Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1 - Chapter 68: Chapter 68

"Let me look."
Grace's fingers pried Nova's hand away from her back, where she was trying to ascertain whether her other wing was broken, too. She didn't need to see the girl's aura to know how shaken up she was; her hands trembled against Nova's skin as she gently probed the damage, and her breath came so hard Nova felt it moving her hair.
A few feet away, the spy lay prone and motionless. His breathing was just barely visible under his layers of clothing, but looking at him Nova felt an echo of that same wild relief she had felt in the Barrens all those years ago, when the bodies of the agents both her uncle and Lord Harkenn had sent to kill her lay leagues behind. She felt no communion with her own people anymore, not like she used to. At that moment, the only other soul that mattered to her was Grace.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"For what?" Grace sniffed quietly; she'd been crying.
"That you got tangled up with this. That I couldn't protect you."
"Don't make this into one of those cheesy romance scenes," Grace said with a choked-off laugh, and then she hesitated and added, "Of course you don't know what I mean. Sometimes I forget you and I aren't from the same world. It's...it's insane to think so, even though it's been weeks. I don't think it'll ever get better. I don't think this is broken, by the way."
Nova pulled down her shift and got to her feet, wincing as every part of her body protested. She walked over to the man lying on his front, sighed, and gently rolled him over with her foot. Grace let out a horrified gasp as he fell onto his back, but he didn't stir. Quickly, Nova tore a bigger hole in his jerkin and poked around at the damage. The knife had gone in to the hilt, but it wasn't bleeding heavily enough to have hit anything important. The eye with the needle sticking out of it would cause him far bigger problems.
"If he dies, it won't be from your wound," Nova muttered, leaning over and peering at his face. It was barely recognisable under the thick mask of blood. "So you can stop panicking about that."
"He was up and running with yours!" Grace protested, eyes welling again. Nova cursed; that hadn't been her intention at all. "Then I.... I stabbed someone. Nova, I stabbed someone."
"You did, yes," Nova said slowly. "I can see it."
"I can't believe I stabbed someone."
Nova blinked, and then said emphatically, "He was going to kill us."
Grace stared at her, eyes wide. "You don't care? What if he dies?"
"You know you said that already," Nova snapped, "About five times. So we can stand here and watch him die, or we can get him to the kitchens, patch him up, and have him arrested."
Grace had an odd look on her face, and suddenly Nova was struck with the fear that she had in a single moment just undone whatever progress she and Grace had made in coming to terms with Nova's past crimes. It wasn't that she didn't feel some degree of panic over the fact that she may well have just pushed her kill count into the double digits, only that panicking about it just made it all feel worse than it needed to.
"Grab his head end," she sighed, tugging at his feet and bracing them against her hips. Her entire body protested, but she ignored it with gritted teeth. "We can stash him in the dungeons for now."
"The dungeons?" Grace repeated. "But..."
"I can't carry him all the way back to the kitchens. We need guards for that," Nova said, "If you want to try, you're on your own. And if he wakes up, he's not going to feel any less inclined to gut us both. The dungeons are closer, and with any luck he'll be too disorientated to think about running away before Harkenn can get to him."
Grace still looked unhappy, but wandered round to the Angel's head and hoisted him up by the armpits. Nova grimaced as his deadweight swung between them, and they both froze when he groaned, but he only furrowed his brow. His head rolled to the side and he stayed quiet.
They shuffled along the corridor, Grace walking backwards and Nova forwards, so that Nova had a clear view of Grace's expression. The girl looked like she wanted to be sick. At every noise from behind, every shout or demon scream, she flinched so hard Nova almost dropped his ankles. She couldn't tell from the noise if the battle was slowing down or speeding up, and thinking about it too much only made her paranoid.
"This feels like some shitty action B movie," Grace muttered as she staggered backwards, "In a minute one of us will say something witty but cheesy and a big rubber monster will come ambling around that corner and spot us comically slowly."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Nonsense," Grace said, "Just ignore me."
I tried that, Nova thought, scowling and then covering it up with a grimace. Her arms were trembling, and she didn't think she'd ever been so glad to see the dungeon stairs.
Until she realised someone stood at the top of them.
At first, she mistook the figure for Unspoken, but the cloak was cut wrong; it was too short, and the hood wasn't deep enough, even though she still couldn't see a face. They held a weapon, a curved blade that gave Nova a chill as her eyes passed over it.
"Stop," she muttered. Grace didn't hear her at first, only looking up when the Angel's body pulled taut between them. She glanced over her shoulder, and then back at Nova, baffled. "Put him down."
Grace obeyed, and then darted another nervous look at the figure before hurrying around to stand beside her. All through the exchange the figure didn't move, standing almost unnaturally motionless. More unnerving even than the stillness, though, was that Nova couldn't see their aura. She had never come across anyone whose aura she couldn't see. It was normal for some people's to be easier to read than others, but there was never nothing. It was unnatural, like the figure wasn't really...alive. Yet she still saw their shoulders move with gentle breathing, if she concentrated, and their gaze was so intent she felt it on her skin.
