Griffin
I sat on the hard concrete floor of the poor farm’s jail, my body aching and my heart thumping against my ribs. All the corrupted who had been imprisoned here last night were gone, and I was alone. My hands were tied behind my back, although I had no means of picking the lock on the cell door even if I’d been free. The small, barred window, set high above my head, was too tiny to crawl through.
Every inch of me ached from the beating I’d received. Each movement I made found some new pain, from the deep bruises in my back to the sharp sting as hair matted into blood pulled against the wound in my scalp. Even so, nothing seemed to be broken, and I still had all of my teeth. Doubtless I had Iskander’s intervention to thank for escaping as lightly as I had.
Iskander. A part of me wished he’d run and left me to my fate. They’d dragged him away when we arrived at the poor farm, taking him in the direction of the main house. What they’d done with him there, I didn’t know and feared to find out. Equally, I feared to discover what they had planned for me. No one had tried to feed me any of the corrupted food, but surely it was only a matter of time. And when they did...then what? Would Creigh send me back to the Reynolds farm? Turn me into a weapon against my Ival?
I couldn’t allow it. But how could I prevent it? Would the corruption let me warn him, or would Creigh compel me to silence? To wait until we were alone, until he was vulnerable, and then strike?
Ma had tried to prevent Vernon from bringing me here. I clung to that fact as tightly as I could.
Vernon. He’d told me I’d pay for what I’d done, in the same words the corrupted had used. There had to be a connection.
Ma thought God had inspired him to drill for water in the fallow place. Thanks to Delancey’s letter and photos, I already knew the Fideles were behind it, but I’d assumed Vernon ignorant of their true nature. But what if he wasn’t? What if he knew everything?
It would explain why none of the corrupted corn from the field had found its way onto their table. Why he’d made sure to keep the house garden on the old well only.
But Marian was corrupted. Had there been some kind of mistake? Did he even know?
Or perhaps I was wrong. I didn’t want to believe it of him. Didn’t want to think the little boy who had hidden beneath a table with me, or played at soldiers in his yard, would willingly do such a thing.
There came the rattle of a key in the door. I stilled, waiting, and a moment later Mrs. Creigh stepped in.
Sorcery left a mark on those who practiced it. There was a light burning in her eyes—a mere flicker compared to Whyborne’s incandescence, but enough for my shadowsight to perceive. She had touched the arcane, had bent the world to her will.
“Let us go,” I said, before she could speak. “If you know what happened in Widdershins last July, then you know Whyborne isn’t an enemy you want to make. Neither is Christine, for that matter.”
Creigh tilted her head to one side. “Mr. Delancey believed the Fideles made a mistake. That we should have followed the Cabal’s lead and recruited Dr. Whyborne instead of his brother.”
Could I possibly get some useful information from her? It seemed worth a try. “Whyborne wasn’t recruited by the Cabal,” I said. “They were in touch with him through one of their members, nothing more.”
“I’m quite aware of the situation, Mr. Flaherty. Many of the sorcerers in the Cabal also belong to the Fideles.” She arched a brow at my surprise. “Really, where do you think most sorcerers get their power and knowledge from?”
“The Man in the Woods,” I said numbly. God. I should have thought of it before. “Reverend Scarrow was killed by one of the Cabal, wasn’t he? Someone he trusted?”
“Probably.” She shrugged. “His death unsettled Mr. Delancey—who was himself both a member of the Cabal and the Fideles. I should have recognized it as a sign of weakness and had him dealt with before his case of cold feet became terminal. At first I cursed Odell for not dealing with him quickly enough, for giving us away.” Her mouth twitched into a smile that sent a wash of cold down my back. “Now I realize it was an opportunity.”
“You mean to corrupt Whyborne,” I said, ashes in my mouth. “You gave Miss Norton the pumpkin, didn’t you? And now you mean to use me as bait.”
“Yes, yes.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But I’m not here because of Dr. Whyborne. I’m far more interested in you.” She cocked her head. “Why is it that Mrs. Harper is so very insistent we not infect you?”
No. She couldn’t be saying what I thought. “Marian?”
But Marian was corrupted. Marian was a victim of what the Fideles had wrought.
Wasn’t she?
“I could insist, of course,” Creigh went on, ignoring my shock. “But why bother? Dear Marian has been...temperamental...as of late. I could simply enforce my will on her, but I find it’s much easier to make suggestions to a partner than compel a slave. If letting her devise some worse fate for you settles her down, then I’m happy to go along with her little plan. You’ll serve as bait for Dr. Whyborne just as effectively either way.”
“You’re lying,” I said, because it didn’t make any sense. What did Creigh mean by suggestions to a partner? She was a powerful sorceress, and Marian the simple wife of a farmer.
Or perhaps I’d underestimated Marian from the start.
“Why would I lie?” Creigh asked. She fingered the jewel at her throat absently. “What I want to know is this. You know the truth about this world. So why do you oppose us?”
I sat back, and winced at the pain shooting through my back. “Because I have some allegiance to humanity?” I suggested.
“Allegiance to humanity?” She let out a hiss of impatience. “You idiot. Why do you think I’m doing any of this to begin with? The masters are going to return whether I wish them to or not. When last they left, humanity was no threat to them. We were beneath their notice, save as raw materials. What do you think their response will be when they return to discover our cities? Our great ships plying the oceans? To find we’ve covered almost every corner of the globe?”
“Which is why we must fight them!”
Creigh let out an unladylike snort. “Fight them? How? The masters created the maelstrom beneath Widdershins. They twisted the very arcane lines of the earth to make a vortex of immense power, dwarfing all others. Do you imagine, even for an instant, that you can foil the will of creatures capable of such a feat?”
My mouth felt dry, but I kept my gaze defiant. “The umbrae rebelled.”
“And were sealed in their cities.”
“The ketoi rebelled as well.”
“And they will surely be punished for their defiance.” Creigh folded her arms across her chest. “Humanity cannot win a war against the masters. The best we can hope for is to prove our usefulness, so they don’t wipe our entire species from the face of the earth.”
I didn’t bother to hide my contempt. “And the fact you’re enslaving the men and women of the poor farm, infecting them to accumulate your own power? Don’t pretend you act out of charity.”
“The rust is but one tool of the masters, abandoned when they left.” Creigh smiled. “There are others. Don’t imagine the Fideles are not busy elsewhere as well. The Restoration will take place. You cannot win.” She tilted her head. “Perhaps it’s just as well you won’t live to see it.”
She left in a swirl of skirts. As the door locked behind her, I slumped forward in my bonds and prayed.