His Lordship Possessed (17 page)

I’d kept Liv from strangling, not by slapping her, but by

touching her. By sitting on the bench next to Bridget’s

Charles, I’d broken the no-love spell placed on him in

France by his mother.

Could it be that simple?

Without that ginny bauble—

Dredmore had been wrong. My parents hadn’t created

the pendant to protect me against magic. If I were a spell-

breaker, I’d never need that sort of protection.

—ginny bauble—

Something hurt my face, hitting me so hard my teeth

chattered.

“You’re not dead,” I heard a hard voice say. “Do you

hear me, Kit? Open your eyes this minute, or I swear I’ll

kill
you.”

I opened one eyelid to see Carina standing over my

crate with a lantern. Her hair fell in a tangle about her

dirty, bruised face, and blood trickled from a nasty cut

across the swollen bridge of her nose. She wore some sort

of rough, ragged cloak covered with fi lth and soot.

As she raised her hand to wallop me again I raised an

arm to shield myself. “Stop hitting me, will you?”

“Mother of Christ, you deserve a proper thrashing.

And you will get one, the moment we’re out of this

mess.” Th e ferocious anger on her face twisted into grim

satisfaction as she put aside the lantern, shoved her

hands under my arms, and hauled me out of the crate.

“Wrecker’s outside with a cart. Come on.”

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Th e air smelled hot and smoky, and made me cough as

Rina dragged me through the darkness. “What’s on fi re?”

“Anything that isn’t warded,” she snapped. “So shake

your ass.”

As we emerged from the cargo house, I saw three

things I couldn’t quite comprehend: Wrecker dressed in

soot-stained yellow; a gravecart fi lled with dead harlots;

and the Hill on fi re.

“No time to gawk.” Rina jerked my arm as she

marched to the back of the cart. “We’ll be lucky to make

it out of the city alive.”

I stared at the corpses of a dozen battered gels. All of

them I recognized from the Eagle’s Nest. At the top of

the pile lay Almira, her apron spattered with blood round

a gaping black gash in her abdomen.

I shook my head. “We have to go the police. We have

to tell them—”

“Th e coppers are busy with the blues,” Rina said as she

climbed up and wedged herself in a corner before off ering

me her hand. When I didn’t take it, she swore. “Kit, I

swear, I’ll tie you to the back and drag you by the rope—”

“She’s scared,” Almira said, lifting her head a little to

glare at me. “We’re not dead, you goose. It’s a ruse—tar

and tomato juice—and it itches like sin.”

“Least you’re on top, old woman,” a younger voice

complained. “Ouch, Jude, that’s my tit. Get your knee

off .”I climbed up and curled into the corner opposite Rina.

“Why are they pretending to be dead?”

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“Bunch of Talians locked us up in the Nest before

they set fi re to it,” she said fl atly. “We got out through the old sewers, but if they see any of us I’ve no doubt they’ll

try again. Little bastards are nothing if not determined.”

So Rina and the gels had been fl eeing for their

lives . . . and had ended up at the docks. “How did you

know where to fi nd me, and why did you bother to look?”

“An old tunneler met us in the sewer. Said you were

in trouble and directed me to the cargo house. I almost

didn’t come, you know.” Rina turned her head toward

Wrecker. “Take the road that runs through the teller’s

quarter. Th ey’ve not burned anything there.”

Setting fi re to the great houses on the Hill would have

diverted the militia and the police there to do whatever

they could; the ton represented Rumsen’s wealthiest and

most powerful families. Th at had left the rest of the city

vulnerable. I could even understand why the Reapers

had tried to incinerate Rina and her gels; they probably

thought I had gone there to seek haven.

But why set the other fi res? Why burn the unwarded?

When I asked Rina that, she made a bitter sound.

“Sorry to say they’ve not stopped to have tea and chat

about it. Too occupied with torching houses and

slaughtering innocents, I expect.”

“‘Th ey’ve gone after anyone what don’t have them

wardlings, Miss Kit,” Wrecker said over his shoulder.

“Th ey’re checking every door and neck.”

“You’re sure that they’re sparing anyone with

wardlings?” When he nodded, I felt my stomach clench.

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Dredmore had been shocked by something Walsh had

said about the popular talismans. Something about

dreamstone. I looked over at Rina. “We have to stop. I

need to fi nd a charm maker.”

“I’m sure you do, and for some very good reason,” my

best friend said in a murderously pleasant tone, “but we’re

not stopping. Not for you, or wardlings, or even Herself

if she suddenly appears and steps in front of the cart.

George can be King.”

“Th en push me off in the teller’s quarter.” Before Rina

could reply I reached for her hand and gripped it. Her

fi ngers felt like ice, and I realized how hard she was trying not to tremble. “Carina, when we fi rst met, when you left

my house and went back on the stroll, do you know why

I didn’t try to come after you?”

“Sod you, Kit.” She dug her fi ngernails into my palm.

“It’s not the same thing.”

“After everything that had been taken from you, you

deserved the right to make your own choices and live

your own life, no matter what I thought of it.” I kissed

her cheek and whispered, “Time to pay me back, my gel.”

“Th e Talians want you dead, don’t they?” When I

nodded, she swore viciously. “Wrecker, fi nd an alley

behind the tellers’ shops. And give Kit two of your

blades.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat and smiled

my thanks as the big man held two of his best knives over

his shoulder. “Where are you going from here?”

“Settle, maybe, if we can make it that far before it

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snows or the Talians catch up. We’ll stop at the lumber

camps for provisions, see if we can pick up some trade.”

