Scoundrel - The Blades Of The Rose Part 35

He was a Blade. And that meant making a sacrifice every now and then. Including postponing making love with London.

"The Eye," he said. "We have to secure it. The Colossus said we must take sunlight to a place on the sea floor that's never seen the light of the sun."

"And let the Eye rest there," London added.

"You still have the second fish scale?" Athena asked.

"We didn't have a chance to use it," said London. "But how will we take sunlight to the dark sea floor?"

The witch and the captain shared a secret smile, the kind reserved only for those who know another's person as well as themselves. It made Bennett chuckle to himself. Patrician witch and lowborn sea captain, mates. Fitting, somehow. As fitting as Bennett finding love with his enemy's daughter, the widow of the man he killed. What a world was this, brutal and beautiful.

"Leave the sun to me," said Athena.

Naked, again.

"You always find a way to get me out of my clothes," London said to Bennett. They were treading water, waiting for Athena to finish her preparations. Bennett had used ropes to strap the Eye of the Colossus to his back for its trip to the sea floor. They had sailed just out of the bay of the island, where coral formations and undersea rocks were in abundance.

"You take them off readily enough," he answered. His grin was cheeky, naughty, and fraught with sensual promise.

A promise she fully intended to see he made good. Later. Other, more pressing concerns had to be addressed first.

Kallas stepped to the rail of the caique, careful to shield his eyes from London's state of undress. "If you head straight down, then off to the east, you'll find a place that should suit."

"How can you tell?" London asked.

The captain turned to give her a c.o.c.ky smile, then turned away with a blush as Bennett growled a warning. "I can read the sea just as you read language."

"Everything is ready." Athena stood beside Kallas, and they unconsciously stepped closer to each other, brushing shoulders. In the witch's palm, London knew, was the last fish scale. "I will give you ten minutes, before I must do my part. Blessings of the G.o.ddess on you, both."

"And to you," Bennett said. "Now, let's finish this so London and I can get back to that lovemaking you interrupted."

Athena frowned, but her heart wasn't in it. With a shake of her head, she dropped the scale into the water. It glowed, expanding, and coalesced into a sleek fish. The creature immediately swam toward the bottom of the sea. A last squeeze of each other's hands, and then Bennett and London dove after it.

Difficult to say which delighted her more-the enchanted kingdom of turquoise water, coral reefs, and jewel-colored fish darting in the undersea currents, or Bennett swimming nude. Both were equally marvelous, feasts for the eye, but he drew her more. Not simply for his physical beauty, the breadth of his shoulders, his narrow waist, the sleek muscles of his backside and legs. But because, when he caught her watching him, she felt the undeniable heat and connection between them. They were bound together, in the best possible way.

Her breath strained, and she let seawater into her mouth. It still felt strange, to breathe through the water, yet she moved past her discomfort to focus on the task. Following Kallas's instructions, they swam straight down, past clouds of brilliant fish and two turtles, those wizened old men of the sea. Large formations of golden rock formed honeycombs and labyrinths on the sea floor. Hopefully, someday, the twisted metal hull of the sunken steamship would house coral and life, something beautiful from something terrible.

The glowing fish darted east, and they followed, snaking through the rocks. It led them between narrow creva.s.ses, where soft marine plants swayed in the currents. Undersea creatures that might never have seen a human before burst from their lairs in flashes of silver and pink. When the magic fish shot through a dark opening in one of the rocks, London and Bennett had no choice but to follow.

They found themselves in a grotto, utterly dark save for the illumination of the fish. It swam in circles around her and Bennett, giving them the means to breathe. Stranger creatures lived here, eyeless, wriggling, colorless, and shy.

Bennett unstrapped the Eye from his back and set it carefully on the sea floor. Small clouds of sand billowed up from the disturbance, but otherwise, nothing happened.

Though they could not speak underwater, London gestured to Bennett, asking what they were supposed to do next. He motioned that they should wait a moment longer. It had been nearly ten minutes. Athena had her part to play.

