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Distraction

DISTRACTION

2 April 2059

The first drop was on the steps. My sixth sense abruptly sharpened, and I looked down to see a glowing spot, right next to my boot.

A trail of mud and blood led me upstairs. I followed it into the parlour, then up to the bedchamber.

Warden was out cold. He had attempted to draw the curtains around his bed. Now one of them lay on the floor, along with his boots and a black jerkin.

As I waited for any sign of life, I picked up the jerkin, finding it heavier than I had expected. From what I could tell, squares of metal had been sewn into the lining, but they hadn’t saved him. Half the fastenings hung loose, while the others were gone.

‘Warden,’ I said.

No reply.

I put the jerkin on a chair. Before I decided what to do, I had to check how bad it was.

He was on his back, wearing the remains of a dark shirt. The sheets covered him to the chest, already stuck to him with light. Intending to take a pulse, I reached for the side of his neck, just where it met his jaw.

Before I could, a gloved hand caught my wrist. I tensed as I locked eyes with Warden.

‘You.’ His voice was thick and raw. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I live here,’ I reminded him.

‘You usually spend more time in the Rookery.’

‘Not tonight.’ I held still. ‘Go on. Tell me this is all in my head.’

Warden released my wrist. I scooted out of reach, my heart thumping.

‘You’ve bled all over the place,’ I said. ‘What happened to you?’

‘Nothing of your concern.’ He did his level best to sit up, only to fall back into the pillows, grasping his side. ‘Though you may … stay to watch me suffer, if you wish. No doubt you will enjoy it.’

His throat was glazed with sweat. I wanted to give him a tart reply, but instead, I nodded to his shirt. ‘You need to get that off the wounds.’

‘I am aware.’

‘So do it,’ I said flatly. His grip on his side tightened. ‘Fine. I will.’

‘No.’

‘Look, I can’t stand you, Reph. But if you die, I don’t know what will happen to me, and my life has already been turned upside down,’ I said in an undertone. ‘Patch yourself up or let me do it.’

Warden returned my gaze with defiance, dark circles etched under his eyes.

‘If you don’t need me, you must think someone else is coming. Where are they?’ I pressed. ‘Are you sure they’ll get here in time?’

His eyes closed.

‘Fetch water and salt,’ he said, defeated. ‘Look in the display case.’

In the parlour, I found a salt cellar and a spoon, along with linen. I set them up on his nightstand. Next, I brought a bowl of steaming water.

‘You must wear gloves,’ Warden said, trying to sit up again. His movements were laboured. ‘It is … strictly forbidden for us to make direct physical contact.’

‘Your gloves are too big for me.’

‘Do as I say.’

Reluctantly, I did. As I picked up the gloves, I noticed something else in the drawer.

A letter opener.

The sight of its sharp tip gave me pause. Last time, I had decided that saving Warden was in my best interests. Now all that reason was leaving my head, chased away by the gleam of a weapon.

Warden was clearly too weak to stand. This might be the last time he was at my mercy. I had thrown away one good chance to get rid of him. No criminal worth her salt would miss two.

Suddenly the gloves were on, and the letter opener was in my grasp. All the anger I had stowed was surfacing with every breath. Nashira had destroyed my life. I could teach her how that felt. If she was going to execute me, I would take her consort first.

‘Do it.’

I paused.

‘Cold steel cannot kill the deathless.’ His gaze burned into my back. ‘Even if you drove that blade into my heart, it would not cease to beat. But if you wish to try, by all means, vent your gall.’

A silence fell, thickening by the moment.

‘You’re bluffing,’ I said, keeping my voice low. ‘We both know you couldn’t stop me. You can’t even clean your own wounds.’

‘That may be so, but my point stands. Ask yourself,’ he said. ‘If weapons of human making could harm us, would we arm the red-jackets?’

I considered that question, the haze clearing.

