Chapter Thirty-Three

CONSTANTIN FIXED HIS gaze on Vautrin as he gathered more energy from his stumbling victims. “Stop this,” he thundered in a voice impossible to ignore.

Vautrin threw Constantin a sneer and chanted faster. Several of the people collapsed as the red lights under their skin swirled faster. Constantin retched as what they felt shrouded him, and he lurched toward Vautrin. He grabbed the Boar, caging his head in his hands. “You will understand,” he rasped.

With grim resolve, Constantin forced a link between them. He let Vautrin sense what he sensed, the agony of his victims, the terror and fury of the trapped souls, and the terrible emptiness of the soulless men. Vautrin’s eyes widened in a silent scream, and he fell to his knees.

“What have I done?” He clutched at his hair, staring with wide, horrified eyes at his victims. For a moment, sanity reflected in his eyes. Then he saw a youth cowering in hiding and screamed. “Non…non! I will destroy them.”

He lurched to his feet and ran, stumbling toward the entrance to the tunnels beneath.

Michel-Leon walked over to Constantin and laid his hand on his shoulder. Constantin felt bolstered by the quiet support. “You didn’t kill him.”

Constantin shook his head. “He had to know what he’d done.” Gesturing helplessly to the wounded people sinking to the ground, he continued, “Vautrin had to understand the consequences and live with it.”

They hurt so badly, worse than Gabrielle’s pain, and again amplified by the fact there were so many. Constantin felt his knees give out, and he hit the ground hard as he fought to keep all those screaming souls from overwhelming him. With it came the hunger to feed again. The dark side of him that had fed off Nightingale whispered seductively. All those souls already trapped, stolen from their bodies. With that power, he could do so much. He could destroy the nest with his mind alone.

“Feed. Feed. Feed.”

Constantin shook his head violently, fighting off that voice as well.

Michel-Leon knelt in front of him, his handsome face concerned as he talked earnestly to him with words Constantin didn’t understand past the trauma enveloping him. Michel-Leon believed in him even when Constantin hadn’t believed in himself. He had to show them both the faith wasn’t misplaced. Constantin had to do it for Gabrielle and all the children victimized by magicmen. He would not become one of them.

He turned away from Michel-Leon and reached his hand out toward the wounded souls. Vautrin hadn’t had a chance to transfer the stolen bits of them to the ship yet. He gathered them to him as the hunger snapped with vicious teeth. He poured the energy back into the people, healing the ragged edges of their spiritual wounds as he went, and the hunger disappeared under the gentle warmth of healing.

Constantin sagged back on his heels as the warmth vanished. He felt scooped out and cleansed but exhausted from his efforts. Michel-Leon eased him down until he was sitting on the floor. “What did you do?” he asked as the people next to them cried with tears of joy and disbelief as they struggled to their feet.

“I healed them.” Constantin turned his troubled gaze on the ship. It was a thing of beauty, meticulously made and dark with stolen power.

“You are an amazing man.” Michel-Leon clambered to his feet and glanced toward the dark hole of the ship. “What about Raul? Vautrin’s grandson. He’s hiding around here.”

Constantin couldn’t be sure if he’d been among the number of souls he’d healed. “I’ll check on him,” he promised as Régine called their names from outside.

“I’ll get her and the soldiers,” Lyon said with a grim glare around the ramshackle building Vautrin used for the headquarters. “Then we’ll end this.”

“I need to deal with Vautrin and destroy the nest. Lyon should stay with you. I don’t think you’d be able to handle yourself in a fight,” Michel-Leon said as he helped Constantin to his feet and waited until he’d steadied his legs.

Constantin tore his grim gaze away from the ship long enough to give Michel-Leon a reassuring smile. He caught Michel-Leon’s arm and gave it a squeeze, trying to convey the depth of his emotions. “Be careful. Come back to me.” He thrust his chin out toward the ship. “I have to deal with that. Make sure the souls get released. The longer they are trapped there, the more they are warped.”

Michel-Leon squeezed his arm back. “You be careful too.”

Régine came in on Lyon’s heels and eyed them both. “There are no more soulless men swarming around outside.” Her fingers flexed on her bloodied sword. “Where’s Vautrin and the nest? Are we ready to end this?”

