Iron Kin: A Novel of the Half-Light City (19 page)

Fen, on the other hand, seemed willing to tell me the truth.

The ’cab hissed when the driver slowed as we hit a rut in the road. A quick glance out the window revealed that we were passing into Brightown.

Even at this hour, there were taverns and theater halls doing business, their lights spilling out across the darkened streets, mingling with the sounds of laughter, music, and frivolity—though the crowds were thinner than usual, thinner even than the lateness of the hour would explain. I had been in this part of the City before in the early hours, out with fellow students or attending one of the performances at the Gilt, the largest of the theater halls.

There had always been more people than this. I shivered and clutched my wrap around me. Despite the warmth of late summer, there seemed to be a chill in the air. I told myself that the weather must be the reason for the lack of people, but I knew it wasn’t true. No, the real reason that was keeping people off these streets was plain and simple.

Fear.

I knew how they felt. Fear was riding with me in the ’cab right now. Fear for my brothers, for Reggie, for the whole damned city. And, more pressingly, fear of how Fen might react to me turning up on his doorstep. Nerves jittered through me like angry wasps. Only when the ’cab came to a halt outside the Swallow did I look across to Lily, who had insisted on accompanying me this far. She nodded encouragement and I managed a smile before I opened the door and stepped out into the night.

The ’cab driver took off in a hurry after I’d alighted, leaving me facing the wide double doors of the Swallow’s Heart. Where hopefully I would find Fen.

I hesitated, studying the windows of the tavern’s upper levels, trying to remember if Fen’s faced the street. But the windows were uniformly dark, curtains tightly drawn and letting out no light. In contrast, lights shone on the first and second floors of the Dove.

I tried not to think too hard about what the occupants of those rooms might be doing. I had come here to see Fen, to make sure he was all right. That was all. Wasn’t it?

Two large men leaned on either side of the door, seemingly relaxed. But they came alert as I walked closer, studying me carefully. One of them smiled at me.

“Not smart to be out so late alone, miss,” he said. “Ain’t safe.”

“I won’t be alone for long,” I said, then regretted my choice of words as his grin widened and a knowing look came over his face.

“If you’re looking for customers, love, then you’re in the wrong place too. The Figgs don’t take kindly to poaching.”

I gave him my best imitation of one of my mother’s withering looks. “I am not a prostitute. I’m looking for somebody.”

“Oh? And who would that be?”

“Fen—” I realized with a start that I didn’t know his last name. If he even had one.

The grin changed again, and this time his friend joined in with a laugh. “Him, huh? Guess you told the truth, then. That one doesn’t pay for it.”

“Is he here?” I wanted to cut them off before I heard more about Fen’s preferences than I wanted to hear.

“He came in a while ago,” the first man said thoughtfully. He stroked the waxed tips of his moustache. “Whether he’s still about is anyone’s guess. Tricky, our Fen is.” He made a half bow. “Why don’t you go in and find out? Tell you what—if he’s not, you come back here and we’ll see you get home safe.”

I didn’t know exactly how to take that. I decided to pretend I didn’t know there was more than one interpretation. “Thank you,” I said. “That would be very kind. I’ll be sure and tell Holly that you were so helpful.”

Their demeanor changed somewhat. “You know Miss Holly?”

“She’s a friend of my brother’s.”

One of them went pale. “Your brother wouldn’t be Guy DuCaine, would he?”

“Yes.”

They exchanged a look. “Right. Well. Like I said, miss, if that Fen ain’t in there, you come out here and we’ll get you another ’cab or a hackney quick enough. We take care of Miss Holly’s friends here.”

Or took care of women whose brothers had swords almost as tall as they were, I thought cynically, but I summoned a pleasant smile. “I will.”

They stepped back to let me pass and I walked into the Swallow. Here at least there was a crowd. The room was awash with light and sparkle and noise and the almost overwhelming stink of too much perfume, cigars, and spilled beer and whiskey.

Not all that different from the last hours of a ball, actually.

I let my eyes adjust to the bright lights and started to look for Fen.

