Reign of Beasts (31 page)

T
he sky was quiet that nox, and the sentinels made their bed in the workroom of the newest nest in Aufleur. Where else would they sleep?

Macready couldn't get much out of Kelpie about what had happened in Bazeppe, and after a while he gave up trying. What was the point, anyway? All he needed to know was that Bazeppe was gone, and Aufleur would be next.

He sat up as the others slept, the light from the fire in the grate reflecting on their faces. Kelpie and Crane. Both looked so fecking young in their sleep, the creases smoothed out like ribbon silk.

Macready felt so old he could barely move without creaking. He hadn't been able to save Rhian from whatever the feck was eating her from the inside out. He couldn't protect Velody, or Ashiol. He was wearing thin.

After what felt like hours of sitting still in contemplation, he heard a creak that had nothing to do with him. Then another, on the staircase. He moved silently towards the stairs, hands ready to draw his swords if he needed to.

Delphine, caught in the act, gasped once as he touched her sleeve. ‘Frig it, Macready,' she hissed. ‘Who taught you to move that quietly?'

‘All those bad demmes in my past. Where are you off to, my lovely?'

‘None of your business any more. Nothing I do is of any interest to you.'

‘When you're sneaking out at the beginning of what could be a long, hard nox and our Kings needing us? Oh, love, you can't tell me it's not my business.'

She pouted like the old Delphine, playing the spoilt child, but there was something off about her. No stolen perfume this nox, no roses to cloud his senses. She stank of something else.

‘Have you been rolling in skysilver?' he accused her.

‘You don't know everything, Mac,' she huffed.

‘I don't know anything, lass. Educate me.'

She snatched her arm away. ‘The sky could explode at any moment. You're not going to leave Velody and the others now. Don't even pretend you think whatever I'm up to is more important than them. Stay here and do your job, Macready. Leave me alone.'

She flounced through the kitchen, and he felt the soft shimmer as she released the entrance to the nest.

‘Let her go,' said a low voice.

Macready turned and saw Crane standing there, dressed, his arms crossed in a vaguely threatening manner. Playing the man now, was he?

‘You know what she's up to?'

‘I trust her. You might want to try it.'

Macready bristled at the lad's tone. ‘Know a lot about our Delphine these days, do you?'

Crane stepped forward, and as he came away from the fire his face fell into shadows. Macready couldn't see anything of what he was about. ‘You wanted her to be a sentinel. Did you think that meant she would stop being herself?'

‘Careful what you say, lad.'

‘Oh, for fuck's sake,' broke in Kelpie. She was awake, too,
and on her feet. ‘If you two are going to scuffle over the little blonde can you do it outside?'

‘We're not going to fight,' said Macready, eyeing Crane.

‘No, we're not,' said Crane.

‘Good,' said Kelpie, pulling on her leather coat. ‘Because I'm going to find out what the wench is up to, and if you stay on your best behaviour, I'll let you come with me.'

 

Delphine headed along Via Cinqueline and up the back slope of the overgrown Avleurine hill, all but bouncing with righteous ire as well as anticipation. She was damned if she was going to let Macready spoil this moment for her.

Her swords felt heavy on her back as she hurried along. She was almost used to all four of them being with her again, ready for action. She was a sentinel, and after this nox no one would question that ever again.

The club was called the Glass Cat. The owners had taken over the ruined remains of the old Palazzo on the hill, adding domed glass windows between the broken stone and steel frames. They had also put in glass tiles to replace stolen mosaics and repair frescoes. It was all very shiny.

Jazz music filled the complex, spilling out and down the hillside. Delphine slipped in close so she could watch the scene through one of the heart-shaped skylights.

The dance floor, once an open courtyard belonging to the Daylight Duc's family, was filled with beautiful people. They danced and clung and gossiped and laughed and drank themselves silly.

Delphine had been one of them, once. She had never questioned why a ribboner might be welcomed among the debauched aristocratic children of the city, or even wondered why her accent was precise like theirs, not as common as Velody's or Rhian's sounded to her ear. Now, of course, with the swords of the Creature Court warming her back, she remembered her childhood in Tierce as a spoilt little rich demme, already rebelling against her
parents. Being sent to learn a trade was a punishment, a way to get her out from under their feet during her ‘difficult' years.

