaking, warm blood running down my back, magic seeping out of me. And when the magic was gone, I would never again be able to pa.s.s the b.l.o.o.d.y Road to reach home.

"Anya, are you hurt?" Tom was kneeling beside me, his voice laden with concern.

I looked at him but did not answer, knowing he should not be here in the Balsam Forest. He put his arms around me, drawing me to him, and his touch jarred me into action. I struck out at him with my fists, not about to let the hunters take me, not about to end up a test subject on Evernook Island.

He caught my forearms and searched my eyes, no doubt for some sign of sanity.

"Anya, it's me, Tom. You're safe- Do you hear me? I'm here, and you're safe."

I stopped fighting and gazed into his face, trying to make sense out of him being here, out of the room in which we found ourselves, out of the chaos in my mind. Terrified, I buried my head in his chest.

"M-my wings," I sobbed. "They took my w-wings." I clutched at his shirt. "You have to get them back. I need my magic or I-I can't go home."

Tom sat down beside me, gently rocking me. "Anya, you lost your wings months ago. You're remembering it, reliving it. But it's not real. It's not happening now."

I stared at him, then cast my gaze around the room. I wasn't in the Balsam Forest-I was indoors, in a dingy, grimy, crowded storage area. But Tom was here; he was with me, and I was safe. Though I still shook, some of the tension left my body, and I leaned against him, my crying subsiding.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, stroking my hair.

"There are wings here," I whispered. "The owner must buy wings from hunters and resell them." I pointed vaguely upward at the multihued appendages, afraid to look directly at them.

"I'm so sorry, Anya. But I promise you-he will be punished. Everyone involved in this will be punished." He held me for a moment longer, then disentangled himself to come to his feet. "Let's get out of here."

I nodded and he a.s.sisted me to stand. With one arm around my waist, he escorted me out of the shop and into the alley, then up to the main street. Phantom, yet very real, pain flared again in my back, and I collapsed against him. He lifted me as though I weighed no more than a sack of flour and carried me across the street to deposit me into the carriage. I was vaguely aware of Thatcher's approach and his brief exchange of words with my escort, then Tom climbed in to sit next to me.

"I'm taking you back to the mansion," he told me, enfolding me in his arms. "Some rest might do you good."

I closed my eyes, not really caring where we were going, wanting to put distance between us, the shop, and my nightmarish delusions; wanting, as well, to feel Black Magic swirling in my veins.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

AMBUSH.

Zabriel and I had kept our heads low since the awful morning in Luka Ivanova's office. We'd stayed out of everyone's way to the extent possible, and in situations where we couldn't avoid the company of others-such as dinner-we were polite and respectful. Though the fray appeared to have blown over, we needed to be under less scrutiny in order to have the best chance of getting out of the mansion to meet Fane.

I stepped out of my bedroom well after sunset on the day following my trip to Tairmor, dressed in a dark green tunic and leggings, the apprehension and excitement churning in my stomach making me wish for something to calm my nerves. A small bag with a few supplies-cloth bandages, a length of rope, and a rather dull table knife-hung from the belt at my waist. I hastened through the quiet corridors to the west turret, and dashed up the winding staircase to Zabriel's room. His door was open, inviting me to enter.

"Ready, Anya?" he asked, standing by the window, flexing his magnificent wings.

"I guess so." I glanced dubiously past him, noticing he had already removed the pane of gla.s.s. From the debris, it looked as though he had used a method akin to Spex's. I didn't bother to ask how he had obtained the mola.s.ses-a maid somewhere in the house had probably been beguiled by his overabundant charm.

"We're traveling light, so don't carry anything that's not essential." He gestured toward my pouch of supplies, then distractedly tugged on his silver-blond hair, leaving it standing straight up. "Wish we had a weapon, just in case. Were you disarmed, too?"

"Too?"