It was difficult in the crush to see more than a few feet past where I stood. So I took a punt that he might be at the bar and headed toward the lines of people who I assumed were trying to get their drinks made up.

I drew a few odd looks and one leering proposition that I dealt with by applying the heel of my boot to the instep of the offender. I could have set his ugly brass tiepin on fire, of course, but I was trying not to draw too much more attention to myself.

I wormed my way through the crush to get to a point where I could at least see the bar.

No Fen. Damn. Or words even less polite than that. I hesitated, wondering whether I should go up to his room or just take the more sensible route and go home.

I was halfway back across the room toward the exit when I paused, a vision of the pain on Fen’s face floating before my eyes for a moment.

Was I a coward to leave when I could help him?

No, just sensible.

Well. It might be sensible, but I also knew that Lily had been right. It was the right thing to do to come here. I could help him. And if I helped him, he might actually decide to stay in the delegation, which I needed him to do. If he backed out, I had little doubt that my brothers would try to sideline me again.

So being a coward would just hurt him and me.

I braced myself to fight my way back through the crowd to the staircase that I thought led to the rooms over the Swallow rather than to the entrance of the Dove and its services. That would be a mistake I didn’t want to have to explain.

On a normal night, in a normal time, I might have admitted to some degree of curiosity as to what the inside of a brothel looked like, but tonight I couldn’t afford the distraction.

I chose correctly and soon enough found myself at Fen’s unassuming door. Unassuming except for the wardlight turning it to glimmering silver. I couldn’t remember if the wards had been active when I was here before—I’d been too angry to really pay much attention at the time. Still, surely he was unlikely to have anything too harmful. I raised my hand to knock, then paused again. Or was he? He’d seemed so angry when he stormed out.

I still wasn’t sure why. I didn’t like the fact that Simon had kept me in the dark, but I could see that there was some merit to finding a cure—if they could find a true cure rather than one that required killing vampires. But something had obviously touched a nerve with Fen. Touched it to the quick.

Before I could make up my mind, the door swung inward to reveal Fen glaring at me. “Do you always stand around in hallways in the middle of the night making people’s wards buzz?”

“I—” I’d woken him. Again. He wore a pair of trousers—loose black cotton, not quite buttoned properly—that I couldn’t imagine him wearing in public. No shirt.

Which left a lot of bare Fen available for my perusal.

For a moment, I couldn’t quite remember why I’d come. Rake and border boroughs half-breed hedonist he might be, but he obviously did something to keep his body well honed. He was lean and muscled and there was an intriguing trail of dark hair leading down his abdomen and disappearing under the waistband of his trousers.

“Why are you here, Saskia?” he asked, not sounding pleased.

I dragged my wits back together. As attractive as I might find him, right now it seemed the sentiment wasn’t returned.

“I thought you might need me.”

“Oh?” His voice deepened and his look of sleepy irritation turned altogether more speculative.

I decided to ignore both the look and the little answering jump of my pulse. “I thought you might be in pain,” I said. “Lily said your vision at the warrens hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” he said bluntly. “I took Bryony’s potion.”

I studied him. His pupils were large in the dark green of his irises, their darkness echoed by the circles under his eyes. He didn’t look like a man feeling no pain. Rather more like one fighting his demons. “I think you’re lying.” I dropped my gaze to his wrist. The chain wrapped around it. “And that tells me I’m right.”

He blew out a breath, rested his head briefly against the doorjamb, then lifted it again. “Saskia, I’m tired. I’m not in the mood to deal with any DuCaines right now.”

“Isn’t that cutting off your nose to spite your face?”

“It’s my nose.” He tilted his head. “Do your brothers know you’re here?”

“Why do you care?”

“I think there’s enough tension in this situation right now without adding fuel to the fire. Don’t you?”

“I think that I can help you and that what Simon and Guy don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Is that the family motto?” There was an edge of bitterness to his tone.

“Let me in and we can talk about it.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I let you in, I might do something stupid.”

“Are you forgetting the fact I can set you on fire?”

“No. But I have a feeling that you might be the type who does stupid things too.”

