chapter FORTY-NINE
TWO CUPS
The house, which Fox had found in a dark pine forest barely two miles from Champlitte, smelled neither of cinnamon nor of molten sugar. There also were no gingerbreads on the walls – and you didn’t need a fur dress to scent the dark magic wafting around the house like a bad smell. Jacob would have preferred a Witch like Alma, but Donnersmarck was as good as dead, and child-eaters could heal even the most terrible wounds. It was just best not to ask what went into their potions.
The woman who opened the door was very beautiful and very young. Most Dark Witches showed themselves in that form even if they were hundreds of years old. Jacob and Fox put Donnersmarck on her kitchen table so she could inspect his wounds. The nails on her fingers were so long and sharp, they made Jacob grateful his friend was already unconscious. Donnersmarck was paying a high price for helping him, and Jacob was not just worried about the wounds inflicted by the Man-Stag. The Witch confirmed his fears. When Jacob described to her who had attacked his friend, she shook her head with a vicious smile.
‘I can save his life,’ she said. ‘But I can’t do anything about him maybe wearing antlers one day. You can stay in my stable. This will take a few days, and you know the price. His life will cost you two cups of blood.’ The Witch cut off Fox before she could protest. ‘Careful now! ‘Or I might also ask for the dress that’s out there in that devil-horse’s saddlebag. I’m sure it gives you a beautiful fur.’
The Witch cut Jacob’s arm expertly, and the two cups were quickly filled. Then she rushed them out of the house. Dark Witches never allowed anyone to witness their craft. The cups had taken a lot of blood. Fox and Jacob chained the devil-horses to some trees, and Fox took the saddlebags with her. Jacob had found the fur dress in the servant’s room – and only then had the fear finally disappeared from Fox’s face.
She caught a few will-o’-the-wisps before she bandaged his arm in the dark stable. It was barely more than a shack, and definitely not the kind of place he’d wanted to take her to after the Bluebeard’s chamber. But the woods out there were no better. This will take a few days. Jacob had wanted to return to Vena as quickly as possible, to start searching for the Bastard. The moth on his chest was missing only two more spots, and the heart was no good to him as long as the Goyl had the head and the hand. But they could hardly repay Donnersmarck for all his help by leaving him alone with a child-eater. The Witch’s needle had kept him from bleeding out, but there wasn’t much life left in him. Jacob didn’t tell Fox about the fourth bite in the Bluebeard’s labyrinth. He was so relieved to have her by his side again, breathing and unhurt, that the moth seemed nothing more but a nightmare, and death was something they’d both left in Troisclerq’s red chamber.
Fox was so exhausted that she was asleep before Jacob could explain to her why he’d taken the necklace off one of the dead girls. She probably hadn’t even noticed – all she’d been concerned about was whether Troisclerq had destroyed her fur dress.
Jacob lay down next to her on the filthy straw, but he couldn’t sleep. He just listened to her breathing. At some point a crowned snake crawled into the stable, a kind found only in Lotharaine. The black lily on its head was worth a hundred gold thalers, but Jacob didn’t even lift his head. He didn’t want to think about treasure, or about the crossbow, or about having to die soon. Fox was sleeping a deep sleep. Her face was peaceful, as though she’d left all her fear behind in the Bluebeard’s house. She was back in the men’s clothes she’d worn on their trip to Albion. She’d left the Bluebeard’s dress next to her sisters-in-death. Jacob couldn’t take his eyes off her sleeping face. It finally erased all the images that had been tormenting him since Vena. It felt like a miracle that she was still alive, a magic that would pass. No Fairy island, no Larks’ Water, just a bed of filthy straw and her rhythmic breathing – yet nothing had ever felt better.
Jacob had spent years looking for one of the hourglasses that stopped time for the Empress. He’d never understood why this was one of the most coveted treasures one could find behind the mirror. There had never been a moment he’d wanted to hold on to for ever. The next one always had more promise, and even the most glorious day began to taste stale after a few hours. But now he was lying in the stable of a child-eater, his arm sliced open and death in his chest, wishing for an hourglass. He waved away a will-o’-the-wisp that had settled on Fox’s brow – they often brought bad dreams – and brushed the hair from her sleeping face.
His touch woke her. She reached out and ran her finger over the cut Troisclerq’s rapier had left on his left cheek.
‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered.
