Текст книги "Heartless hunter"
Автор книги: Kristen Ciccarelli
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
TWENTY RUNE
AFTER APPEARING BRIEFLY AT Charlotte’s luncheon, Rune raced back to Wintersea House, grinning the entire way. Not even the gray clouds on the horizon could dampen her mood.
It had been so easy! Rune couldn’t believe how quickly Gideon had given up Seraphine’s whereabouts. She’d had to get nearly naked, but still.
Worth it.
Gideon, she decided, was the suitor she’d accept.
It was only as she burst through the doors of her bedroom and quickly started changing that she recalled what he’d said about the youngest witch queen.
Cressida would never have let me work for you.
Her fingers slowed on the laces of her riding trousers.
The night of that party, I was being punished.
He hadn’t elaborated. And Rune had no way of knowing what the truth was. Perhaps he was being punished for some truly heinous deed. Or perhaps he was lying.
But Rune remembered the harrowed look in his eyes. The way he’d stepped sharply away at her approach, as if he thought, for a moment, that she was Cressida herself. And he was afraid.
Cress was like that: pretty from a distance, tempting you closer … It was only after she’d reeled you in that she revealed her true nature. But by then, it was too late. She was already eating you alive.
Rune shivered.
But there were two sides to every story. And since Cressida was dead and couldn’t tell hers, it was unfair to take Gideon at his word.
She banished all thought of him and finished dressing.
Pulling on a hooded sweater, she wondered if she should send a message to Verity. One of her ships was due to leave at dawn, and if she was successful tonight, she intended to put Seraphine on it. It would mean she wouldn’t make it to the Creeds’ party tonight. And if she didn’t, she would need Verity and Alex to come up with an alibi for her.
But to put that in a message risked the information falling into the wrong hands. So, she decided against it and rode straight for Seldom Harbor.
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TWENTY-ONE GIDEON
“RUNE WINTERS HAS NO casting scars,” Gideon told Harrow as they climbed the marble steps together.
Harrow arched a thin brow. “You certainly move fast.”
“It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “I needed her measurements for a dress I’m making her.”
Harrow’s brow arched higher. “You, my brawny friend, are cleverer than I gave you credit for.”
They passed under the columned entrance and into Blood Guard headquarters. When it was still the Royal Library, this building preserved witch propaganda, histories full of lies, and entire floors of spell books. Gideon remembered the marble busts of notable witches that once lined the wings, as well as the gilt-framed paintings depicting the golden age of witches. All of it was gone, destroyed in the early days of the New Republic.
“If she doesn’t have scars, I can’t accuse her.”
“How closely did you look?”
Gideon thought back to the dark, boarded-up shop. To Rune’s nearly naked form, standing in the glow of his lamp.
“The lighting was poor, but trust me, I looked.”
His memory was like a faucet. Once he opened the valve even a little, he couldn’t stop everything from rushing out. The memory of her soft, white curves. The delicate lace of her bra. The scent of her skin …
Gideon had gotten very close to a nearly naked Rune. And he had looked. There was nothing to find.
“She’s flawless.”
“She was completely nude?” asked Harrow.
“What? No. You don’t do measurements in the nude.”
“Well, there’s your problem. The Crimson Moth won’t have casting scars where someone like you could find them. How do you think she’s escaped detection the past two years? You’ll need to get her good and naked.”
The words were a lightning strike. But Harrow was right. Rune hadn’t been entirely unclothed. And he’d inspected her quickly, in dim lighting.
Gideon ran a hand over his face.
How was he supposed to get Rune Winters naked?
“Maybe I won’t have to.”
Harrow rolled her eyes. “You have some other plan?”
They entered the atrium, which was encircled by a massive staircase spiraling to the top floor. Overhead, the glass-domed ceiling revealed a sky full of clouds. Holding up the dome were statues of the seven Ancients, chiseled out of marble. Liberty, with her gun held high. Mercy, with her arc of doves flying toward the glass. Wisdom, with an owl on her shoulder and an open book in her hands …
“Do you remember it?” asked Harrow, halting halfway to the stairs, standing now in the center of the atrium. Gideon turned to find her staring at a spot in the middle of the floor, where the tiles didn’t match.
“There used to be a tree that grew right here,” she said, going quiet. “It reached all the way to the fourth floor.”
Gideon nodded. Rioters had destroyed it, too, after the revolution. Hacking it apart, uprooting the stump, and burning it all.
“Every spring, it blossomed for a month straight. My mistress, Juniper, loved to come when the blossoms dropped. They would carpet the floor in a sea of white.” Harrow swallowed, lost in the memory. “She said that Amity herself planted it here and centuries later, people built the library around it.”
