“He is close to death,” I said. “You will have to be careful. It would not take much to kill him.”
Valentin crossed the street and stood before me, examining my downturned face. He held out his hand. I looked at it for a long moment. This was a hand that had held me against my will. I would be a fool to trust it.
I took it anyway.
We went into the tavern, and the heat of a roaring fire poured over me. That alone was enough to mark this place as a superior sort of establishment to the one on the dock. Four other Germans sat around the table nearest the fire. Between them, looking miserable and travel-worn, was my father. His eyes met mine and widened in alarm. I shook my head, hoping to reassure him.
“Miss Hope requires our assistance,” Valentin said. He looked at me expectantly.
“He is at the Gray Gull,” I said. “The inn on the point.”
Valentin nodded to the burliest of his men, and two of them rose at once and left.
I moved to sit at the table, but Valentin took my arm.
“There is something you should see,” he said. “Herr Vellacott, as well.”
It was not an invitation, but a command. The two remaining Germans escorted my father up the stairs ahead of us. We stopped in the hallway before the room. Even through the door, I heard the muted sounds of madness, bound and gagged. Thrashing. Hoarse, muffled screams. I had made these sounds, not so long ago.
Dread pooled in my stomach like poison, leaching into my limbs and turning them to lead. For a moment there was nothing I wanted more than for the door to stay shut. I did not want to see the horror that had befallen Dominic, and my mother, and once myself.
“Please,” I began. “I don’t wish to see him.”
“I know. But I think I must remind you why you made the bargain with us that you did.” Valentin looked at me, then opened the door and pushed me through. “And why you must not break it.”
Dominic was bound hand and foot, and a leather strap was tied between his teeth. His mouth was open, and his jaw and throat worked at screams that came out rough and nearly soundless. He must have screamed his voice hoarse. His face was scratched red and raw, and his eyes were as hot as comets falling to earth. The smell was overpowering.
I approached Dominic slowly. He saw me, in a way. Enough to want to tear me apart. If he could have gotten free right then, he would have done just what my mother did. This was what had become of my only true friend.
Will had done this. He had run away with the Stone and left Dominic to this madness.
“Yes,” agreed Valentin. “It is bad. You know better than I, don’t you, Thea? You did the right thing, to ask for my help. I know you would not have asked if he had left you another choice.”
“Oh, he left another choice,” I said.
“What choice?” asked Valentin.
At once, I regretted bringing it up. I did not want to say it. It was too vile, even for Will. I did not want to see the look on Valentin’s face when I told him. When I looked up, it was my father’s eyes I met. He stood behind me in the doorway. I would tell him. To my surprise, I found I wanted to.
“He’s found a priest. He wants me to marry him in the morning. Then he’ll tell me where the Stone is.”
My father’s eyes flashed with anger, then he closed them. When he opened them again, the anger had changed into something softer.
“Oh, Thea,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Valentin swore in German. “That beast,” he muttered in disgust. “Nothing is too low for him. Nothing.”
He paced the room. Fury radiated off him. I looked at my father, trying to discern what feeling it was I saw on his face. Valentin’s fury I understood. To him, it was yet another demonstration of Will’s depraved character, and I was another girl, like his Ada, whom Will was bent on destroying. But my father wasn’t looking at me and seeing someone else. He looked sad. Sad for me.
My mother had never looked at me like that, at least not that I could recall.
My mother had told me I should marry Will, and called me weak for hesitating. My mother—
Is that what you want? To be coddled like some infant? I thought what you wanted was the Stone. Your father would make you a child. I want to make you the last alchemist.
Liar, I shot back at her. You wanted to be the last alchemist.
“So…” said Valentin. He stopped pacing and wheeled on me. “Good. He will not have his way.” He glanced at Martin. The abuser. The torturer.
The smell of the disinfectant they had used on Will’s fingers after they mangled them returned to me. The glint of fury in Valentin’s eyes filled me with fear. I had asked him to be careful, but there was nothing careful about the way his hands curled into fists.
“It will be enough to threaten him. To frighten him. You haven’t seen him, Valentin. He’s much worse. Torture might not work.” Valentin snorted, and I continued in desperation. “Not because he is brave—just because his body might not last long enough under torture for it to do any good.”
“I am willing to risk that,” growled Valentin.
“But I am not!” I cried. “Please, Valentin! I can’t lose the Stone. I can’t.”
“What is the alternative?” Valentin demanded. “If the threat of violence alone is not enough, what would you have us do? Do you propose to become Mrs. William Percy?”
I looked away.
“You are still protecting him,” said Valentin in disgust. “Why? For such an intelligent
