Arcana (36 page)

Her premonition came true, but though I managed to determine which one was my enemy, I’m still trapped.

“I hope I have not kept you waiting long,” I say, my voice thick with sarcasm.

He smiles charmingly, ignoring my tone. “Not at all.” He offers me his arm. “Shall we go?”

I long to slap his arm away, but if I am to be successful in my plan, I must have the element of surprise on my side. I firmly avoid any thoughts of how long I will have to maintain this façade. “Yes.” I wrench my cheeks upward into a semblance of a smile.

With a patronizing pat on my hand, he says, “I hope you will find my carriage comfortable.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure I will.” I glance back at the stairs where Lucy watches from the top. She has stifled her tears and glares at Lord Blackburn with open malice. Her solidarity gives me strength. “How long before we reach the nearest inn?”

“Only a few hours.” He grins. “Why? Are you so eager to spend the night with me then?”

His laughter causes my teeth to grind against each other. I will have a few hours, then. Precious little time when we are alone on the road, and I must determine if I can truly do such a terrible and permanent act. “I only wanted to know what to expect, my lord,” I say tightly.

As he leads me from Grandmama’s townhome, I pause and look back. I will my legs not to carry me back inside, back to my sister. When will I ever see her again?

“Did you forget something?” he asks, his tone inching toward irritation.

I continue on without answering. Once inside the carriage, I squeeze as close to the window as I can. Lord Blackburn sits across from me, and I tuck my legs flush against the seat to minimize any chance of our legs touching. He casts an amused look my way, but makes no comment.

With a rap of his fist on the roof of the carriage, we roll forward. I hold my breath, hoping, praying Lord Thornewood will appear and stop this horrible event from happening.

But he does not show.

An hour outside of London, Lord Blackburn moves onto the seat next to me. I have pressed myself so closely to the window that every muscle screams in protest.

“I cannot help but notice how nervous you are, Katherine,” he says, a mocking smile on his face.

Despite my fear, I find my ire rising. My cheeks flush. “Indeed? What gave you such an impression?”

He chuckles, which only makes my angry flush deepen. “Come now, let’s not quarrel. We are to be married soon, after all.”

I touch the side of my reticule, the dagger safely hidden within. “Why this insistence on making me your wife?”

“I believe I answered you before.”

“No, you gave me only part of the answer before. I am demanding the truth now. You owe me that much at least.”

He sighs as though I am nothing but a petulant child. “Very well.” His eyes bore into mine. “I want your power. As my wife, I will have constant access to a wealth of it. And, through me, so will the rest of the Order.”

I swallow down the nausea churning in my stomach. I already figured out as much for myself, but hearing him admit to it disgusts me. “What is the goal of your brotherhood? Do you hunt others like me?”

“We have many interests, I suppose you could say,” he says with a mean smile. “Some of us delve in the dark arts and alchemy, but we are all avid collectors of the exceedingly rare. There are many objects that house large amounts of energy—nothing like your own, of course—and we mean to harness that power. For I’m sure you’ve come to realize that those who hold the most power are the ones who rule the world.”

This reminds me of my mother’s story of her arranged marriage to the Sylvani male who could level whole cities with his power, and I swallow hard. “Who else is in the Order? Do they know about me? What about my family?”

“Katherine, my darling, calm yourself,” Lord Blackburn says in a voice steeped in condescension. “Others may suspect, but I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For now, I want your power to myself.”

This relieves some of my fear for now. I cannot let anyone get word of the truth of my family. “And what is it you do with this power?”

“Have you ever come across tales of the Fountain of Youth?”

“Yes, of course,” I snap, tired of his belittlement. “What of it?”

Bright excitement glitters in his eyes. “You
are
our Fountain. Your energy extends our lifespans, keeps us youthful in appearance, and protects us from plague and disease.”

I feel the color drain from my face. I think of the way Lord Blackburn appeared after stealing power from me—the way he seemed renewed, even glowing with vitality. Suddenly, I feel very light-headed. If I fail, my energy will be used to prolong the life of a mad man.

His eyes scan the length of me, and I press myself closer to the carriage window.