Gideon had never heard Harrow speak about the witch who’d indentured her.
“Was she purged?” he asked.
This snapped Harrow out of the memory. Her footsteps started again, hastening toward the stairs.
“No.”
When Gideon caught up to her, a heavy silence hung between them. If this Juniper hadn’t been purged, then the witch was still out there, somewhere. He wondered if her memory haunted Harrow the way Cressida’s memory haunted him.
“Is she the one who …?” Gideon pointed to his ear.
Harrow reached to touch the place where her ear used to be, before a witch had cut it off.
“No. But neither did she stop it.”
What other kinds of cruelty had Harrow suffered at the hands of witches? And how could she not know—or care—if her former mistress was dead or alive?
But Harrow clearly didn’t want to discuss it further, because she changed the subject.
“You were talking about your plan to entrap Rune Winters. The one that doesn’t involve getting her naked. How is that going to work?”
Their footsteps echoed in unison as they climbed to the second floor, where Gideon’s office lay.
“I gave Rune bad information this morning.”
Harrow glanced over at him. “Oh?”
“I told her the location of a holding cell for witches near Seldom Harbor.”
“And that’s bad?”
“There’s no holding cell near Seldom Harbor. Just a trap waiting for the Crimson Moth.”
Harrow’s golden eyes widened. As this sank in, she smiled, impressed.
“And you think Rune will show up there.”
“I don’t know. If she does, I’ll have my fugitive. But even if someone else shows up instead, I’ll know Rune is in league with the Moth—since she’s the only person I gave the location to.”
“And if no one shows up?”
Gideon sighed. “Then I abandon this false trail, break things off with Rune …”
And hope my little brother finds his balls.
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TWENTY-TWO RUNE
THE OLD MINE NEAR Seldom Harbor stood on a small clifftop a hundred meters above sea level, sagging beneath the weight of a century.
Rune came prepared with an invisibility spell already drawn on her forearm in blood. She called it Ghost Walker, and it was her most-used spell on nights like this, one she’d created herself using a combination of two symbols she’d found in one of Nan’s books. The symbols for emptiness and evasion. It didn’t make her disappear so much as nudge a person’s attention away from her.
She dismounted Lady a quarter mile up the dirt road. Leaving the horse to graze in a small copse of trees, Rune headed toward the mine, which was silhouetted by the light of a silver moon.
The wind and sea salt stung Rune’s eyes—the only part of her face left uncovered. Dressed entirely in black, she’d hidden her hair beneath a hood, and covered her mouth and nose with a snug cowl. A fitted black shirt and leggings concealed the rest of her, along with calf-high leather boots.
The lantern hanging in the entryway swung in the gusty wind, scattering its light across the Blood Guard standing sentry. As Rune drew nearer to the stone building, she saw that the guard on duty was none other than Laila Creed.
With her spell cloaking her, Rune pulled out a slender silver whistle no wider than a fountain pen from the hidden pocket in her clothes. The same pocket contained her last full vial of blood.
Drawing closer to Laila, she put the cold metal to her lips and blew three short, hard notes. The notes were too high-pitched for Laila’s ears, but Lady heard them immediately.
Lady had once been Nan’s favorite show horse. Nan trained her to respond to different whistled commands, and her obedience had won them dozens of ribbons over the years.
In the darkness, sounding closer than she was, Lady whinnied.
Hearing it, Laila grabbed the pistol at her hip, eyes narrowing. Her gaze bounced off the space where Rune stood and turned toward the sound.
That’s right, thought Rune. Go check. Better to be safe.
Glancing back to the mine’s entryway—a sun-bleached door speckled with lichen—Laila strode hesitantly into the dark.
Rune opened the door and stepped inside.
The entrance to the mine was a small room with wood-paneled walls and two small windows—one of which was broken. The old floorboards shifted beneath her footsteps, and in the center of the floor was a hole big enough for two burly men to drop into. A ladder protruded out of it.
When she peered in, all she could see was darkness below.
Rune frowned, her skin prickling. The Blood Guard had been getting more and more creative with their holding locations, which made it more difficult for Rune to guess where they were keeping captured witches. Normally, though, there were more guards than this.
Crouching, she tried to see down into the first level of the mine and caught a shimmer of light in the distance.
Someone’s there.
Still, Rune hesitated, unable to shake the feeling that something was off. But if Seraphine was down there and Rune walked away right now, they would transfer her to the palace tonight, and Rune might never get another chance to save her.
And if they’d already transferred her …
I’ll just go down and look around.
