Firebug (31 page)

I don't know what I expected, but even with no expectations, I was surprised. Alistair, his elegant frame folded into a chair, his fingers steepled, and his face smug as hell, sat at the head of Duncan's table. There were two more people with him—a dainty little blonde who looked like she'd be more at home in an artist loft somewhere, maybe wearing a beret and discussing Nietzsche, and the superhuge guy from the Portsmouth Council.

The only thing that kept me from casting a flame ball into their faces was the way the drove was lounging about. If the new people were a threat, they'd all have been on alert. I had faith enough in their commitment to keeping Duncan safe that I took my cues from their behavior. Still, I wasn't happy.

“Last time I saw you,” I drawled, resting my palms on the table, “a group of vodyanoys tried to kill us. So please tell me why I shouldn't return the favor right now.”

Alistair's expression was sunny but cold, like a clear winter morning. Beautiful, but if you stayed too long in it, something was going to get frostbite and fall off. “Ava, please. We are pressed for time, so let us forgo the pissing contest. If your little friends here had the slightest inkling that I'd been part of any such fiasco, they would have eaten my liver by now. I still have all my organs; therefore, they don't believe me to have been involved. So let's discuss why we're all gathered together today instead of rehashing nonsense. Sound peachy?”

I grabbed a chair and flipped it around before I sat on it. Cade hated when I did that. He said it was bad for the chair, but I've never figured out how. “Fine,” I said. “I'm game. I suppose your minions would have been better dressed and less green.”

His arctic grin widened. “I wouldn't send minions. In my experience, they fail. I would have gone myself.”

“Touché. So why are you here? Last I heard, the Council wasn't going to stretch out its neck for us.”

There was a grumble, but it was smooth, like a stampede off in the distance. This was from the giant heap of a man next to Alistair. I didn't understand the grumble, but Alistair obviously did, because he responded with “I don't know if it's so much cowardice as greed. Our fellow members have been bribed so many times that the only action which won't land them in hot water with someone is complete inaction.” Then he turned his attention back to me. “You're right—but we're not here as Council. We're here as … an interested party.”

“You just want to help out of the kindness of your heart, right?”

“My, my, no. Do I look like a philanthropist to you?”

“You look like a model for
Elitist & Wealthy
magazine,” Lock said as he walked into the room, coming to a stop at my back. He rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Ezra slipped in behind him, coming to my other side.

“Thanks,” Alistair said, buffing his nails on his sweater vest. “I want to make this clear, Ava. I am not joining your loveable band of misfits because my heart bleeds for you—any of you—or your position. I'm here entirely for my own advantage. Duncan and I have been in contact for some time about bringing in a regime change. Until now, he has turned me down. So I wish to offer you a proposition. You need help; can we agree there? It certainly appears to be an all-hands-on-deck situation. Well, we're here to offer that assistance.”

“And in exchange?” I asked.

“In the simplest of terms, I will help you remove Venus, and then I'll help you avoid the inevitable power struggle by stepping into her place.”

Lock gave a low whistle. I was glad he did it so I didn't have to. Alistair was certainly aiming high. “And if we want to disband the Coterie entirely?”

Alistair leaned forward, his fingers splayed on the table. “I would say I thought you were smarter than that. Something else will spring up in its place, Ava. And while that's happening, this area will become like a war zone. I'm giving you the chance to remove your enemy and have the smoothest transition possible.”

“Who says you won't be worse than her?” I asked.

“Duncan could vouch for me, I suppose, though he'll tell you that he doesn't know me very well. He trusts me to a point. The rest of my character references you don't know, and so I doubt they will hold much water for you. You'll just have to manage a little faith.”

Oh, good. Because that always works out.

Duncan, who up until then had stayed quiet, obnoxiously whittling away as usual, piped up. “It's the best offer you're going to get, Ava.”

I knew he was right, but I wanted to at least think about it. “If I may ask, what, exactly, do you three bring to the table? All you have right now is your status as ineffectual Council members and”—I stared at the new girl—“whatever.”

“Fair enough,” Alistair said, holding his arms out. With seemingly little effort, a tiny storm cloud gathered over each of his hands.

