Miserere: An Autumn Tale Page 10

  In the night, when the adults slept, the twins devised a plan where they both would be happy. Lucian would teach Catarina everything she needed to know to rule their land, and on their father’s death, she would rule and Lucian would join the church. They hadn’t anticipated their uncle’s deceit and the deaths of their parents.

  Catarina ripped pages from the book, one by one. “When we were young and I was unhappy, he would do whatever I asked to see me smile again.”

  “It’s been years since our happiness has concerned him.”

  “He swore to our mother that he would always watch over me.” Catarina recalled their mother’s haggard face as she shoved their father’s bloodied ring on Lucian’s finger. She had forced him to kiss the cold metal and swear an oath to watch over his sister and avenge his family.

  Then she sent them into the night. They became lost in the forest until the Crimson Veil brought them into Woerld. Lucian, duty-bound creature that he was, kept the one oath he could. He watched over his twin. Catarina intended to hold him to that promise. She tore another page from the book.

  Even in Woerld, all had been well between them until Rachael stole her brother’s affections. Catarina had warned him to leave Rachael alone, but he’d ignored her. He always ignored her until it was too late. “He’ll see the error of his ways,” she muttered to the book.

  Cerberus said, “He sees only misery now.”

  “Then he shall have it.” Her uncle had taught her the art of brutality. “In abundance.”

  Cerberus slithered up beside her and nosed at the book until she dropped it to the floor. He whispered in her ear: “Lucian resists our reasonable requests to open the Hell Gates. No sooner than he is out of our sight, he has broken his covenant with the Citadel. The same covenant he repeatedly cited for his refusal to open the Gates for us.” The demon’s voice dropped to a sibilant hiss. “The jackals took a foundling near Cross Creek. We believe it died. The jackals smelled another, but it eluded them.”

  To take a foundling before it entered Woerld was a minor victory but a triumph nonetheless. She stroked his brow. “Do you suppose it had a sibling?”

  “It’s possible. That would be cause for Lucian to justify violating his covenant. If the child passed through to Hell, it’s probably dead or mad by now.” He relaxed beside her once more. “If the child is alive, it will be in our favor. A foundling will slow Lucian down and give Speight time to reach him.” The demon paused, then whispered in her ear, “John has sent Rachael after Lucian.”

  Catarina smiled. When Lucian saw how Mastema and the Wyrm had maimed Rachael, he’d change his mind about love. “I’m assured she won’t survive the Wasteland. The Wyrm is upon her. When the demon takes her, I will call her to me.” Then here we shall be, all of John’s foundlings living as a happy family once more. The Citadel would be without an heir apparent, and should John die, her people were prepared to promote anarchy.

  “This evening,” she said, “I told the Council that Speight has taken a small party to map a route for our armies. That should adequately cover his absence while he hunts my brother. Lucian knows too much.”

  “He will warn the Citadel,” Cerberus murmured. “If they’re prepared for our assault, they could extend the campaign into the next winter.”

  No, the attack had to be swift and deadly; Catarina couldn’t afford an extensive campaign unless she crippled the Citadel quickly. Without the element of surprise on her side, John could be prepared to withstand a siege. If he found a way to extend the campaign into winter, her troops would be cut off from their supply route. The costs of the war would exceed her treasury, and Golan’s King Adelard wouldn’t support further battles against the other bastions. No, Lucian had to be stopped before he ruined everything. “I won’t allow that. If Speight fails to bring Lucian home, I’ll go after him myself.”

  Cerberus nipped her breast playfully. “Have a care you don’t place yourself in the Citadel’s hands, darkling.”

  So long as she remained behind the walls of a city of sanctuary, no Katharos could arrest her. If she dared step outside Hadra’s gates, she could be returned to their damned Citadel for the trial she had escaped.

  “If I could send my spirit far from my body, I would never have to leave Hadra. I could sing him home from the safety of this room.”

  Cerberus raised his head and nuzzled her ear. “Such power comes at a price.”

