AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I swallowed, still unable to move. “That seems dangerous.”
“There is an element of risk, Miss Grayson. Are you brave enough to face it?”
Her words were soft, questioning, not challenging, and yet they pricked at my pride. I gazed up at where she stood, three steps above, my gut roiling. She hadn’t seen these vines. They hadn’t come for her, hadn’t lashed through her skin or dragged her screaming by the ankle. She hadn’t seen the gaping, cold void those vines had meant to pull me into.
Fear was a natural response to such a creature.
Cradling my wounded hand, I felt the runestone in my palm, its unnatural presence hard beneath my skin.
My gaze caught at the sword on Gretchen’s hip. “How long have you studied the blade?”
Her sleepy expression did not alter. She did not smile. She merely dipped her chin toward me and said, “Long enough to be useful.”
I took a deep breath. “I suppose that’s a comfort.”
One foot after another, I began to climb the stairs. Gretchen turned and led the way, which might have been presumptuous. I could have stopped at any point and run screaming the other direction and she would have been left to meet Cade empty handed, but each step was easier to take, as though the very act banished a little more fear into the back of my mind.
We reached the third floor and nothing attacked, though I could sense a wrongness to the place. The air was warm, and I could see the walls pearling with water that streaked down to the floor. It smelled of mold and harsh cleaners that couldn’t quite stave off the scent of something decaying nearby. Hugging my wounded arm closer, I followed Gretchen to an open doorway where I could see Constable Cade bent over his microscope contraption.
He straightened as we approached. “Excellent. Come sit.”
I eyed the proffered chair beside the desk, reluctantly moving toward it. Every inch of wall space was covered in either bookshelves or floor to ceiling display cases full of butterflies. There was something horrible about each delicate wing pinned to their boards, all full of color, and I swallowed back bile as I sank into the chair.
“This is his room, isn’t it?”
Cade gave me a brief smile. “Yes.”
“We’re sure he’s not lurking somewhere?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
“Oh, he’s somewhere,” Sam said as he entered.
He had his spectacles back on and he was carrying a vial of something smokey. Behind him, I could see the hidden room with its alchemy set, all copper tubing and weird bulbous glass. The tiny room was built behind one of the bookshelves, which threatened to swing closed before Sam jutted his foot out, summarily stopping the shelf from moving. “It’s a question of where.”
He sounded far too cheerful, and I fought not to scowl. Cade caught my expression and winked at me as Sam wandered out of the room with Gretchen.
“The Lieutenant requires us,” Gretchen said to Sam, who muttered something under his breath.
Heaving a sigh that seemed to suggest he was being put upon, Sam turned to follow Gretchen into the hall.
When we were alone, Cade lowered his voice. “Don’t take it to heart. Sam is often doing math in his head. It takes up the majority of his thought process.”
“That explains a lot.”
“I don’t think any of us actually understand him,” Cade said, rolling open a cloth in which were several small, sharp tools. Each slender tool caught the yellow glow of lamp light, their edges gleaming with purpose.
I stared at one curved knife and suppressed the urge to bolt out the door. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
Cade opened a small vial of orange liquid and passed it to me. “This should help with the pain. And yes, there will be pain. I have to open up your skin to get to the runestone before I can extract it.”
I took the vial. “Thank you for not sugar-coating that.”
“Once it’s out I will help with the pain, I promise.”
Tipping back the vial, I downed the sickly-sweet liquid with a shudder. Warmth coated my throat, spreading into my chest, and my muscles began to relax. With a deep breath, I settled back into the chair and tried to avoid the unfurled cloth with all its sharp objects, focusing on Cade instead as he scanned all his utensils and referenced an open notebook on the desk. I recognized his neat script filling the margins of the page, and the shape of the offending rune drawn out with careful precision. He must have memorized the figure during his first inspection of my hand.
“How often have you done this?” I asked.
He cast me a gentle smile. “Constables get cursed on a regular basis. Criminals use runestones as traps when they don’t want us in a particular room, or if they are running away. Rocks are aplenty in the world and as long as a warlock can grab hold of one, they can ensorcell it for a quick and dirty spell as they make their escape.”
