A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(93)

Here in the world outside the astral plane, he was not quite as I’d thought he would be. He was tall, yes, but not a giant. The bloodiness of his face was not a bright crimson but a duller red, like raw meat left out upon a table. When he spoke, the tendons of his neck stretched, the sight more grotesque than I’d have thought. A fly circled overhead, buzzing as it landed upon the side of his face. He waved it off without thinking, like it was a daily occurrence.

“Surrender now,” I said, my voice echoing. Foolish words, of course, but I needed to keep him off guard.

“I beg pardon?” He chuckled, as though I’d said something precocious.

“Surrender, or you’ll be forced.”

“And who, might I ask, will force me?” A smile tugged at his fleshless lips. Taking Porridge in hand, I steadied myself.

“I will,” I said, and attacked.





I bowled him over with the wind. Good, but I knew he wouldn’t let himself be caught off guard like that again. I spun Porridge overhead, attempting to transform the current of wind into a cyclone, but my arm erupted in pain as if the blood inside my body were rebelling. Screaming, I dropped my stave. An instant later the agony had vanished, leaving me to cradle my arm as R’hlem approached.

“This is not what I wanted from our first true meeting, my love.” He sounded bitter.

When I covered him in flame, the fire washed over his body harmlessly. Damn it to hell, his abilities were like mine; of course fire would not hurt him. With a nod of his head, the muscles in my back and arms tightened, locking me into place once more. I toppled over, then felt my body mercifully relax as he released me. R’hlem merely waited for me to grab Porridge and get to my feet. He was indulging me.

He held up his hand. “I don’t want to fight you. Why do you think I waited all these months to attack London in full force? I had to be certain you were out of harm’s way. Please, don’t make me hurt you now, after all this.”

Attack in a way he won’t expect. I snared one of Mickelmas’s spells in my mind, willing the shards of obsidian glass to form a hand and pin him down. But I’d misjudged how differently this would work with glass instead of earth. The shards splintered into tinier pieces, yes, but did nothing else.

“That wasn’t pure sorcery, was it?” R’hlem came closer still. “Mickelmas trained you in our ways.” His eye narrowed. “I should thank him for giving you some proper instruction.”

Attacking would only make me appear more foolish. R’hlem came closer and sighed in frustration as I retreated.

“My darling, all I want is to talk,” he said. In response, I burst into flame. It would do nothing, but it sent the message that I didn’t want him to touch me. Rather than grow irritated, he crouched on the balls of his feet and looked me over, as though he was appraising me.

“You’ve better control than I did at your age.” He sounded like a doting father whose child has taken its first step. “If your mother could only see this.” Hearing him speak of my mother made me blind with fury.

“She’d kill herself if she could see what you’ve become.”

He paced around me. For the first time, something I’d done wounded him.

“It’s a cruel blow of fate that you don’t resemble her in the slightest.” His gaze gentled. “But I do glimpse her defiance in you.” He took off his coat, dropping it to the floor. Blood stained the loose sleeves of his shirt like some garish design. “I want to see more of what you can do.” He held out his hands, beckoning. “Attack.”

He was playing with me.

With a sweep of my arm, I sent the jagged shards of glass flying. He melted them with his fire and shook his head, disappointed.

“Your magician abilities aren’t terribly strong. You’re hampered by that thing.” He glared at Porridge. I hugged the stave to my chest. “You’ve nothing to fear. I know your life depends on it.” He sneered. “But I will burn them all for chaining you so.”

Conjuring up an old spell of Mickelmas’s, I twisted Porridge at my heart and created three perfect illusions of myself to surround my father. Hoping to distract him enough to land a blow, I attacked…and skidded to a halt as dozens of bloodied, flayed men surrounded me, every one wearing that smug grin. Tripping on my damned skirt, I turned smack into the real him. He looked down on me—he was quite tall—but allowed me to dodge away up the stairs. I made it to the second level and stopped, my chest heaving.

“Nicely done,” he said. “But there is no trick you can perform that I cannot match. Once you’re with me, I’ll teach you better techniques.”

I would not go anywhere with him. With a shout, I slashed Porridge through the air, throwing pulse after pulse of warded force. He batted the blows away easily but was distracted enough for me to rush down and slash at him with my dagger. He growled, putting out his hand. My body froze once more, and I tipped over. My head struck the floor, the world around me rippling. While I lay there, dazed, R’hlem squeezed his hand into a fist.

Every muscle in my arm jumped in agony. I howled, the sound trapped in my clenched jaw. He kicked my dagger away.

“That’s a weapon from Strangewayes’s, isn’t it? Unfortunately, you’ll find they have little effect on me. I was reborn in the Ancients’ world, my angel, not born. I am a mere imitation of my beautiful monsters.” He sneered again. “Just as you are a pale approximation of a sorcerer.” He jerked his hand; I was sure my muscles would shred. Anything. Do anything he wants, only if he’ll make it stop! I whined deep in my throat. He relaxed my body, but only slightly. “I wanted you to join me willingly.” He sounded so remorseful. “But if I must hurt you to save you, I will.”