Untethered, page 8
Tall, dark, and crooked, the trees spiraled up and forward, leaning toward Ghadra as if they could smell the scent of its occupants, and longed for much, much more. Blackened leaves hung still, unmoving, stuck fast to ink-dark branches that twisted in whichever direction they chose. Sometimes, when the fog shifted, Lux could trick herself into seeing a thin branch curl inward. Inward and out again.
Lucena. Lucenaaa.
Lux glowered at the forest, and the crow cawed. Something was changing. Or had changed? So small, she couldn’t understand it, yet so large—
One hand trailed the length of the bridge until the stone fell away to nothing. Until Lux stepped amongst the grass on its opposite side for the first time in her life. Startled, she didn’t remember ever having moved. The air was so still she could feel every breath stretch and unravel around her. Yet leaves rustled through the deepening grey. She blinked against branches curling inward.
A trick of the fog.
A trick.
Lucena.
Tears pricked her eyes. Lux crouched, letting her fingers brush wet blades of grass—grass she’d never touched. It didn’t feel any different, but…shouldn’t it? She pushed to her feet. She stared into the darkness, and that darkness beckoned.
This time, she would see what it had to say.
A frigid breeze gusted from the wood like an exhale, enveloping Lux, piercing exposed skin. Crossing one black sleeve over the other, she stood still, craning her neck. Up and up.
The forest edge. She could touch it if she wanted. Her fingertips dug further into her forearms instead, leaving half-moon imprints along their lengths.
Why was she doing this? What did she hope to find? She didn’t know. But she knew she would enter the wood anyway. A surge of reckless adrenaline warmed her, a torch to her fear, and Lux’s lips twitched into an awful sort of smile, a fragmented chuckle up her throat. Because surely its darkness wasn’t any deeper than that having rooted within her soul so long ago?
No. Surely not.
Dampened by soft moss, Lux stepped, noiseless and imperceptible, through the forest’s edge. The wood breathed around her. The wood breathed her in. Boughs high above appeared to shift toward her scent only to shudder back at her quick glance.
She blew out a silent breath, watched it puff into the gloom.
“You can’t have me, trees. My heart beats still.”
Her admonishment was met with a hiccup in the air. A hidden smile.
Silly girl.
Lux fought against the trickle of fear down her spine. A trickle that threatened to crash over her in debilitating waves. Hunger. Want. Desire. It pulsed from the forest’s center, coating her skin, enticing her further inward, even as her insides turned to ice. Adrenaline’s welcomed flame snuffed out.
A rhythmic creaking met her ears. Soft at first, but only growing in intensity, and Lux swung around to the grassy plain she’d strode across.
A death-cart.
She lunged behind the nearest tree, careful to avoid the barest brush of skin against its rough bark. There, she waited.
The reaper flickered in and out of her vision as he neared. Cloaked and masked, he drove the horse fast across the wood’s edge, into a natural clearing covered in that same thick moss. Yanking back on the reins, the horse tossed its head in irritation as the driver jumped down, pulling the dead by limp arms and dangling legs. He didn’t have a care for them, tossing four bodies into a heaped pile before leaping again into the wagon and forcing the horse to retreat. Back and back, until they hurtled toward Ghadra once more.
Lux clutched at the breath longing to escape her chest, for she didn’t dare allow it. Not now.
Black boils burst and oozed, coating the forest floor, and the wood released another cold exhale filled with a new scent now. Jasmine. Lux stepped away from the tree, craning her neck, peering into the shadows. Any moment now, and—
She stilled.
There, amongst the trees. Something had formed from where there’d been nothing before. It was grey, this something, silent and unmoving, and the wood caught its own icy breath before it. Lux sensed her heart bounding in her chest; she was sure she could hear it too. And if she could hear its beat, what else might?
The figure stood rigid and cloaked, a deep hood hiding the face beneath. Lux whispered a silent plea that it would pass her by.
