The Demons We See Read online

  “Why do we always get the shit assignments?” Lex complained.

  “Could be worse,” Dodd said. “We could be going to Vurray.”

  “Thank the Almighty for small mercies,” Lex mumbled.

  “I know it’s too late, but why weren’t you coming tonight, Lex?” Rahna asked.

  Lex held out the boot for inspection. Satisfied, they put the boot down and picked up the other one and began the tedious job all over again. “I hate the dancers.”

  “No,” Dodd said, exaggerating the word, “you hate one specific dancer.”

  Lex rolled their eyes.

  “Why? What happened?” Rahna asked.

  Lex made a disgusted sound and ignored the conversation. Dodd always told the story better anyway. Lex lacked Dodd’s flair.

  “I’ll tell the story, since I tell it better anyway,” Dodd said. He tipped his head at Lex. “Lex was so drunk that night I’m surprised he even remembers.”

  “He was drunk?” Martin asked incredulously. “This I have to hear.”

  “You don’t know the story?” Dodd asked.

  “No,” Martin protested. “He would never tell me.”

  A small smile creeped across Lex’s face as a wave of contentment washed over them. He. Lex had spent so much of their life struggling to fit into the mold. Her this. Her that. Girl. Girl. Girl. Lex was never a girl. Lex didn’t think they were exactly a boy, either, though they leaned in that direction more often than not. So to be called he by their peers filled Lex with a quiet joy and comfort.

  There was no word for what Lex was, as far as they knew. Dodd once said that Lex was Lex, and that was the only word anyone needed. Of course, Dodd had been Lex’s childhood friend, all the way back to when the pair took cello lessons together. Dodd was even the one who came up with the crazy adventure of trying to get jobs in the Cathedral guards at fourteen, as opposed to joining Southumberland’s army. These days, Dodd called Lex “he” by Lex’s request. Everyone else followed suit. That gave Lex the luxury to let their own identity flux back and forth on the stream in private, the way Lex wanted it.

  “Then she breaks a vase over Lex’s head!” Dodd shouted.

  That, along with Martin’s laughter, pulled Lex back into the present. “The surgeon had to stitch my head up. I still got a bald patch on the back of my skull.”

  Dodd nodded. “It’s true! His hair is too shaggy now…Lord’s mercy, Lex, you need to cut your hair. You’re looking like one of the sniffer dogs.”

  “Better a dog than a pig,” Lex said with the sweetest smile they could make.

  Dodd rolled his eyes, and the conversation devolved into the usual bickering about travelling on the road, sore asses, and how it had better not rain.

  Lex chuckled. Life was good these days.

  Chapter 3

  Borro Abbey

  Allegra scowled at the letter in front of her. For the last year, Allegra had invested over one hundred gold sovereigns into a girls’ school just outside of Orsini’s palace walls. It was a bold proposal, and one of the bishops had recommended the school contact her, as opposed to the clergy, for investors. They wanted to address the lack of education amongst Orsini’s laboring poor, and Allegra had a well-established reputation for being a patron.

  In fact, Allegra was the patron of nine such schools catering to the education and upbringing of very poor girls. Outsiders saw it as just another way a rich woman spread a little charity around. Those who knew Allegra understood her motives were far more personal.

  Too many so-called witches were the children of poor mothers, ragged from twelve or more births, and pregnant again because their drunkard husbands wouldn’t leave them alone. Unable to feed the mouths already born, these desperate women would report one or more of their eldest daughters to a local magistrate. Young sons had an easier time finding grunt work, so daughters were more likely to be handed over. The mother would be given a bounty of a silver crown—easily two months’ salary for a laborer—and she could tell herself that the child would be “properly cared for” and given “appropriate training” and all the usual platitudes and comforts.

  Allegra knew that was not the reality of things. What faced most of them was slavery of one form or another. Girls with actual magical talent would be sold to merchants and factories to make magical trinkets, all eventually laced with a touch of despair. Many would be defective, and some would bring the users harm if the girls were filled with rage and vengeance. To be discovered creating “defective” items would bring on the beatings, and much worse. If that didn’t kill them, they’d be sold to the mines to die horrific deaths underground.

  The girls who were just normal and without any magical talent could expect to be sold off as domestics or farm help. Scrubbing floors, digging carrots, working various cottage industries—it didn’t matter provided they worked hard. Those with “attitudes” unbecoming of proper young girls would be shipped off to the handful of factories that were cropping up if they were lucky, and mines if they weren’t. The prettier ones were eventually sold to brothels to be “taught a lesson” as a priest had once told her.

