Darkness Undone: A Novel of the Marked Souls (32 page)

“This isn’t the time or place—”

“Does that matter?”

He didn’t think he could brush her off with a relativistic joke about time/space and matter, about how if it mattered, matter would change the geometry of space/time and inevitably—gravitationally—draw them together. … Yeah, that was not the direction the conversation needed to go.

“A crisis relationship seems more intense because the situation escalates so quickly—”

“I’ve been waiting three hundred years.”

“And emotions are under such pressure—”

“Because that never happens anywhere else.”

He frowned. She didn’t do sarcasm very well. “Do you want me to explain or not?”

“Not. You came to Chicago to delve into the
symballein
bond, but you won’t even talk to me.”

“I talk,” he protested. “All the time, or so you’ve said.”

“
At
me.”

That wasn’t true; he’d told her things he’d never said aloud to anyone. Over her one bare shoulder, the lights of the city blurred with distance and the dark glass—disappearing, like his escape options. “I came here to write a paper, not become the subject of one.”

She released his hands, and the abruptness set him back a half stride. “Is that what I am to you? A question for you to study?”

“Of course not.” This time his protest wavered. Because she had been that, in the beginning. “But I was taught all
along, a Bookkeeper needs the detachment, the distance to see clearly.” He tried to smile. “Even if he wears glasses.”

She didn’t reflect the smile, and her eyes were darker than the night behind her. “Then your father must be very proud of you.”

A champagne glass stiletto twisting in his chest would be less painful. “I came to Chicago because my father has doubted me since I got engaged.”

Her hands went to her throat but stopped short, tangling in the white scarf instead. “Engaged.”

“To be married.”

She took a long breath, but her question was short. “Why?”

“The usual reasons. Because I thought I loved her. Because I thought I knew better than my father, thought I could do what he hadn’t done: be a good Bookkeeper and a good husband.” He hesitated, then added, “Maybe that last part isn’t quite a usual reason.”

“What happened?”

“A year ago, Maureen and I had a fight about where I’d been all night. I was behind in my records because the horde had been unusually active. …” He frowned. “I wonder how that corresponds to Corvus’s first attempt to rupture the Veil—” He cut himself off. “Anyway, I stormed out. I was on the street outside league headquarters when I stopped swearing long enough to realize she had followed me.”

Alyce’s voice drifted, thin as the scarf. “Like your mother.”

“Nowhere near as bad. The feralis killed my mother. Maureen just asked me to choose.”

“And you chose Bookkeeping.”

“Dad couldn’t give Mum what she needed. She followed us partway down the Bookkeeper path, and she died. I wasn’t going to let that happen to Maureen.” Again, he hesitated, longer this time, but the unsaid truth ate through
his heart. How did Alyce do it? With a few words and her quiet stare, she dredged up secrets he’d buried even from himself. “Honestly, I wasn’t going to let that happen to me again either.”

“I understand.”

“I saw the light on in Dad’s office. It must have been painfully obvious what was going on. When Maureen left, I went up to see him. He told me I’d done the right thing, that he wished he’d left Mum before. …” He dragged one hand through his hair. “I am—was just a Bookkeeper. I don’t have it in me to survive that again. Look, we can talk about this more—”

“But we don’t need to,” she said.

“—when we aren’t facing our possible deaths.”

She never even blinked. “Okay.”

He hesitated. “Okay. Okay as in ‘all is good with the world’?”

“It doesn’t just mean that, though, does it? It also means you don’t want to say anything else.”

He studied her opaque gaze. If being with her was like heading into an Arctic adventure, he was definitely standing with a foot on two different ice floes. That couldn’t end well.

To his vast relief, the other couples had risen and were heading toward the stairs, which would break up their little chat. “I think it’s action time. We should get down there.”

“Okay.”

He ground his teeth. “That’s why we’re here. And don’t say okay.”

She didn’t say anything.

They followed the other couples down and found most of the guests drifting toward the lower deck with soft murmurs and expectant laughter.

Could there be any fewer lights? Only the glow of rope lighting under the treads kept the stairs from being a death trap. Once he’d thought death trap, the hairs at Sid’s nape
prickled. As he’d told Alyce, he suspected Thorne wouldn’t blow up his golden geese just to roast a couple talyan. Even djinn-men had expenses.

