I turn to meet Jax’s gaze, and I can tell by the look he gives me that my face betrays my worry. “Meredy Crowther. Evander’s little sister.”
“What?” Jax groans. “How was I supposed to know? And what could I have done to stop her from going with them, anyway? I’m not her father.” He sounds as guilty as I feel. I shouldn’t have been so eager to see the back of Meredy, even if I didn’t want to help her. I should have told her exactly why she couldn’t go to the Deadlands. Scared her away from the idea for good, even.
“She gets to make her own choices, just like us,” I say softly, more to ease Jax’s guilt than mine. Nothing but finding Meredy safe and sound will make me feel better now.
I leap off the bed and scramble to throw on my boots. I can’t believe I didn’t realize how determined she was to go to the Deadlands. I was too preoccupied by my potions and my problems to see how desperate she was.
If she dies, her blood will be on my hands.
I grab one of Jax’s many knives, testing its grip in my small hand. It’ll do. I shove the dagger in a spare sheath and hand Jax his sword, earning a wide grin from him. Shades are a deadly threat, but I’ve sparred enough to know fighting humans is much easier.
“You don’t have to come,” I say breathlessly as Jax rushes to the door with me, already armed. “I’ve been to the Deadlands alone, and I came back. I can do it again.” I smirk at him as I add, “Besides, I can’t offer you your weight in gold for risking your life.”
“No way am I missing a chance to make something bleed.” Jax bangs his shoulder against mine, making me grin, too. “You’re stuck with me, partner.”
“Fine.” I fling open the door. With a guilt twisting my insides as I think of Danial, I add, “We might as well grab Simeon if he’s willing, too. We could use the extra help.”
Meredy might be a painful reminder of Evander, but I can’t let her die like this.
I just hope we aren’t too late.
XVI
Standing outside the Crowther manor in the dead of night, I’m beginning to think my idea was a bad one. Jax and Simeon, flanking me on either side, are in total agreement.
“I don’t see why we need to bring a grizzly bear to the Deadlands when we’re packing enough steel and fire to raze an entire province,” Jax growls.
He glances over his shoulder at the nearest glowing gateway, which hovers in a neighboring manor’s yard. I hope the baron who lives there won’t hear the commotion we’re about to cause and send for a guard. This will be difficult enough without several curious nobles poking their noses in our business.
“We’re wasting valuable time,” Jax mutters, jarring me from my thoughts.
“Your time is valuable? I had no idea,” Simeon drawls. It’s good to know his sarcasm is alive and well after all we’ve been through lately. I catch his eye, and he grins as he sweeps back his sandy blond bangs. “But really, Sparrow. I think we’re strong enough to take three rogue necromancers without a thousand pounds of muscle and claws backing us up.”
“Three on three,” Jax agrees, squaring his shoulders with an expression as hungry and wild as the wolves inked into his skin. “A fair fight.”
I shake my head, then pound on the manor door. If there’s ever a time I need a vial of calming potion, it’s now, when I’m about to willingly plunge into the well of memories contained by these imposing walls.
“The bear isn’t a weapon,” I hastily explain as I wait for Lyda or Elibeth to appear. I knock again, harder. “As a beast master, Meredy’s tied to the bear somehow. He can track her scent, too. Maybe he can even tell us if we’re chasing a lost cause.” I knock a third time, nervousness humming in my veins.
“And what’s to stop him from, you know, eating us instead of doing all those helpful things?” Simeon demands, his teasing grin not entirely covering his apprehension. “Danial’s already unhappy with me. Just think how he’ll yell if I get turned into bear chow.”
“From what I understand of beast masters, their animals are tamer than wild ones. They pick up some of their master’s humanity in the magical bonding process, which is why they don’t just attack people in the streets.” I shrug, hoping I’m right. I’ve never had a conversation with a beast master about their magic, despite knowing Elibeth for years.
“I dated a beast master last year,” Jax says in an offhand voice. “Remember Tabathy? Older, gorgeous, taller-than-me Tabathy? Best six weeks of my life, except she insisted we keep things secret. Oh, and her beast was an owl. It liked sitting on her wardrobe and watching me while . . .”
I press my ear to the door, listening for the patter of feet inside the manor. But all I can hear is Simeon snickering and slapping Jax on the back. “No, I don’t believe it,” Simeon gasps between laughs. “You and Tabathy. That’s about as likely as you and—”
A harassed-looking maid flings open the door. Peering over her shoulder is Elibeth, barefoot and in her nightgown, her face soft with sleep. Her eyes go round at the sight of us, staring first at Jax and Simeon armed with knives and swords, then at me and the heavy chain coiled around my shoulder.
“Your sister’s in danger,” I say to Elibeth, and she and her maid step aside to let us in.
There’s no sign of Lyda as we follow Elibeth across the manor and down a flight of stairs to the cellar door, explaining all we know as we go. I can’t imagine how the baroness is sleeping through the commotion, unless she’s taking a potion to help her rest.
“Meredy shut Lysander in here before she left this afternoon.” Elibeth holds a torch aloft, bathing the cellar door in warm light. “She didn’t tell me where she was going. She never does. If I’d had any idea . . .” Her eyes shimmer. “She seemed fine when she left, though I did think it a bit odd she put Lysander away when he usually remains by her side.”
Simeon squeezes her shoulder and murmurs something soothing. He’s had years of practice, growing up as the only boy in a convent of Death’s often-brooding nuns.
“Don’t blame yourself, Elibeth.” I slide the chain off my shoulder, hoping we’ve looped the end into a collar wide enough to fit around the bear’s neck. “Meredy’s not exactly easy to talk to.” As Elibeth’s frown deepens, I hurry to add, “If there’s any chance of bringing her home, we will.”
As I reach for the cellar door, she calls, “Be careful! Lysander shares Meredy’s moods, like my hounds share mine. She says he’s never attacked anyone without her permission, but if he’s upset . . . there’s always a risk.” Her voice is hoarse as she adds, “I’d put the chain on him for you, but it’s better that you bond with him here and now before taking him to the Deadlands.”
I nod, taking a deep breath to brace myself for what’s waiting behind the door.
“It’s a good thing Master Cymbre’s not here,” Simeon mutters.
I shake my head, wishing we’d woken her after all. She’d probably have fetched the bear and found Meredy in half the time it’s taken us just to get here.