I shoved up to the bar, heedless of the men I elbowed aside, and tweaked Bala’s sleeve. “I have to go back and check the wounded. Wait for me. I don’t want to go home alone.”
His interested smile sharpened gratifyingly, and I smiled, for he really was an appealing fellow, but I had to get past that door before James Drake walked out of it, so I hopped over the bar, grabbed a shot glass clear with white rum and drank it down in one swallow, then sidestepped the surprised bartender and thence past him through the still-open door. I shut the door behind me to see a long room filled with shapes lying all a-tumble on the floor or atop long tables on which, on kinder nights, folk might dine and chatter on about politics and batey. Tonight I heard only moans.
By lamplight, Drake bent over a man whose stomach had been opened by a gash, its gaping lips revealing the moist mire of intestines. An old woman with blood splashed across her apron and a serious-looking Taino man whose age I could not guess worked side by side at another table, she sewing shut a gaping shoulder wound with needle and thread while he pressed the ragged flesh together with steady hands. For a moment, I was sure I saw sparks trembling at his lips and a smear of ember light, but when I blinked, I realized I was just reeling. I braced myself with a hand on the door, in case any cursed fool tried to barge in after me.
“This one can’t be saved, for I give you my oath his spirit is already one step out of his flesh,” Drake said.
The Taino man said, “Take him, then. How many can you save with him?”
“One, for certain.” He indicated a man whimpering with the bleats of a person trying to be stoic in the face of unrelenting pain. What appeared at first glance as a kerchief was a leaking mat of blood and, beneath it, the white flag of exposed skull. Drake spread fingers over the wound.
Heat swamped the room, sticky and sumptuous, like sweet pudding that coats the lips until you must lick them clean for the sake of your craving. A kernel of desire swirled in my gut. I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a sighing exhalation.
The woman glanced at me, then at Drake. Blessed Tanit! A skin of glowing fire, not flames but a gleam like coals, washed down the body of the man with the belly wound. His chest arched up, although his mouth made no sound. Drake’s hand, on the other man’s bloody scalp, turned white-hot, and then I blinked, for it was too strong a light. Had I only imagined it? The first man now lay as if dead, life burned out of him.
Drake removed his hand. “He will live.”
I groped behind me for the latch, for I wanted nothing more than to get out of this room with its ashy stench of death and hope. But Drake was as fast and determined as a shark. One moment he stood halfway across the room with his gaze turned to me, as if to decide whether I was worthy prey, and the next he had crossed the space between us and taken hold of my hand. The candles flared. The other two looked up, but none of the wounded men did, and I thought: Maybe they’ve been drugged so they can’t know some men are being killed to save others.
“So here you are. I have been looking for you for weeks now, Cat.”
I twisted my hand out of his. “I haven’t been looking for you!”
“Why, Cat, I think you are drunk.”
“I don’t like you, Drake. I just came here to say that.”
Was that twitch amusement or anger? “That’s not what you said before.”
“I was drunk before.”
A curling warmth crept up my arm as he smiled. “Where are you staying?”
“Why do you think I mean to tell you?”
“You had better tell me after all the trouble I’ve gone to for you!”
All the burning wicks snapped out. Just like that.
“ Ah,” whispered Drake, and he smiled.
Out in the common room, the buzzing conversation ceased as if it, too, had been doused.
The Taino man cursed against the darkness, and a single candle feebly wavered to life, just as, beyond the wall, men started talking all at once and in heightened voices.
I pressed my free hand against my blouse, feeling for the locket’s curve. I found the thread of him along the chains that bound us. He was nearby on the street, and it belatedly occurred to me that he had gotten home and they had told him where I had gone and this was the inevitable result.
Drake still had hold of my elbow, pouring into me a fierce forceful need that was the fire of his magic. Never let it be said I lacked ways to extricate myself from any awkward situation, for I knew exactly what Bee would do in this one.
“I’m going to throw up!” I pretended to gag.
Drake released me and jerked back.
I hauled open the door, slipped through, and slammed it shut. Men were cursing, trying to make light. With a sweep of my cane, I cleared every mug on the long counter, sending them crashing to the floor as I jumped over.
“Wardens!” I shrieked. “ Run!?”
They were not stupid men in the Speckled Iguana. Not many panicked, but enough did to stir the big room and make it hard for them to get order. That made it easy for me to wrap shadows around myself and weave my way unremarked through the clamor and out the doors.
He had paused across the street, hidden by the night. Of course he saw me, although others did not. I raced across the street.
“We have to go!” I whispered hoarsely, trying to grab his arm but missing entirely.
He began walking so quickly I had to trot to keep up, me wrapped in shadow and him hugging the darkness until I wondered if he was using illusion to mask himself, for none of the men loitering nearby took the least notice of us.
I said, “Just think! We could sneak around all over the place and no one would ever see us.”
Men looked around, gazes questing like those of scenting dogs.
“Did yee hear that?”
“I see no one.”
Vai took hold of my hand and we ran until I was breathless and laughing as we slowed to a walk in the deserted market.
“Catherine, all the shadows in the world will not hide you if everyone can hear your voice.”
Catching him by surprise, I shoved him against the wall of one of the empty market stalls. Someone sold spices here during the day. The rich perfumes of cinnamon and nutmeg lingered, and I licked my lips to savor them. “Have I ever told you you’re uncanny handsome?”
“Catherine, you are drunk.”
He tried to step away from me, but I leaned into him. The rise and fall of his chest caressed me. I was enchanted by his glower.
“I could just eat you up,” I murmured in what I hoped was an intimate whisper.
He turned his head away, so my lips brushed the prickly hairs of his decorative beard; he gripped my elbows. “Catherine, if you cannot respect yourself enough not to throw yourself at me while swilled in rum, then could you please respect me enough not to treat me as if I were a man willing to take advantage of a woman who is drunk? Because I am not that man.”
I nuzzled his throat. “You wish you were that man.”
“No, I don’t wish I were that man.”
I ignored his frosty tone in favor of rubbing against him. “Your body wishes you were that man.”
He shoved me away so hard I fell flat on my backside.
He muttered a curse, extending a hand. “I didn’t mean for you to fall. My apologies.”
I giggled as I reached for him. “You’re only angry because you’re aroused.”
An icy curl of wind kissed my nose as he pulled back his hand without touching mine. “You may think with your body, Catherine, but I. Think. With. My. Mind. I am going home. Are you coming with me, or are you returning to your friends at the Speckled Iguana? Because you can be sure I will not stop you from going where you wish.”
He walked away. It took far too long for his words to filter through my muddied brain and then longer still to remember how to get to my feet. I ran after the harried rhythm of his steps. He said nothing as I stumbled up beside him. By the set of his shoulders and the nip of the air pooling around him, I knew he was furious. Aroused and furious, certainly a bad dish to be served.