"Who are you?" Nova asked. Her voice cracked embarrassingly, but the figure had taken her off guard, and the longer they remained here in a deadlock, the more she was convinced they were in danger. It wasn't inconceivable that some might take advantage of the chaos for their own purposes, if they could get past the demons, but this was no ordinary criminal.
The figure only cocked its head. Grace took a sharp breath.
"I don't like this," she breathed.
"That makes two of us," Nova murmured back, putting a hand out against Grace's hip and gently nudging her backwards. She took one step, and the figure's head snapped to her foot. She froze before it touched the floor.
Then it ran at her.
The next few moments were a blur. Before she could even gather the wits to realise she was about to be attacked, something flew out of the air from a side corridor and hit the cloaked figure squarely on the head. It made a clang that would have been comical in any other situation, the figure stopping dead and stumbling to one side. A silver dinner tray filled the air with metallic ringing as it spun to a stop on the flagstones, but no sooner had it ceased to move than one of the lord's most expensive teapots was flying through the air.
The source of the flying silverware was a giant, whom Nova hadn't even seen until he threw the dinner tray. He was clearly Varthian, and a huge one, and his teeth were sharp enough to be considered illegal if he resided within the Reach. He caught her eye and winked in a way that made her skin crawl, just before launching a ladle to follow the teapot. She looked back at the figure, and saw them looking between her and the Varthian as if deciding who to pursue. They caught the ladle and threw it back, and it glanced off the wall right next to the Varthian's head.
"Time to go, I think," he said in heavily accented Common, and as he gathered up his bag of stolen goods she saw the Devil tattoo on the back of his hand.
She didn't waste any time wondering why a Devil was helping them out; she grabbed Grace by wrist and yanked her round, finding strength in her fear, a fear that went far deeper than she had felt with the Angel spy. She'd forgotten about him, but found that she didn't feel particularly sorry for it. She only wanted to get away from the soulless, aura-less thing with the blade that seemed to suck life out of the air itself.
She didn't know where she was going, only that she was going away – until Grace gasped and cried, "Jordan!"
The girl was gone, flying across the foyer towards another cloaked figure who had emerged from the servants' corridor at the same time they had hurtled out of the dungeon passage. It took Nova a moment, in her frenzy, to realise this figure was Unspoken, to register his aura, which was brighter than anyone else's. She followed at a distance, looking over her shoulder to make sure they hadn't been pursued, but it looked as though that awful figure had chosen to chase the Devil instead.
"What are you doing here?" Grace said, face covered in tears already. She was holding onto her brother like her life depended on it, and he was doing the same; only his aura was filled with overwhelming relief, and hers was near-hysterical panic. "How did you get past the demons? You didn't fight any, did you? Tell me they didn't make you fight any!"
"No, Grace, I didn't fight any. Calm down. I just went to your room, there was blood on the floor, I thought...."
"It was mine."
They both turned to look at Nova, who felt like she was intruding and already regretted saying anything. She pulled down the neckline of her shift. It must have looked a mess; the bruising and the cut, both from the same blade. It felt like her throat had been torn out.
"Holy shit," Jordan breathed. "Who did that to you?"
"Jordan..." Grace said, but Nova didn't mind. She studied him for a moment, studied his aura. There were cracks showing that hadn't been there when she last saw him, and she wasn't certain they meant anything good. What's happened to you, Jordan Haverford?
She sensed his annoyance at her scrutiny and looked away. "It was a spy. One of my people, unfortunately."
"Oh yeah," Jordan said. "Jeorge mentioned him. Where is he now?"
Nova couldn't help her face falling into a scowl at the mention of Jeorge. "Dealt with. What else did Jeorge say?"
"He was looking for you." Jordan chuckled, but it was edged with hysteria. "I think you need to try harder to put him off, he's really committed. But what do you mean, dealt with? He's not still around, is he? Cuz if he is there's no way I'm letting you stay here, Grace."
"He's not going anywhere," Nova said loudly, to prevent Grace having to come up with a response. She looked like she might crack if pushed too hard. "Does a cloaked figure with a curved blade sound familiar?"
Horror flooded Jordan's aura, but they were all distracted as the barrier net took a hit. Through the gap left in the front doors, Nova thought she saw a Death leering through the chain-link with its awful, eyeless face. A flood of soldiers concealed her view as they pressed through the gap and began to line up in formation, three neat rows with weapons up. The teams on the doors stood to attention, and Harkenn swept out of his makeshift war room to supervise them, bellowing orders at a volume that put the demons to shame.
"Let's get out of the firing line," Jordan said. Nova blinked as he put a hand on her shoulder, the other on Grace's, and steered them round. She looked at the hand, then at Jordan, who didn't notice. Instead, he said in a voice still tinged with alarm, "You said a hooded figure with a curved sword? Can you tell me anything else?"
"They had no aura," Nova said. "It felt unnatural."
She didn't mind having his hand on her shoulder as much as she'd thought she might, but as they reached the kitchens she gently shrugged it off and looked around. The place had been ransacked; the pantry door swung on one hinge and the contents of the cupboards, that which was left, was strewn across the floor and the countertops as if thrown. Jan was the only one present, sat next to Brillan's bed with a candle and a hard look on her face. The butler's aura was very weak.
