Matchbox Girls (33 page)

Marley flushed. “You’re wrong. I wouldn’t have run. I wouldn’t have abandoned the people who needed me like she did.”

Zachariah’s eyes were cool. “We are all abandoned children, Miss Claviger. It’s lovely to hear about how wrong I was, and if we develop time travel, perhaps you’ll have a chance to prove it to me. Meanwhile, here we are. If all you wanted was to blame me, you can now go away.”

Marley stared at him and then burst out, “I was worried,
terrified
for you!”

Zachariah looked taken aback. Then, gently, he said, “Tarn has been no more unkind than he was compelled to be. But thank you.”

“He’s your
father
,” said Marley, ignoring the tears that pricked at her eyes.

“That may be why I’m still alive. They can be so very sentimental.” He sighed. “Although more likely, he just wanted to resist Ettoriel in some petty way.”

“What is going on with him?” Marley demanded. Her anger at Zachariah had earned her nothing but discomfort and confusion, so she refocused on their mutual kidnapper. “He’s so... strange. He says he’s no more free than you are, but he’s playing at something.”

“Tarn does not yet believe all hope is lost, regarding the girls. Ettoriel hasn’t yet completed the ritual to disconnect them from Creation.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“He promised me he’d let me know when it was over, and he hasn’t done that yet.” Zachariah's face was expressionless. “Am I wrong?”

Hope uncurled a leaf in the ruins of angry despair. “No. I can still feel their lives. If I could get out of here and to them, I could protect them again. Ettoriel worked hard to get rid of me—there has to be a reason for that. I’m sure I could stop him.”

Zachariah studied her, his gaze roaming from the top of her head down to her feet. “You’ve met Corbin, I see. I’m glad he’s still alive, and helping you.”

Confused by the sudden change of topic, Marley said, “He’s very angry at you.”

Zachariah shrugged, still examining her. “But you’ve encountered others as well. You’re loaded down with the enchantments of interested parties. If you could get to the girls, how would you protect yourself?”

Marley drew herself up painfully.

“I’ve been doing all right. I was standing right in front of him and he didn’t kill me. I don’t think he likes getting his hands dirty.”

“His hands are very dirty, by now,” said Zachariah gently.

“The kids, then. He thinks they’re a bomb and he thought hurting me would set them off before he was ready to... end them.” She followed the train of thought to its end. “And if he is ready to finish, that isn’t protection anymore.” She blew out her breath. “Can you do anything?”

He held up his chained foot. “I’m trapped here until Tarn lets me go.”

“Were you tricked?” she asked, broodingly, staring at the manacle.

He hesitated and then admitted, “I was... surprised. I didn’t know exactly what Ettoriel had planned, but I knew there would be something.”

“Did you have a diary written by their mother?”

“A what?” He looked honestly confused for the first time.

“A diary. I found part of a diary in your study. I think it was written by the twins’ mother.”

“I did not.” His brows drew together and he looked at the door behind Marley.

Marley nodded. “I didn’t think so. Her name was Nina, yes?” He nodded and she continued, “Did you know she knew Ettoriel?”

“No. Did the diary claim she did?”

She nodded again. “Did she ever say who the father of her children was?”

A troubled expression passed over his face. “No. Do you think...?”

Marley shrugged. “The diary is unclear.” She watched him carefully. “No chance you’re their father yourself?”

He grimaced. “She came to me already pregnant, to ask for help I’d promised her when she was younger. But I always saw her as a child. We never had that kind of relationship.” He hesitated. “She never talked about their father, but... she didn’t die, Marley. She was taken from the hospital after a difficult delivery, and I saw who took her.”

Marley’s pulse quickened. “Who was it?”

“Not Ettoriel,” said Zachariah flatly.

Marley waited until she realized Zachariah wasn’t going to willingly say more. “And you think this... kidnapper was the father?”

Zachariah shrugged. “I think he... cared for her. He didn’t say anything about the children, though.”

“That’s not really conclusive either way,” she pointed out.

He spread his hands. “Do
you
think Ettoriel is their father? Does it matter?”

Marley’s gaze dropped to the manacle on Zachariah’s foot. “I think I need an edge. And that could be it.” Her gaze went up to Zachariah’s face again. “It isn’t just you and me and Corbin involved in this, Zachariah. Not just the people you decided to involve. A girl called AT was dreadfully hurt, and Tarn kidnapped my friend Branwyn, and my friend Penny—” Her voice broke.