"I was disarmed when I was arrested. But every member of the Fae delegation had to put their weapons in the Governor's safe, with the exception of the conduit blades. Personally, I find it a little amusing, since the Queen has full-fledged elemental powers at her disposal-fire, water, earth, air. If she needed to defend herself, she could."

"That explains it," I muttered, sinking down on the edge of the bed. The Queen had never inquired about the Anlace, but Zabriel had just made it clear that she wouldn't expect to see me with it. She a.s.sumed either that it was in the Governor's safe with the other Fae weaponry or that I had hidden it away. In the former case, she wouldn't want to ask about the weapon for fear of alerting the humans to its special significance; in the case of the latter, she wouldn't ask about it while in the mansion. Though the Queen's visit would soon be ending, I still had a little time to find and reclaim it.

"Explains what?"

"Oh, nothing. But to answer your question-I had to turn my weapons over to Luka. All I have with me is a knife I swiped from the dinner table. Sorry."

"I hope you'll be of more help the rest of the night," he teased, turning to stare out the window.

"So how are you going to carry me? Do you have a harness or something?"

"No."

I frowned and walked over to join him, pondering the stone wall we needed to successfully maneuver without being seen.

"Will I ride on your back?"

"No-that would interfere with use of my wings."

"You don't have a plan, do you?" The muscles around my rib cage tightened, threatening to cut off my oxygen.

"Plans are overrated."

With that, he launched himself out the window, spreading his wings to catch the air currents, and I felt a stab of jealousy. I watched him soar higher, his wings glimmering slightly in the moonlight; then he dropped to hover just outside the window.

"Show-off," I muttered, and he grinned.

"Flying always feels good-I must admit."

He grabbed the window frame and folded his wings against his back to once more perch on the ledge.

"There's only one way this is going to work, Anya. I can't fly us, so I'm hoping to glide us off the estate. My wings just have to fight the pull of gravity long enough to get us over that wall." He pointed at our goal, as if that somehow made it easier.

"But I still don't know how you're going to carry me."

"Well, actually, it's more like you're going to hang on to me. This will be a bit like a plummet, only we'll be moving at an angle toward the ground rather than dropping straight down. All you have to do is grab my neck, wrap your legs around my waist, and press close to my body to cut wind drag. I'll do the rest."

My stomach lurched, his description enough to nauseate me. Though I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer, I posed what I thought was the most likely outcome. "And if we don't make it?"

"Don't be such a worrier, Anya. We'll make it."

I grabbed him by the upper arm. "I want an answer. What if we don't make it?"

"Then we crash. And get hurt. And get caught." He grinned at me. "This is what makes life interesting. Besides, we'll make it."

I released his arm and retreated into the room. "I'm not so sure about this, Zabriel. If we get caught, we're not going to be much help to anyone. And we'll never get a second chance. So we'd better think this through more carefully."

"You think if you must, but I'm going to meet Fane."

He pivoted on the ledge, preparing for another launch.

"Wait! You can't go without me!"

"I can and I will, unless you're willing to do this my way."

I glared angrily at him-he was too reckless and too impulsive for his own good. And yet in the pirate world, that's what had earned him his reputation. Still, I wasn't about to be left behind. With no alternative, I did as he asked, literally wrapping my body around his. Then I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Here we go," he exclaimed, then he pushed off the ledge. "Don't scream!"

I felt the wind fill his wings, then his powerful downward thrust against the air currents to try to maintain our elevation, but we were nonetheless dropping. I pulled myself almost inside Zabriel's skin, my arms so tight that my nails were digging into my opposite forearms. Nausea roiled my gut, and I wondered what would happen if I vomited in midair. Flying I had always enjoyed-out-of-control descent was not to my liking.

Zabriel was fighting now, tipping his wings, maneuvering his body position in an effort to keep us on track, but I could tell from his heavy breathing and the curses he was flinging that it was going to be close.

"Open your eyes, Anya," he suddenly shouted. "On the count of three, throw yourself away from me-you've got to grab the top of that wall!"