  A price. For everything there was a price, but Catarina knew how to barter with the Fallen. Deprived of God’s love, the Fallen’s ruined bodies only knew the anguish of their defeat. Mortal emotions were reflections of the divine and gave the Fallen short respites from their pain.

  Catarina met the demon’s silver eyes. “Mastema gets my soul and my love. Would you cheat your master of my love?”

  Cerberus hissed and lowered his head. “Make no such accusations! Never would I cheat my master of his prize, but surely, darkling, surely you can give me sip of one of the lesser passions? In return, I have power that can be yours.”

  “You’ve become greedy.” She tweaked his ear and he yelped.

  “Lucian knows our plans,” he said. “Perhaps Speight will find him before Rachael. Perhaps.”

  Catarina toyed with his ear and gazed at the tapestry. The agony in the stag’s eyes reminded her of Lucian, and she felt a pang of guilt. Once they made plans with their secret childhood language, both desiring only the other’s happiness. Then he had forsaken her for Rachael.

  He was too unstable with his loyalties, and Lucian’s love of God combined with his knowledge of her campaign against the Citadel turned him into a dangerous enemy. Only by keeping him at her side could she be assured of his allegiance. Though she hated to hurt him, she refused to tolerate his defiance, and Lucian never learned from his mistakes.

  “My compassion,” she murmured.

  “It’s such a small thing to ask.”

  She despised the remorse that ripped her heart when he forced her to punish him. His latest transgression proved he still placed that whore Rachael over his own flesh and blood. Lucian would always be in need of correction; he had no discipline. Without her compassion, the worthless guilt would be a memory, and Catarina would force him to submit to her will. “Take it,” she said before she could change her mind.

  Desire softened the demon’s gaze as he inched closer to her face and pressed his lips against hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth and down her throat where she felt the pinprick of a needle. Ice ran through her veins as he drew her compassion from her soul. The empathy she once harbored for her twin vanished; all she felt was bleak despair for his betrayal. Her heart grew brittle as coal. The demon finished, and she shuddered.

  A sound from the hall distracted her. Cerberus cocked an ear and turned his head as a young servant entered the room with an armload of wood. Obviously not expecting to find his mistress in Lucian’s room, he halted mid-step when he saw her on the bed with the demon. He hesitated, looking first to her then to Cerberus. In the semi-dark room, she noticed his eyes were brown, lighter than Lucian’s but no less lovely.

  She waved him inside as her gaze crawled over his muscular arms and strong shoulders. With the same height and build as her twin, he could almost pass as Lucian’s son.

  The youth bowed and went to the hearth where he rolled the sleeves of his tunic before he tended the fire. The flames cast red highlights in his dark hair. He worked quietly in a noticeable effort to avoid drawing further attention to himself.

  Catarina slid from beneath Cerberus and sat up. One of her diamond clips snagged on the lace of the pillowcase. A section of her long black hair spilled across her pale shoulder to frame her breast.

  The sound of the clip striking the floor caused the young man to falter in his work. When she didn’t speak, he resumed his labor.

  Catarina removed the pins from her hair. She tossed the clips carelessly to Lucian’s table where they spilled like glittering tears. “Give me your name,” she said to the boy. Th
ere was power in a name.

  From where he knelt by the fire, the young man froze in the act of picking up another log.

  Cerberus jumped from the bed, his tail whipping from side to side as he stalked the youth. “Your mistress gave you a command.”

  The servant turned and faced her but kept his eyes averted. “Armand, my Lady.”

  “Armand.” She turned the sound into a longing sigh as she untangled the last diamond clip from her locks. “Come here, Armand.”

  Armand didn’t move. Instead, he glanced at the door as if to gauge the distance.

  Traitors. All of them. Deceitful traitors. She snapped her fingers and flicked her wrist in the direction of the door. It slammed shut. From the hall, the lock snickered.

  With trembling hands, Armand set the firewood down and rose. Wood chips clung to his clothes, and he looked at his dirty hands blankly. He brushed himself off and came to her. Without looking into her eyes, he knelt at her feet and mumbled, “My lady.”