‘If I succumb to these wounds, you will be given to a member of the Sargas family,’ Warden said. ‘Know this before you make your choice.’

My nape prickled. After a long moment, I put the letter opener back.

There was the Pale Dreamer, rearing her head in the wrong place again. Even flirting with the idea had been madness. I hated Warden, but he was the lesser of two evils. Thuban would snap me in half.

‘If I help you,’ I said, ‘will you forget this?’

‘You stayed your hand,’ Warden said. ‘There is nothing to forget.’

‘Good.’

I returned to his bedside. Slumped against the headboard, he reached for his shirt, pulling it away from one broad shoulder. I soaked a cloth and leaned in to examine the slash there, which ran under his collarbone. It reeked of something rotten and metallic.

‘Either you’ve somehow wrestled a bear,’ I said, ‘or this was the work of a Buzzer.’

‘As the performers call our enemies of old.’

I sat on the edge of the bed. ‘You didn’t wake up last time.’

‘Those were puncture wounds.’

‘This slash is still quite deep.’ I looked closer. ‘It needs stitches.’

‘For the time being, purging with salt will suffice.’

‘You’ll bleed out.’

‘No. It is a corruption in my body that imperils me at present. Rest assured, the salt will help.’

‘If you say so.’ I glanced at his drawn face. ‘Will I start, then?’

Warden gave me a nod.

I squeezed hot water into the laceration. His muscles hardened, and the tendons of his hand pushed out, visible through the back of his glove.

‘Sorry,’ I said, then regretted it. I should be savouring this chance to make him feel our pain.

Warden watched me blot the wound. His blood seeped like honey. The way it sharpened my senses was distracting and calming at once.

As I wet the cloth again, I remembered the first time he came back in this state. I looked towards the window. The curtains were open.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ Warden said.

I stilled. ‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘As if you’re interested in my life.’

‘I am, else I would not have asked.’ He was remarkably calm, all things considered. ‘Should you pass your second test, you will stay with me for good, unless I see fit to evict you. I know the crime that brought you here, but I trust there is more to you, Paige Mahoney. If not, I made a poor choice in claiming you.’

‘I never asked to be claimed.’

‘True.’

The glow in his eyes had faded. I kept flushing the wound, not bothering to be gentle.

‘You are Irish,’ Warden said. ‘From which region?’

He really was keen for a chat. I doubted I had a choice in the matter.

‘Munster,’ I said. ‘I was born in Clonmel.’ I soaked and wrung the linen. ‘My father worked in Dublin, so my grandparents raised me on their dairy farm. We had a quiet life until Scion invaded. Come to think of it, I have your consort to thank for that.’

‘Yes. The Sargas deemed Ireland ripe for the taking. Inquisitor Mayfield enacted their will. He wanted to live up to the legacy of the Balkan Incursion, which brought four territories into Scion.’

‘I know.’ I dealt him a hard look. ‘I can’t get this one any cleaner. Where next?’

Warden loosened the ties of his shirt and drew his other sleeve down some way, revealing several more slashes. This was going to take a while.

‘You have known war, then,’ he said. ‘How did you come to be here?’

‘You must know this,’ I said, impatient. ‘It’s in the database.’

‘Humour me.’

From the way he was looking at me, I could almost convince myself he cared. I dipped a new cloth and held it to his skin.

‘My father was a forensic pathologist. He did a lot of work for the Gardaí,’ I said. ‘Scion conscripted him during the second year of the Molly Riots. They wanted him to help research the root cause of unnaturalness, among other things. By that point, it was obvious that Ireland was fighting a losing battle, even if the rebels didn’t know it. Cathal Bell arranged our safe passage to London.’

Saying that name was difficult. It burned like poison in my craw.

‘I see,’ Warden said. ‘Did your father know you were clairvoyant?’

‘I imagine he does now.’ I dabbed along the first mark. ‘He’s amaurotic. He thinks it’s an illness.’