In the main room, the green felt tables glowed like emeralds under the pure lights, and the cards shone with the matte gleam of pearls as the dealers opened fresh decks and began to shuffle. The usual blackjack and poker tables were set around the larger roulette and baccarat areas. There was even a table set with a stark chessboard, though no one seemed to be interested.

The crowd seemed to know where they wanted to be, which edged Sid and Alyce to the outside of the milling group. They paused along one wall beside a large recessed fish tank. The tank housed only two gorgeous yellow fish. Just a few centimeters long, the fish patrolled the middle of the tank like soldiers on parade. Sid realized a thin sheet of glass separated them.

“Betta splendens,” he said. “Siamese fighting fish. I wonder if Thorne bets on cocks and dogs too.”

Alyce leaned closer, one finger hovering near the glass. “He would not hurt these. He is vain, and they are the same color as his eyes when his djinni ascends.”

Sid scowled, but he had to admit, the fishes’ flowing, rounded fins were unmarred and beautiful. He turned away. “What’s at the back there?”

Alyce followed close behind him as he made his way across the room. “Are there basements in boats?”

“Probably not. But back rooms …” He pushed at the closed door, the same dark wood as the rest of the wall.

No one turned their way, but Alyce and he both flinched at the sudden belling wave of etheric energy.

“Waving the white flag, are you, Anglo?” The drawling voice held no amusement. “Surrender her, then, and maybe I’ll let you go.”

In the presence of Thorne’s djinni, Alyce felt her demon shiver, as if someone had shaken the champagne bubbles in her stomach and the deflating fizz had exited through her bones. But she stood straight against the internal quaking. Just because she felt the cold now didn’t mean she had to respond. “Don’t shoot.”

Thorne lounged in his hard-backed chair. “Save it for someone who might listen.”

“Just trying to save you the inconvenience, the blood, the screaming. …” Sidney tipped one hand palm up.

Thorne smirked and echoed the gesture: They were two friends sharing a wry amusement. “And I admit, I’m too curious to shoot you yet.”

Alyce winced at the “yet.”

“Plus … ,” Sidney continued. He held out his other hand, and this one pointed a gun. “I’d have to shoot back.”

“Sidney,” Alyce whispered.

Thorne laughed. “That won’t kill me.”

“Not kill you, no, only incapacitate you with a hollow point bullet I’ve stuffed—like a very small lead and gold Christmas turkey—with shavings from an angelic sword.” Sidney smiled back at the djinn-man. “Then I’ll kill you.”

Thorne’s expression blanked. A thin ring of virulent yellow glowed around his pupils. “You didn’t find that in your archives.”

Sidney shrugged. “I found the sword fragment in Alyce, disrupting her demon. And I’m guessing—just guessing, mind, but I’m willing to explore opposing viewpoints if you’re so inclined—it’ll do the same to you.”

Thorne sat up straighter in his chair. “A sphere relic in her? I wondered why …” His smile returned, but twisted. “I knew you were special, Alyce, with that glow around you. But you weren’t my redemption; you were just fucked up. Two wrongs don’t make a right, and two outcasts still can’t find an in.”

Alyce froze. His mouth was distorted in the lying smile, but the words between his lips were straight and true. “I found a place. You could too—”

“No.” He surged to his feet. The force of his djinni heaved in answer, but it didn’t break free as Sid lifted the gun. “I won’t be part of the misguided, hopeless few again. Unlike most of my ancestors, I’ve lived long enough not to repeat my mistakes.”

Sidney’s gun never wavered. “You’re not part of the gathering djinn?”

Thorne slowly sank to the chair again, not in defeat, but with infinite weariness, one elbow hooked over the back. With a flick of his fingers, he indicated the casino beyond. “Forget the ahaˉzum; I have all this. What more could a tribeless Indian want?”

Alyce stood against his glowering regard. “If you don’t want more, give me back my teshuva’s talisman.”

Though he didn’t move, Thorne’s sprawling stance became more of a lie. “I needed nothing of yours, ever.”

“Then give it back.”

He sat straighter and rephrased, emphasizing the words. “I never stole from you.”