"What? I can't-"

"One."

"Zabriel!"

"Two."

I twisted my head and gasped-we were on a collision course.

"Three!"

I released my legs and pushed off Zabriel's chest with my hands, one of my feet shoving off his thigh, then stretched out my arms in a frantic effort to catch myself. I crashed into the stone with a chest-first thud, arms flung over the top, trying to claw a grip to keep from sliding to the ground like a squashed bug. Zabriel lifted slightly with the loss of my weight, and he literally rolled across the top of the stone to drop off the other side. Down below me, guards were running, shouting. Our voices and the impact of our bodies had drawn attention. I scrambled with my boots, searching for a toehold-with one wrist still in a splint, I wouldn't be able to hang on for long.

"Zabriel," I cried, wondering what had happened to him. Since we'd already been discovered, I raised my volume even more, practically screaming his name. "Zabriel!"

"Up there," I heard from below my feet, and I pictured guns being drawn, the guards preparing to fire. Panic filled me-I wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Then hands clamped around my wrists; Zabriel had landed on top of the wall. With a jerk that sent searing pain through my right forearm, he pulled me up and over, his wings slowing our momentum as we dropped to the ground on the other side. Excitement poured through my veins like hot oil, and I flopped on the gra.s.s beside my cousin, both of us breaking into crazed laughter. But our relief was short-lived. Men were coming through the gated entrance to the Governor's estate and heading in our direction.

"Run, Anya," Zabriel urged, hopping to his feet.

He didn't have to tell me twice. I sprang up beside him, and we raced down the street, taking random turns to our left and right. When we were certain we had outdistanced any pursuit, we halted in an alley, our breath coming in heaving gasps, trying to steady our bodies and our nerves.

"Well, that was fun," Zabriel declared. Then he gently lifted my broken wrist. "Did it hold up?"

"It's still attached, isn't it?"

He nodded, then wiped the sweat off his brow. "We've a bit of a walk from here. Best get started."

He strode off down the street, and I quickly fell in step with him. We were headed toward the marble bridge that spanned the Kappa, for that was where Gwyneth had indicated we would meet Captain Fane. Every now and then, Zabriel would glance behind, but he detected no sign of continued chase.

"Evernook Island," he at length said. "We finally have a chance to talk."

"Yes, only I have some information to share first. I don't know if you remember this or not, but Shea's father, Thatcher, gave her a necklace with a pendant that's shaped like an upside-down looking gla.s.s."

He glared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Why are we talking about a necklace, Anya? I don't care what kind of jewelry Shea might have worn."

I shoved him. "Just be quiet and listen. Thatcher was contracted to build the box that was used to support that poor human we found on the island with the Faerie wings grafted to its back."

"Shea's father?" Zabriel stopped and faced me, his voice ringing with disbelief. "So he's involved in all of this...whatever this is?"

"Not involved anymore, but at one time, he was on the fringe of the group."

Zabriel glanced around, then headed down a side street, forcing me to jog to catch up. The sound of the Kappa was louder now, telling me we would soon reach our destination.

"Go on," he said, voice tight.

"The humans somehow infused magic into the pendant, because it helps to control the Sepulchres. But it was also designed for the sending of concealed messages. Apparently, a message can be written on a piece of paper and not be visible, unless you're looking at the words through the pendant."

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned." I knew from his use of a human curse that something I'd said was of significance. "I think I've got just the thing to try it on."

"What do you have? It only works on messages."

"I might just have a message."

I grabbed him by the arm and forced him to stop, wanting to give my legs a break and feeling he was talking in riddles.

"Pretend I'm stupid and tell me plainly and simply what you're thinking."

He smirked, and I wanted to shove him again.

"I stole something from Luka's study when we had our wine-tasting party."

Now it was my turn to stare in disbelief. "What did you steal? And how did you keep it hidden-you were searched!"