  Allegra hated that priest, and she openly despised the system. It was ungodly, and she didn’t even believe in any such being. There was no evidence such a being as the great Almighty even existed and, if he did, he was probably long gone by now. And, if he did truly once exist, she didn’t respect him enough to give him her loyalty and devotion. After all, this was all his fault.

  Because of the Lord Almighty, so lofty they didn’t even bother giving him a name, common people believed mages gained their power from sexual rituals with beasts from the abyss. That ill-gotten power could then lay dormant in a family for generations before it mysteriously cropped up. The Almighty’s followers excelled at punishing children for their fathers’ crimes.

  So here Allegra was, reading yet another letter shutting down her program because the uneducated or the devout, or both, believed her schools went against nature and the will of a non-existent Almighty.

  She crumpled the letter up and threw it across her small drawing room. The program would have stemmed some of the abuse Orsini’s poor children endured. Allegra would have paid the entrance fees for any impoverished child who wanted to attend the school. She was rich without vices; charity was the only thing she could spend money on these days! It could have worked so perfectly. The school would have quietly identified true mages and Allegra’s purse strings would have seen those children moved to a special boarding school to be properly trained.

  They’d still be tattooed, but at least they’d most likely avoid subjugation. The others would learn handicrafts and a trade. They’d find work, and be able to support themselves and their families once they finished school at fourteen.

  And now it was over before it barely begun!

  My dearest Contessa the letter had begun. How dare a man she’d never met address her with such intimacy? He was nothing but a washed up bishop. His family name made him too important to ship to the backwoods, but his incompetence meant he’d never climb the ranks of the Cathedral.

  He had canceled her program. He had stomped on the dreams of dozens of innocents for nothing more than his hope of impressing the Holy Father. Well, she had been childhood friends with the Holy Father and he would not take kindly to knowing this had happened in his name.

  You will be no doubt pleased to find that I have diverted your investment toward the purchase of furnishings, linens, oil, candles, as well as ten copies of Archbishop Alistair Sheppard’s excellent, and uplifting, publication, Hymns for the Faithful. I am certain you will be pleased with knowing your kind and generous gift has been used to spread the word of the Lord Almighty to the poor.

  Thief! He knew she wouldn’t have approved if he’d asked, so he did it behind her back. He had no intention of doing anything beyond lining his own purse. Linens? What did a school for the poor need with linens? She knew the students were returning home at n
ight to sleep. The only people living at the school were the teachers and the servants, and she’d already paid for their supplies.

  She glared at the crumpled paper on the floor. She had sworn to herself not to play the game of politics. She loved retirement at the abbey, where they left her to live in peace and obscurity, doing her good works to atone for her inherently sinful mage heart. But right now, all Allegra wanted to do was mount a horse and ride into Orsini Palace and demand to be treated as the woman of rank she was.

  Instead, she opted to pour herself a glass of wine. A very full glass of Orsini special vintage, a gift from her brother that accompanied his steward who’d visited her a month ago to update her on her estates’ account books.

  She leaned back in her chair and imagined stealing all of the bishop’s new linens and furnishings and giving them to the poor. Picturing his befuddled and outraged protestations amused her. Those daydreams kept her content through another very full glass of wine.

  A knock interrupted her thoughts, and just as well. She was enjoying her daydream so much that the journey was becoming tempting. Her maidservant entered her drawing room and gave a quick curtsy. Nadira was a short, sturdy matron who worked directly for Allegra, unlike the rest of the servants at Borro Abbey who attended her. Allegra didn’t force Nadira to wear livery or a uniform, so she sported a simple blue dress with a beige apron, white sleeve protectors, and a gray scarf about her neck to ward against the evening mountain chill. She’d taken to wearing her graying black coils in thick braids tight against her head these days, all ending as soon as they escaped past the nape of her neck. Nadira said she was too old to bother with long hair.

  “Pardon the interruption, Your Ladyship, but you have visitors.”

  “At this hour?” She glanced out her window; the sun was already setting. “Tell them I’m not at home. They can come back tomorrow at a civilized time.”

  “They come from Orsini Palace, Your Ladyship, on business directly from the Holy Father.”

  Allegra stared down at her writing desk with a frown, but opted to leave her letters out. Doubtful this company would be here long. She tugged off the billowy white sleeves protecting her dress and stuffed them inside her writing desk’s storage. She nodded to Nadira, then stood to smooth down her dress.

  Nadira curtsied again and left, entering a few moments later with three dusty men in tow. “Your Ladyship, may I present Captain Rainier, and Lieutenants Lex and Dodd, of the Holy Father’s Own Consorts.”

  The oldest of the three was a tall, broad-chested man, and rather handsome. The insignia sewn into his sleeves identified him as the rank of Captain. He had several days’ growth on his face that was longer than the hair on his head. He was darker complexioned than herself, with a firm, chiseled jaw, and very easy on the eyes. Allegra’s mouth quirked in spite of her annoyance over the interruption.