Rune touched the small knife she’d strapped onto her thigh, drawing courage from its freshly honed steel. With her feet on the rungs, still cloaked by her Ghost Walker spell, she lowered herself into the darkness.
It got colder and damper the lower she went, and the ladder rungs were slick beneath her hands. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she let go and turned into the pitch black, her gaze seeking the warm glow in the distance.
There was a rush of air. Movement in the dark.
The hair on her nape rose. Trap, said her brain, seconds before her body caught up.
Rune spun to grab the ladder and haul herself up, when a hand seized her wrist and clamped down with viselike strength.
“Gotcha.”
Rune swung with her fist, but the darkness made her assailant as invisible as she was, and she missed his face.
Before she could try again, he seized her other wrist and forced her to her knees. Rune quailed at the strength in him as he easily wrestled her to the ground, pressing her cheek into the cold rock and pinning her there with his knees on either side of her hips.
Immobilizing her.
The smell of fresh-cut cedar and gunpowder overwhelmed her.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day.”
The voice was unmistakable.
Gideon.
White-hot anger burned in her breast. He’d set her up. Baited the trap and waited for her to step into it.
I am such a fool.
And now he had her pinned. Defenseless. Exactly where he wanted her.
But how did he see her?
He doesn’t, she realized. This level was so dark, he couldn’t see anything. Neither of them could. He must have heard Rune coming down the ladder.
If she survived this, she would need to tweak her spell to muffle her sound.
“Your friend isn’t here.”
I gathered that, yes, thought Rune, crushed beneath his weight. He’d planted both palms on her shoulder blades, immobilizing her. Her hands were still free, but because of the way he pinned her, she couldn’t use them to reach for her knife.
“Someone got your tongue, little Moth?”
No way was Rune talking. If it was too dark for him to see her, she might still have a chance of keeping her identity intact. She’d have to wait for him to let her up before she tried anything. He couldn’t keep her pinned forever.
And if he has a lamp?
Ghost Walker kept Rune shielded so long as someone didn’t know she was there, by nudging their attention away from her. The spell could try its hardest to force Gideon’s gaze away, but he was sitting on top of Rune. He knew exactly where she was. Her spell could no longer deceive him.
And if Gideon had a lamp, the moment he lit it, all he’d have to do was yank her cowl down and pull back her …
There was the soft hiss of a flare. Then a red glow, like an ember, behind her.
No.
Panic zipped through her.
As the flare sizzled and the glow brightened, he reached for her hood. The moment he pulled it back and set free her hair—a red-gold shade he would instantly recognize—it would mean the end for Rune.
In order to hold the flare and pull back her hood, though, Gideon had to remove his hands from her. With the weight of him gone, Rune was free to reach for the knife strapped to her thigh. So she did.
Her fingers wrapped around the hilt.
He tugged at her hood, sliding it back from her forehead.
Rune drew the knife from its sheath and stabbed hard, not caring where the blade went in, so long as it went in deep.
Gideon howled and rolled off her.
Free, Rune stumbled to her feet and ran.
She’d never been inside a mine. She knew nothing about them. One thing Rune was pretty sure of, though: there was only one way in and out. And she was running in the opposite direction of it.
Rune quickly found the source of the light she’d seen from above: a lamp hanging midway down a narrow tunnel. The ceiling was so low, Rune had to duck to keep from hitting her head on it.
She thought of Verity and Alex. She should have taken their advice. Avoided the Blood Guard captain at all costs.
He hasn’t won yet.
She heard Gideon stumbling behind her, cursing as he closed in. So long as he didn’t catch her, she could still make it out of this.
But if he caught her, she’d go straight to the purge.
That thought made her run faster.
At the end of the illuminated tunnel was another ladder, this one leading to the level below. She didn’t want to go further down, wading deeper into his trap, but as she glanced over her shoulder and sighted a limping Gideon in the distance, neither could she go back.
So down she went.
It was even colder on the level below, and the floor was slick with water. Rune slipped multiple times and had to grope the wall to keep from falling. Without the lamp on the first level, she couldn’t see a thing. Several times she found the way blocked by cave-ins and had to double back.
The water deepened, too, the further in she went.
When Gideon’s boots thudded on the ladder behind her, adrenaline zipped through Rune. Stumbling through the water, she lurched down another tunnel, feeling along the walls, trying to put as much space as possible between herself and the witch hunter.
She stepped into a pool of water and nearly fell straight in. At the last second, she scrambled, throwing her weight back and slamming into the rock wall behind her.
This mine isn’t just caving in on itself, she thought, breathing hard as the damp seeped through her clothes. It’s being swallowed by the sea.
Water flooded this whole level.
