restraining her, whereupon he made a face at what he saw. “No, letme guess. A wartremedy? If I were you, I suppose I would be equally desperate.”
He didn’t seem impelled by any sense of urgency. But as he spoke, he discreetly flicked together his thumb and middle finger, the motion almost hidden by the folds of his cloak. A single green spark flew from his fingertips. Nothing else happened.
“Can’t cast a spell on my knife.” The man’s coarse voice vibrated against Elisabeth’sback. He sounded pleased with himself. “It’s pure iron. Made sure of that.”
“Well, you can’t blame me for trying.” Nathaniel’s gaze drifted toward the alleyway, casually, then back to them. “The alternative causes such a mess. Blood is impossible to get out of silk, and I can’t tell you how many times my servant has had to wash questionable stains from this cloak.”
A soft, resigned sigh camefrom very close nearby. Her captor flinched and yanked her around toward the source, but no one was there: only a dim expanse of empty street, littered with discarded newspapers.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost count,” said Silas’s whispering voice directly behind them. The ghost of a breath fluttered Elisabeth’s hair.
Her captor spun again, but once more, he was met with nothing. Elisabeth felt his heartpounding through his shirt. The blade trembled in his slippery grip. An image floated to the surface of her mind, like a drowned, ghostly flower rising from a deep pool: Silas standing in a dark wood, his hands folded behind his back. But that hadn’t actually happened, had it? She had seen it in a dream.
“Stay back,” the man warned. “If you make a move, I’ll cut her. Don’t matter to me whethershe lives or dies. And I’m not alone, neither—”
“You never did explain to me what some of those stains were, master,” Silas said.
“Best if I leave that to your imagination,” Nathaniel replied.
“Where the bloody hell are you?” her captor roared, and then his roar turned into a scream. Both the knife and the hand fell away at once, and Elisabeth stumbled forward; but Nathaniel was there, andhe caught her before she fell.
She gagged and spat on the ground, desperate to rid the man’s taste from her mouth. “There are more,” she gasped, “more men, in the alley.”
“I’m truly sorry to have to tell you this, for both our sakes,” Nathaniel said, “but those are not men.”
As if in agreement, a growl shuddered through the dark. A shadow detached itself from the mouth of the alley and prowledinto the glow cast by the faraway streetlamps. The light delineated a long, snarling muzzle, much too large to belong to a dog. Slit-shaped nostrils flared as they scented the air. Steam gusted from them on the exhale. A pair of horns emerged next, curved and frontward-pointed. Mist flowed over black scales, shifting as powerful muscles bunched beneath them. Not a man—and not an animal, either.
“They are demons,” she whispered.
“Lesser demons. Fiends.” Nathaniel glanced behind them. “Highly illegal to summon, in part because they’ll do practically anything for the promise of a . . . oh, never mind.”
“The promise of a what?”
Nathaniel winced. “A meal. That charming gentleman with the knife probably told them they’d get to eat you.”
Given what she knew about demons, Elisabeth wasn’tsurprised. As the fiend came fully into view, ribs strained against its starved-looking sides. Vertebrae bulged from its spine likeknuckles. It resembled a huge, gaunt hound that had been skinned and armored in scales.
Before she could reply, two more of the creatures prowled into sight, cutting her and Nathaniel off from the route that led past the lodging house. Their breath fogged the air,and their narrow eyes shone red. Whinnies rang out as the horses spooked, but the fiends’ attention didn’t waver, fixed hungrily on Elisabeth.
Silently, Nathaniel nodded toward the building. She caught his
He didn’t seem impelled by any sense of urgency. But as he spoke, he discreetly flicked together his thumb and middle finger, the motion almost hidden by the folds of his cloak. A single green spark flew from his fingertips. Nothing else happened.
“Can’t cast a spell on my knife.” The man’s coarse voice vibrated against Elisabeth’sback. He sounded pleased with himself. “It’s pure iron. Made sure of that.”
“Well, you can’t blame me for trying.” Nathaniel’s gaze drifted toward the alleyway, casually, then back to them. “The alternative causes such a mess. Blood is impossible to get out of silk, and I can’t tell you how many times my servant has had to wash questionable stains from this cloak.”
A soft, resigned sigh camefrom very close nearby. Her captor flinched and yanked her around toward the source, but no one was there: only a dim expanse of empty street, littered with discarded newspapers.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost count,” said Silas’s whispering voice directly behind them. The ghost of a breath fluttered Elisabeth’s hair.
Her captor spun again, but once more, he was met with nothing. Elisabeth felt his heartpounding through his shirt. The blade trembled in his slippery grip. An image floated to the surface of her mind, like a drowned, ghostly flower rising from a deep pool: Silas standing in a dark wood, his hands folded behind his back. But that hadn’t actually happened, had it? She had seen it in a dream.
“Stay back,” the man warned. “If you make a move, I’ll cut her. Don’t matter to me whethershe lives or dies. And I’m not alone, neither—”
“You never did explain to me what some of those stains were, master,” Silas said.
“Best if I leave that to your imagination,” Nathaniel replied.
“Where the bloody hell are you?” her captor roared, and then his roar turned into a scream. Both the knife and the hand fell away at once, and Elisabeth stumbled forward; but Nathaniel was there, andhe caught her before she fell.
She gagged and spat on the ground, desperate to rid the man’s taste from her mouth. “There are more,” she gasped, “more men, in the alley.”
“I’m truly sorry to have to tell you this, for both our sakes,” Nathaniel said, “but those are not men.”
As if in agreement, a growl shuddered through the dark. A shadow detached itself from the mouth of the alley and prowledinto the glow cast by the faraway streetlamps. The light delineated a long, snarling muzzle, much too large to belong to a dog. Slit-shaped nostrils flared as they scented the air. Steam gusted from them on the exhale. A pair of horns emerged next, curved and frontward-pointed. Mist flowed over black scales, shifting as powerful muscles bunched beneath them. Not a man—and not an animal, either.
“They are demons,” she whispered.
“Lesser demons. Fiends.” Nathaniel glanced behind them. “Highly illegal to summon, in part because they’ll do practically anything for the promise of a . . . oh, never mind.”
“The promise of a what?”
Nathaniel winced. “A meal. That charming gentleman with the knife probably told them they’d get to eat you.”
Given what she knew about demons, Elisabeth wasn’tsurprised. As the fiend came fully into view, ribs strained against its starved-looking sides. Vertebrae bulged from its spine likeknuckles. It resembled a huge, gaunt hound that had been skinned and armored in scales.
Before she could reply, two more of the creatures prowled into sight, cutting her and Nathaniel off from the route that led past the lodging house. Their breath fogged the air,and their narrow eyes shone red. Whinnies rang out as the horses spooked, but the fiends’ attention didn’t waver, fixed hungrily on Elisabeth.
Silently, Nathaniel nodded toward the building. She caught his
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