She knew now why she had fitted in so easily with her gin-swilling crowd, with Teddy and Villiers and the like. She was an aristocrat, even if she hadn't been able to remember her past. They had known it by her voice and manner; had allowed her into their circle because she was ‘one of them'.

As she watched, Delphine recognised other faces. Half the sons of the Great Families were here this nox. She really should make her move before they sank too many ansouisettes.

She slid down the side of the Palazzo and removed her cloak with shaking fingers. Her swords and knives were clearly visible in their harness over a knee-length grey shift that whispered against her skin and an over-dress made from knitted links of skysilver.

It was time.

 

‘What the feck is she doing?' Macready breathed, leaning over the skylight.

‘Gone crazy,' Kelpie observed. ‘Sooner or later it happens to every demme you frig, Mac.'

‘Aye, I'm sure that's it,' he said sarcastically. ‘Lad, do you know anything about … Where's Crane?'

Kelpie leaned further over the skylight. ‘Oh, hells. I didn't see that coming.'

 

Delphine walked through the crowd. She knew this song. It was a medley of old war anthems, sped up to the modern pace and always sung with great irony. Everyone knew the war was over, leaving nothing but battle stories and old songs as relics of the time. Everyone was wrong.

Her dress gleamed with the delicious hum of power that skysilver had about it. It was cut perfectly: short enough to
give her ease of movement, but long enough to drape prettily over her curves. Velody had never made a frock like this. Who was the mistress dressmaker now?

‘Dee-dee,' said one seigneur, catching her arm. ‘Where have you been, angel?'

She shook him off and walked to the stage where the band played their ironic war songs with perky smiles on their faces. ‘I need to make an announcement,' she said, and threw a handful of shilleins to the bandleader.

‘Announce away, baby demme,' he said with an exaggerated bow.

Delphine climbed up on the stage and faced a crowd who were already protesting the sudden halt of the music. ‘I need you,' she said, and didn't that start up a cacophony of catcalls and heckling among the wastrels and wankers. ‘All of you. You've had it too easy for too long, and now there's a battle to fight, and if you won't stand up for your city, who will?'

‘What are you on, Dee-dee?' called one voice, and everyone laughed.

Delphine looked towards the voice and recognised Teddy, with Villiers at his elbow. Maud and Peggy stood with Lisette over by the bar, pointing at her, whispering to each other.

She drew her sword. The steel one, for the satisfying noise it made. Then the other, because of the contrast, the soft hum of the skysilver. This sword liked to be drawn.

‘You wanted a war,' she said. ‘All of you have been carousing and laughing and living on the milk-fat of a city that has none to spare. You write soulful songs about never getting to prove your mettle on a battlefield. It's time to stand up for this city. It can't be just a handful of us fighting to protect it any more — that's not going to work. We need sentinels. The city needs its champions.' She took a deep breath. ‘We're going to need a lot of champions.'

‘And we're the perfect candidates, are we?' yelled out a young drunkard that Delphine was pretty sure was Atticus Aufrey, one of the sons of the Great Families whose suit the Duchessa had turned down.

‘Someone has to be,' she said simply. ‘I chose you. You have the most to pay back.'

The great doors opened, doors that had once been the entrance for Ducs and Comtes. A huge figure stood there, a large sack on his back.

‘Frig me, it's Father Neptune,' said one smart-arse.

Crane, also with a sack on his back, stepped out from beside his larger companion. ‘It's better than that,' he said, sounding pleased with himself. ‘This is our friend the Smith. He does have presents for you.'

The Smith lifted his sack high and tipped out an impossible number of skysilver swords. They fell onto the glass dance floor, clattering and skidding, forming an enormous heap. They hummed to Delphine, making her skin warm by their presence.

‘What do you expect us to do with those, sweet pea?' asked Villiers with a twist of his mouth.

‘I expect you to pick them up and learn how to be heroes,' said Delphine.

‘Is that all?'