In the dark, Rune tried to follow the walls around the flooded hole … and nearly fell in again. There was no lip or ledge. Just a watery, seemingly bottomless, pit. Behind her lay the tunnel she’d come down.
A dead end.
Light flashed, and Rune turned to see Gideon in the tunnel, headed straight for her. He had that flare in his hand, and the closer he came, the more the small cavern she stood in brightened.
Rune glanced around her, trying to think. Her spell was still intact, and since Gideon didn’t know for sure that she was in here, the spellmarks on her wrist would keep working their magic, pushing his attention away from her. Or so she hoped.
But even if it did hold, all Gideon had to do was continue walking and he’d bump right into Rune. There was nowhere for her to go. It was too cramped to dart around him.
Unless …
She eyed the dark pool. The top of a ladder poked up a few inches above the surface, suggesting this hole had once been the entrance to the mine’s third level.
The water was murky, the color of mud. Rune couldn’t see three feet down, never mind the bottom, even with Gideon’s light growing stronger.
Pulling her hood down toward her eyes, Rune stared at the water. It would be cold. Freezing cold. Could she hold her breath long enough to stay hidden? She didn’t know. But if she didn’t want Gideon to catch her, she only had one option. And it was this one.
Reaching down, she grabbed the slippery sides of the ladder and slowly lowered herself in, gasping at the icy temperature.
She descended slowly, not wanting to make too many ripples. As she did, her eyes locked with Gideon’s—or they would have, if he could see her. He glanced right past Rune, scanning the cavern’s shadows.
Relieved, Rune let out a breath.
Ghost Walker was still doing its job. Convincing him she wasn’t here.
He’ll be able to see me as soon as I come up for air, she realized, glancing at the bloody marks on her wrist, knowing the water would wash them away in moments. But what other choice did she have?
Before Gideon closed the gap, Rune sucked in a lungful of air and went under, using the ladder to pull herself as far down as she dared, out of his reach and into the murky water.
She felt the spell weaken the further down she went, then fade entirely.
Rune opened her eyes and looked up, half expecting to be confronted by Gideon’s dark and deadly gaze. Instead, she saw nothing but murk, and the dim glow of his flare in the cavern above.
Rune held herself still.
The cold water slowed her pulse. Soon, her lungs pinched, wanting air. But the glow overhead didn’t recede. He was still in this cavern with her.
Her lungs burned. Rune squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold on a little longer, knowing she only had seconds until her time ran out. When it felt like her chest would burst, she opened her eyes and looked up to find only blackness. Darkness everywhere.
Gideon had taken his flare and left.
She let go of the ladder and surged upward, gasping for breath when she hit the surface.
The moment she did, two firm hands grabbed her and dragged her out.
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TWENTY-THREE RUNE
RUNE BUCKED AGAINST GIDEON, whose arms were locked tight around her, keeping her back pinned to his chest.
“If I didn’t want you dead,” he said, his voice low in her ear, “I’d be tempted to admire your cunning.”
Rune gritted her teeth. I’m flattered.
His flare had died. With no light, she couldn’t see a thing—but she could feel quite a lot.
He was all hard, menacing muscle. There wasn’t an inch of softness in him. With him pressed against her, Rune felt their size difference. One of his hands wrapped easily around her bicep.
His strength, combined with his size, would beat her every time in a physical struggle. So Rune stopped struggling.
She fell still in his arms, catching her breath and trying to regroup.
He was warm as a furnace, and Rune’s body temperature was dropping rapidly. The chill of the water had seeped into her skin, and her wet clothes locked in the cold. But the heat of him staved off the worst of it.
“I’m happy to drag you out of here like this.” Even his breath was hot against her cheek. “But if you’d prefer to walk yourself out, I’ll put on the restraints.”
No way was she letting him put those on her. The restraints the Blood Guard used on witches trapped their entire hands in iron, preventing them from casting spells.
But neither was she letting him drag her out of here.
If Rune knew where her knife had gone in, she could dig the heel of her boot into the wound. That would hurt enough that he might let her go. But without a light, it would be a mere guess, and if she missed the first time, she doubted he’d give her the opportunity for another.
“No preference, then?”
Rune kept her mouth clamped shut, still thinking. She knew the pool of water was directly behind them, and the tunnel directly ahead.
“Suit yourself …”
The moment she felt his grip loosen slightly, Rune planted her feet, bent her knees, and pushed backward with all her might. She heard a huff of surprise. Felt his weight shift as he lost his balance. He staggered back.
Rune had hoped he’d throw his arms wide in his struggle to regain his balance.
Instead, he dragged her down with him.
They fell into the water together.