‘That must have been difficult.’

‘Yes.’ I sat back. ‘Are these wounds necrotic?’

‘In a sense.’

‘Then salt isn’t going to help. Half your arm needs debriding.’

‘That would be the case if I were human.’ He never took his eyes off me. ‘So you were forced to come to London. What of your grandparents?’

‘They stayed behind.’

Warden regarded me. I kept my face just as blank, even as my chest ached.

‘You have mentioned one parent,’ he said, once I was on the lowest slash, near the crease of his elbow. ‘Do you have another?’

I should have expected this. It had always been an interrogation, couched in false curiosity. He was lulling me into letting my guard down.

‘My mother died when I was born. Placental abruption,’ I said. ‘In case you were thinking of getting her, too.’ I put the cloth down. ‘Where now?’

Warden glanced away. I followed the blood to a new source, realising.

‘Right.’ I pushed my curls back. ‘You need to take your shirt off.’

‘I cannot move enough to do that.’

‘I’ll have to cut it, then.’

‘Do as you will. I will clearly not be wearing it again.’

With a nod, I retrieved the letter opener. When I had it, I sat back down and pulled the front of his shirt taut. Turning the blade, I let the tip rest at the hollow of his throat.

Warden watched me, apparently undaunted. Brushing aside the loose ties below his collar, I sliced the shirt. The gloves and the dull edge made it hard, but I managed to get down to his last rib.

All the while, I avoided his gaze. I was close enough that I should have been able to hear and see him breathing, but Rephs must only need aura.

I started to peel the shirt away from the remaining wounds. His muscular chest was split open, the skin raked as if with a pitchfork.

Rephs were strong. If he was this hurt, surely humans stood no chance.

‘These are the last,’ he said. ‘I believe.’

I scrunched more linen into the water. ‘Did the Buzzer rip that armour off you?’

‘Yes. No armour can withstand them for long, but I suspect it was expressing its displeasure at my attempt to thwart it.’

‘They’re intelligent, then.’

‘To a degree.’ His pupils dilated. ‘Perhaps you will indulge another question. When did your gift first make itself known?’

I wished I could end this farce and tell him my life was none of his business, but our proximity gave me a chance to look for weak spots on his body.

‘When I was nine, a poltergeist attacked me,’ I finally said. ‘In the months after it happened, I had a recurring dream – at least, I thought it was a dream. I saw a field of red flowers. The farther I ran, the darker it became. Every night I would go farther.’

I started on the lowest gouge, which ran along the solid muscle of his waist, right beneath his chest. He no longer tensed under my touch.

So far, he looked human. Other than his eyes, the only difference was that dull sheen to his skin. Then again, I could only see so much of him. Even in this state, he wore those gloves.

‘One day, I was at the edge of the field. In the dream, I jumped,’ I said. ‘I stepped over the edge, and everything went dark. I woke up in intensive care. Apparently I had sleepwalked out of my room, then just … stopped breathing. My father rushed me to hospital. I was home the next day, and it somehow got buried. I really don’t know how I wasn’t detected.’

‘Your medical files show no record of that incident.’

‘Well, thanks for that invasion of my privacy.’

I pressed hard on the wound. A rough sound scraped his throat.

‘Perhaps I deserved that,’ he said.

‘You did.’ I hooked my hair behind my ear again, the gloves making it difficult. ‘I must have slipped out of my body. After that, I was afraid of the void. I never went near the edge again.’

‘Until the night of your arrest,’ Warden finished. I nodded. ‘The poltergeist gave you the scars on your palm.’

‘Yes.’ I moved to the next slash. This one was deeper. ‘I think it woke my gift a few years early. I’ve heard that can happen.’

‘Hm. And from whom did you hear this, I wonder?’

Now I was treading dangerous waters. I couldn’t let on that I was involved in the syndicate.

‘I’ve had voyant friends,’ I said offhandedly. ‘Most of them went to the gallows.’

