Cedar drew his pocketknife and shaved off a thick wedge of cheese while he walked back to the kitchen, then placed the cheese and bread on the table. The cheese was a bit sharp but surprisingly rich. To better fill his stomach, he tore off a chunk of the bread and ate that too. Then Mae was pressing a small cup of tea into his hands.
“You won’t need to drink much of this, just a swallow or two. It’s very bitter.”
Cedar sniffed it and pulled his eyebrows up. “What’s it for?”
“The binding.”
“Binding?” Mr. Wicks said. “What do you mean by that?”
Mae glanced over at the man. “I mean that I’m a witch, Mr. Wicks. And I intend to cast a spell to bind health to Father Kyne. Mr. Hunt has offered to be a part of that spell.”
Wicks’s gaze darted to Rose. Rose just shrugged. “She is telling you the truth, Thomas. It won’t change one whit whether you believe her or not.”
“I…” he began, then recovered his wits. “I’ve just never met a, uh, a woman who so willingly claims to follow such…preoccupations.”
“Have you drank it yet?” Mae asked Cedar.
He took a breath, held it, then sucked down two mouthfuls of the vile tea. He didn’t know what she’d put in it, but wouldn’t rule out boiled leather and rusted nails.
“Good. I think this will be best done near Father Kyne.”
Cedar stood. He hadn’t noticed Wil, who padded up silently next to him. If he had, he might have been fast enough to stop him from standing and placing his paws on the table. Might have even been fast enough to stop him from lapping up the remaining tea in the cup.
“No,” Cedar said.
Wil was near Cedar’s height when he was up on his back legs like this. And his eyes were those of a man, not beast. He knew very well what he was offering by drinking that tea. He was offering to help carry the burden of Father Kyne’s life.
“Wil,” Cedar said. “You should not do this.”
Wil dropped down onto all fours, looked up at Cedar, then at Mae, and walked out the door toward Father Kyne’s bedroom.
“Mae, I don’t want you binding Wil’s life to this.”
Mae pressed her lips together, her hand on the tatting shuttle she wore around her neck. She only held that shuttle when she was very uncertain or frightened. But right now she looked like she was working a complex formula in her mind, or going through an unfamiliar dance to set each step in her memory.
“It might be better,” she finally said. “No, it will be better. Two lives, two men’s strength and health will lighten the burden. And he is also bound to Wil. Yes.” Her soft brown gaze rested on him. “This is right. This is the best choice we can make.”
“Then let’s get it done.” Cedar didn’t hear anyone approaching the church yet, but it was only a matter of time. The faster they dealt with Father Kyne, the faster they could come up with a plan that included getting Mae, Miss Dupuis, and Rose out of this city.
Cedar strode off to Father Kyne’s bedroom, and found the Madders gathered there, staring down at him. Captain Hink had found a chair and was sitting in it, his head resting against the wall. He didn’t look in top shape.
The beast gave Cedar sharp senses, and in this room he could smell the deep, old blood weeping from Father Kyne’s wounds, and also the fresh blood dripping out of Captain Hink. From the sweat on Hink’s face and stink of pain, he knew the airship captain hadn’t come out of that jailbreak unscathed.
“So, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. “We’ve returned the man to his own bed to die. A decent gesture. And now it’s time for you to fulfill your promise to us.”
“You’ll have your promise,” Cedar said. “But you’ll wait.”
“I grow tired of waiting, Mr. Hunt.” Alun turned, and so did the other two Madder brothers, as if they were all soldiers in a line.
“We are all tired of waiting,” they said with one voice.
There were times, like this right here, when Cedar questioned just what, exactly, the Madders were. They’d once told him they could talk to stone. They’d parlayed promises with him that cut deep as any metal shackle, and they seemed bent on a mission to retrieve the Holder, no matter the man, creature, or law that stood in their way.
But they did not go about their business as ordinary men might.
Cedar turned away from them. “What do you need from me?” he asked Mae.
“Just a drop of your blood,” she said. “Please, brothers Madder, if you’ll move aside, I’ll do this quickly.”
The brothers didn’t move, didn’t exchange a single word, but then, all at the same moment, they seemed to exhale, losing that intensity they had just possessed.
“You are a man made of steel will, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. Then, “What have you cooked up now, Mrs. Lindson? Some spell to get us our Holder, I hope.”
“No, a spell to bind strength and health to Father Kyne, Mr. Madder.”
“You think it a kindness to prolong a man’s death?”
“I think it a kindness to save his life.”
The Madders moved out of the way and Cedar stepped up by the bedside along with Wil. Cedar used his pocketknife to nick his finger, drawing a red bead there.
“And Wil,” Mae said.
Wil put his left paw on the edge of the bed and Cedar drew blood near his claw.
Mae had a white handkerchief with pretty blue and yellow flowers embroidered in the corners. She dabbed the cloth in Wil’s blood, then pressed it against Cedar’s finger.
“This won’t hurt,” she whispered to him. She stood so close all thoughts were washed from his mind, replaced with only the need to hold her, to have her.
“I know,” he whispered back.
And then Mae turned to Father Kyne.
She began humming, then singing a soft song with words Cedar did not understand. They caught at him and carried him along, and the room, the danger, the worry of the world was, for one blessed moment, lifted from his shoulders and mind.
The song was Mae, her voice, her soul, her love, and he wanted to lose himself in her forever.
Then she pressed the folded handkerchief with their blood into the wound over Father Kyne’s heart.
And all the world came back to Cedar, bringing with it pain.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Rose stood just inside the bedroom door. There wasn’t a lot of room in there with all the people gathered around the bed. Miss Dupuis and Mr. Wicks waited in the hall, talking softly. She even heard Miss Dupuis laugh once, a rare sound from a woman who had lost her longtime companion and lover only a few months ago.
Thomas was charming. She’d certainly fallen for his smooth manners. Rose glanced down the hall. Thomas and Miss Dupuis leaned on opposite sides of the hall, drinking tea. Miss Dupuis was a beautiful woman. Refined, poised, elegant. Somehow, even with all the wind and dirt, and running from the law, she had remained composed, not even a ruffle out of place or smudged.
Rose sighed. She’d just have to face that she’d never have that kind of grace. She was dirty, tattered, and her hair had come undone from its pins. She had other skills, though: metal and steam and cog. She didn’t worry about her abilities in that area. She had a hands-on knack for the tinkering and devising things of the world.
Those skills were just as worthy as being able to stroll comfortably though social situations or remember which fork you were supposed to stab your vegetables with. Weren’t they?
She looked back in the bedroom, and found Hink staring at her. He was sitting in the only chair, his arms crossed over his belly, his hat on his thigh, leaning back with both legs out, taking up the walking space. He looked a little pale, his hair slicked with sweat from the run he’d just taken.
He must be in pain from the bullet wound he’d gotten on the train, but he just raised one eyebrow and gave her a smile. “How do you like the horizon so far, Miss Small?” he asked. “Adventurous enough for you?”