“Let me in, Fen. Let me help you.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then stepped back. “So be it. But this was your choice—don’t forget that.”

He let me past him, then shut the door. The room was nearly dark, the only light coming from a couple of almost spent candles set in brass holders on the mantel.

There were gaslights on the walls. I walked over and turned one on. Somehow illumination seemed a safer option than intimate darkness. When I turned back, Fen still stood by the door, watching me.

“Afraid of the dark?” he said softly. He leaned against the door, seemingly casual, but there was something too careful in his stance. Something trying to mask pain or . . . I couldn’t quite decide. Something both tightly wound and carefully held at bay.

“Anyone who lives in this City and isn’t, is an idiot,” I said, deliberately ignoring the challenge in his tone. I looked around the room, then moved to one of the low armchairs. I removed my boots with quick movements and sat, tucking my legs up in the chair, finding my favorite position. “Why don’t you come sit down and I’ll see if I can make you feel better.”

Fen cocked his head at me. “If you go around talking like that to all the boys you meet, Prentice DuCaine, then you have reason to be afraid of the dark.”

Apparently he thought flirting was going to scare me away. He needed to think again. I wasn’t going to play his games. “Right now I’m worried about you.”

“About the delegation, you mean?”

I shook my head at him. “That’s not why I came. But I won’t lie to you—”

“Well, that puts you in the minority,” he interrupted.

“Oh, be quiet. I have just as much reason to be upset with Simon and the rest of them as you do. If not more. Come and sit down.” I patted the velvet chair next to mine, trying to coax him like I did Hannah when she was in one of her moods.

He waited a long moment, then obeyed. But not before he picked up a shirt from another chair as he passed and dropped it over his head, hiding all that expanse of muscle and chest from my view. I tried to ignore the part of me that wanted to protest. I was here to help him. Nothing more. This was about ease and comfort. Nothing different from the touches we’d already shared.

But once he’d lowered his long, lean form into the chair, I hesitated, not entirely sure where to put my hands. Should I take one of his? Or lay my hands on his head? Simon would do the latter, I thought, but whatever it was that let me do this for Fen, it wasn’t healer power.

And Fen had been right—I wasn’t entirely sure I wouldn’t do something less than sensible.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head back to look up at me, eyes half closed against the light. He looked like a big black cat, half languid ease and half coiled power.

He looked . . . tempting.

I was determined not to be tempted. “Nothing.” Setting my jaw so I wouldn’t ask him to put some more clothes on, I looked at his right arm, where the chain snaked around his wrist. “Have you been wearing that all the time?”

He made a noncommittal noise.

Even in the yellowish light I could see that the skin beneath the chain was bruised and angry-looking. But, if I judged his mood correctly, this was hardly the time to ask more about his visions. I should talk to Holly when I got a chance. Perhaps I could come up with an alloy that might work to block the visions without hurting him. After all, the main reason that metalmages with an affinity for iron were valued was because they did best at creating alloys with the same properties. Not that any one of us had actually cracked the code yet and come up with something that did everything iron did.

We had alternatives, but none of them were true substitutes. They didn’t last as long as iron, or if they did, they lacked the same strength when you tried to work them.

“If you’re going to do something, do it,” Fen said from beside me. His voice sounded slightly strained . . . as though he was fighting with himself.

I took a deep breath, then laid my hand on his forearm. That seemed safe enough. His muscles were tense beneath my palm, but as I closed my fingers gently, he let out a breath and I could almost see some of the strain releasing. His eyes drifted shut and he leaned his head back against the chair.

“You were hurting, weren’t you?” I said.

Another untranslatable noise.

“Men,” I muttered. Then, slightly louder, “We had a deal, you and I. I said I would help you with this. You should have asked me.”

“I had other things on my mind,” he said.

Simon, he meant. Ignatius. Atherton. Reggie. Things I didn’t want to talk about now. Not when I was so bone-tired and couldn’t really remember why I couldn’t just lie down on Fen’s bed and go to sleep. But still, there was no sleep to be had if I didn’t know whether Fen was coming back tomorrow to reaffirm his decision to join the human delegation.