  She leaned forward and held her hand out to him.

  His lips brushed her knuckles and a tingle of desire flew up her arm. His cheek was damp with tears and she stroked his face. He didn’t flinch; he wouldn’t dare.

  Delicately as a cat licking her paws, Catarina rolled her tongue around her finger, tasting his terror. It wasn’t his despair she wanted. “Come to me, Armand.” She tugged his hand and he rose to sit beside her. “Lie down, darling.”

  She drew him to the center of the bed and when his dark head was against her brother’s pillow, she stretched out beside him, her skirts settling around them. “Tell me who you love, Armand.”

  Confused by her request, his gaze met hers and she had him. She wrapped her will around his and drew him close. They were simple as sheep, these easily manipulated children, not at all like her twin, who resisted her.

  “Your love. Is it a girl? Do you have a girl, Armand?” Her mouth brushed his. “That you love?”

  His lips parted, but before he could articulate a sound, a name touched her mind: Clarissa.

  “You love a girl named Clarissa. Is that right?” She smiled at him as she traced the line of his jaw with a feather touch.

  Frozen beneath her spell, he shivered.

  Cerberus jumped onto the bed and brought his snout close to Armand’s face. The youth tried to squirm away from the demon, but there was nowhere to go. Catarina held him in her enchantment so Cerberus could lick each of the young man’s tears as they fell.

  “Armand,” she whispered. He made a small sound in the back of his throat. She unlaced his tunic, trailing first her fingers then her lips down his chest. “Give me your love.”

  “Please.” He tried to resist her, but he had looked into her eyes. He belonged to her, and in the end he had no choice but to obey.

  She kissed his lips and sucked his love from his soul as Cerberus had taken her compassion. Her flesh warmed, yet the relief she derived from this child was a weak mimicry of the respite she took from Lucian.

  Her twin’s love was pure, and when she kissed him, she drank deep from his soul. Without him, she was ever cold.

  We are never the same without you at my side.

  Cerberus moved to her side of the bed, his tail snaked up her ankle to her calf as he stepped on the mattress. Fluid as an eel, he slithered up her back, pressing her closer to Armand.

  “Lucian,” she moaned against the boy’s hair. Cerberus’ strength flowed through her veins and Armand’s passion filled the dark holes of her spirit. Her vision was sharper, her hearing more acute. Motes of power danced through the air like a rainbow of light. No drug made her feel like this. She was invincible.

  “Sing him home,” Cerberus said, his breath hot against her ear.

  She could. The strength was hers. She could find her way to her brother’s soul and sing him home. He would have no choice but to obey her, and when he did, she would turn his heart to glass.

  The demon nuzzled her hair and said, “Do it. Turn his heart to glass, grind it to powder, and if he speaks…”

  “If he dares,” she whispered against Armand’s throat.

  “…crush every soul he has ever loved.”

  In the darkness, she sang to a man-child and dreamed of her twin.

  Humming softly…

  †

  He awoke to a broken lullaby he recalled from his youth. Someone whispered his name. Lucian opened his eyes, wrapped in night so deep that he could not see his breath mist before him in the icy air. His sister’s spirit hovered at the edge of their little camp.

  Lucian’s blood roared through his veins; fear gripped him by the throat at the sight of her. This magic was new, and she’d caught him unawares. Now that he didn’t have to guard his every thought against her, life outside of her house had made him careless. Lucian refrained from glancing in Lindsay’s direction. For now, the child was safely behind him, out of his sister’s sight.

  “Lucian, we are never the same without you at my side.” Catarina’s voice passed through space and time as a nail to his heart, recalling their devotion to one another before her corruption. On a journey with his father, Lucian had written those words to her when they’d lived on Earth. They had been ten, and he knew she pined for him during those trips, so he always tried to write words to soothe her. She was no longer a child and neither was he.

  Grinding his teeth against the pain and the cold, he struggled to his feet. “No more, Cate.” It was partial demand, partial plea.