Zachariah’s face closed up. “I know.” That was all. He knew. And apparently, he didn't care.

Marley stared at him, and then turned and walked through the open door, slamming it behind her.

-thirty-five-

M
arley walked down the hall and paused next to Tarn. The vision of him imprisoned within the iron maiden of her will was still dominant in her catastrophe vision, and savagely, she slammed it back over him. “You left the diary at Zachariah’s house. Is it real?”

Tarn grimaced. “Yes, and hard won.”

Marley stalked away from him to where Corbin and Branwyn were consulting. Corbin stepped over to her.  The magic that had drenched him when he first arrived in the realm had utterly vanished. “I have the modified spell ready. Did you punch Zachariah in the nose?”

 “No. He was chained up. It didn't seem sporting. And it would have been embarrassing to miss and fall over. How do we do this?”

He put his hand on her head. Coolness flooded over her, like diving into a pool on a hot day. She was still tired, still bruised and bloodied, but it felt as if her reserves were deeper, and barely tapped.

Branwyn shivered, without looking up from what she was doing. “Ooh, that feels ticklish. Kind of fun. Like champagne.” She'd dumped the contents of Marley's purse out all over the floor, and discovered the Lullaby Plaything. It was no longer a compressed lump of parts, but a barely linked chain of rods and cubes that flowed over Branwyn's fingers.

“What is going on?” Marley demanded. “I thought that thing only responded to nephilim?”

“There was nothing in the documentation about humans one way or the other. We're experimenting. So what did Zachariah have to say for himself?” asked Corbin, his eyes intent on the little Machine in Branwyn’s hands. Branwyn was just as focused, with that tiny line on her brow that showed up whenever she was concentrating hard on her artwork.

“Not enough. He set me up to inherit his mess if something unexpected happened. He didn’t expect Tarn.” Marley shrugged.

Lightly, Branwyn said, “No one expects the faerie inquisition.”

Corbin ignored Branwyn. “Did he have anything to say about Ettoriel’s reasons for all this?”

“I didn’t ask him,” said Marley. “Ettoriel’s reasons don’t matter. And if you think they do....” She flailed wildly for an argument he’d understand. “You’re just like Zachariah, not caring about how he got your friends into trouble for his own goals.”

“Oh, thank you very much. Except whether this is about the Hush or the Machine prophecy, this is a lot bigger than a couple of people.”

“No, it’s not. It’s about only two people and their combined age is under ten years old. It’s about saving who we can save,” and once again, her voice broke.

Corbin looked hunted. “I know. I just—” and he cut himself off. “I wish the kaiju wasn’t so interested in them. It makes me nervous.”

Marley took a deep, shaking breath.
He just wants reassurance.
“I think it’s one of those self-fulfilling prophecies. You know how it is. The bad guy tries to prevent something from happening and in doing so causes it. Ettoriel is really afraid of them. Something will go wrong at his little ritual, and that will make something horrible happen. Something will go wrong even if we’re not there. But if we
are
there, if the girls aren’t alone and forced to protect themselves, we can change things.” She stared into Corbin’s eyes earnestly, projecting as much confidence as she could.

Corbin sighed. “Good enough.” His gaze strayed back to what Branwyn was doing and he frowned again. “That’s really impressive. How are you doing that?”

Marley followed his gaze. The Lullaby Plaything had... changed. The cubes had flattened, the spheres had elongated and hollowed out, and the rod structure had stretched into a pyramidal shape. And the catastrophe vision, which had once shown it as something harmless and benevolent, now showed it as decidedly dangerous.

“You said it responded to a person’s nature. I’m just being me,” said Branwyn, and her grin was nasty. She reached over and picked up the black and silver rod she’d attacked Corbin with, sliding it into the ring at the base of the pyramid. The ring spun at her touch, tightening. She let go of the Lullaby Plaything, and suddenly she was holding a spear with a wicked, glinting three-edged head.

“What a perversion!” said Tarn. He sounded admiring. “A celestial Machine warped to weaponize a human creation. What a lovely toy for you, Marley.”

This time, Branwyn’s grin was pleased. She brushed damp hair off her forehead and twirled the spear in one hand before presenting it to Marley. “I hear you've been getting into some fights.”