“I’m staying here,” Constantin replied to her. “There’s still work to be done. You two better come back soon.”

Régine touched his cheek, her eyes brilliant. “I’ll see you soon, brother.”

Michel-Leon gave him a tight smile and nodded at Lyon. “I’m leaving some soldiers and volunteers with you. Do what you can to get answers out of our victims and guard him.”

Constantin watched them go, carrying fresh-lit torches. He longed to go with him, to be by Michel-Leon’s side when he faced the creature that had been one of the root causes of the downfall of the chevaliers. But they needed him here more.

He turned toward the ship and glanced down at a small cry under the table. A boy, no older than Constantin was when he’d faced the streets, tried to scurry away, whimpering in fear. Vautrin had twisted the boy’s face into the strange shape of the soulless, but he didn’t appear inhuman. Tears leaked from his oddly shaped eyes as Constantin crouched down. This must be Raul.

“S’il vous plaît, don’t hurt me.” His words came out garbled from the misshapen mouth, but they were clearly words.

“He’s the old man’s grandson,” a prisoner cried out. “Seize him. Make him pay.”

Constantin put himself between them and their prey. “Go home, all of you. Free the other prisoners, and go home. The chevalier and soldiers will deal with him.”

It took some more convincing, but the remaining soldiers got involved and urged them on. Constantin looked down at the boy, who eyed him in terror. He had found a small opening between stacked materials and wedged himself in there. Constantin reached out with his senses. The child’s soul was intact, and he suspected the changes to his face could be reversed, given time.

“I won’t hurt you. I won’t turn you over to them,” Constantin soothed. “The chevalier will have questions for you, but don’t be afraid of him. He’s good. He’s been worried about you.”

Tears ran runnels down the boy’s dirty cheeks. “Grandpère is sick.”

“I know,” Constantin replied heavily. “I need to undo some of his damage. Can I trust you not to run, or do I need to make sure my friends guard you?”

“I won’t run,” the boy whispered.

“What’s your name? I’m Constantin.” As much as Constantin could tell, the boy had been altered through the sacrifice of Vautrin’s own personal energy, one not tainted by blood magic. He must’ve been one of the first. Maybe even as an attempt to protect him from the mists, but he wouldn’t be able to test for sure until after he’d dealt with the ship. The call was too strong.

“Raul.”

Constantin nodded and turned back to the ship with half-closed eyes. Through his senses, he could see the souls struggling to escape, pushing against a barrier that made it appear as if the metal rippled. The screaming impression of faces bulging out only to be sucked back in, eddied throughout the structure. Constantin reached out his hands to feel for any weaknesses in the barrier. He drilled a mental hole into a softer spot and called for the newest prisoners, the ones they’d been too late to save. They slipped out and vanished as they were put to rest.

He widened the hole and stretched out more. The deeper he went in, the harder they fought back, converging on him instead of on the escape route—the souls who wanted to break free and wreak vengeance on everyone still living, the ones who tried to twist him in return, believing he was Vautrin.

Sweat popped out on Constantin’s brow as he struggled to funnel them on. Several broke free and surrounded him, dark wraiths with distorted faces. “Use us,” they hissed, their words sinking into Constantin’s brain like parasites. “Use us. Use our power. Make him pay. Make him understand.”

Constantin rocked his head violently, trying to stave off the insidious whispers that hit at his darkest desires. Vautrin did deserve to pay. Realizing what he’d done and escaping into insanity once again was not enough to atone for his crimes. The hunger awoke, yearning to take what they so freely offered, to use the energy of their souls to hurt Vautrin.

This was different. This wasn’t like Nightingale. These souls were sacrificing themselves for a greater cause. With their energy, he’d never have to hide in the shadows. People would hide from him.

The thought jerked him out of the temptation of the dark souls. Sickened by his reaction, Constantin came back to his body to find Lyon right beside him, his hand on Constantin’s arm. That was not the life he wanted at all. He couldn’t take care of Gabrielle if he was that kind of a man.

“I will be fine.” He drew himself up and faced his tormentors, who still circled around him. “Go, leave this plane.”

They hissed again and rushed at him. Constantin threw up his hands in an instinctive shield. More and more dark souls broke through the crack and surrounded him. The whispers ate into his brain. They swiped at him with mental claws, opening real gashes that bled. The world around him fell away again as he fought back.