  “Oh, my darling,” she said. “We’ve had such a misunderstanding.” She shook her head sadly and her dark hair shadowed her face like a veil. He couldn’t see her eyes and thought himself safe from her wiles. “I know the thought of my retribution frightened you, but you misinterpreted my actions. My spies have uncovered threats against us. I sent my soldiers because I worried for your safety. The priest told me you were terrified so he helped you leave. What lies you’ve spread, Lucian. It grieves me that you believe I am such a monster.”

  He felt her distress, and guilt gnawed his heart. Could his fear have clouded his judgment? He remembered her pleading tone as he’d walked out on her. Rather than demanding that he return, she had implored him.

  “Now you are in great danger, wandering the Wasteland alone.” She gestured to his leg. “Crippled. What would happen if you fall and cannot rise? How can I live if something happens to you?”

  With the special bond they shared, he heard her thoughts as clearly as if she’d spoken. We are never the same, her heart whispered to his, without you. “Come home, Lucian, where the fires are warm and there is no more pain. I forgive you. We’ll forget about this and love one another again.”

  Each time she said his name her spell wrapped more securely around his heart. He saw his room behind her, enveloped in heat from the roaring fire; the warmth washed over his body and drove his pain away. Wouldn’t it be good to rest? To be warm and fed?

  Come home, Lucian.

  Relief flowed through him. It was all a mistake. He’d simply misinterpreted her intentions. This time would different; they would put aside their grievances. She would listen. Surely she would be reasonable. This time.

  “Lucian?” Lindsay whispered as she touched his hand. “What’s going on?”

  Catarina’s hold over him shattered when he looked away from his sister. The remnants of her enchantment spun away, insubstantial as dreams. The chill air of the Wasteland seeped back into his bones and his stomach growled with hunger. Only pain and humiliation awaited him in Hadra. She would never forgive him for running a second time.

  He took Lindsay’s hand and drew the girl close. How could he have forgotten Lindsay? A week in Hadra would leave the girl insane. All the fires blazing in that haunted house couldn’t keep the shadows at bay. There was no reprieve from his sister’s malevolence. There never could be.

  He wouldn’t betray another innocent to Catarina’s wrath, not for all the warmth on Woerld. God help me, please. Lucian saw his room again; this time, he
noticed a young man supine on the bed. The youth had eyes like stones to match his loveless heart, shriveled and black.

  Go home where she will grind glass into my heart for eternity. “No more,” he said a second time, his voice stronger.

  Catarina ignored him and addressed Lindsay. “Tell me your name, my dear.”

  “Tell her nothing.” Lucian tried to shield the girl from his sister, but Lindsay was captivated by Catarina and stepped around him.

  “Lindsay Richardson.”

  “Lindsay Richardson. What a lovely name. And aren’t you pretty and pale, like a girl made of glass?” Catarina’s apparition flickered then grew clear again.

  Lucian took heart; a spell this strong had to be draining her physical body. He only had to wait her out and pray that Lindsay said nothing to give their location away.

  “I’m so sorry, Lindsay. My brother is very confused, his mind is not right. Tell me, has he been telling you about demons and Hell? Angels?”

  The weight of Lucian’s fear almost dragged him down. With his shaggy hair and beard, he probably looked and smelled like a madman wandering the wilderness, raving of angels and demons. The fragile progress he’d made to win the child’s trust was broken; he could see it in Lindsay’s guarded look. “She lies, Lindsay,” he said.

  “He thinks I want to hurt him, but I just want him to be safe.” Catarina smiled. “He needs someone to look after him.”

  “Are you?” The girl stepped away from him and he released her hand. “Crazy?”

  “No, Lindsay.” Lucian shook his head. “No.”

  “He’s just sick and confused,” Catarina said.

  Lucian stood very still so as not to startle the child. “I swear I haven’t lied to you.”

  “Haven’t you, Lucian?” Catarina gestured to the mare. “Have you told her that you murdered the man who rode that horse? Isn’t that a lie of omission?”