Sid scoffed. “That's it? What are you going to do, get their clothes wet?”

Alistair didn't respond as the clouds continued to grow. The air in the kitchen stirred as a sudden wind sprang up from nowhere. Clothes flapped and the papers attached to the fridge with magnets rustled. I could feel the crackle of electricity as it danced along my skin. There was a clap of thunder before a lightning bolt leapt from one of the clouds and sizzled to a stop at Sid's feet. He yelped and jumped back. Then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and the kitchen went back to normal.

Alistair held his hands out, as if to proclaim his innocence or wash his hands of the situation.

Duncan huffed, a singular sound of disapproval. “Show-off.”

“I'm almost afraid to ask what you other two can do,” I said.

The giant mass next to me introduced himself as Parkin, though he had to say it twice for me to get it, and Alistair had to ask him to speak up. It wasn't enough to say he was large—it was like everything about him was on a bigger scale than the rest of humanity. There was a general air of rumpledness about him, as if he'd slept in his clothes his whole life and somehow that had permeated his very personality. He didn't put me on guard like Alistair did, though, and he didn't instantly annoy me like the girl did.

“I'm not going to demonstrate,” Parkin said in that rough, tumbling voice of his. “Let's just say I get big.”

There was a general sniggering amongst the drove at that, but my reaction was more surprise than anything. “You
get
big? Does that mean you think you're small now? I already want to call you Paul Bunyan.”

“I am small now.”

I held up my hands in surrender. “You're right—don't demonstrate. This kitchen is too full as it is.”

The girl's name was Bianca, and with the exception of her clothes, which were all black, she was a study in petite and pale. What I could see of her hair peeking out of her watch cap was closer to white than yellow, her bangs hanging in a jagged cut to her chin. I couldn't tell if it was natural or not. She'd lined her eyes heavily in thick black liner so that you were instantly drawn to the gray of them—the color of the sea when it reflects storm clouds, like at any minute there might be rain. Her elfin features were twisted in disdain.

“Bianca,” Alistair said, a warning in his voice.

“I'm not a trained monkey,” she said. “And I don't perform.”

Alistair leaned back, hands folded in his lap, and waited.

“Ugh, okay, fine.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “I'm a caulbearer,” she said, scowling at us like we'd bullied her instead of Alistair.

I must not have been the only person looking at her blankly, because she curled her lip and then just disappeared. There were a lot of surprised noises and people withdrawing from her empty chair. Except Sid, who moved closer, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. “I can't even smell her. Where did she go?”

Bianca reappeared, her face so close to his that too deep a breath would've caused them to collide. A strangled noise escaped Sid as he scrambled back from her. Her laughter was a whispering thing as she watched him skitter away.

Olive, who had snuck in when no one was looking, was eyeing her like she was livestock. If she'd reached out and checked Bianca's teeth, I wouldn't have been surprised. “I thought a caulbearer was when babies were born with stuff on their faces.”

“That's amniotic membrane,” Ikka corrected. “Not ‘stuff.' At least act like we educate you.”

Bianca, shifting somewhat uncomfortably under Olive's bold stare, shook her head. “It's not the same thing.”

“
Caul
means ‘veil,'” I said, getting it at last. Bianca didn't exactly throw me a grateful look so much as tone down her open contempt before she gave me a slight nod.

“Like the kind brides wear?” Olive said, her features arranged in the pinched tilt of skepticism.

“More like a covering.”

Duncan set down his newest whittled creation, this time a hulking bear, with the earlier fox. He was really churning them out. “I've seen bearers who can throw a caul over themselves, but never one that tricked more than one sense.”

Bianca crossed her arms, and for someone who didn't “perform” she sure preened under the attention. “I can do sound, too, if it's soft enough. Anyone around me will still hear something, but I can morph it to be a sound that isn't out of place.”

Olive rested her hands on her hips, evidently not as impressed as Duncan. “So you can go invisible. That's cool if you want to steal something, but how's it going to help us?” She jutted out her chin, her body stiff and protective at Duncan's side, as if she were the only person protecting the old man. “We can steal stuff on our own.”