Another exhale from the living darkness around her, and the wraith glided forward. Did this phantom play a part in the wood’s devouring? Lux shook so badly her teeth rattled. She clenched her jaw tight. If this being were anything like its towering companions, it could sense her presence on much less. But it didn’t turn toward her.
The flash of a long blade winked in the waning light, held tight by pale fingers. The figure crouched among the bodies. Lux couldn’t see what it did, but it worked quickly, and when the knife retreated, she expected it bloodied.
It wasn’t.
The figure rose, and as silent as it came, faded into the darkness.
Lux peered into the treacherous shadows for so long, her eyes threatened to send tears down her cheeks. When the wraith didn’t reappear, she swung her gaze to the bodies. They’d been moved, but only just. Aside from that she could discern little difference.
Yet, there must be. What had been done?
Lux strode forward only to stumble, a protruded root she hadn’t noticed earlier humped and warped at her feet. Her booted foot was wedged tight. She growled at its refusal to budge and, forgetting for only a second, braced a hand upon the tree to free it.
The cold.
It stole the breath from her lungs.
And when frigid fingers wrapped themselves around her own in an unbreakable grip, Lux could only gasp—for her voice was gone. She clawed at the invisible binding. The fingers ignored her and brushed along her wrist, caressing, so cold it burned. Her tears grew rigid on her cheeks.
A trick.
She dragged in a frozen breath; her lips cracked, raw, and with everything in her, she whispered, “It isn’t real. It isn’t real. There’s nothing there. There’s…nothing…there!” She pulled, wrenching her arm at the shoulder.
The fingers. They slid to her forearm.
A silent fissure crept downward along the black trunk. Roots shivered, crawling like monstrous snakes. The soil shifted beneath her stuck-fast feet.
Only a trick.
“No.” A sobbed hitched in her chest, weak and useless. Lux kicked out at the root reaching for her unbound foot. Her boot hardly moved.
The icy grip held her by the upper arm now, her entire limb gone numb in its embrace. The fissure widened with a horrid crack, frost and darkness spilling out in puffed breaths. The root triumphantly gripped her ankle, winding to the knee. Unable to move any longer, Lux stared into the yawning abyss before her.
Lucena.
Her name wafted over her like the scent of rot.
Lucenaaa.
Something broke inside her. Interesting really, as she didn’t think there had been anything left inside to break. Foolish. Foolish to believe it’d been her parents’ soothing voices from the Beyond, floating upon the breeze. Because it was them. All along, it had been death’s own coaxing call.
Darkness curled around her face, cool tendrils stroking her cheeks. Lux glared back, defiant, her blood hot, then cold and dripping into her boots. And though it sounded too alive, too warm, for this place, a warbled shriek filled the air.
Crow—
Dark wings dove from above and into the chasm. Unwavering, a heart met its end.
The fissure snapped closed. Icy fingers retracted. Roots released. And a satisfied shiver swept through the dark leaves that never fell to the forest floor. Lux collapsed, her knees aching and bruised, her head bowed before the tree, and with the shocked eyes of a person embracing death only to be cast back to the living, she finally found the strength to lift her chin. She scanned the wood.
The bodies.
They were gone.
Chapter twelve
Riselda wasn’t home when Lux stumbled down the stairs, reaching for the stool to rest her head in her hands.
She took several steady breaths before lowering quivering fingers to her lap.
“So stupid. So, so stupid…”
Her vision faded to unfocused colors and shapes, the lone lamp flickering weakly. Night had fallen and she had missed dinner, but the thought of food now only sent her stomach roiling.
A quiet tap, and the room sharpened.
A gentle knock came again upon the door. She wasn’t used to the type, and especially not at night. Warily, she rose. Her knees buckled, and she steadied herself on the table only for the wood beneath to send her reeling back over the forest’s memory. Lux shook herself.
“Quit it, you ninny,” she chided, climbing the steps.
The door creaked open against her hand.
Honey-colored hair tumbled into Shaw’s eyes as he stood on her doorstep. Eyes that widened in shock at her state and then at the door being slammed in his face.
Lux strode back down the steps.