Alyce considered his tone. He sounded bored, which worried her. Was he telling the truth this time?

Without the restraint the teshuva should have given her at possession, she would never have the confidence of the other talya women. She’d live out her immortal life with constant fear of drifting back to rogue. She tamped down the rapid thud of her heart, but it thumped back like a body that wouldn’t stay buried. “The teshuva’s memento was all I had.”

Thorne shook his head. “You had only the rags on your back when they dumped you out of the asylum.” He leaned forward again, his arm still hooked over the back of his chair as if he tried to hold himself back but couldn’t. The yellow rings of his eyes expanded. “I saw you that first night, stinking of the hospital and stumbling from the benzos; do you remember? You attacked me.”

She pursed her lips. “The teshuva must have been starving.”

“I hit you hard enough to knock you out of your shoes—no loss—but you kept coming. You were fearless.” His fingers splayed across his desk. “To the djinni, you shone like …” Abruptly, he pushed himself back. “Just as well I never found my inner light if it’s so damn crippling. But that was the angel relic in you. It’s gone now. It was never meant for either of us, and here you are, on the path laid out for you from the beginning.”

The realization froze her. What other path had he yearned for? Whatever it had been, he was right; it was closed to them now.

If she hadn’t been so still, she wouldn’t have heard Sidney’s infinitesimal sound of agreement. He refused to meet her gaze.

“But there is a new path,” he said. “The doorway leading into the demon realm. Why were you there, Thorne?”

Thorne gave him a lazy smile. “You want answers? So do I. Let’s bet on the flip of a coin.”

“I’m not a gambling man,” Sidney said.

Thorne scoffed. “Alyce would bet me.”

“I’d fight you again.”

“Alyce.” The warning in Sidney’s voice trembled through her.

She lifted her chin. “What do you want to know, Thorne?”

“The verge was Corvus’s doing. Why?”

Sidney stared at the djinn-man a long moment, then shrugged. “Corvus’s djinni wanted to unleash hell on Earth. Corvus wanted to be free. They both got what they wanted.”

Thorne huffed out a laugh. “Idiot. He had money, power, and eternal life, and still he needed more. Why did—?”

“Our turn,” Sidney interrupted. “If you have everything you need, what do you want with the verge?”

Thorne’s lip curled. “Nothing. But the others do. And I wonder why.”

Sidney stiffened. “Who are the others?
Where
are they?”

“Ah, my turn,” Thorne said with singsong teasing. “Why is the league keeping the verge open?”

“Because nothing in our archives tells us how to stand on the edge of hell and ask it to go away.” Sidney fixed the other man with an unwavering stare. “Do you know how to close it?”

“No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t go up against the forces who want it.”

“And who is that again?”

Thorne leaned back in his chair. “Maybe I will call this hand.”

“We’re not betting,” Sidney reminded him. “We’re trading.”

“My people never got the best trades from your kind, especially when you have the gun. We’re doing better with the betting.”

“You can’t change the rules.”

“I’m the house.”

Sidney’s jaw worked on his irritation, chewing back words. And words were all they had against the djinn-man. They couldn’t actually shoot him, not with the unwitting passengers aboard; they could only force him to hold his djinni at bay.

Words were such little things—well, not all of Sidney’s were little—but Alyce had seen Thorne flinch from some of them more than at the threat of angelic bullets. “If you had my love, Thorne, would you turn from the dark?”

Despite the threat of the sphericanum bullets, demon energy swirled in terrible waves, prickling her skin.

Thorne sat utterly still. His face seemed carved from some otherworldly stone, harder, darker, colder. The stone split and his white-toothed laugh tore through the simmering ethers. “What a stupid question. Something old Corvus would have asked; he was likely senile even before his head was bashed in, you know.” He placed his hands in front of him, half hiding his mouth with his steepled fingers. “I told you I have no interest in following his path, especially if it takes me to the verge of hell.”

“Then stay away from his handiwork,” Sidney said, “or you might suffer his fate.”

Thorne stiffened. “We might have been able to trade, but you will not order me in my own territory.”

“Friendly suggestion only,” Sidney said. But Alyce heard the insincerity in his voice. Not that he tried particularly to hide it.

Thorne stood. “Unless you want to test that
symballein
bond, get out.”