Bianca twisted her hand in a circular motion, and though I didn't see any motion, and nothing seemed different to me, it was quickly apparent that something had changed for Olive. Her eyes grew big as goose eggs as she looked around, her bangs swinging. “What did you do with them?” A brief flicker of panic fluttered across Olive's face. “I can't smell them,” she said. “I can always smell them. Ikka? Sid?” There was more fear in her voice and in the clenched shiver of her body now than there had been when we fought the vodyanoy.

“We're still here,” Ikka said, but Olive obviously didn't hear her.

“Cut it out,” Sid said. “You're scaring her.”

Bianca reversed the hand motion, and Olive threw herself against Sid's side, keeping the caulbearer in sight. I don't think Olive underestimated people very often; that's what seemed to have scared her more than anything. She'd screwed up and written Bianca off, and if it had happened out in the real world in a combat situation, Olive would have lost.

Bianca didn't apologize for scaring Olive, but the aggression left her voice and she softened into her chair. “Now you see the applications?”

Olive leaned her face into Sid's side, and he threw an arm around her, squeezing her close. “You could hide an army,” she said.

“Not an army, I don't think. But a large raiding party, definitely,” Bianca answered, her lips a smug line. “With me, you regain the element of surprise.”

Alistair held his arms out like a game-show host or a televangelist. These prizes could all be ours, he seemed to say, if only we played the game. I gave him a small nod even though it was unnecessary. He already knew he had us.

“Power, muscle, and stealth,” he said, rubbing it in.

“And in exchange you get a kingdom,” I said. “We get it, Alistair.”

Duncan flicked his knife closed before stowing it in some unseen pocket. The fox and bear vanished in similar fashion. “Time to get moving,” he said. And just like that, the meeting was over. Alistair and I might have played at it, but Duncan was really in charge while we were still in his cabin. Besides having the entire drove at his back, the quiet authority with which he dispatched orders announced exactly where he stood. No wonder Venus wanted him dead. She ruled through established cruelty and fearmongering. All Duncan would have to do is walk in and talk in that tone he had and the entire Coterie would be jumping to, ready to sacrifice themselves out of devotion. Out of loyalty. I couldn't tell which method was scarier. But then, why choose? It made me wonder, if we managed to pull this off, who would really be in charge. Lock handed me my stocking cap, whistling softly as he did. It took me a second to realize it was a tune from
The Wizard of Oz
. The part that goes, “We're off to see the wizard.”

“For some reason, I have a hard time picturing Venus offering us a hot-air-balloon ride,” I said, tugging my hat down over my ears, hearing Cade's voice in my head as I did so, lecturing me about the necessity of covered ears and the amount of body heat lost through your head.

“No,” Lock said, reaching down to adjust my hat. “More like a field of poppies. But if you picture Owen as a flying monkey, things get real interesting.”

17

S
LOW
B
URN

SEVERAL HOURS LATER
, we were settled in a skiff, and as I looked behind me all I could see were rowboats, kayaks, canoes, and other small boats spread like a wave. They cut through a layer of lobster-trap buoys so thick, you could almost walk across it. Our craft was out in front, Bianca at its prow, her pale skin practically glowing in the darkness, her voice a floating whisper assuring us that no one from the island could see us approach. And that's where we were heading—a tiny private island off the coast.

It was a smart move on Venus's part. Isolated, quiet, no one to ask awkward questions. Hard to sneak up on, and even harder to escape from. Plus, it irritated me. I'm not a fan of being isolated by water. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot I could do at the moment except burn down our own boat, which seemed counterproductive to me. Sure, once I hit the island I'd be fine and dandy and ready to go, but the trip over was unnerving me. It set me on edge. I would be rattled before I even showed up. Venus never did things accidentally—even on the fly, she would be thinking and rethinking approaches. So this emotional upset was definitely planned. It served as a subtle warning:
This is just the beginning
, it said.
See how well I know you? How much I can anticipate your reactions? Better just pack it in now, child.
I could almost hear her obnoxious voice in my head.