Page 33 of Elysian

“Lucinda would assist you?”

He whistled. “That girl can dissect a body, but I taught her everything she knows from the moment she was old enough to hold a blade. Hester!” he bellowed. She straightened where she had been reorganizing the beakers on the first shelf. “Go to the top of the stairs. A servant should be waiting. Bring the creature to me.”

“Yes, my lord.” She rushed past.

“A creature?” I asked, dread increasing.

Al did not respond to my question. Instead he crouched to reach under the desk, pulling up the handles of a tin, flat box, then placed it on the table with a loud bang. Two vials dangling from an iron holder attached to the side clinked together. The effigy they used to control Cassiel lay in the middle of the box.

I did not miss how Officer Jahrod watched me with more focus, arms crossed. I curled my fingers into the hem of my frock.

Leather bound the crude figure with the limbs poking outward stiffly. Al lifted the vial. Black glinted inside it. He took a syringe lying to the side and slipped it inside. Half the vial emptied into the syringe.

“Warlords are meant to have magick resistance. Why can this harm Lord Draven?”

Carefully, Al began to inject the liquid into the effigy. Where the heart was, where the legs were. The bubbles that formed created a textured surface. One of the first injection sites deflated.

“Because it is not magick. It is a binding, and the binding thins if it is not fed. A sennight, maybe two, and the effects fade from the leather—so I renew it before each use—just in case.” He looked down at the effigy with almost fondness. “When Lord Draven fed on you feeders, the Elixir adhered to every organ and bone. Adding fleurlet powder to the Elixir causes it to bind the poison to him.” He tapped a fingertip on the jar full of black liquid. The very substance he had put inside me and all the other feeders. “Alchemy at its finest.”

They used me to put Cassiel in that cage. It was a truth difficult to swallow. I had to escape. I had to take the grimoire. The Resistance needed more strength against the Council. If there were multiple Warlords . . .

“How are Warlords Awakened?” I blurted, my voice muffled beneath my thundering pulse.

“Awakening a Warlord is tricky business.” He clicked his tongue, cleared his throat, and became serious. “Do not ask questions that will mean a much sooner death.”

His response was not what I needed.

He withdrew the needle from the leather and capped the blood to place it where the vials went.

Loud chittering came from the entrance. Hester hugged a cage to her chest.

“Set it here and return to your organization.” Al slapped the metal table beside the effigy. Hester did as he said, and Piper squirmed inside, under the straw. Al pulled on thick leather gloves and unlatched the cage. Her chirps grew louder as he reached inside and scooped her out.

She thrashed as if possessed.

Pressure continued to build in my throat. A weight bore down on my shoulders. Her beady eyes did not focus as they customarily would. She moved with panicked writhing that I did not recognize.

“Stop,” I choked out.

Al frowned over at me and pushed her back into the cage, leaving the gate open.

“Young lady, this creature is no longer your wraithling.” His gentle words did nothing to soothe the stab to my heart. “You know this.”

“We cannot be sure she’s not in there.” Desperate words spilled from my mouth.

Pity flashed across his features.

“Do not fool yourself.” He clasped my wrist and pulled me toward the cage. He was strong for an old man. My fingers tangled with the slim bars of the cage.

Even as I reached in the rest of the way, I knew there was no Piper left. Nothing that made her my wraithling. The small ferret remained still inside, huddled under the straw. My fingertips touched the tips of her soft fur.

In a movement so fast, she bucked and sank her teeth into my finger.

I grunted, pulling my hand out of the cage. The force of my retreat caused the little teeth to sink deeper into my skin. Blood dampened my fingertips, surrounding the puncture wounds.

“Oh dear,” Al said, wrapping my hand with his leather glove. I could not even feel the pain.

There was no more fooling myself or deceiving myself. She was gone. Overwhelming emotion made me incapable of speech. My chest felt as if it were collapsing. I staggered back and leaned against the side of the metal table.