‘Well, if you could manage it in the next day or so, that would be good. The sooner the better, really.' She smiled brightly. ‘Luckily I know an excellent place for us to practise.'

 

Macready stared down at Delphine. She stood there in the lanternlight, gorgeous and glowing, so fecking confident that she was doing the right thing, though he knew she had no bloody clue. ‘It's ridiculous,' hissed Kelpie. ‘She can't just turn a rabble like that into sentinels. I don't care how many fucking swords she's got hold of. It doesn't work that way. We were called to this life. You don't just build sentinels in a factory.'

‘Maybe not,' Mac said slowly. ‘But we've a duty to help her, do we not?'

‘You're kidding me,' Kelpie said flatly.

Macready leaned over and gave her arm a squeeze. ‘We're doing things differently this way around.'

‘They say that, they always say that, but it ends up the same. We throw ourselves at their feet and they don't even see us. We get stepped on. They save the world.'

Macready sighed, shaking his head. ‘Kelpie, my love, it's time we did something about that cynicism of yours.'

‘Last time I was blindly loyal, I got poisoned,' she snapped.

He held his hand out to her. ‘One more time. For my sake?'

Kelpie glared at him. ‘I really hate you sometimes.'

When they entered the glass-lined room, Macready almost staggered as the taste of skysilver hit him in the face. Delphine dazzled with it. The music was no longer playing, and the toffs and wastrels stood in their shiny clothes, staring at her as she spoke of heroism and bravery.

‘What the feck have you done, lass?' he hissed as he got closer.

Delphine turned to him and smiled. Her frock shone with tiny silver scales, chain links so bright that they hummed. How was she doing this? Skysilver should have no effect on those of the daylight, but there was so much of it, and the crowd seemed to be falling under its influence.

‘Velody didn't design that for you,' said Kelpie.

‘No,' said Delphine, breaking off her speech. ‘I did — well, I helped. The Smith did most of the work. I always wanted to be a dressmaker, you know. I was rather good at it. Not the best, but you don't always have to be the best. Sometimes you just have to be enough.'

‘What's wrong with them?' Kelpie said, surveying the room. ‘Are they hypnotised?'

‘They're choosing to be heroes,' Delphine said staunchly. ‘To be sentinels. Once they have made their choice, they are ours to command.'

Macready could see their faces now. They gazed adoringly at Delphine, but there was nothing alive in their expressions. He shook his head. ‘There was no choice here, lass. You can't make sentinels like this, by taking their will away from them.'

‘Why not?' she flung at him. ‘Is this really any different to what you did to me?'

That stung hard, but he carried on. ‘Enough is enough.'

‘No, it's never enough. I know it's wrong, and I know it doesn't fit your romantic ideals, but we need warriors. We need to beat the damned sky once and for all — this is our last chance. The sentinels weren't supposed to be some kind of support act. We were great once. We can be great again.'

She believed it so hard she was nearly crying, and it shocked Macready to the core that she had come so far that she would even think of doing something like this.

Delphine was like Velody. They didn't know the history, didn't know the rules. Neither of them had any idea of what was impossible. Maybe that was what would make the difference.

‘These are not sentinels,' Kelpie insisted. ‘This rabble is no use to any of us. You're going to get them killed, or get us killed protecting them.'

Crane, who had been standing silently near Delphine, spoke up. ‘Velody needs us. The Court needs us. If we don't stand with them, we might as well give up.'

‘Aye, we should stand with them,' Macready said fiercely. ‘Not drag some false army along in our wake.'

But he couldn't take his eyes off Delphine, and couldn't rid himself of that most dangerous thought of all. Maybe it could work.

‘The Smith has swords enough for all of them,' said Delphine.

‘It takes more than swords to make a sentinel!' Kelpie said, looking to Macready for support.

He opened his mouth and closed it again. What Delphine was doing was wrong, he knew that. But maybe it was the kind of wrong that would save the city.

Delphine stepped down from her makeshift dais and the eyes of a hundred fops and flappers followed her. ‘I know that,' she said in a soft voice. ‘You taught me that, Macready. Kelpie. All of you. Now it's time for me to teach you something.'