She put her head down, took a few faltering steps, and then started to run.
Chapter 59
Thaddeus let Melanie make the portal this time. She was damaged almost as much as he was, but he was secure enough to admit, to himself at least, that she was the stronger of the two. Besides, if Jocasta reacted badly to his presence, he might need to use his powers quickly. For some unknown reason, Melanie wasn’t able to get into Jocasta’s mind, so it would be up to him.
He breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped through into the library of House Whispering Pines. Florian’s library. Thaddeus would always think of it that way, no matter who sat in the chair behind the desk.
Behind him, Melanie closed the portal, limped to a chair and collapsed into it.
“No one’s here,” she said.
“No. That’s not a bad thing, though. It will give us a chance to recover for a few minutes before we try again to convince her to help.”
He sank into a chair with a groan. His foot was throbbing, sending shooting stabs of pain up his whole leg. To say nothing of his other wounds. He had a bitter taste in his mouth, and his face was numb where that thing had… he shuddered, not wanting to remember it.
Thaddeus looked over at Melanie. Now that they were somewhere safer, he could see how wounded she was as well. It didn’t appear that Malachi had cut parts off her, as he had done with Thaddeus’s toes, but her clothes were covered in blood and in tatters.
Even through his pain and exhaustion, a cold rage started to build.
Usually, Thaddeus’s anger was like the fire he loved to work with. It flared up, burned brightly, then was extinguished.
This was different. He wanted Malachi dead, but more than dead now. He wanted the man hurt. He wanted him to suffer as he made them suffer. Thaddeus wanted to hurt him ten times over for every cut. And for what he’d done to Melanie, Thaddeus wanted to see Malachi weep. If it took a long time for that to happen, so be it.
Thaddeus had spent a lot of his time at Subtle Hemlock learning control. Malachi was going to find out exactly how far he had come with that.
In the meantime, both he and Melanie were in bad shape.
“We’re a mess,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.
“That’s an understatement,” Melanie responded.
“We need a healer.”
“So go get one.”
“All right. I’m on my way.”
He didn’t move, and neither did Melanie. Finally, Thaddeus pushed himself to his feet and limped to her. He ignored the pain and squatted down next to her, putting his hand lightly on her leg. “Mel? Are you…?”
He couldn’t finish it. Of course, she wasn’t okay. He didn’t even know how to ask her.
“I told you, I’m fine.” She didn’t look at him.
“All right. Just…you know…I’m here and…”
He faltered again. For someone who used to be Florian’s ambassador to other Houses, he was having a remarkably hard time speaking now.
“Yeah, great. Are you going to go get that healer, or what?”
“Yep. I’m going.”
He slowly stood, trying to keep the moan inside. He turned and took a step toward the door.
Behind him, Melanie’s breath hitched. He turned back to see her face collapse and the tears start. He went back and held her, and for one of the few times in his life, Thaddeus was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
♦ ♦ ♦
Rather than leave Melanie alone in the library, both of them went in search of either a healer or Jocasta. During the time they spent in the library no one entered, or even knocked on the door. Thaddeus led Melanie to a bedroom, and they took the opportunity to change out of their ruined and stained clothing. Once she was clean, Melanie looked somewhat better, but still exhausted, as he was sure he did himself.
“Where is everyone?” Thaddeus muttered.
There were no servants around, no other high-born lords or ladies strolling the corridors, nor, when they passed windows, were there any on the paths of the gardens.
“The place has seen better days,” Melanie said.
It was true. Dust had begun to gather on the furniture and scuff marks were on the polished wood floors. The gardens, always Florian’s pride and joy, were starting to look untended, with weeds pushing up among the flowers and trailing onto the paths.
“Something’s wrong,” Thaddeus agreed.
Finally, they came upon other people. A group of four servants, three men and a woman, were lounging on the stairs leading up to the fourth level of the tree. Several empty bottles of wine lay nearby, and one of the men snored loudly, his head leaning against the wall.
“What is this?” Thaddeus demanded, forgetting for a moment that he was no longer a high-ranking member of House Whispering Pines.
“Who wants to know?” one of the men returned.
His two conscious companions seemed to find that very amusing.
“Where’s Jocasta?”
“Who cares?”
“Get up!”
The man who was doing the talking gazed at Thaddeus, then slowly climbed to his feet with a sigh. He stood in front of Thaddeus, arms at his sides and looked him up and down.
“Well? I’m up. You don’t look in much condition to do anything about it.”
“No? Well, maybe you’re right.”
He muttered his spell and a puff of smoke came from the man’s shirt front. In less than a second, he was aflame, fire shooting up his front. He cursed, then screamed and began to beat at his own torso, trying to put it out.
As quick as it came, Thaddeus extinguished it. The man was a little singed, and it would sting for the next few days, but otherwise he was unharmed.
“Let’s try
