Belladonna by Anne Bishop
He shook his head. “I don’t have any magics.”
“You love this place. Despite the troubles that plague this village, you love it. And your heart holds the memories of what this landscape used to be. You haven’t let go of the memories that were passed down to you or the hope that Raven’s Hill will be what it once was.”
He looked sad. “So everyone was right about Michael and Caitlin?”
“Yes and no.” Glorianna looked at the burned ruins of the cottage, feeling the knot of Dark currents directly under it. Why would anyone have built a home on a spot that must have made all the workers uneasy? And how much courage had it taken to live in the cottage, even if the people living there had no knowledge of the currents?
Sorrow’s ground. The words came like a whispered memory. She closed her eyes against the pain of it.
“What’s the matter? Are you unwell?”
A light hand on her arm. Concern in Nathan’s voice.
She opened her eyes and looked into his. He can change things.
“If you want to help your village and your people, this is what you must do.” Ephemera, hear me. She scuffed the ground, then picked up a palm-sized stone that matched the stone in the quarry. She made a sweeping gesture that took in the ruins of the cottage and the meadow around it. “Know the true names of things. This is Sorrow’s Ground. It is not a place that should be built on or lived on. It belongs to Sorrow, to the hard feelings that plague the heart. It belongs to regrets, to disappointments, to loss. In season, pick a wildflower from the meadow or bring a flower from the home garden, or select a simple stone, and whisper what troubles you as you give your offering to Sorrow’s Ground.” She demonstrated by tossing the stone into the ruins of the cottage.
“All well and good if people don’t think it’s too daft to do,” Nathan said. “But what is it supposed to accomplish?”
“It’s a cleansing,” Glorianna replied. “Since there are already hard feelings about this little piece of Raven’s Hill, people won’t find it that difficult to believe this is the village’s dark place.”
“If you’re not careful, Sorrow could become a mysterious, black-haired sorceress who walks among the ruins or out in the meadow and listens to the grievings and regrets,” Nathan said.
She heard the unspoken question, felt the yearning in his heart—and felt a moment’s regret that her own yearnings pulled her toward a man whose heart was clouded enough that, even though she was drawn to Michael, might even be falling in love with him, she wasn’t sure she could trust him.
“Caitlin and Michael won’t come back to Raven’s Hill. Neither will I. So if you think it will help your people, then tell the story of a sorceress called Sorrow who came to restore balance to this piece of the world. And when the next one like me comes to Raven’s Hill, be careful what you name her. A Landscaper keeps her pieces of the world in balance. It is what we do and what we are. If you can accept her, the two of you can build something good here.”
“How do you…” His face flushed.
“The heart has no secrets. Not from me.” Not usually. Rising up on her toes, she kissed his cheek, then stepped back. “May your heart travel lightly.”
She saw the other men approaching, some grim-faced, some concerned. Nathan heard them and looked back as he raised a hand in greeting.
They trusted him. Good. And there were enough of them to stand witness for each other. Even better.
She gave the men one long look that had them hesitating, then turned and took that step between here and there—and vanished right before their eyes.
Chapter Twenty-five
When It reached Kendall, It slipped into the seaport quickly and moved away from the docks and the delicious stew of hopes and fears—and the hearts that held a guttering Light that could be snuffed out so easily. The docks, and the streets surrounding them, belonged to the male Enemy who had been strong enough to escape being pulled into Its dark landscapes. It did not want to alert that male to Its presence, especially since It still chewed on the kernel of worry that the Enemy had found the True Enemy and had united with her against It.
So It headed away from the docks, flowed beneath the streets that belonged to the merchants and bakers and carpenters who were too stolid to be interesting prey until the mallet of fear had softened them and…
It turned back, intrigued by the fear pulsing from a round little man hurrying down the street, glancing over his shoulder, jumping at every noise.
It followed, lapping up the man’s fear, slipping into his mind to learn the shape of the phantoms that rubbed away the satisfaction of owning a thriving business.
He hurried down the street, knowing it was smarter—safer—to walk as if he were simply heading home at the end of the workday. He didn’t dress in a way that shouted “prosperity”—except when his wife made him—so he looked like an employee rather than the owner of a successful business.
But business had been good, very good. Which was why he was so late closing up the shop, why he hadn’t been heading home with all other merchants who had shops on Ware Street, why his footsteps were the only…
Another footfall. A scrape of boots on cobblestone. Something sly about the sound.
He didn’t dare look around, didn’t want to alert whoever was behind him that he was aware of the danger. Thieves lurked in the alleyways, waiting to strip honest men of their wages. Nervous about leaving all the day’s till in the shop’s safe, especially since someone had tried to break into Wagerson’s shop the week before, he was carrying a thieves’ bounty home with him to tuck into the house safe.