She reached into her pocket and took out a small, bulging

reticule, which she thrust in my hands. “Th ere’s enough

here to buy yourself a young horse or an old carri. Take

it,” she added when I tried to give it back to her. “It’s the chance to change your mind and get the bloody hell out.”

Th e cart stopped, and before I climbed down I tucked

away the blades, reached over, and wrapped my arms

round Rina. “I’ll see you again someday, you know.”

She gave me a tight, trembling hug in return. “Not if

I see you fi rst, you daft twit.”

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Once the cart had gone I moved to the end of the alley

to check the streets, which appeared empty, and the

shopfronts, al of which were dark. Lamplight fl ickered in

some of the windows on the second and third fl oors, and I

noted which of the charm makers was closest to me before

retreating back into the alleyway.

Pulling down the fi re escape ladders would have

alerted anyone within three blocks to my presence, but

fortunately most of them had already been lowered. Th e

tellers might have been spared by the Reapers, but none

of them seemed to be assuming they were safe.

I climbed up to the second fl oor over the charm

maker’s shop, and leaned over to look through the grimy

window into the fl at inside. One candle stub burned on

the opposite side of the room, and I made out the vague

silhouette of an old man wrapped in a blanket.

I tested the window, found it to be locked, and had to

tap on it several times before the old man came over and

opened a few inches. “Evening.”

Frightened, angry eyes glared out at me. “What do

you want, gel?”

I thought of how to put it. “Can you tell me what

happens when a particular stone is charmed?”

“Get stuff ed.” Th e window slammed shut.

“Wait, sir.” I reached in my pocket for Rina’s gift and

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tapped it against the window. “I can pay you.”

Th e window remained shut for another minute, then

rose just enough for me to squeeze through. “Well?

Come on, then, before you’re seen.”

I wriggled through the gap and made a quick if

undignifi ed entrance. Th e fl at inside smelled of paper and cabbage, and had almost no furnishings. Great circles of

wardlings had been nailed to every wall.

“Th ank you, sir.” As soon as I had my feet under me

I bobbed a curtsey for good measure. “I am truly sorry to

disturb you on such a night.”

“My name’s Jasper, not sir, and you’re about as sorry

as the cat what got caught with the canary feathers.”

He retreated back to his chair by the banked fi re and

swaddled himself again with his blanket. “Give me ten in

silver. No, twenty.”

I had enough coin in the reticule to pay him a hundred

times that, but dutifully counted out twenty and handed

him the stack.

He checked each piece with his teeth before they

disappeared under the blanket along with most of his

face. “Al right,” he said, his voice muffl ed. “Which stone is it you want to charm?”

Since there were no other chairs in the fl at, I went to

stand by the mantel. “Dreamstone.”

His head poked up. “You climb up into my fl at to ask

me about a faeriestale? Have you gone off ?”

“So you
have
heard of it.” As he scowled at me I lifted my hands. “Please, sir—Mr. Jasper,” I corrected myself. “I

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have to know what happens when it’s charmed.”

“Can’t be charmed since
there’s no such stone
.”

“Th en how could you know of it? You must have heard

something from someone,” I wheedled.

“Years ago some miners told tales about it. Said it were

found in some pisshole in Cornwall. Th ey only wanted to

scare folk.” Jasper saw my expression and sighed. “Way

the story went, some mage had been digging up half of

Cornwall looking for it. Only it were the miners what

found it fi rst. Th e mage brought down a tunnel on their

heads, stole it from them, used it to put them to sleep,

and left them to die. Only one came out alive, and his

people said the mage had used the stone on him.”

Th e story was too similar to Hedger’s for me to doubt

it. “So charmed dreamstone makes people go to sleep?”

“Th eir minds, aye. Th eir bodies stay awake and do

whatever the mage what bespelled them wills. Th at’s why

they are also called the possession stones.” He made a

rude gesture. “Only there weren’t no mage, no miners,

and sure as Satan no bloody dreamstone.”

I glanced at the wardlings he’d nailed to the walls. “If

a stone like it were real, Mr. Jasper, would it have to be

carried or worn by the person it controls?”

“Why would it, once it was ‘spelled? Stones give off

power like the sun gives heat. All people’d have to do

is stand close enough to be caught in the radiance.” He

glared. “Don’t you know nothing about magic, gel?”

“Until a few days ago, I didn’t believe in it.” I tried to

smile, but if what I suspected were true, in a few hours

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all of Rumsen would belong to the Reapers. “Is there any

defense against a stone that could do that?”

“‘Course there isn’t. Why would there be, it don’t

exist.”

“Th e mage in the miners’ story,” I coaxed, “how was

he defeated?”

“Like all the evildoers, by being killed in a body

what was outside after dawn.” He chuff ed out a breath.

“Nothing made of darkness can stand the light of day.”

Did that mean my grandfather was evil? Dredmore,

now he could be crowned Prince of Darkness and no one

would even question it, least of all me. But as annoying as

Harry had been since he’d come into my life, he’d never

behaved in any particularly evil manner.

Except to Hedger, who hated him. And Dredmore,

who despised him. And my mother, who had made me

promise to wear for the rest of my life the pendant she’d

made to keep me from seeing him . . .

Confused and angry now, I strode over to the wall of

wardlings.

“What are you—hey, you quit that.” He got up and

tried to stop me from removing one of his talismans. “Is

that why you really crawled in here? To steal my only