Bronze Gods Read online

  Her vision swam, stones spinning amid black and white flecks. Her whole body burned as if she had been set on fire, roulade instead of a human being. The tumble of stones continued, landing all around her; and she couldn’t crawl away. Nearby, her partner was on the ground, too, but she couldn’t go to him. None of her limbs would respond, and her eyes teared, filling with dust. She blinked them ferociously as Mikani staggered to his feet. Not dead. He made it. Gladness and relief poured through her.

  He took a step toward her. No, don’t worry about me. Finish this. But she couldn’t speak. Then Lorne stirred. With a growl, her partner unsheathed the slender blade hidden in his walking stick. A brutal kick spun the killer to his back, then Mikani slammed a booted foot into his shoulder. Slow blink, leaving the cavern fuzzy. Dirt clung to her lashes. The world went distant as the monster lunged, swiping at Mikani’s leg. Sound of pain. Then her partner sliced downward in a fierce stroke, cutting clean through the thing’s neck. The head rolled away in a spray of blood.

  Hurts to breathe. But at least I watched the bastard die.

  CHAPTER 32

  AURELIA FELT AS IF SHE WERE DYING—WEAK, SHAKY, AND BEYOND HORROR.

  Her lungs burned with grit, and her throat was sore from the screaming. Endless hours; and Lorne had let her wail until he apparently couldn’t bear it anymore. Then he’d lashed out with fist or boot to silence her. With each blow, she yielded a little more hope that anyone would ever hear her.

  The last time, she’d thought, I’ll die alone.

  But being buried alive had been the worst part of that infinite hell, feeling the earth trickle down, chained up, and unable to save herself. Heart hammering, she tasted dirt on the tip of her tongue, deeper still, as if no water could wash her clean. It would make her feel better if she’d killed the bastard, but she hadn’t possessed the coordination to fight after Inspector Ritsuko opened the machine. It had been all she could manage to help Theron to his feet; now she could barely keep sliding her feet in the forbidding darkness. Each movement nearly made her feel that her knees would buckle, and her muscles wobbled like blancmange.

  “I can’t,” she gasped.

  “You have to. You’re saving me.”

  “Did I promise that?”

  “You implied it.”

  Needles pricked her skin all over as circulation returned. She rubbed her forearms, trying not to yield to the panic threatening to swamp her. I almost died. I don’t know the way out. Her feet were still numb, no sensation at all in her toes. Strange, just the sense of weight.

  Conversation will surely help.

  “What do you think that noise was?” she asked, referring to the explosion that had rocked the tunnel a few moments ago.

  His voice rasped with pain, but he was already moving better. Only cold iron could do him permanent harm. “If I had to guess, the inspectors found a way to detonate my brother’s machine.”

  “Your brother,” she repeated, numb.

  It wasn’t a question, but he seemed to take it as such. “My goal has always been to keep Lorne from hurting people. He wasn’t always like this . . .” He trailed off, probably guessing she didn’t want to hear excuses.

  But she was curious, and answers would take her mind off this crushing weakness. Her limbs felt as if they weighed half a ton; each step was a miracle. “Who was Galene?”

  “Our sister,” Theron said softly. “Lorne killed her when she took a mostly human husband. He felt she should seek to strengthen our line, not dilute it.”

  Bronze gods.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.

  And other things.

  Theron went on, “We fought. And I . . . crippled him. Quelled his magic so he would be limited in the harm he could wreak. For a long time, he was in exile.”

  “Where? The Winter Isle?”

  “No. In the world beyond the dreaming sea.”

  Aurelia sucked in a sharp breath. Unlike most, she knew the truth of the place; she realized it was more than legend. Once she knew of her father’s role in closing the door, it was impossible for her to pretend it didn’t exist.

  “He returned in the last crossing?” she asked.

  His hand sought hers in the darkness, lacing through. It was better than an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know. I presume so. I felt flickers of him from time to time, but it was only when he activated the first machine that I felt his old magic.”

  “You said you hurt him. Is that why he killed those girls? To get his power back? And what did he plan after he had it?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing good.”

  A thought occurred to her. “But . . . he saved me. I knew him as Mr. Gideon. Worked with him at the theater. The night I was running away from you, I nearly stepped out in front of a coach, and there he was, pulling me to safety. Why would he do that when he meant to kill me later?”

  Theron sighed. “It sounds perverse, but that’s precisely why. He had plans for you. Therefore, you were only permitted to die on his schedule.”

  “That’s . . .” Words failed her. “I did sense him, following me. It made me worry I was going mad.”

  “If I’m sane, then I suspect you have a few good years left.”

  “If,” she murmured. But it was good to know she hadn’t imagined the feeling, and that she could banish the fear of losing her faculties.

  Their footsteps rasped in the dark, every inch taking them farther into the labyrinth of the natural caverns aligned to the underground. It would be a miracle if she could find an exit. At least Theron wasn’t leaning on her so heavily; in fact, he was lending her more support, which meant his wound was closing.

  It occurred to her to ask then, “Why did you leave? In a few moments, you’d have been strong enough to fight again.”

  He hesitated, then said, “To get you away from there.”