And she did. Light pierced the grotto, slicing through the dark water like knowledge piercing ignorance. The beam was almost solid, concentrated sunlight, and it angled straight to the Eye. The moment the light touched the Source, it began to glow, filling the grotto with golden illumination. Then, a rumbling.

Bennett took London's arm as the sea floor began to shake, but they were both pushed back against the grotto walls by the sudden tremors. As she and Bennett watched in amazement, the ground beneath the Eye split open. The Eye tilted on the edge, then slid down into the abyss. Instinctively, London moved to grab it before it was lost, but Bennett held her back. She understood. The earth reclaimed its magic.

The ground continued to shake. It grew stronger, knocking them about like playing jacks. Bennett pulled her toward the entrance to the grotto, but the stone walls began collapsing around them, sealing off their means of escape. At the same moment, the light from the fish blinked out, and with it, their ability to breathe underwater vanished.

To the surface. They had to get back to the surface immediately. Her lungs burned, water filled her nose and mouth. There was no way out, and she was drowning. Right beside Bennett. No. Not after surviving everything, and finding him. She fumbled in the darkness, trying to find a way out, a way to get them to safety, felt him doing the same.

Part of the roof of the grotto tumbled down as the chasm in the ground widened. There. She saw it the same time Bennett did. The blue of the water, of the sky overhead. But could they reach it in time? She already felt her consciousness begin to falter as her body demanded air.

Bennett grabbed her wrists and pulled her up, trying to haul them both to the surface. She wondered if the last things she would feel were his hands, long and skilled and profoundly male, and this was some consolation, to feel him in the moments before her death.

As the sea floor continued to split apart, giant bubbles rose, swirling and buffeting her and Bennett as though they were no more than flotsam. She felt herself borne aloft, rising higher in an upward-spiraling cascade of froth. She lost sense of direction, of self, spun about. Yet through it all, she felt Bennett's grip, holding her tight. He would not let her go.

They broke the surface together, gasping. Air, wonderful air, filled her lungs. But the sight of the sky and the sensation of breathing were not half so extraordinary as the man swimming beside her, laughing as he took in lungfuls of air. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and, while they hadn't the breath to kiss, they clung together, arms and legs intertwined as the sea continued to foam around them.

A loud roar. They turned to see the island of the Black Temple shatter into boulders before toppling into the sea. The sea churned as it swallowed the amphitheater, and the bodies of the Heirs. The visible edge of the steamship's carca.s.s sunk down into the water. Within moments, nothing remained of the island but roiling water. Even this the earth reclaimed. Finally, the shaking stopped, the sea quieted.

Blankets were given to her and Bennett as they clambered back onto the deck of the caique. Athena and Kallas stood with bemused expressions as London and Bennett shook and shuddered and could not stop laughing, their arms clasped around each other.

"Thank you for the sunlight," London said to Athena when she could find enough breath to speak.

"Such magic is like this to her now," said Kallas, snapping his fingers and beaming with pride.

"Your mother will be beside herself with glee," Bennett said.

"She is very compet.i.tive, my mother," Athena replied. "She will see my powers, take one look at Nikos, and immediately set sail to claim such bounties of her own."

"Bringing him home to meet the Galanos women." Bennett whistled.

"I'm not afraid," Kallas said.

"That's a mistake."

London tugged on Bennett's hand. "I think you should see this." She glanced past the rail of the caique.

Everyone turned and fell mute, though London heard Kallas mutter several prayers.

The Colossus stood upon the surface of the water, ten stories high, gazing down upon them with both eyes.

"You have performed your service well," it thundered. "My sight is restored. The terrible, waterborne gift shall never again fall into the hands of man. I shall keep watch." The Colossus nodded its ma.s.sive head.

And vanished.

They were silent for a long time afterward, staring at the s.p.a.ce where the Colossus had stood. The world felt calm, profoundly peaceful.

"Is it done, then?" the captain asked in a hushed whisper.

"It's done," Bennett said, then, gathering London close, kissed the top of her head. "And just beginning."