“Necromancer! I need to speak with you.”
His muffled voice reached her ears, and she rolled her eyes. Now he wanted a conversation? She huffed a humorless laugh, stoking the fire. He could yell through the night for all she cared.
A fist pounded on the wood. She ignored it.
Until it creaked.
Her jaw dropped, the poker falling to meet hungry, meager flames. “How dare you!” She charged around the corner, glaring up the stairs at Shaw closing the door behind him.
“How dare I? At least I had the consideration to knock first.” He quirked his lips as she stomped up the steps.
The landing was nowhere near big enough for two people, but Lux wasn’t going to give him the benefit of towering higher above her than he already did. He backed away, but there wasn’t anywhere for him to go but out. Bodies nearly touching, she flushed with rage.
“Get out.”
His gaze roved over her face, the mockery of a smile vanishing from his mouth. “Are you all right?”
She jabbed a finger into his chest. “No, and I have nothing more to say to you. You want to ruin your life, blacken your soul? Fine. Fall to the darkness for all I care. But don’t think I won’t be keeping track of your excursions. I’ll discover the mayor’s secrets on my own, and I may even report you to the Shield in the process.”
Lux didn’t think she would actually give them his name. Not unless his murderous tendencies shifted toward the innocent as well. She noted on an afterthought that perhaps he would kill her for the threat she posed. She smirked.
He could try.
“You look dreadful.” His brow furrowed as he glanced down the cramped space between them, her threats seemingly ignored.
“As well I should! I was almost swallowed by a tree, alive, saved only by the bravest crow.” A pang of guilt leaked into her chest at her unfortunate treatment of the bird. She should have been kinder. “There is a phantom in the wood doing something to the dead before the trees claim them. And I hate that I hate my aunt’s returned!”
A look of doubtful speculation crept over Shaw’s face, and Lux pressed sharp nails into her palms to keep from slapping it away. Finally, he shook his head, wiping it clean from his features on his own, and strode down the steps.
She sputtered at his retreating back. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I need time with this.”
She dashed after him.
Around the kitchen table, he settled into the rocking chair, running his fingers along the armrest with a thoughtful turn of his brow. “Do you like this chair?”
“Obviously not. Riselda threw mine out. As I’m about to call someone to do for you.”
He shifted in the hard seat, unperturbed. “I see now why you hate her.”
“I never said that.”
Shaw shrugged, his attention drifting over her in a lazy manner. “Your stockings are ruined. And I think you’re bleeding. For sure, you’ve bled.” She crossed her arms, and his features shadowed. “Why would you enter the forest? A death wish?”
She ground her teeth. Whirling, she strode to her bedroom. He could stay there all night for all she cared. He and his infuriating questions and irritating observations would make for good company well enough without her.
“Lux.” She stopped in the doorway, though she didn’t know why she had. Maybe the vein of hope threading through her name on his lips. The possibility pricked her skin. “I need your help.”
She laughed. Not a chuckle, but long, loud and deep. She crossed her arms over her middle until her muscles ached. Finally, her laugh diminishing to hiccupped giggles, she turned. He stood just feet away, one eyebrow raised. His expression almost sent her laughing anew, him being so hopelessly bewildered by her outburst. She bit it back.
“Only if you have gold with which to line my pockets.” She gestured to her ruined skirt, one pocket torn and gaping, a still-fresh wound oozing somewhere beneath.
An unexpected flash of regret swept across his face. “I’m sorry I spoke so harshly that day.” The words grated on his tongue. It would seem the prowler didn’t apologize often.
She didn’t bother with a reply, and he studied her a moment more. “Are you invited to the mayor’s birthday party?” If she expected anything to come from his mouth, this wasn’t it. And it certainly wouldn’t have been followed by, “Will you bring me with you?”
“You—” She paused, her mind attempting to right itself. “You want to go to the masquerade? As my escort?”
“If you must call it that. I can’t very well go on my own. Those of the Dark are rarely remembered, let alone invited to such things.” Lux allowed him to finish his lamenting without comment. He blew out a breath. “I want to know what the mansion hides.”