  She actually stopped for a few seconds. “You wanted to protect me that much?”

  “Yes.” An unadorned answer that lacerated her with guilt.

  “I owe you an apology,” she said quietly.

  “For spying on me, trying to have me arrested, and eventually making me a wanted man, so it was nearly impossible to find my brother in time?” His tone was grim.

  Oh, how she wished she could see his face, but the darkness made her bold. “Obviously. But also because I misjudged you badly. I couldn’t conceive why you seemed interested in me. I was sure you had shady, secret motives.”

  “Everyone has secrets, Aurelia. Mine was this—after so many years of tranquillity, my brother’s power spiked high enough for me to sense what he might be doing. So I went to see your father because—”

  “He has a hand in all emerging technologies, all innovations,” she finished. “You wondered if he might be running an experiment?”

  “I hoped so. Hearing that would’ve been a relief . . . I wanted to be mistaken. We met at the club, and afterward, I was pacing in the maze, trying to calculate how to stop Lorne before he did irreparable harm. And that was when I met you.” With gentle fingers, he tilted her chin up. “There was no calculation in that, Aurelia. I liked you. That’s all.”

  “And I made a complex game of something so simple.” She closed her eyes with a weighted sigh, feeling both chagrined and stupid. “I am too much my father’s daughter.”

  “At first, I didn’t mind. Your determination to unearth my secrets was amusing. But after a while, it became . . . inconvenient.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again, as she resumed progress along the tunnel. “But you must admit, the pieces aligned too well. It wasn’t all my wariness and tendency to think the worst. I saw you kill four men!”

  “Four men who were hired to murder me by a criminal who didn’t care to honor the compact his predecessor had made.”

  “You could’ve disarmed them and turned them over to the CID. So don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. I saw you. And before that, you made yourself so mysterious, so enigmatic—”

  “To tease you,
not to terrify you.” Theron sighed. “It was private family business . . . and I didn’t know you well. You treated our courtship like a game, and it’s been years since I cared enough to play.”

  Immediately, Aurelia cast back over their interactions and saw that he was right. There hadn’t been a moment where it made sense for him to lay everything out for her. “I never gave you the chance. I was too afraid of letting you matter because so many men have pursued me for my father’s favor.”

  He growled, “When I saw what he’d done to you, I wanted to kill my brother. Before, I’d only ever thought about stopping him.”

  “I don’t think I deserve that.”

  “Don’t you understand? It’s not as though I could help it. It was instinct. And it’s been so very long since I felt territorial about anything other than my garden.”

  The stress he placed made her ask, “How many years? Don’t tell me you’re a lost full-blood Ferisher prince.”

  “Half.” He took a deep breath. “Do you have any notion how many years I’ve guarded this secret? In prior ages, I was hunted like a dog.”

  Before she could reply, she heard footsteps behind them. Aurelia tightened her fingers on Theron’s, whispering, “Is it—”

  “No. He’s gone.” His tone was stark, awful because he probably mourned the monster who had shared his blood. His memory was likely long enough to recall the sweet moments before the madness.

  “Then they killed him,” she whispered in amazement.

  “Miss Wright? Mr. Nuall?” Inspector Mikani called quietly.

  She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes. Are you well?”

  “Bit knocked about, and my ears are humming, but my partner’s worse.” Fear and tension laced his words, perceptible despite his attempt to sound collected. “There should be one turn, then a passage leading up.”

  “If you know the way, lead on,” Theron invited.

  Inspector Mikani pressed ahead; and as he passed, Aurelia made out the woman cradled in his arms. She followed as quickly as she could, for the inspector set a grueling pace. Some distance on, she spied the glimmer of multiple lanterns.

  Mikani muttered, “If it’s those damned smugglers again, I’m killing all of them.”

  She had no doubt they all looked like survivors of a particularly brutal war, but that awareness didn’t stop her from breaking into a stumbling run, for the men holding the lamps were Olrik Guards, led by her father himself.

  “I must apologize for not arriving earlier,” he said in his dry tone. “But it took me some time to acquire the information I needed to locate you.” Then he jerked his head at two of his men. “Secure the site. Recover all artifacts and components—we can’t allow scavengers to carry off any of the detritus. And you, collect the body. Mr. Nuall will want to inter him.”

  Though it had been years since they’d spoken, he had neither changed, nor aged. In the glimmering lamplight, he looked the same, dark hair just touched with silver at the temples. His face was immutable. It spoke to her state of mind that she felt happy to see him. She went into her father’s arms like a child, fully prepared to endure any lecture.

  He caught her to his chest and hugged her fiercely. “You’re unharmed?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t frightened. And weak. But I hope there was no permanent damage. I’ll . . . survive.”

  “You’d better. Your mother would never let me hear the end of it, otherwise. She’s quite annoying enough as is, about our little disagreement.” The Architect held her, released a long breath, and stroked her hair as he spoke. “I do wish you’d told me. I could have done . . . any number of things. You think I don’t respect your wishes, but I never want you to feel as if asking me for help is a fate worse than death.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. Thank you.” She dropped her gaze, unable to face Theron, who had, in fact, been trying to protect her.

  I misunderstood everything.

