The world exploded in flame, the heat glowing blue and then scarlet. I looked up and up as my column of fire rose twenty, thirty, forty feet. A shattering, beastly cry erupted in the air above. I smelled sulfur. Something struck me hard and sent my body rolling along the ground. A million stars exploded in my vision. I felt horribly cold and fell into blackness.
—
I WOKE IN BED, A DAMP cloth on my cheek. Fenswick stood beside my pillow, his mouth pursed in a sour expression as he twitched his ears.
“So you’re awake at last.” He didn’t sound pleased.
When I sat up, the room swirled before me. I sank back down onto the pillow. A candle burned on a table beside my bed, and I focused on the orange flame. I was alive, somehow. Was I whole? My arms and legs worked, and I studied my hands, forearms, chest, but found no scars.
“You’re not marked,” Fenswick said as he pulled on a silk bell cord. “He struck you with the wrong side of his tentacle. Or the right side, from your perspective.”
“How did I get here?”
“Magnus carried you back through the ward.” My face warmed a bit.
“What happened to Korozoth?” The door opened, and Agrippa entered, followed by all the Incumbents. Magnus and Cellini perched at the foot of my bed; Dee, Wolff, and Lambe remained nearer the door. Blackwood stood with his back to the wall, apart from all of us. As usual.
Fenswick took my face in his paw and snapped his fingers before my eyes.
“She’s fine. I’ve no earthly idea how,” the little creature grumbled.
Agrippa clasped the bedpost and came to my side. “You have violated every directive the Order could ever give!” He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “And you are everything I hoped you’d be.” His eyes shone with tears. “Everything.”
“What happened to Korozoth?”
“He retreated.” Magnus knelt beside Agrippa. “You sent him packing. Should’ve heard the old boy roar and scream. He disappeared in the air, vanished like the shadow and bloody fog he is. He’s never run like that before.”
The boys came closer, all except Blackwood. He didn’t even smile. He was probably just angry because I’d disobeyed him and gone through the ward for…
“Rook.” My throat was dry. Wolff poured water from my china pitcher and handed me a glass. “Is Rook all right?”
“He never left,” Magnus said. “They found him outside, in one of the horses’ stalls. He’d tied himself to a post.”
“What?”
“He said he’d felt the urge to run to the damn beast, so he went down to the stables. Said he knew we’d keep you safe, but he didn’t want to go and get himself killed and have you worry. We found him a few hours ago. Looked as if he’d had a rough night, poor devil. He was soaked in sweat.”
Rook had been secure the entire time. I collapsed onto the pillow again and closed my eyes. The relief was sweet. But then, with a pang, I remembered Charley.
“If Korozoth comes back…”
“You will not fight him again until you’re commended,” Agrippa said sternly. “You were brilliant, but you were also lucky. The Order was only just able to forgive what happened. That goes for the rest of you,” he said, specifically to Magnus. “From now on, you do as you’re told or face being excommunicated.” The boys grumbled their agreement.
Magnus pointed his stave toward the ceiling. “To Henrietta Howel!” The boys cheered, all except Blackwood. Fenswick spooned some powder into my glass of water. Drinking it down, I discovered I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Everyone’s faces blurred. Sighing, I relaxed into my pillow and watched the candle flame burning beside me. It grew smaller and flickered feebly. In my drugged state, I imagined that the darkness itself cupped a hand around the light. I giggled at the absurdity of that idea and slept.
—
ROOK BRUSHED A STRAND OF HAIR from my face. “Nettie?” he whispered. He was robed in blackness. It hung from his shoulders and moved along his skin like folds of drapery.
“You were safe,” I sighed, reaching up to touch him. He grabbed my fingers, kissed them. The ease with which he did it thrilled me.
“Better than that. I’m free now. Can you see it?”
The shadows buoyed me up, and I floated on a dark, depthless sea. Rook hung suspended above me, his solid black eyes gleaming. We were two small objects spinning in a void. Exhausted, I fell back onto my bed.
“Rest now,” Rook whispered. “But come to me tomorrow. You will come, won’t you?”
“Of course,” I said, rolling over and gazing at the last dying spark of the candle. The rich, velvet darkness extinguished it, and the dream vanished with the light.
—
HARGROVE SAT ON THE EDGE OF my vanity table, still wearing that ridiculous red-and-purple-and-orange coat. “So,” he said. “You’re a little fireball. I should have known.” He took a bite out of the crisp red apple he held in his hand. “You really should come and see me. It’s about to get much harder for you.” He picked up a glass bottle of scent, sprayed some, and made a face.
“Go away and let me sleep,” I grumbled, sitting up in bed. My room filled with that dream mist again. Everything appeared cloudy, except the magician. He slid down and stood by my bedpost, eating the apple to the core.
“Stupid thing, you can’t even imagine what you’re in for. Come to me tomorrow, and I’ll help you. It’ll be your reward for trying to save little Charley.” His smug expression vanished. He sighed. “Yes. It was my own fault. I never remember to count heads.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You must come. The information I have is delicate. You’ll want it.”
“Go away and let me sleep, Jenkins Hargrove,” I grumbled, fluffing my pillow.
“All right. Here.” He threw the apple core at me, and I leaned up to catch it.
—
AN INSTANT LATER, I WOKE. THE room was empty, both of mist and of magicians. I sat up with a groan.
I didn’t scream when I discovered the apple core in my hand. But I certainly wanted to.
I shouldn’t be here, I thought as I returned to Jenkins Hargrove’s home the next day. Part of me wanted to turn around, to ignore the magician’s visitation the night before. But this was twice now he had come to me in a dream, twice he had spoken to me. And that trick with the apple—how had he done it?
He’d said he had delicate information. Fine. I would listen, and then I would tell him never to come to me again.
I’d been given the morning off to rest, and it had taken a great deal of work to be allowed outside to walk about the neighborhood, to take in the air. They would miss me before too long. I knew I must hurry.
Rounding the corner, I looked about for the poor Unclean man. I’d brought a coin and a piece of bread to give to him, but he was no longer at the wall. Perhaps he’d moved on. Perhaps something had happened. What a horrible thought. I prayed someone had taken pity on him.
Steeling myself, I swept up the wooden stairs and knocked at the magician’s door. A chorus of small voices told me to enter. As before, Hargrove burst through the curtains, bent over in his old-man act.
“Come in, dear lady, and ’ave a look upon your future. We are but ’umble— Oh, it’s you.” He popped and cracked his bones back into place. “You might inform me when you’re planning on a visit. It takes me a minute to get my spine all out of order for that entrance.” He sat at the table, fluffing his coat.
I spotted Charley’s little brother and sister, their faces swollen from crying. “I’d like to speak to you privately.”