Epilogue.

Arrivals and Departures Southampton, England. 1875.

Catullus Graves pushed back from his worktable and growled. His latest device was not coming along as quickly as he'd hoped. There was still the matter of making an internal combustion engine small enough to fit into a knapsack, and light enough to be carried without causing the bearer to crumple under the weight. He could discuss his design with his sister, Octavia, but he knew he could solve the problem on his own-if he could get his mind to clear.

He took off his spectacles and polished them with a handkerchief, a habitual gesture as deeply ingrained as respiration.

It was no use. He couldn't focus. Not now. He would be leaving soon, within the week, and his thoughts jumbled, preoccupied with details and logistics.

What he needed right now was a good, strong cup of tea. Tea always helped sharpen his brain. And while he was up in the kitchen, he could root around for some of Cook's cinnamon biscuits.

Catullus took the steps that led from his bas.e.m.e.nt workshop. There were brighter s.p.a.ces available at the Blades' headquarters, but the Graves family always worked in the bas.e.m.e.nt. The room was bigger, and the heavy walls and lack of windows ensured discretion. It wouldn't do to have their neighbors hearing the variety of explosions and sounds of heavy welding equipment that emanated from the workshop at all hours. He never slept a full night. The best he could do was a few hours here and there, just enough to refresh him between sessions at the workbench. But he was long acclimatized to his irregular sleep patterns. Everyone in his family suffered the same insomnia. The blessing and curse of the Graveses of Southampton.

Perhaps it was another reason why he was still single.

As Catullus entered the main house, heading toward the kitchen, sounds of commotion in the main parlor arrested him. Seeking out the noise's origin, he entered the parlor and found a large group of people a.s.sembled there. Samuel Ashcombe. Alex Hughes. Jane Fleetwood, returned only last week from Ceylon. A host of familiar faces.

And, standing in the center of the group, Bennett Day. Looking tan and relaxed, grinning from ear to ear like a boy on his birthday as he shook hands of welcome. Even Catullus, who had, over the years, seen Bennett looking pretty d.a.m.ned pleased with himself, had never seen the old scoundrel appear so happy.

"We haven't received a telegram of condemnation from the Greek consulate," Catullus said, coming forward. "So I a.s.sume the mission went well." He shook Bennett's hand, and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d actually winked winked at him. at him.

"Couldn't have gone better. London," Bennett said, turning to the woman standing beside him, "I'll do you the insult of introducing you to Catullus Graves. Cat, you sodding dandy, let me honor you by presenting London Day, expert linguist and my wife."

Catullus couldn't have heard that properly. "Wife?"

"I know," said the woman, extending her hand. She was, as fitting Bennett's usual tastes, exceptionally pretty, with honey-colored hair and sparkling dark eyes. Yet her eyes sparkled not with flirtation but a keen, perceptive intelligence. "We're all still waiting for the sun to go black and rivers to flow backward. Despite what my husband said, it's an honor to meet you at last, Mr. Graves."

Catullus shook the woman's hand. He still could not believe that Bennett Day, inveterate voluptuary, had actually gotten married. However, considering this woman's beauty and intellect, perhaps that wasn't such a surprise, after all.

"London," he said, musing. He frowned. "London Edgeworth Harcourt?" The a.s.sembled group of Blades all gaped in surprise.

The glimmer in her eyes dimmed slightly. "That had been my name, but no longer."

"You've heard of her?" Bennett demanded.

"Of course," said Catullus. "I make it a point to familiarize myself with the Heirs' families so that I'm never caught off guard by their sudden appearance. Don't you?"

Bennett scowled. "Too d.a.m.n busy risking my neck to pour over Debrett's Peerage Peerage."

"Believe me, Mr. Graves," Mrs. Day said, sincerity shining in her face, "all connections with my family have been entirely severed. Bennett and I just came from the city, but my mother refused to see me. She took my father's death very hard. And I'm quite sure that if my brother ever spotted me on the street, he'd shoot me dead." She spoke these words flatly, as though inured to the idea. Catullus marveled at her strength.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Day," Catullus murmured.