Now someone followed him, intent on robbing him. Maybe would even hit him over the head and leave him bleeding in the gutter, alone and helpless until the constables made their rounds and noticed him.
His wife scoffed when he mentioned such things, telling him fear was the only thief that visited, robbing him of his peace of mind. Then she would suggest he take a cab home if he worried about walking the streets after dark, especially on the nights when he carried a packet to put in the home safe. As if he would squander good coin for a horse and driver, except in foul weather, when only a few blocks separated shop and home.
But…Those footfalls. Those sly steps following him. Were they getting closer? Should he run? Only two more blocks and he would be home, safe behind his doors and locks.
Where were the constables? Shouldn’t they be walking their beat? Why was he paying all those taxes for their wages if they weren’t around to stop an honest man from being beaten and robbed?
And it did happen, despite what his wife said. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know anyone personally who had been robbed. He didn’t want to be the first of his acquaintance to have the experience.
But he might be the first. Maybe even tonight.
His heart pounded. His breath came in pants as he rounded the corner and saw the welcoming lights of his home—and the lights in the houses of his neighbors, who would all come to the rescue of one of their fellows because, like him, they were all good, hardworking, honest people.
Those footsteps were getting closer, hurrying now as if the thief sensed how close his prey was to safety.
Emboldened by his surroundings and knowing his shouts would bring a quick response, he spun around to confront his pursuer.
And saw nothing but shadows.
A darker shadow among the shadows, It watched the little man scurry into his house, almost glowing with the Light of happiness.
Time and the repeated feeding of the same fear were required to create something like the bonelovers or the death rollers, and while It could create access points for humans to stumble into, even lethal creatures were at a disadvantage in a city.
But this delightful fear of a phantom predator. This didn’t require one of Its creatures, didn’t require an access point that would be noticed and, possibly, reported to whatever Landscaper provided the bedrock for this part of the city. This predator could be nurtured in dozens
A phantom predator.
Could changing this part of Kendall into a dark hunting ground really be that easy?
Yesssss.
Doreen looked out the window of her room at the boardinghouse. It was a respectable location for a single lady, the cabbie had assured her. And it was respectable. Gentility on a strict budget. The room was clean, as were the sheets, but the quality of the furniture and linens was little better than what she’d had at home. And she wanted more. So much more. Deserved more.
She’d always thought the Magician would be her meal ticket out of Foggy Downs. She’d even been willing to give him sex in exchange for taking her with him on the road. Not that the bastard had appreciated the offer.
She wouldn’t have stayed with Michael. Stay with a man who didn’t have two coins to rub together half the time? Oh, no. She wasn’t interested in someone who couldn’t buy her pretty things.
In the end, though, the Magician had been her meal ticket. If she’d known accusing him of being what he was would get Shaney mad enough to empty the till to pay for her coach passage out of Foggy Downs, she would have made the accusation long ago.
It had embarrassed Shaney’s wife beyond shaming that everyone in the village, even the most pinchpenny among them, had tossed a coin or two into a hat to help with expenses. Some of the shops had donated toiletries or other bits and pieces for “luck on the journey.”
She wasn’t fooled for a tinker’s minute. They’d rather be rid of her, who lived and worked among them, than chance having the Magician avoid the village on his wanderings.
So be it. It had gotten her here, hadn’t it? A boardinghouse around the docks would have let her squeeze out her coins a bit longer, but she wouldn’t find the kind of man she was looking for around the docks. She wasn’t interested in humping behind the shed anymore. That had never gotten her more than winks added to a generous tip, which she’d more than earned with most of those dolts. No, she would find a gentleman who would appreciate her beauty and set her up in style with a little house of her own and fine clothes.
Before she had to pinch her pennies, she would find a man who would give her what she deserved.
Michael raised his mug and took a healthy swallow of ale. Crossing over from Sanctuary to the Den of Iniquity was a jolt for mind and heart—more so, he figured, than a person would experience coming from an ordinary place like Aurora or Kendall or even Foggy Downs. The Den and Sanctuary both made him want to take out his whistle and play along with the music he could hear in the land, but the tunes were so different.
As were the men who lived in those places. He glanced at the table where Yoshani was talking to Nadia and her husband Jeb, then looked at the man sitting at the table with him.
“So when do we have this strategy session?” Michael asked.
“When Glorianna gets done primping and decides to join us,” Sebastian replied, giving him an edgy look out of those sharp green eyes.
Time to change the subject, since he really didn’t want Sebastian thinking too long or too hard about why Glorianna might be primping. If primping was, indeed, the reason she’d asked Sebastian for the key to his room in the bordello.
Primping was good, wasn’t it? It meant a woman wanted to attract a man. Or arouse a man. Or…Maybe he should borrow the room key and do a little primping himself if…
He looked into Sebastian’s eyes and knew it was really time to think about something besides primping and Glorianna and what could be done behind locked doors in a bordello.
