World Weaver (The Devany Miller Series Book 4) (30 page)

“She will be all right,” he said again. His hands rubbed comfort into my shoulders and back.

“All this power and there’s nothing I can do.” I desperately wanted to break things. It wouldn’t help either, but I would be doing something with my hands besides metaphorically wringing them.

“We will get her back.” He moved over me so we could be face to face. “You are strong and so is your daughter. Don’t give up on her.”

Don’t give up on her. My breath shuddered; the tail end of a crying jag always sounded shaky. “I won’t.”

“She is like her mother. Resilient. Creative. Determined. In two days’ time you will hold her in your arms.”

I nodded, trusting the certainty in his gaze. “I will.”

We lay there longer, talking, being silent, and I found my way around the pain. It didn’t hurt any less, but I was able to carry it better.

“We should find something to eat,” he said finally. My stomach agreed, grief-blasted though I was.

We walked through tight metal tunnels that reminded me of a submarine. Built underground and fortified with metal, the inn’s lower rooms were proof against the warp of the tides.

“Not to say that it don’t affect us at all down here,” the waiter said as he put drinks down in front of us, pale pink liquid that tasted a lot like pineapple juice when I sipped it. “It’s like a buzz of wrongness instead of a tidal wave, you know what I mean?”

Krosh and I ordered and then we sat without speaking while we waited on our food. Next to us, a table of scruffy men were laughing raucously at a joke one of them told, featuring large-breasted women and men with small dicks. Apparently the humor was the same whether on Earth or Midia, I noted sourly.

The man closest to me, a big guy with lots of sweaty muscle and the tight clothes to show it off, said, “You want to go to the pits tonight? I hear they got a new fighter. A former Council member no less.”

I perked up at this. Jax said Arsinua was in the pits. If I couldn’t get my hands around Kenda’s neck, I could wrap them around Arsinua’s.

One of his table companions, a short man with knobby, callused elbows, scoffed. “Not likely. Old Brasha will tell all sorts of lies to get folks down to his pit. The bets are rigged you know.”

I missed the next bit because our waiter returned with our red baskets of food. The paper crinkled as Krosh dug into his, batter-fried fish with crispy spears of squash. I had the same, but even the tang of vinegar and sizzle-smell of cod couldn’t distract me from the conversation nearby.

“It’s illegal,” the third guy said, his tone hinting that he, at least, thought it was a conversation ender.

“Everything Brasha does is illegal,” the big man said. “That’s the point. You don’t want to come, don’t. Me? I’m watching the pretty lady get her face melted off by Yarka’s thunder magic.”

I leaned in close to Krosh. “You think they’ll let us in?”

He shrugged. “The witches here like to gamble. As long as we have money, they’ll let us in.”

“Then let’s go. Find Arsinua. And maybe break a few dozen heads while we’re at it.”

Krosh’s hyena liked that idea; his other self showed himself in his eyes and the savage grin on his face.

***

We followed muscle dude and his companions to the fights, down one tunnel and into the next, the ominous press of the incoming tide itching along my skin. Krosh said we were safe down here under Bayladdy Creek, but my malaise continued.

Around another bend, echoes of a rowdy crowd bounced to us. Further still, I could make out individual shrieks.

“Put her down!”

“Three coin fifty on the tall one!”

“Cheat! He’s a cheat and you know it.”

The bouncer at the door was a small, bald man whose smile bounced between crazy and child-like. Broken magic crackled in smoke-filled bubbles around him. Wherever the bubbles touched, they popped, leaving black circles of ooze behind. “You have money?” he asked when we neared.

I fed magic into the Earth money in my pocket and then pulled it free, the tangled, wadded dollars hidden under my power.

The chair creaked as he leaned forward, bubbles tumbling to the floor around my outstretched left arm. What would happen if one of those bubbles popped on me? “Go on.” He jerked his head and we eased around him into chaos.

Men danced around a circular pit in a frenzy of anger and excitement. Sour sweat, the rotten egg scent of fart, and the tinny bite of fear warred for dominance. Flabby arms pushed against me, greasy men and their greed-bright eyes groping toward the center of the room.

The action centered on a lank man in tattered clothes who lobbed a sickly blob of magic. His opponent flicked it away with a casual swipe of her fingers, then her purple energy engulfed him. His cry pierced the numb veil I’d worn since losing Bethy again. I lunged forward, banging my ribs against the wall around the fighting ring. He was dead. That quick. His body melted into the churned muck below, his mouth stuck in one last scream of agony.

“What do we do?” I asked. I wanted to start punching until I couldn’t lift my arm anymore. I doubted anyone here was worthy of a pain-free experience.

He squeezed my arm. “Look.”

While I’d been distracted, the winner of the last round had left the ring and the remains of the loser scooped into a pile to be dealt with later. A door opened into the pit and two people were pushed through. “Arsinua.”

I leaped over the pit wall, shoving aside Arsinua’s opponent—a frail-boned wisp of a girl who Arsinua could have chewed up and spit out—and grabbed my former friend by the shirtfront with my good hand. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

Deep purple bruises accented her blood-shot eyes. She didn’t try to pull away from me. “Go ahead.”

“Why did you take Bethany?” I screamed the words, both to be heard over the crowd and because I couldn’t not scream.

“I was trying to keep her safe.” Her voice was monotone and I had to strain to hear it.

“Yeah? How did that work out for you?”

The emptiness in her eyes and lack of reaction to my words bothered me. Without speaking more, I grabbed Arsinua’s arm and hooked us to Krosh, then took the three of us to our hotel room. I pushed Arsinua into a chair and brought her some water. She drank it like a stranded woman in a desert and asked for more. I made her sip the second, not wanting her to throw up what she’d already drank. “Would you order some food for her?”

