Page 25 of Unbroken (Rath & Rune #4)

Ves’s mouth went dry with fear, though he was careful to let none of it show on his face. Mother was here, and he was trapped in a cage. She could kill Bonnie and Clara long before he could break free, so above all else, he needed to keep her attention on him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She stepped over the fallen body. Rather than her usual simple dress, she wore a cycling costume to allow more freedom of movement. Her dark hair was twisted into a crown of braids, shot through with silver.

“I appear to be saving your life,” she said, bending over to study Bonnie’s sleeping face.

“How did you know it needed saving? And are you going to let me out?”

She straightened and moved away from Bonnie, as he’d hoped.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you and Nocturn, you know that.

Mrs. Adams, as she styled herself, had a startling number of visitors late at night, when women her age are usually fast asleep.

Clearly she was into something, but who in this town isn’t?

Far be it from me to interfere with another sorceress, so long as she doesn’t interfere with me. ”

He didn’t believe for a moment that she hadn’t known Mrs. Adams was the Chancellor all along.

He’d bet all the coin in Widdershins she’d captured, interrogated, and killed at least one of those late-night visitors.

She’d been waiting for this moment like a spider in her web, and it didn’t matter whose life she put at risk in the meantime.

“So why act now?” he asked, as she picked up the key to the padlock from where the Chancellor had left it on the mantlepiece.

“Because this afternoon, a cart appeared at her house, loaded up a good number of interesting crates, and departed.” Mother knelt and unlocked the padlock before tossing it aside.

“It couldn’t have been more clear that she planned to abandon the house at the right moment, and to do so with both haste and efficiency.

It wasn’t difficult to guess she’d done something you might need my help to undo. ”

She swung open the door, and Ves crawled out, careful not to touch the silver bars. His clothing lay in a careless pile, and he began to dress quickly. “The Chancellor said something about using poppets to send Bonnie and Clara to sleep.”

“We need to find and burn them, then.”

“She’s taken Sebastian.” He pulled up his trousers. “We have to stop her from getting the Books.”

“And leave these two sleeping, helpless?” Mother asked, and trailed one fingernail lightly over Bonnie’s cheek.

Damn it. They might be fine…or the Chancellor might send another of her men with a message to kill everyone in the house. Even though he wanted nothing more than to run to Sebastian, he couldn’t take the risk.

He couldn’t believe he was asking Mother for help…but her expertise as a sorceress was unmatched. “Where would such poppets be hidden?”

“Somewhere unlikely to be disturbed. Did the Chancellor hide them herself?”

Poor Helen. Thank the trees the rest of the children were away for the night. “No, it was a member of the household.”

“The girl child with the dark hair? I saw her go in and out of the Chancellor’s house more than once.” Mother tapped a long nail against her bottom lip in thought. “Somewhere not too high up, then.”

“Under a bed?”

“That’s where I would put it, especially if I were a small child who could fit underneath easily.” She took a step toward the door. “I’ll help you search.”

He wanted her out of the house…but Sebastian’s life was still in danger, and the sooner they finished here, the better. “Thank you,” he forced himself to say.

They passed the bathroom on the way up; the other guard lay dead in the tub. “I thought it would be easier for poor Mrs. Rath to clean up later,” Mother said, following his gaze. “The sitting room will need quite the scrubbing, though.”

“That was thoughtful of you,” he said, a bit surprised.

“Children do make such a mess, I’m sure she has quite enough to do as it is.”

Ves generally stayed out of Bonnie’s bedroom, except when helping clean. It was comfortable but crowded, especially with the baby’s crib. While Mother investigated the crib, he tore the bed clothes away and threw them in a pile, then heaved up the mattress to expose the box spring.

There—tied with red thread to one of the springs was a doll made from knotted yarn, with human hair woven in. He ripped it off and held it up. “I found one.”

Mother had pulled the small mattress off the crib and flipped it over. A clumsy repair showed underneath; she took her knife and sliced it open to reveal another, smaller poppet tucked inside.

“What about the rest of the children?” Ves asked. Another thought struck him. “Or Sebastian and me?”

“She would have used your poppets if she had them, though I doubt the magic would have worked on you,” Mother replied.

“My guess is you’ll find them in the other children’s beds as well.

But, as they’re not in immediate danger, those can wait for now.

” She studied the poppet closely. “The girl does have talent. Keep her away from the Endicotts.”

“She thought she was casting a spell to bring back her father,” Ves said. “He left without saying goodbye.”

“Much like someone else I know,” she replied, giving him a cutting look.

It wasn’t the same, he told himself as he led the way back downstairs to the fireplace.

He and Noct had run for their lives, their freedom, their souls.

Jeremy had been in the midst of sneaking away even before Sebastian attacked him.

Yet he felt irrationally guilty, because he knew their desertion had hurt their grandfather deeply.

As for Mother…who knew what she felt, other than rage.

They threw the poppets into the fireplace, and Mother lit them with a word. The flame sprang up at her command, rapidly consuming the two dolls of yarn and hair.

Behind them, Clara began to cry.

Ves hurried to the couch as Bonnie blinked in confusion. Looking up, she mumbled, “Ves? How long have I been asleep?” Then her eyes went to Mother. “Who is that?”

“I’m Lenore Rune, Vesper’s mother,” she said with a warmth that sent up warning bells in Ves’s head, because he knew it wasn’t real.