I was foolish to think it’d keep him from touching me.

He trails his finger down the side of my face, and the glimmer from his diamond ring catches my eye.
An Egyptian ankh that represents eternal life.
I understand why the Order chose such a symbol now. Cold fingers of warning trail down my back.

He notices me looking at the ring and holds it up. “You once asked me about this,” he says, glancing down at it with an odd sort of pride reflected in his eyes. “If only you had known such a ring is a sign of a member of the Order.” He smiles when my eyes widen. “And it’s astounding, isn’t it? I can drain your power away and siphon it directly into this ring. Once filled, it becomes the wearer’s own Fountain of Youth.”

“Then why do you need me?” I ask. “Why not take enough arcana to fill the ring and be done with me?”

“Oh, but I couldn’t do that. You see, the ring will be worth a fortune to those who know its true value. With such an object in my possession, I will become one of the highest-ranking members of the Order.” He twists the hateful thing around on his finger and looks at me. “Shall I give you a demonstration?”

Before I can remove the dagger from my bag, he is on top of me, his hands pinning my shoulders against the seat. I panic and try to shove him away. But he has the advantage, both in height and weight. His awkward position on top of me guarantees I will have limited motion, limited ability to fight back.

My rising desperation gives me strength, and I manage to wrench one arm free. I thrust my hand into the bag. The sharp blade cuts my finger, and I yelp.

With a vicious slash, I arc it toward his face. He bellows, cradling his cheek.

“You little bitch,” he says in a snarl. “I’ll drain you until you’re too weak to even move.”

He lunges toward me again. This time, when I try to stab him, he grabs my wrist. The other hand wraps around my throat, squeezing until I can no longer draw breath. When the tug in my abdomen turns into a painful ache, I struggle wildly against his hold.

The look in his eyes is murderous. I must end this before I am too weak to fight back.

The energy inside of me is chaos, just as my mind is a mess of panic. Fear steals away every thought in my head until I am as lost as a raft caught in an ocean storm. My body continues to flail in a desperate attempt to save itself. More and more power leaves me, sucked away by whatever strange power Lord Blackburn has. The changes it has on him are instantaneous; his cheeks are rosy as if just having come in from a walk in the sun, and the bands of muscle in his arm become like iron.

I must gain control of my mind. I cannot let him win—not like this. I sink inside my own consciousness and let the rush of power wash over me like a river. I’ve channeled it before, but never with the intention to hurt someone. Never in defense of my own life.

I gather it to me, closing it off from him. I steal away energy from him before he can take hold, and it almost feels as though I’m being torn in half. Energy builds at the core of me, swirling inside as though a million butterflies beat their wings in desperation. The pressure mounts until my whole body shakes.

I think of the helplessness I felt when he attacked me in Lady Drake’s garden; the horror of being the subject of his machinations; the fear of never escaping him. Rage builds, its darkness all I feel.

I grit my teeth while inside I’m screaming in agony. I give into the whirlwind of power inside, the energy continuing to build until I am so full I may shatter into a thousand fragments. Instead, I focus it entirely on Lord Blackburn.

“No!” I scream. I shove against him with all the force I’ve stored. An explosion of light hits him square in the chest. With a
crack
as loud as thunder, he is catapulted into the other seat. The force buffets me like the strongest wind as the roof of the carriage collapses around him.

Panting, I shove at the door and stumble to the ground. My legs threaten to not hold my weight, and I steady myself with one hand on the carriage. With a shaky feeling of horror in my stomach, I assess the damage. Though my side is untouched, the carriage looks as though a cannon ball shot clear through it, the explosion collapsing even the driver’s seat. The driver himself is on the ground, unmoving.

A sob catches in my throat. Did my arcana bring death to this innocent bystander?

Slowly, his chest rises and falls. I let out my breath and relax my shoulders. Thank God. There was no way I could have helped him. I’m completely depleted of energy.

As I watch, his eyes slowly open and focus on my face. “My lady?” he calls weakly.

A strange feeling within me grows when I realize he is not only alive but conscious. Shame causes my breath to hitch as I give name to the feeling: disappointment. I have left a witness to my fatal power.

