“Don’t you think I know that?” Again she pulled out of Wren’s grasp and stumbled to the railing. “I’ve been trying to sleep for weeks. I lie in the dark, all alone, in the quiet, and I close my eyes and try to think of nothing, try to rest, to slip away. But my mind never rests. The nightmares churn on and on and on!”
“Drugs! What about drugs? I can make something to make you sleep. I know a dozen plants that can put you to sleep in a heartbeat,” Wren said breathlessly. “Take me to your herb cellar, or to the palace kitchens. I can do this, I can help you sleep!”
“No! Not now. I can’t, I can’t.” The old woman clutched her head and leaned back. “How can I sleep when my baby is screaming in agony right in front of me? How could I forgive myself? How could I ever face him again, knowing that while he was in hell I was resting in my own bed?”
Woden, give me strength!
Wren swept her right hand across the balcony, hurling a great fist of aether out of the maelstrom beyond the railing and sending it into the witch’s chest. But Yaga merely raised an arm and the wave of aether burst apart into glimmering motes in the cold air.
“I’m trying to help you, Yaga,” Wren said slowly. “I want to help you, I do. I want to give you peace. I want to end your suffering, end your nightmares, end your pain. But if you won’t let me help you, then I’ll just have to stop you, because I’ll be damned if I’ll let you kill everyone in this city for your grief, no matter how much you love your son.”
Gudrun, Kara, this is your last chance. I swear to the good lord Woden that if you don’t help me now I will throw this ring of yours into the sea and leave your souls trapped in the dark until Ragnarok comes!
Wren made a fist, and a shape appeared in the air before her.
“Kara,” Wren whispered.
The ancient vala glared, her long black braids clattering with tiny bones. “You’re a fool of a child. How dare you threaten us? How dare you!”
All around her, the dim shades of the eight valas of Denveller appeared, short and tall and crippled, hissing at the girl in black.
Damn them all. I can do it alone!
Wren thrust out her hand and the aether obeyed her. The mist rose and smashed across the room into the old witch, sending her reeling against the far wall.
Yaga straightened up and pushed her long silvery hair back from her face. “I’m tired of this.” She pointed her hand at the girl and the aether rushed back across the room.
Wren dove to the floor and swept her hand over her head, guiding the aether up and away from her as she scrambled behind the wall at the edge of the stairs that led back down to the ground level. The aether swelled and flooded past her, racing and racing through the wall and out into the night, and when it finally stopped she dropped her arm to her side, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat.
Wren scrambled to her feet and dashed across the room. Yaga glared at her and raised both arms, but the girl crashed into her waist and knocked her to the ground before she could summon up another wave of freezing mist. The two women collided with the wall and then toppled to the floor in a tangle of skirts and hair and bones.
Huffing and straining, Wren grabbed the old witch’s wrists and wrestled her arms down to her sides as she rolled over. After a moment’s quiet struggle, Wren sat up on top of Yaga’s chest with the older woman’s arms pinned at her sides under Wren’s knees.
Wren leaned back and blew a curling lock of red hair out of her face as she paused to catch her breath.
Well, that wasn’t so hard after all.
“Now what?” Yaga grunted through her clenched teeth. “Are you going to sit on me forever? I am immortal, you stupid little girl. I will never grow tired, but you are already exhausted. Soon I’ll throw you to the ground, and crush your heart with my bare hands.”
“She’s right,” Gudrun muttered in Wren’s ear. “If you don’t think of something soon, you’ll be a corpse before midnight comes.”
“Help me or shut up!” Wren shouted.
Gudrun’s presence vanished and Wren looked down at Yaga’s smug grin.
“Having trouble, girl?” Yaga asked. “Are the souls in your little ring too much for you to master? How many are there, again? Nine, ten? Heh. There are dozens of souls in each of my bracelets, and you don’t hear me crying out for them to be silent.” The witch laughed.
Wren frowned down at her. “I’m sorry about this, but it should only hurt for a minute.” Wren folded her fingers together, turning her two hands into one bony hammer, raised her arms above her head, and brought them down as hard as she could on the old woman’s cackling face.
Yaga instantly went limp.
Wren leapt up and rolled the woman onto her stomach and whipped off her own belt. Then she stripped the clanking bracelets off the witch’s arms and bound her wrists together with the belt. She was still struggling to fit the ends of the belt together when the old woman groaned and twitched.
Done.
Wren stepped away with the bracelets cradled in her arm.
Yaga rolled onto her side and looked up with a trickle of dark blood on her lip. “You stupid child.”
Wren shook her head. “No, I’m not stupid. I know exactly what I’m doing, sister. I had a very good teacher.” She sat down on the floor a few paces away and let the bracelets fall into her lap. “His name is Omar Bakhoum. You might remember him. A middle-aged gentleman from Alexandria. Friendly, clever, and just a little bit immortal.”
Yaga’s eyes went wide. “Grigori? He’s here?”
“Omar, Grigori. He’s had a lot of names over the years.” Wren nodded seriously. She could feel the heat and panic of the last few minutes fading away, leaving her even more tired than before. “I see I have your attention now. That’s good. Maybe now we can start talking like civilized witches.”
Chapter 15. Running
“Damn it.” Lycus pointed up the road. “More aether.”
Tycho nodded. He could see the pale tendrils of the mist snaking over the rooftops and around the corners all around them.
It’s everywhere, draining down every street. We’re never going to make it to the barracks at this rate.
He stood in the middle of the dark road with the six young marines, and they listened to the cries and moans and shrieks of the people in the houses all around them.
“All right, boys, we need to-”
“Major!” Lycus pointed down a side alley with his knife in his hand.
Tycho jogged up beside him and peered into the deep shadows between the two houses. In the stillness, he heard footsteps coming closer, but moving in a limping, shuffling manner. He called out, “Hello?”
The feet shuffled closer.
“I’m Major Tycho Xenakis. Who’s there?”
The feet shuffled closer still.
“Damn this.” Tycho drew his revolver and strode to the mouth of the alleyway. “Who’s there? Answer or I’ll shoot!”
The feet shuffled closer and a figure loomed out of the darkness into the pale blue starlight. It was a man with skin the color of snow that sparkled in the light. The flesh from his cheek and lips was gone, revealing his teeth in an eternal grimace.
“God!” Tycho fired into the corpse’s face as he stumbled back and two more shots rang out over his shoulder and he saw Lycus standing beside him, pale and wild-eyed, his own gun smoking in his hand.
The corpse toppled over and hit the ground like a frozen beam.
“Back to the boats. Move, move!” Tycho holstered his weapon and ran with his marines at his sides. They darted down the center of the road, avoiding the shadows, and leaping clear of the thin wisps of aether seeping out