But Rune was ready for the icy shock. The moment the water closed over her head and Gideon let go, Rune pushed away from him. Her hands patted the walls of the pool until she found the ladder. Grabbing the rungs, she heaved herself out.
Gideon cursed from behind her. She heard the water splash as he swam for the sides of the pool. In seconds, he’d be on her again.
Using the walls to guide her, she ran through the dark tunnel, taking it to the first floor. Far behind her, she heard Gideon’s loud swearing.
Back on the first level, she dashed for the mine’s entrance, following the lamplight. Swinging herself onto the last ladder, she scaled the rungs, climbing upward. She paused at the top, listening for Laila, and heard the girl’s footsteps pacing the ground outside, beyond the door in the room above.
Pulling herself into the small room, Rune approached the broken window and peered out. Beneath the swinging lantern out front, Laila stood in uniform, her pistol cocked on one shoulder as she stared into the darkness beyond.
Rune adjusted her cowl and hood, hiding her face and hair once more, as Gideon’s voice roared from below.
“Laila!”
He sounded much too close.
Laila spun, her footsteps approaching the door.
“She’s in here!”
Gideon was already climbing the ladder. With Laila just outside, Rune was trapped between them.
Rune pressed herself against the wall beside the door, listening to his boots thud against every rung. Getting closer. She squeezed the vial in her hand. She had seconds. If she could quickly redraw the spellmarks for Ghost Walker …
The door swung in and Laila stepped inside.
Rune froze.
Before Laila could realize someone was in the room with her, pressed against the wall, Rune realized this was her one and only chance.
She lunged outside.
Laila spun to face her.
Rune slammed the door shut and wedged herself against it, pushing all of her weight into the wood. Laila pushed from the other side.
The door shuddered.
Gideon would arrive any moment. Rune needed some way to seal it shut long enough to get away. The last time she’d tried Picklock, she’d fainted from the effort. And its sister spell, Deadbolt, would be just as difficult to cast.
If you want to cast more complex spells, Verity’s voice rang through her mind, you need fresh blood.
Rune drew the knife at her thigh. Its sheath had kept it semi-dry, and while some water had leaked in, the blade was still coated in Gideon’s blood. The blood was diluted, but fresh.
She knew it was dangerous—she hadn’t asked his permission to use it, nor would she get permission if she had. But she hadn’t stabbed him intending to use his blood. So maybe it would be okay.
But what if it isn’t?
Laila fired her pistol. Rune winced as the shots cracked through the air and the bullets lodged in the rickety door. A few more shots, and those bullets would break through.
If Rune didn’t cast the spell now, she was done for.
Hoping she wasn’t about to corrupt herself, Rune swiped her fingers through Gideon’s blood, lifted them to the door, and drew the mark for Deadbolt.
Salt prickled her tongue. That roaring sea swelled inside her. But this time, Rune wasn’t standing in the waves, fighting to stay upright while the magic pummeled her back. This time, the waves were beneath her, and she was sailing swiftly through them on a craft of her own making.
Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?
Rune immediately understood why witches used fresh blood; it was so easy.
Beneath the roar of magic, something clicked into place.
This time, it was Gideon who threw himself against the door. She heard him grunt; felt the force of his weight. But the door barely trembled. Deadbolt kept it locked, trapping both Blood Guard soldiers inside.
Rune stumbled back, smiling in triumph.
More shots rang out. Bullets splintered the wood.
Her smile died on her lips.
Rune turned and bolted.
She slid the whistle from her pocket as she ran. Pressing it to her lips, she blew one hard, fierce note. Lady barreled out of the copse and up the dirt road, heading straight for her.
Another shot rang out, and this one whizzed past Rune’s head, rustling her hair. She glanced over her shoulder to find Laila aiming the barrel of her pistol through the broken window.
Lady arrived, slowing a little, and Rune launched herself at the horse’s back, struggling to mount as she trotted beneath her. Finally in the saddle, Rune’s boots in the stirrups, she dug in her heels, letting Lady know this was one of those urgent situations she frequently got them into that Lady needed to now get them out of.
But it was a few seconds before the massive horse could pick up enough speed to carry them out of range.
A third shot rang out. This time, Rune felt the sharp sting of a bullet as it sliced her forearm. Warm, sticky blood seeped out.
She couldn’t afford to stop and check how bad it was. Right now, she needed to steer Lady away from Laila and her stinging bullets.
After that …
Rune stared at the lights of Seldom Harbor on the horizon, trying to think.
Two Blood Guard soldiers had seen the Crimson Moth at the old mine tonight. Rune Winters, therefore, needed to be seen somewhere else. Preferably far away.
She needed to get to the Creeds’ masked ball, and fast.
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