So he focused on Teaser, who seemed to be having some kind of “discussion” with Lynnea.
“What’s he doing?” Michael asked, raising his chin to indicate the pair, who looked like they were going to start throwing more than words at any moment.
Sebastian glanced at his wife and friend. “He’s learning how to be more human.”
Michael cocked his head but he was only catching the tone and not the actual words. “Sounds like a cranky older brother to me.”
Sebastian gave him a bland look. “He’s learning how to be human.” He waited until Michael was swallowing a mouthful of ale before adding, “He’s using you as a role model.”
“Ripe bastard,” Michael said when he stopped choking.
Sebastian bared his teeth in an insincere smile. Then his expression froze. His eyes heated. He pushed back his chair—and Lee dropped into the other chair at the table and said, “Mother says if you do the stupid thing you’re thinking of doing, you will have to apologize three times to every woman in our family—and the apologies will include flowers, candy, and groveling—before there is even a chance of you being forgiven.”
“But…” A noise rumbled up from Sebastian’s chest that didn’t sound remotely human. “Did she explain—”
“She’s my mother and your auntie,” Lee said. “She doesn’t need to explain anything.”
Since Sebastian looked ready to choke, Michael focused on the street to figure out what had caused that reaction. All he saw was Glorianna.
All he saw was Glorianna.
A dark skirt and a dark jacket with embroidery at the neckline and cuffs. A light shirt. Her hair up in a simple knot. Lovely to look at on the surface. But under the lady-attending-a-luncheon clothes, she moved as Woman. Potent. Primal. Sexual.
“Lady’s mercy,” he whispered. Then he looked beyond her, though it pained him to take his eyes off her as she crossed the street and moved toward him—and saw what had set Sebastian on edge.
Saw the difference between human men and incubi.
The human men, coming to the Den for something more tasty than the women they knew, glanced at Glorianna and looked away, seeing someone too much like them to be of interest. The incubi stopped in their tracks, entranced by the prey. This was the kind of woman whose emotions and desires would be a feast for them, whether they were dream lovers or physical lovers.
Then she got to the edge of the courtyard and looked back at them, and they realized who—and what—she was. All of them scurried away, nervous now about showing interest in Belladonna, who might not find their interest appealing.
“What’s wrong with them?” Glorianna asked, turning back to the table. The tiny frown line between her eyes deepened as she studied Sebastian. “What’s wrong with you?”
“He swallowed something that didn’t agree with him,” Michael said, keeping his face bland but letting his voice ring with amusement. Which was a fine bit of work since just looking at her stirred up a messy stew of wants and needs that were neither bland nor amusing.
“Watch your step, Magician,” Sebastian growled. “We paid the Merry Makers two goats for you, which is something we can rectify by giving you back to be the second course.”
“Sebastian.” Glorianna sounded shocked.
Lee popped out of his chair, slipped an arm around her waist, and herded her away from the table. “Philo set up some food inside. Thought we’d prefer to keep this discussion private. Let’s round up the others.”
Michael pushed his chair back, intending to follow Glorianna and Lee.
“Sit,” Sebastian said quietly, watching the others head for the indoor dining room.
“But…,” Michael said.
“Sit.”
Teaser, being the last one to reach the door, glanced back at them. Before Michael could decide if he was or wasn’t going to ignore the command, he was helped to his feet by Sebastian grabbing a fistful of his shirt and hauling him up.
“Not here,” Sebastian said, the threat in no way softened by the fact that it was sa
“Are you saying we’re enemies?” Michael asked, wondering how well ill-wishing would work on an incubus.
“Not yet,” Sebastian said, releasing Michael’s shirt. “Maybe we’ll even end up friends.”
The first thought—“not likely”—got swallowed as he listened to the music that made up Sebastian.
It’s possible, Michael thought, surprised by how appealing the idea was.
A friendship between them was possible—at least until Sebastian discovered that he really was a threat.
As soon as they got into the dining room, Glorianna pulled Lee away from the others. “What’s wrong with him?” She wanted to shout, so the effort to keep her voice low enough for the conversation to remain private strained her throat muscles.
“Don’t know Michael well enough to say,” Lee replied.
“Not Michael. Sebastian.” Could her brother really be that obtuse? “He just threatened to give a human to the Merry Makers to eat.”
Lee shrugged. “I’m sure he was just teasing.”
No, he wasn’t—and neither are you. Lee had gotten along with Michael during the journey to the White Isle, and had even developed a fledgling friendship. But liking a man and trusting him weren’t the same thing, and there was only one reason she could think of—that Lee would know about—that would give her brother an excuse to look away if trouble started.
Since she couldn’t hit him without her mother getting involved, she slapped with words. “I’m sorry if this is a shock to you, but I’ve had sex before. Michael wouldn’t be my first lover.”