Ah, there it is. “I’d thought of the same. But, alas, I prefer to work alone.”
“Take me. I can help.”
“No, I—” But a sudden idea pushed all others aside, and gleefully, she changed her mind right then and there. “Will you let me borrow your grandfather’s journal?”
Shaw’s lips thinned, and Lux straightened her spine. She’d go alone. It didn’t bother her any. But his gaze turned calculating as if reading the turn of her thoughts, and, at last, he nodded.
“Excellent. We should hire a carriage, though. I’ll have the driver take me to your apartment, and we can ride the rest of the way together.”
He exhaled through his nose. “I should be retrieving you.”
“Oh, I think this route will do just fine.”
Shaw rolled his shoulders, and she grinned, feeling sure she could manage the sacrifice of this victory. Before he could scowl much more, likely unsure now if what he promised was worth the cost, frantic pounding interrupted the silence.
Skirting around him, Lux jogged up the steps.
Now this knock she knew quite well.
A dripping bundle lay wrapped in a ragged blanket. The sobbing woman held it tight and clutched close to her chest, while a man stood behind her. Tears ran down his bearded cheeks as he lowered a hand a second away from rapping on Lux’s nose.
“Come in.” Lux backed from the sense of heartbreak that billowed around her. Always so much heartbreak—and always laced with a threadbare shred of hope. She glanced at Shaw, urging him to say nothing. With hooded eyes, he obeyed.
Lux entered the workroom and turned up the lamp. Twisting back, she watched the parents, observed as they didn’t even look at her, their hands laying the little body ever-so-gently upon the table. It looked so small.
“How long?”
The woman raised her eyes. A gaze filled with so much sorrow, Lux felt instantly sick. “Eight hours, nine at most.” She bit her lip against a sob as the man fished through his coat. “We’ve been searching most of the day. We finally found her. In the marshes. She’s only just reached her second year. She—”
Tears poured from her eyes, yet she didn’t look away. Begging.
“How much?” the father asked, hoarse.
Lux relayed the sum, and the color drained from his face. He frantically searched again, turning up a button and a roll of string. Desolate eyes found hers.
“I don’t have it.” He laid the single goldquin on the table. Followed by a silvdan. Five coptons.
The woman’s mouth opened and closed, staring at the child as if she could will the life back. Her skin paled to ash.
“We must. We must. We must.” The mother rocked back and forth, holding her middle. She shook her head, unwilling to believe. “We must.”
Lux stared at the unmoving bundle on the table. She should turn them away. Would turn them away. Exceptions were always a mistake: a rule in dark business.
She opened her mouth to tell them to go—but something else tumbled out. “My door creaks terribly. It’s been years now.” The man’s eyes snapped to hers. “Perhaps you could fix it for me? I’d pay you well.”
Understanding swept the despair from his features. “Of course, oh, of course. Of course, I could fix that.”
She nodded and her attention left him. “Put the money in the crock.”
Stepping toward the body, she carefully unwrapped it. The blanket gave way to rounded features: a soft face beneath a head full of dark curls, and a little body in a sodden, dirty dress. She was cold and wet and blue, her limbs rigid in death. Lux undressed her carefully.
She remembered that proprietor’s daughter now. The one she couldn’t save. They’d been nearly the same age. And she’d lain just like this. But it had been too long. Too wet, too blue, too cold. Lux couldn’t have brought her back.
She wouldn’t have been the same.
Lux draped the small body in a sheet much too big for it before turning back to the shelves, to The Risen propped just as she’d left it. She allowed a moment for the greeting plants to wrap their vines about her fingers in welcome.
“That’s enough.”
Normally, she would never allow family to watch, but she didn’t know if Shaw had managed to sneak out her front door yet. She gestured them to the stool resting in the corner instead, handing the mother a dress that dripped. The woman snatched it to her, where she clutched it so tightly to her chest, Lux was sure her hands would be left aching long after their release.