As if it was her fault he’d been too blind to protect her from Troisclerq. Jacob put his finger on her lips and shook his head. He had no idea how to apologise for all the fear and terror she’d never be able to forget. There was no consolation in that they’d both been Troisclerq’s prey, that they’d given Troisclerq a death he might have even been longing for after all the stolen lifetimes. Was it possible to escape death for too long? Could there be too much life? It was hard to believe that on a night like this.
‘You heard the Witch,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll be here a few days. So sleep! It’s not the cosiest of places, but much better than the one we came from, don’t you think?’
Fox didn’t answer. Her eyes wandered to his chest, to where the moth was hiding beneath his shirt. She hadn’t forgotten about death. From his backpack, Jacob pulled the necklace he’d taken from Ramée’s granddaughter. Her face incredulous, Fox touched the black heart.
‘Two treasures in one go,’ Jacob whispered. ‘I’ll tell you the whole story. But now you have to rest.’
She was so pale. He felt as though he could see through her skin.
Outside, one of the devil-horses whinnied.
Fox sat up.
The horse was quiet again, but it wasn’t a good silence.
She was quicker to the stable door than he. His eyes couldn’t make out anything suspicious between the dark trees, but Fox reached for the saddlebag with her fur dress.
‘Someone’s there.’
‘Let me take a look.’
She just shook her head. Jacob watched the trees while she put on the fur dress. The horses were still restless. Maybe they just smelled the Witch.
No, Jacob.
It was a moonless night, and he barely noticed the vixen dart off. There was still light behind the Witch’s window. A dog was barking somewhere.
Why did you let her go, Jacob? She was too weak. He could still see the pitcher, filled to the rim with her fear. Again, a dog barking. His hand reached for his pistol. He was just about to go after her when the fur of the vixen brushed against his leg again.
‘They are over there, to the left, between the trees. The Bastard and five others.’ Fox pulled Jacob away from the stable door. He thought he could still feel the fur on her hands. ‘You can smell the Waterman from miles off. And they have two bloodhounds.’
Damn. How did the Goyl get there? Jacob seemed unable to shake him off, like a shadow. Jacob rubbed his bandaged arm. It was his left – the heart arm, as the Witches called it. Sadly, it was also his better shooting arm. Not to mention the blood he was missing, and he still had the fight with Troisclerq in his bones. The Bastard would take the heart, and it would be like taking it off a child.
‘Maybe the Witch can help us,’ Fox whispered.
‘Perhaps. But I can’t afford to give another two cups of blood. And have you forgotten about the Waterman?’ Witch magic was as powerless against Watermen as a lit fuse thrown into a pond.
‘I can try to lure them away.’
‘No.’
She knew him well enough to know that this ‘no’ was final.
Jacob looked towards the devil-horses. Even if he and Fox managed to get away, what about Donnersmarck?
Damn. Too little time in the wrong place.
He took the black heart from his pocket. Fox flinched as he put the necklace around her neck. Jacob had wrapped the stone in a piece of cloth so it wouldn’t touch her.
‘Take it off before you go to sleep, and make sure the stone never sits on top of your heart!’ he whispered. ‘The cloth will only protect your skin. I’ll try to get you at least an hour’s head start.’
‘No!’ She wanted to take the necklace off, but Jacob grabbed her hands.
‘Nothing will happen to me. I’ll surrender myself before things get too hot.’
‘And then what? That Goyl already tried once before to kill you!’
‘He won’t, as long as I am his only chance of getting the heart! You just can’t get caught. Meet up with Valiant. Let the Dwarf deal with the Bastard. There’s an empty watchtower by the Dead City. I’ll tell the Goyl that’s where you’ll be waiting for him.’
She leant her head against his shoulder.
‘It’ll be all right,’ he whispered.
‘When?’ she whispered back. ‘Let’s try together. Please! We’ll be on the horses before they can start shooting.’
‘And Donnersmarck?’ Jacob brushed a will-o’-the-wisp from her hair. An hourglass. He’d find one. But the moment was now lost.
‘Take the rear.’ He drew his pistol. ‘The wall’s so rotten, I’m sure you’ll find a crack over there.’
Fox turned around, but Jacob pulled her back once more. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Her heartbeat was like his own.
Something stirred outside between the trees.
‘Run!’ Jacob whispered.
Red fur where just a moment before was pale skin.
She was gone before he had turned around again.