A frightened whinny calls my attention to the horses. The lead horses are rearing and plunging unsuccessfully against their harnesses. One of the wheels of the carriage has cracked, preventing it from rolling forward. They appear uninjured, and for this, I am grateful. I hold my hands up to calm them. Once their eyes stop rolling back in their heads, I return to the side of the carriage to retrieve my dagger and reticule. My mother’s journal is inside, and I will not leave it behind.

Tentatively, I reach inside, my eyes never leaving the unmoving form of Lord Blackburn. Unlike the driver, his chest remains still. I watch for several moments, until I am sure he is lifeless. Relief hits me so strongly I stumble.

As deftly as I can, I free one of the lead horses from the straps that connect it to the trace. I’m forced to saw through the reins with my dagger as I no longer have enough energy inside me to guide them without a bridle. Once the reins are shortened, I haul myself astride.

I cluck encouragingly to the stately black gelding to walk on, and I can tell from his hesitant gait he is unused to having a rider. Still, he will get me to where I need to go.

Fatigue threatens to overtake me, and I know I will never make it far. I am far too weak to attempt to cross over to Mama’s realm. The waning sunlight on my back is restorative—it is keeping me seated upon the horse, at least—but I know I will need rest.

The only choice is to stop at a roadside inn. The anonymity there should be enough to keep me safe tonight, but I must leave first thing in the morning.

I’m sure I won’t have much time until the carriage driver is found and confesses what he has seen.

Because I cannot very well ride up to the entrance of the inn riding a carriage horse, I dismount when I see the building in the distance. On foot, I lead the black gelding, who seems relieved to have me on the ground again.

I stare at the wooden sign of the inn, the words T
HE
H
ORSE AND
H
OUND
emblazoned in black while silhouettes of a horse and dog are prominent beneath them. A young, dusty groom approaches me with a concerned look on his face, and I inwardly rehearse the tale I’ve concocted to explain my situation.

“My lady, are you in need of assistance?” he asks. “Are you injured in any way?”

I affect a harried smile. “I thank you for your concern, but I am uninjured. I do, however, require stabling for my horse.”

“Of course, right away.” Confusion draws his reddish blonde eyebrows inward. “But, if I may ask, where is your carriage?”

I let my breath out in a rush. “We had trouble on the road—a broken axle—so my driver stayed with the carriage and my luggage. I went on ahead because I am concerned about my horse’s hoof. I fear it may be bruised. Would you be so kind as to examine him?”

“I’m so sorry for your trouble,” he says, looking so sympathetic I almost feel guilty for my deception. “I’ll be sure to look over your horse as you’ve asked. Should I also send one of the footmen to meet your driver?”

“Oh no, that is quite unnecessary, thank you. He assured me he’d take care of everything,” I say with a flippant wave of my hand. “Now, please excuse me, but I really must see if I can secure a room for the night.” I flash him a tired smile and head toward the inn.

The main floor of the inn is a pub, cool inside with dim lighting. I draw my shoulders back and march inside like I belong there. As though I am not an unaccompanied single lady who has no business traveling alone.

An elderly gentleman with a shock of white hair and matching white muttonchops comes out from behind the bar counter when he notices my approach. “My lady, what can I do for you?”

I smile as brightly as I can muster as I’ve found smiling can often cause people to overlook a bold-faced lie. “Sir, I am Mrs. Blackstone,” I say, providing a name I hope will cause him to assume I’m a widow. “I’d like a meal and lodgings for the night.”

He returns my smile, and I relax a bit. “Right away, Mrs. Blackstone,” he says. “Has my groom already taken care of your horse and carriage? Do you need assistance with your luggage?”

“He has, and unfortunately, I encountered trouble on the road with my carriage. As of now, I will not be able to retrieve my luggage.”

“How very unfortunate indeed,” he says, his deep blue eyes conveying genuine sympathy. “Please let me know if there is anything we can assist you with.”

“There is one other thing, if you could be so kind,” I say. “My uncle, Lord Edward Sinclair, will be covering all my expenses.”