Instinctively, he struck back, but it made the hunger worse, the temptation to take what they offered. Sensing his weakness, they pressed closer, sinking into him, whispering promises that called to the darkest parts of his soul. Constantin curled into a ball, covering his head with his arms, and they attacked again. Most of the barrage he deflected with a shield, but every one that got through weakened him further.

Constantin struggled to hold on to his sanity and sense of self. He brought to mind the best memories of Michel-Leon, Régine, and Gabrielle. The warmth in Michel-Leon’s eyes when he told Constantin he loved him. Why hadn’t Constantin said the same in return? He had to survive. He had to tell Michel-Leon. The wonder and gratitude in Gabrielle’s expression after he had healed her soul of the damage the magicman had wrecked. The affection in Régine’s gaze when she had called him her brother.

Michel-Leon’s voice came back to him. “We will find a way. You won’t be doomed. You can fight this. You can find a way. The fey kissed are meant to be soul healers. So do that. Heal, don’t destroy.”

Constantin lifted his head and fixed his gaze on his closest tormentors. They drew back and hissed, sensing his resolve. He pulled himself to his feet, swaying as he recalled what he did with Gabrielle. Throwing out his hands, he caught the closest and most twisted in a blanket of light enveloping the corrupted souls with his own energy. The souls called to him, filling him with the overwhelming need to heal and pushing back the hunger. The call became everything, blotting out the pain of his wounds. He filled them with the light, and the twisted, stunted remnants grew strong and whole again.

They passed on, leaving a sense of gratitude, and Constantin moved on to the next victims. He was aware on one level of a trembling exhaustion, but the need to heal pushed him further as the link between his mind and his body became tenuous.

Then the last soul was gone, and Constantin snapped back to his body and fell to the ground, gasping for air. The foreman crouched beside him, slapping at his cheeks. “Constantin! Constantin! Snap out of it.” Lyon leaned over him, his expression concerned as Constantin focused his gaze on him. “I thought we lost you.”

Constantin drew in a shuddering breath and filled air-starved lungs. Chaotic activity surrounded them. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. You went into a trance.” Lyon gave him a troubled look. “Something we couldn’t see was hurting you, but we couldn’t get to you. There was a barrier around you.”

“Some of us saw things.” One of the crew handed Constantin a flask, and he gulped the fiery brew thankfully. Another dabbed at his wounds with a damp handkerchief. The gashes stung, but he didn’t think the wounds were too bad. “Spooks. Then whatever was being built over there crumbled.”

Constantin nodded and handed back the flask before struggling to his feet with their help. “There were many spirits haunting here, courtesy of Vautrin. They have passed on.” Constantin looked around the ruined work yard. The wondrous ship had sustained damage, but perhaps he could fix it. It would be a marvel to fly to the stars.

“Did we rescue anyone?” Constantin asked as he pawed through the pile of sketches and intriguing diagrams. Some showed the ship, others unique inventions. He’d take them all and study them when things calmed.

“Oui, monsieur,” Lyon reported. “There were near a hundred people locked up in pens in the ruins. More that escaped when their captors deserted them.”

“Good.” Constantin crouched and discovered Raul still hidden among the materials, curled into a ball as small as he could make himself. Michel-Leon would want to talk with him. “Come on out. It’s safe. There are no more monsters here to scare you.”

Raul eyed him for a long moment with wary eyes. “The voices say I can trust you,” he finally whispered. “Am I crazy like grandpère?”

“Non.” Constantin shook his head and held out his hand. “You are a chevalier, like my friend. The voices are your gift if you use them correctly. Michel-Leon will help you.”

Raul grimaced. “Grandpère says the chevaliers are all bad. But I met one once. He seemed nice.” A tic in his cheek spasmed. “Grandpère is bad.”

“But not you.” Constantin gave him a reassuring smile. “Come, I’ll take you to the chevalier.”

After another long moment, Raul crawled out. He was filthy and undernourished, but Michel-Leon would be elated to see him alive. Constantin laid a hand on Raul’s shoulder and then looked around for his lover. “Where is Michel-Leon? Have he and Régine returned?”