  “I hate to break up this reunion,” the inspector said, “but I need to get my partner to a hospital. Either help me do that or get the hell out of my way.”

  Her father gestured. “This way. I know a shortcut. We’ll take a private car directly to the stop closest to St. Freya’s.”

  “That’s more like it,” Mikani muttered.

  It didn’t take long for her father to escort them back the way he’d come, considerably shorter and less painful than being dragged over the rocky ground. Her back was a mass of bruises, not to mention the blows to the head she’d taken. And she felt so shaky, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Theron took hold of her hand again as they stepped onto the car waiting beyond the access door.

  One of the guards touched the rare, privately owned mirror, and sacrificed a breath to activate it. Of course Father has all the expensive conveniences. He used the bound air elemental to notify station authorities to clear the track. Passengers on other platforms wouldn’t understand why this sleek car went zooming by, throwing off their schedules, but it was a House perk.

  Aurelia sank onto a seat, grateful for the respite. Across the way, Mikani reeled onto a bench, looking filthy, battered, and exhausted, but he didn’t lay his partner beside him, as he could have. His arms were like bands around her slim form. The guards remained standing, while Theron settled to one side of Aurelia, and her father, the other.

  To them, she murmured, “I made a number of mistaken assumptions, for which I apologize again. But I’m surprised the two of you are old associates.”

  “Not in the way you suspect,” her father said. “Perhaps I should have taken the matter more seriously when Theron came to me. If you must know, I thought age madness had driven him out of seclusion, making him imagine improbable threats and conspiracies where none existed.”

  Her truth-sense should’ve kicked in, but . . . it didn’t. Likely because of whatever Lorne had done to her in that hellish machine, she could judge only by the remorse and self-recrimination on her father’s face. How . . . odd. But she didn’t doubt he wished he’d focused his resources on the danger before it yanked her out of CID custody, before the bruises and the terror. Remembered impotence boiled up inside her like a sickness.

  “I made mistakes, too,” she said quietly.

  He kissed her lightly on the temple, then stared hard at Theron over her head. “If I see any signs that you have . . . ambitions like your brother, I’ll come, you understand.” He scowled and added, “For that matter, stay away from my daughter.”

  Aurelia coughed, partly because it was so typical and partly because she had earth in her lungs. To her surprise, Theron made eye contact with the Architect. “Aurelia can make up her own mind, I think.”

  She liked that fearlessness about him. So few men could stand up to her father’s ire or walk away from the prestige and power he could bestow. Curiosity rebounded; before, she had taken Theron’s interest for a game, one he hoped would end in some boon from the Architect. But I got it so incredibly wrong.

  “Yes,” her father said wearily. “She can.”

  It was more than he’d have granted before. In his eyes, there was a sharp awareness that he might’ve lost her for good—that their estrangement might have become permanent before he could mend fences—and the realization that even the long-lived didn’t possess infinite quantities of time. Aurelia smiled at him.

  Theron shifted, taking her hands in his. He was still darkly fascinating, powerful, and ancient. His brother tried to kill you, a warning voice said. There were no guarantees that this would end well. And that’s what makes it so exciting. But she couldn’t assume he was interested in taking up where they had left off, after the night in his garden.

  “I have to let my family fuss over me at the hospital and have a physician look at my injuries. Perhaps you’ll call on me later?”

  “Are you asking to begin our courtship anew?” His tone gave her no hint as to his reaction to that suggestion.

  “Is that what it was?”

  His eyes wer
e grave. “Yes. It’s an old-fashioned concept, I expect. But I understand if you wish to see the last of me, as I can only remind you—”

  “No,” she interrupted. Just that.

  Let him make the next move.

  And he smiled. “I’ll come with you to the hospital.”

  In the public wards, it was pure confusion, with physicians, surgeons, and nurses dashing everywhere. House Olrik could expect a better standard of treatment. Her father escorted her off to the pricey private wing before she could protest that she wanted to thank the inspectors who had saved her life. But she’d underestimated her father. As her mother rushed down the hall toward them, he was making arrangements to foot the bill for the best possible care for the CID employees, Mikani and Ritsuko. That permitted her to sink into the wheeled chair with a relieved sigh.

  Aurelia’s mother was a tall, slim woman with autumnal hair and hazel eyes. Kneeling, she hugged Aurelia despite the dirt, eyes damp with tears. “I was so worried I’d never see you again. Come home, darling. I promise I won’t nag or complain about your ties to the theater. Leo’s here, and—”

  As if she’d summoned him, he came down the hall at a run. Leo wasn’t wearing his mask, like it was the least important thing in the world, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Auri. I’m so sorry. I thought you’d be safe with the CID. If I’d had any notion they wouldn’t be able to protect you, I’d have—”

  “Stop. Nobody could’ve predicted what happened. We believed we were doing the best thing at the time.”

  “If someone had bothered to give me a hint before it all blew up, I could have predicted it,” her father muttered.

  Then Leo kissed her full on the lips with both her parents looking on, something he had never done. Behind her, Theron made a sound in his throat; and she drew back.

  Bronze gods, not this. Not now. She was too exhausted and sore to deal with territorial males at the moment.