Hesitantly, Marley accepted it. The spear was heavier than it looked, seemingly as capable of bludgeoning someone as stabbing them.

Corbin chewed on his thumbnail. “That's just wrong.” He looked like someone whose beloved dog had just bitten him.

Branwyn tossed her head and said disdainfully, “It’s not
for
you.”

“Will it work as a weapon?” Marley asked.

Corbin said, “A celestial’s most potent weapon against another celestial is a blade made from a Machine, so... I suppose it would. As a threat, anyhow.”

“We could test it,” said Branwyn brightly. “Are faeries celestials?”

Everybody’s gaze went to Tarn. He stood there, grinning painfully, a sheen of sweat on his skin. He said, “I’d rather not even be near that thing, if I get a vote.”

“He did say he couldn’t let us out,” said Marley dubiously. “And that a faerie duke kept his realm stable.”

“Do you know why Machine weapons hurt us?” said Tarn, a little less relaxed than before. A little. “Machines absorb those celestials who study them. Weaponized Machines
eat
us. If you tested it on me, I’d become a part of the weapon and who knows how that would change it?”

Marley said, “We could find out,” but she was thinking about the twins, trying to determine their danger state. Bad. It was very bad.

But she could still save them. It had to be possible, or she
would
test the Lullaby spear on the faerie duke. Hysteria, or perhaps madness, gnawed at the edges of her mind. “You manipulated me to get me here, to try to make me
sympathetic
,” she spat at Tarn. “How did you
expect
me to get out?”

“The little dog girl was a handy companion for you,” Tarn said. “Otherwise... you’re clever.”

Corbin looked up. “If he expected AT to be able to transition, the curtain must not be totally impermeable.”

Marley said, “I wonder if the kaiju could open it. Do you think he’d hear me if I called, like he heard AT?”

Corbin growled, “Please don’t. If not for your own sake, then for Branwyn's.”

“What?” said Branwyn, from where she’d been picking up the contents of Marley’s bag, assisted, to her bemusement, by two of Corbin’s ravens. “Don’t you dare suggest I’m some kind of victim damsel to be sheltered.”

Marley dizzily imagined the kaiju and Branwyn. The kaiju, Branwyn, Corbin, and Tarn. Bring in Zachariah and she was pretty sure a hole big enough to escape through would be blown right through the world.

That reminded her. She looked around. Neath, still the size of an adolescent lynx, sat nearby, beside the still-shut cage she'd been imprisoned in. The cat was watching her intently, her tail twitching.

“What about the holes the girls made? What about Neath? What about your magic, Corbin?”

“I’m working on it,” he said. “Your cat was able to get me in to help you. She doesn’t seem to be as... involved anymore.”

“I think I surprised her.” Marley looked at the cat again and then crossed to Tarn’s side. With a flick of her mind, she pulled the inside-out shield off him.

He looked at her, his eyes narrowing, and moved a few steps back, out of reach of the Lullaby spear that she still carried. “If you don’t mind... I’d rather be back inside your embrace.”

“No, let’s talk instead.” said Marley, squirming inside at his terminology. “You said something about my cat.”

He glanced at Neath, who stretched out on the floor as if considering a nap. “That so-called cat is the independent construct of an angel.”

“And what does that mean?”

“A construct is a physical body created by a celestial for interacting with the mortal world in mortal ways. When you saw Ettoriel, you saw his construct. This,” he spread his arms, “is a construct. Most of the time, constructs are created purely as hosts for our numina, and channels for our spirit bodies. Such basic constructs must be inhabited to be more than a mindless automaton. With more time and effort, constructs with more independence can be built. “

“How does—” began Marley. But she stopped as a squeak became a creak became a groan. Everything seemed to freeze around her. Her point of view went flying through the air, through a white-burned hole in the curtain. The white became a tunnel that twisted around her like a roller coaster. Then she was looking out of Kari and Lissa’s eyes, both at the same time. They were in a bubble of clear air maintained at the midst of a wildfire. At the heart of the bubble was Ettoriel, with wings of light spreading from his back and the strange Ragged Blade in his hands. An iron chain wrapped around one arm. To one side was Penny, and to the other side was the lawyer, Jeremy. Penny was staring at Ettoriel, her eyes huge and dilated.