In my head, Krosh said, ‘If I go, will you lose control and kill her?’

At first, I’d been scared I would, then convinced I should. Now? “Okay, I’ll go.” Just in case. It didn’t take long to find the innkeeper and order Arsinua’s food. “Do you know about those fighting pits in the tunnels?”

The guy leaned in close enough for me to notice he’d been eating garlic. “You know what’s good for you, you forget all about the pits. The Council don’t like them.”

“I don’t like them,” I said.

“Yeah, well, who are you?”

He had a point. The anger I’d been feeling had drained away at the sight of Arsinua and I wasn’t motivated enough to prove my badassery. “Nevermind.”

“Uh huh. Food in forty-five.”

“Thanks.” Arsinua was in the bathroom when I returned. I heard the shower running. “She doesn’t deserve any luxury,” I said. I guessed my anger hadn’t completely gone away.

“She doesn’t deserve to be treated like an animal.”

I pressed my lips together to stop the words that would make me sound like a psychopath. He was right and I knew it. We sat together on the bed and I leaned into him, letting my eyes slid shut while we waited, though it wasn’t long before Arsinua emerged from the bathroom, her hair dripping wet, the muck cleaned from her skin. Without the dirt, the bruises stood out more starkly against her skin.

Her hands shook as she picked up the glass of water.

If I hadn’t had my soul, I wouldn’t have felt sorry for her. “Do you know what Kenda did with Bethany?” I knew, but I wanted to know if she knew.

She dropped the glass. It didn’t break, but the water left a dark stain on the carpet. “I couldn’t stop her.”

“She. Hit. Bethany.”

Arsinua sat in the chair as if her legs had given out. “I—”

The knock on the door cut off whatever it was she’d planned to say. I let the man in with the food and watched in silence as Arsinua ate.

***

“What will you do with her?” Krosh asked me in low tones.

Arsinua was asleep on a pile of blankets in the corner of the room, a bubble of my making around her to keep her from sneaking off in the middle of the night. She’d eaten everything on her plate, drank two more glasses of water, and fell asleep the moment her head hit her pillow.

“I don’t know.” I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to kill her. But I didn’t want her to go without some kind of punishment. “Maybe I’ll take her to Earth and let the police deal with her.”

Krosh was warm against my side. He shifted and I snuggled my head against his chest. He said, “She deserves to be held accountable for her actions.”

“Yes, she does.” She’d take Bethy for reasons she thought were noble, but that didn’t change the fact that her taking Bethany had placed my daughter in serious danger. I’d managed to avoid thinking about Bethy potentially floating dead in the sea to the south of Bayladdy, but the fear rushed back now. “Oh god. What if Bethy dies, Krosh? How will I ever live without her?”

He kissed the top of my head and held me tighter. I clung to him, wishing I could run outside to save my sweet baby. Even now, though, the rough scrape of the tides gouged furrows of unease across my brain. Krosh hadn’t changed completely, but every now and then I’d feel fur under my fingers where skin should be. He was safe in here with me. No one would enter without me letting them in, so no witch would see who he really was. They could see his true self if they looked, but I found most witches didn’t care. If Krosh changed in their midst, they’d do something about it, they’d throw him in the pits or sell him. As long as he didn’t call attention to himself, most witches—not all, but most—would look the other way.

“I really think she’ll be all right. And if she’s not, I’ll be there for you. Our village will be there for you.”

Sorrow crashed through me like waves. I rode the crest of a future where Bethany didn’t exist, a future where Liam grew up without a sister, where I lived with a dark hole in my heart that never healed. There could be other kids. There could be other loves. But there would always be a part of me missing without her.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Arsinua woke, her touch against my bubble waking me. She looked offended that I’d not trusted her. As if I’d ever make that mistake again. I dropped the bubble so she could use the bathroom and considered putting up one around her as she peed just to be an ass. In the end, I let her alone until she returned to the foot of the bed.

“Wait,” she said, as I raised my hand to trap her again. “I need to know what you plan to do with me.”

“Do you really want to know?”

Fear crawled in her eyes. “Yes, I do.”

“I thought I’d take you to the Slip and lock you up until I get Bethy back,” I said, my voice low. Her terror was evident, but I didn’t stop. “If she doesn’t die,” my voice broke on the word, “if she doesn’t get killed by the tide, then I will come for you and take you to Earth, where you will stand trial for your crimes.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“If she’s dead, Arsinua.” I struggled to control my voice, to keep the tears from making angry tracks down my cheeks. “If she’s dead, I’ll let my Skriven have you.”

TWENTY-FOUR

I took Arsinua to the Slip in the morning, hooking directly into a cell to drop her off. It wasn’t one of the worst ones, but I won’t say I picked the cleanest, either.

“Please don’t leave me here. I’d rather go to your Earth prison.” Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. Fear-stink poured off her and I wrinkled my nose at the stench.

“Yeah, well, you don’t get a say.”

She pushed away from the bars of her new cell, her face twisted. “You always deny you’re one of them, but given the opportunity to find your humanity, you reject it.”

“Lady, I’m not human. At the very least, I’m both witch and Wydling. I’m also someone who has never kidnapped someone else’s kid.”

“I did it to protect her!”

That, again. Did she really not get that what she’d done was wrong? I tipped my head and stared at her. “Maybe I should take your soul.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Skriven,” she said, spitting the word, making it a curse.

“You know,” I continued, undeterred, “You know, to keep it safe.” I wasn’t even sure how to take her soul, but I reached out my hand and gathered my magic, as if I was about to rip her in half.

“No!” She threw up her hands.

“I’ll keep it safe. You’re only putting it in danger. It’ll be better this way. I’ll protect it from you.”