"What happened?" she asked Jan, though she could already guess.
"Those bastard Devils," the housekeeper muttered. "I've sent the girls back to their rooms. They all went into a panic afterwards, and don't blame 'em. One of them had a boot on Maria's neck when I arrived, the misbegotten blot." It was rare to see Jan angry, rarer to see this silent fury. The whole room echoed with it. Behind her, Jordan made a noise that fell somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and she turned to find him wracked with a guilt no one else could see, and which explained an awful lot.
She sidled up close to him and murmured, "Does Harkenn know you're involved?"
He stiffened. "Yes."
"You poor sod," she said, and meant it. She had seen what Harkenn did with useful people; sapped everything they had to give and then put them away like old furniture. She knew when she was too old and decrepit to be any use, the best she could hope for was a quick death without any ceremony – if she couldn't get herself out first. She said, at a normal volume, "Do you know who that figure was, then?"
"There was another one," he said, without relaxing. He suddenly seemed eager to get away from her. "Who killed Kolter."
Nova cursed; why had she not remembered that? There had been another, in one of the guard posts. Faellian had gone into a rage a few nights before over the fact that their weapons had gone missing.
"You should warn the others," she said. "They're still on the loose."
He paused, and looked at her, and then gasped. "Fuck. Fuck. I need to go." He pointed a finger in Grace's face; she was staring at a vague point in the middle distance and seemed unaware that they were talking without her. As he did this, she seemed to wake back up. "You don't leave this room until I get back. Promise me."
"But where are you going?" She clung to his hand as he tried to pull away. "Jordan, don't go, please."
"I have to. I'll be back soon. Stay here," he said, pulling away, and she seemed lost all of a sudden, grasping at air.
Nova didn't think before stepping forward and placing her hands in Grace's, and she winced as the girl's grip tightened, fingernails digging into her flesh as her wild gaze followed her brother rushing from the room.
"Where's he going?" she asked faintly. Her emotions were rioting, flashing across her aura like lights, and there was an unmistakable tremor in her hands. "I almost got killed twice. Twice! And...and I...I stabbed...."
Nova regretted getting so close. The front of her shift was wet with Grace's tears, her arms sweaty under her grip, and Grace was slipping into hysteria. She didn't know why it bothered her so deeply, only that even in her worst moments, Nova had never seen Grace lose control. She had cried before. She'd panicked. She hadn't lost it like this, not so completely, and Nova had no idea what to do.
"I'm here," she said. Inwardly, she cringed. Her company wasn't anything to brag about. She was probably making it worse.
"Here, girl." Nova sagged with relief as Jan took over, taking Grace's hands and gently detaching them from Nova's arms, where they left ten ragged purple crescents.
"He's coming back, right?" Grace stammered, helpless in the housekeeper's firm grip as she steered her to the hearth and sat her down. "He'll come back?"
"He'll come back," Jan said, shushing her, "He's coming back, girl, just do as he says and stay put, you hear?"
"What's wrong with her?"
Nova jumped at Jeorge's voice at her shoulder. She had been too distracted to either hear or sense him approach, and her lapse in attention was caught; she could tell by the glint in his eye as he drew alongside. She clenched her fists. It would feel so good to punch him.
It wouldn't solve the problem, but it would feel good at the time.
"Almost being killed twice will do that to a person," she said through gritted teeth. They were standing closer together than she had ever allowed before this point, and it was bringing back painful memories she could really have done without. By the night, he even smelled the same as he used to – she didn't know how that was even possible.
"Twice?" Jeorge leaned on his crutch. Nova's foot twitched next to it. "Who was the second? Or did Lucifer's bitch get you twice?"
"Some...figure." She shuddered. "Couldn't see a face. Or an astral signature. It was just...nothing."
"Everything has an astral signature."
"Not this thing." She glowered at him. "Someone with the same description killed the second Unspoken. I asked the apprentice. He said it matched."
Jeorge's mouth twisted. "And what happened to the spy?"
Nova glanced at him sidelong. "He might still be alive. Don't know. We left him near the dungeon stairs when that figure arrived."
"You let him go?"
"He's not going far with a needle in his eye and a knife in his side."
"Ah."
"What's your game, anyway?" she asked, "You think playing along with the lord will save you? You think if you catch the spy for him he won't cut your wings off?"
She felt a shiver of grim satisfaction when he flinched. "No. I want to play just long enough to get free before he cuts my wings off."
"Pfft. Good luck with that. I've been trying for ten years."
"I have my methods," Jeorge said. She glanced at him sharply, and only got a cold smile in response. "And if you stop fighting me every step of the way, might be we can come to an agreement when the time is right."
"I'll believe it when I see it," she spat. She didn't have as much conviction as she had intended. To avoid looking at him again, she crossed the room and sat next to Grace instead, who had calmed and was staring blankly into the fire.
"He'll be fine," the girl whispered. "He'll be fine."
Nova opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it. Jordan Haverford's aura had been a mess. Whatever he was, he wasn't fine.
Instead, she shuffled closer to Grace and tentatively touched the back of her hand.
"You're going to be fine," she mumbled, but she wasn't sure about that, either.