"Please, don't be. I'm quite happy to trade one family for another. And I would like it if you called me London. I've heard so much about you from Bennett, and benefited so much from your inventions, I feel as if we're already old friends."

Catullus bowed. "My pleasure. And call me Catullus, please."

"Only I I call him Cat," Bennett said. "Just to annoy him." call him Cat," Bennett said. "Just to annoy him."

"That is one of your strengths," Catullus answered.

More Blades ambled forward to meet Bennett's bride and offer their congratulations on the mission and his marriage. Catullus stood back and observed. London met each Blade with genuine warmth and courtesy, and she accepted their good-natured ribbing and questions with humor. None of this impressed Catullus so much as the way she and Bennett stood close to one another, constantly brushing their hands together, touching in small but weighted ways. It was clear that London loved Bennett, and the unmitigated adoration in Bennett's eyes whenever he looked at his wife made Catullus a little sad, that he himself had never experienced such a feeling and likely never would. Brilliant, intrepid young women like London didn't just fall from the sky.

Well, he had his work for the Blades, and that should be enough. Octavia ensured the continuation of the Graves line.

When all the felicitations and welcomes had been exhausted, the room emptied of Blades, leaving Catullus alone with his old friend and his friend's wife.

"I was headed to the kitchen for some tea," Catullus said. "I can ring and have it brought out here."

"Let's go to the kitchen together," London answered. She glanced around the large parlor, filled with maps and a ramshackle collection of furniture. Papers covered the available tabletops, and someone had abandoned a game of patience on top of an out-of-tune pianoforte. "This parlor is..."

"A disaster," sighed Catullus. Few of the Blades shared his love of order, and, truthfully, everyone was too busy chasing down Sources to concern themselves with maintaining elegant headquarters. The cleaning staff knew better than to try to keep order, lest they tempt madness.

"I was going to say, this parlor is not very cozy." London laughed. "I do want us to be informal and friendly with each other. To the kitchen?"

"Of course." Catullus bowed, liking London Day immensely. "What of Athena?" he asked as they headed down the hall together. He did not miss how Bennett kept a proprietary hand on her waist. "She hasn't written in some time."

"I'd say her time is rather filled at the moment," Bennett said dryly.

"Filled, in a good way?"

"A very very good way," London answered, smiling. good way," London answered, smiling.

"It's a fortunate thing you arrived in Southampton when you did," Catullus said. They reached the kitchen, where Cook and her a.s.sistants were busy preparing the evening meal for a dozen hungry Blades. Fortunately, Cook was well familiar with Catullus's odd eating habits, and she made no objection when he, Bennett, and London ensconced themselves in some settles installed for just such a purpose. Without prompting, one of the cook's a.s.sistants set a tea tray, complete with cinnamon biscuits, on a small table between the settles. Ah, the headquarters were a bachelor's dream.

"Why is that?" asked Bennett.

"I'm leaving for a mission next week."

Bennett sighed. "It's the way of the Blades. We're never in one place long enough to even leave a dent in the pillow."

"Where are you going?" London asked, nibbling on a biscuit.

"Canada."

Bennett started. "That's where..." His voice trailed off.

"Astrid lives." Catullus stirred his tea moodily. "I have to find her."

"Astrid?" repeated London. "She's the Blade whose husband-" She faltered, and they all knew what London could not bring herself to say. Astrid's husband Michael, also a Blade, had been killed in action when they were in Africa, five years prior. Her husband had literally died in her arms. In grief, Astrid shut herself away from the Blades, fleeing to the depths of the Canadian wilderness. No one had seen her in years, not since she exiled herself. There had been attempts to contact her, but those attempts had been often rebuffed. Now, there was no choice. Catullus had to find her and drag her out of her self-imposed banishment, whether she wanted to return or not.

"You know about the Primal Source," Catullus said, breaking the silence. "What it signifies."