William twisted his legs and rolled back up, shifting his stance, the short blade raised above his shoulder, his knees lightly bent. Amber rolled over his eyes and vanished. He was smiling. Interesting. She’d never seen that stance before. No matter.
Cerise charged. He thrust into her attack, sliding his blade against hers. She moved to parry, and he smashed his left fist into her ribs. The blow took the air out of her lungs. She slashed at his ribs, opening a light cut across his black shirt. You want to play? Fine.
William muscled her back. She was no pushover, but he was freakishly strong and he wasn’t kidding. They danced across the yard, cutting and punching and grunting. He punched her shoulder—her arm nearly went numb—and knocked the shorter sword from her hand. Sonovabitch! She elbowed him in the gut, which must’ve been made of armor, because he didn’t even wince. The next time she smashed her fist above his liver. He laughed, dropped his blade, and grabbed her right wrist. Cerise hammered a kick to his knee. William dropped down, and she kicked him in the jaw, knocking him into the grass.
“Weak knees and elbows, Lord Bi—”
He grabbed her ankle and twisted her off her feet. She hit the ground hard. Her head rang, and when she blinked the ringing off, her arm was caught between his legs. An arm bar. Nice.
“Done?” William looked into her eyes and put on a bit more pressure.
She groaned.
“How about now?”
Pain shot through her shoulder. “Done.”
He kept the arm in the lock. “So help me out here, does this mean I win?”
“Could you gloat a little more?”
He grinned, nodding. “I could.”
“Okay. You win.”
He dropped his voice. “What’s my prize for winning?”
She blinked. “What do you want?”
The feral thing in his eyes winked at her.
“No!” she told him. “Whatever it is you’re thinking of, I’m not doing it in front of my whole family. And threatening to dislocate my shoulder isn’t the best way to ask for it.”
“Get off the ground, children,” Grandma Az called.
He let her go. Cerise twisted and kicked him in the head, not very hard. The blow took him just below the ear. He shook his head, looking a bit dazed. Cerise rolled to her feet.
“What the hell was that for?” he growled.
“For being a jackass.”
She picked up her swords and went to sit by Grandma Az. It was highly unlikely he’d follow her there.
Their audience had grown. Aunt Pete and Ignata sat next to Grandma. Aunt Pete was sporting a black eye patch that made Cerise’s heart lurch. Aunt Murid leaned against the tree behind them.
Cerise sat on the grass between Aunt Pete’s and Grandma’s legs and gave William the evil eye. He grimaced, got up, and headed to the large, round sink at the other end of the yard to wash up.
“Pummeled you pretty good,” Aunt Pete said.
“I could’ve cut his head off.”
“But you didn’t,” Ignata said.
“No.”
Ignata gave a little innocent smile. “I wonder why that is.”
William pulled his shirt off. Shallow cuts crisscrossed the muscle on his back and sides. She’d nicked him more than she’d thought.
“Oh my,” Aunt Pete murmured. “What are they feeding them in the Weird?”
A hand touched Cerise’s hair. Grandma Az. Cerise leaned her head over, brushing against familiar fingers.
“So how is your romance going?” Grandma Az asked.
“It’s not going.”
“What are you talking about?” Ignata squinted at her. “He was giving you a look.”
“That was not a look,” Auth Pete said. “That was the look.”
“Looking is as far as it gets,” Cerise murmured. William was rinsing blood off his side, presenting her with a view of carved chest and lean stomach, and she had trouble concentrating on the conversation. You’d think a man washing off his blood would be the least attractive thing ever. Yeah.
It wasn’t his body, she reflected. It was in his eyes. In the way he looked at her.
“Have you tried dropping hints?” Ignata asked.
“I dropped boulders of hints,” Cerise said. “He pulls himself back every time. It’s not working.”
“I don’t see how it couldn’t.” Ignata bit her lips. “He’s obviously all about getting with you.”
“Maybe he doesn’t get it,” Aunt Pete said. “Some men—”
“Have to be hit over the head with it. Yes, Mother, we know.” Ignata rolled her eyes.
“I don’t want to just throw myself at him.” Cerise grimaced.
“No, that would be bad.” Aunt Pete frowned. “You said he was a soldier. You don’t suppose … ?”
“Oh, Gods.” Ignata blinked. “You think something could be wrong down there?”
All of them looked at William, who chose this precise moment to slide the wet shirt back on his back, which required him to flex, raising his arms.
“That would be a shame,” Cerise murmured. Maybe he was impotent. That would explain the frustration she saw on his face.
“Such a waste,” Aunt Pete said mournfully.
“There is nothing wrong with his body,” Grandma Az said. “It’s in his head.”
William turned. He walked past them to where Kaldar and Gaston haggled over a rock, pausing for a moment to look at her. Something hungry and sick with longing glared at her through his eyes, and then he turned away.
Like being burned.
“Oh, boy,” Ignata murmured.
“Now isn’t a good time for this sort of thing anyway.” Cerise sat up straighter.
“Are you crazy?” Aunt Pete stared at her. “Both of you could die tomorrow. Now is the perfect time for this. Live while you can, child.”
A hand rested on Cerise’s shoulder. She looked back. Aunt Murid nodded to her and walked away on her long legs, heading straight for William.
She said something, William nodded, and the two of them took off, Gaston at their heels. Kaldar stood there for a second, looking at a rock in his hands, shrugged, and followed them.
“What do you suppose all that was about?” Ignata asked.
“Who knows?” Aunt Pete shrugged.
TWENTY
SPIDER opened his eyes. He lay submerged on the bottom of the pool, in the cool shadowy depths. Above him, a wet sky glistened where the water kissed the air. He felt neither hot nor cold. Nothing troubled the water. He was utterly alone, floating weightless, watching from the shadows as the sunrays filtered through the water, setting it aglow.
If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was diving in the translucent waters far to the south, where a chain of the New Egypt islands stretched from the eastern tip of the continent far into the ocean. Swimming there, gliding above the coral reefs, surrounded by life but blissfully free of humanity, brought him a sense of peace and the simple thrilling exhilaration of being alive.
Alas, he wasn’t diving in the ocean now. Spider allowed himself one last moment of regret and surfaced with a single kick, emerging without a sound.
The air was unpleasantly cool. The skin flaps on his sides closed, hiding the pink feathery fans of his gills. Among his many alterations, this was the least useful but the most enjoyable.
Spider grasped the edge of the well and pulled himself up. Above him the sun shone bright. The sky was a clear crystalline blue, but despite the rare sunshine, the swamp still looked the same, a primeval mess of rot and mud. To the left, the manor where he’d made their base rose among the trees, struggling for stately elegance and failing.
Veisan’s peacock blue eyes greeted him. The contrast between those turquoise irises and her red skin never failed to surprise him. She looked at him with earnest expectation. Like a puppy, Spider thought. A murderous, lethal, psychotic puppy.
“Hello, m’lord,” Veisan whispered.
“Hello, Veisan.”
“Your skin has healed remarkably well, m’lord.”
Considering the amount of catalyst he’d dumped into the well water, the rapid progress was expected. “Veisan, why are you whispering?”