‘I see.’

‘Speaking of which,’ I said, ‘did you ask Nashira about my life support?’

‘She denied my request. My consort is confident you can make do without it.’

‘I suppose we’ll find out.’

Warden was mercifully silent as I cleaned the rest of the gashes. By now, his hair was stuck to his forehead, sweat pouring off his skin. I tried not to think about the life support. Instead, I distracted myself with the task at hand, which took all my concentration.

Once I was done, I got a towel from the bathroom and bundled it against his side, holding it in place with a bolster. With sore hands, I took off his gloves and placed them on the nightstand.

‘That’s as much as I can do,’ I said. ‘I’ll ask the porter to send a message to Nashira.’

‘No,’ Warden said.

There was a long silence.

‘You’re her consort,’ I said. ‘She’ll want to know you’re hurt.’

Warden held my gaze. I stood and walked to the bay window.

‘Both times you’ve come back like this, there’s been fog. You didn’t want to be seen.’ I glanced at him. ‘Whatever you’re doing, you’re not supposed to be doing it, are you?’

He pressed the wadding to his wounds as best he could. ‘She may question you about me,’ he said. ‘Perhaps not yet, but soon.’

I went back to him, my boots loud on the wooden floor, and leaned against the bedpost with a smile.

‘Well,’ I said. ‘That’s interesting.’

Warden clenched his jaw.

‘You have a talent for finding me in delicate situations,’ he said. ‘If not for your quick thinking on the first occasion, and your presence here now, I would have succumbed. I owe you a debt.’

‘I gave you my reasons. Never think I’m helping you out of the kindness of my heart.’

‘If you truly wish to hurt me, you could report this to Nashira.’

‘Or you could owe me a favour. For the debt,’ I said, ‘and to keep me quiet.’ I dropped the smile. ‘Make it a good one, and I might be persuaded to keep my mouth shut about your … excursions.’

Warden suddenly looked as if he were seeing me for the first time. I thought I saw a flicker of utter repugnance in his eyes.

Either that or grudging admiration. Hard to tell on a face like that, carved and emotionless.

‘So you are an opportunist,’ he said. ‘How venturesome of you, to blackmail your keeper. One might question the wisdom of it.’

‘Set me free, and I’ll have no reason to rat on you.’

‘Name another price, and I will weigh the cost of paying it.’

I should have known my freedom was too much to ask.

‘I’m not convinced you’ll be around to pay it, at this rate.’ I folded my arms. ‘You don’t look any better. What do you need?’

‘You have wits enough to know.’

When I realised what he meant, I stepped back. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘Do not fear. Your rank as a pink-jacket prohibits me from feeding on you,’ Warden said. ‘We afford this courtesy to humans who conform. Instead, give me your solemn oath that you will keep these events to yourself. In return, I will grant your favour.’

His jaw was locking. I made him wait some time for my answer.

‘I don’t know how much my oath is worth to you, solemn or otherwise,’ I finally said, ‘but I won’t tell anyone.’ I turned away. ‘Don’t sleep too easy, Warden. I’ll start thinking of my favour.’

‘I would expect nothing less, Paige.’

He really did hate me. I could hear it in his voice, tight with dislike.

In the parlour, the clock struck the hour. Before I could march out of the bedchamber, Pleione Sualocin swept into it, a man in grey behind her. They both stopped dead at the sight of me.

At first, I thought the man was amaurotic, from his tunic. Then I noticed his gentle aura – the aura of an unreadable, a voyant whose dreamscape had collapsed and regrown with thick armour. I slowly looked over my shoulder, disgust rising in my gut.

‘You may go,’ Warden said.

So that was why he could last without my aura. I went back to his bedside and leaned in close, looking him straight in the eyes.

‘Next time,’ I said softly, ‘I hope you bleed to death in the fucking woods.’

Warden raised his chin. I walked out.

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