Bonnie was no fool; she immediately clutched the wailing Clara to her and struggled to sit up. “What is she doing here? What’s going on?” Her eyes went to the dead man on the floor and she let out a cry of horror.

“There’s no time to explain—Sebastian’s in danger,” Ves said quickly. “The School of Night put a spell on you and Clara so you’d sleep and they could use you as hostages without any trouble. For now, you need to take the baby and get out of the house.”

“I can go to Mrs. Adams.”

Ves winced. “I’m afraid she’s one of them. I’ll explain later, I swear. For now, try to get to the Endicott estate—they’ll pay for a taxi. Noct and Irene are there, and you’ll be safe. Tell them the Chancellor is taking Sebastian to the museum to get the Books.”

Bonnie looked as though she had more questions, but only said, “All right. Please, Ves, keep my brother safe.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“We will do what we can,” Mother corrected.

Ves straightened and turned to face her. Every instinct screamed that she was up to no good, that this was some kind of trap.

“You need me, Vesper,” she said, seeing his reluctance. “While you waste time with solving murders and working a job like a common human, I spend my hours far more wisely. I know so much more about this town than you ever will.”

This was the reason she and Grandfather had withheld what they knew about the Books and the School of Night. So that, when the right moment came, she had something to hold over his head and compel him to do what she wanted.

But why? What was she after?

It didn’t matter. Sebastian’s life was at stake. They had to reach the library before the Chancellor could get her hands on the Books, because she’d kill him the moment she had them.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Consciousness returned like a scolded child, drawing closer in fits and starts, hovering around the edges of Sebastian’s brain until at last he opened his eyes.

His head ached abominably, and he was lying on his back on an unyielding surface that did nothing to cushion his poor skull. He tried to lift a hand, but found it tied down to his side.

The only light came from a kerosene lantern sitting to one side on a path of crushed oyster shell.

Above, the night sky was completely covered by clouds, and thunder growled not far off.

A tall hedge sporting pink flowers surrounded the space he was in, and he realized he was tied to a marble bench in a sort of circular clearing.

And in the very center was a tree.

Four trunks sank their roots into the earth, joining together into a single thick stem about three feet off the ground.

The bark was oddly shiny, and black as oil in the lantern light.

Its many branches hung down like those of a weeping willow, leafy and green.

They moved independently of the wind, and when they shifted, he glimpsed row after row of small mouths, each filled with a forest of teeth.

A Dark Young.

The sight shocked him; after interacting with Ves and Noct, he’d somehow imagined all Dark Young would have some human qualities.

But no human had contributed to this one’s ancestry.

Had the All-Mother shaped it from some seed of pollen or drifting flower, let it sprout in whatever far-off place Fuller had found it as a sapling?

Despite its alienness, there was something strangely beautiful in its swaying branches, its delicate leaves. He could understand why a man like Fuller, driven to explore the world in search of exotic plants, would have collected it.

Victoria had brought him here—he remembered that much. There had been a coach accident, the Chancellor…

Bonnie, Clara, and Ves were in danger.

He yanked at his bindings, but the ropes were tied too well. He had to get out of here, had to—

Victoria stepped through the gap in what must be the hedge maze Mrs. Rice had told them about.

She’d thrown aside her cloak, and the lantern light revealed her in full.

The single, horn-like branch curved toward the sky, and her green eye glowed with a firefly’s radiance.

What little clothing she retained was tattered and torn, stabbed through with small branches on her inhuman side.

What looked like roots crawled over her skin, both bark and human, and both legs ended in goatish hooves instead of feet.

Vines sprouted from the wooden side of her back, lashing the air like tentacles.

In her hands, she held a heavy tome bound in leather the precise shade of dried blood. Veins bulged from its cover, seeming to pulse as if it were in some way alive.

His scars sang with its nearness and hers, and he could tell from her expression she felt the same pull. “Victoria,” he said, tugging ineffectually at his bonds. “Mrs. Rice told us what happened—I’m not your enemy!”

“I don’t consider you one.” She drew closer, then reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair from his face. “You’re my salvation.”

His heart drummed in his chest. “I don’t know what the Book of Blood has told you, or shown you, however it communicates, but it’s lying. It doesn’t have your best interests at heart, I promise.”

She snatched her hand back as if burned. “Yet you’re using the other Books. I can feel them on you! You just want to keep the power for yourself.”

“That’s not true. It—it’s complicated!” He struggled, just as uselessly as before. “Let me go—my sister, my baby niece, they’re in danger now that you’ve killed the Chancellor.”

“Of the university?”

“No—a cult—it doesn’t matter.” Victoria was immune to his powers; he had to get her to listen to him. “We’ll help you, my friends and I. We know sorcerers who can undo this, if you want. Or not, if you don’t!”

“How could I possibly want this?” she snarled, leaning in so he could get a close look at her face, at smooth human skin meeting a seam of bark. “Save your lies. With the help of your blood and the Book, I’m going to cleanse this taint from my flesh and end this living nightmare.”

“My…blood?” He swallowed heavily. This wasn’t good, not good at all.

She smiled, her mouth stretching wider and wider, opening into a terrible gape. From under her tongue extended a long proboscis, far more delicate than those of the leeches but just as deadly.

Then she bent her head, and with a sting like a sliver of ice, pierced his skin.