  Captain Rainier spoke first. “Your Ladyship, thank you for seeing us at such a late hour.”

  Allegra motioned at the sofa before seating herself on a nearby chair. She kept a tight guard on her tongue. She had no idea why these three were here, but she was certain it wasn’t for good.

  The two younger companions moved to sit, but stopped when Captain Rainier spoke. “We don’t wish to dirty your furniture, Your Ladyship.”

  “I insist,” she said, and the three men sat down across from her.

  Allegra suppressed the urge to both cough and put her hand to her nose. They had definitely just arrived. “Would any of you like some broth? I don’t like to eat this late in the evening, so I usually take hot broth instead. I believe this one was made with mostly salt beef, so it’s quite delicious.”

  “Only if it isn’t a bother for the servant,” Captain Rainier said. “Otherwise, we can wait until the morning.”

  The sad, pathetic expressions of Rainier’s companions said their young stomachs could not wait until the morrow. She stood back up, and took a mug down from the rack on the wall. She dipped the mug into the pot near the fireplace, and then wiped it down with a cloth that hung nearby. She placed the mug on a saucer and handed it to the Captain. She repeated the action twice more for the other two, who gaped at her. They had not expected this fine lady to know how to dip a cup into a pot.

  Normally, Allegra would have made an innocent quip, but she knew to keep a stern exterior. She didn’t trust anyone from Orsini, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood for clerical politics today. She could, and would, be polite for politeness’ sake, but it wouldn’t extend further than the basic hospitality she’d show anyone.

  Mugs now safely handed over, she retook her seat, folded her hands on her lap. She let her guests take their first tentative sips. “Now, how may I help you?”

  “His Radiance sent us to deliver a letter. Lex?” Captain Rainier nodded at the lean, young man seated next to him.

  Lieutenant Lex balanced his cup and saucer in one hand while digging in a side satchel with the other.

  Allegra waited for the letter’s imminent arrival, giving her an opportunity to take stock of Captain Rainier’s companions. Lieutenant Lex was quite lean, with narrow shoulders and long, thin fingers that would have made him a perfect pianoforte player, assuming he’d ever learnt. He was pale, but had enough of a tan from the southern Orsini sun to not look pallid and sickly. He had no facial hair at all, not even a shadow, so he must have been younger than his eyes made him out to be.

  The other man, therefore, must have been Lieutenant Dodd. Dodd was the color of cooked lobster. Allegra winced; that was obviously a painful sunburn.

  Dodd caught her staring and said, “I lost my hat two days ago, Your Ladyship.”

  Allegra winced again. “I will have my maid bring you a healing cream.”

  “That would be very appreciated.”

  “A man of your skin should not be without a hat,” Allegra said idly when she spied several blisters on his ears.

  Lex found the letter finally and handed it to Rainier. In turn, Rainier stood to hand it to her. “Your Ladyship.”

  Something about the Captain’s name tugged at her memory. The accent suggested he was from the north, perhaps Cumberland or Northumberland. Maybe Southumberland? Summerland, maybe? One of the –lands.

  Rainier…Rainier…

  That sounded familiar, but why. Captain Rainier of Cumberland? No, it didn’t mean anything to her, but yet she was sure she should know this man. Damn, it was going to bug her all night now.

  Rainier handed over the sealed envelope. “His Holiness said you should read it immediately.”

  “How lovely,” Allegra said before her brain caught the snide remark from slipping aloud. She didn’t bother looking up, to save her guests the trouble of attempting to hide their smirks.

  She tore through the seal and read the sprawling, educated handwriting inside:

  To the Gracious and Humble Allegra, Contessa of Marsina

  The Lord God Almighty’s greetings upon Your Ladyship. Thank you for your last correspondence. How fortunate I am to have been blessed with such a friend in these trying times. For you to offer your assistance and guidance is indeed a blessing from the Lord God Almighty himself.

  I have mediated on this situation. I even fasted in hopes that the Almighty would show me which of the roads before me I should choose. Your letter came as I labored and struggled to comprehend the direction He would wish me to take.

  As ever, I should have turned my thoughts to the word of Tasmin, who said “The prideful will fall upon my sword.” You must have been inspired by her remembrance in your selfless act.

  Therefore, I have dispatched Captain Rainier and his guard to personally escort you to Orsini Palace to begin your new role as Arbiter of Justice for the Cathedral during these most trying times for your kind. I am certain, once you pray upon this, you will know this is the right course of action for all of us. Thank you for volunteering to take on this nigh-impossible task.

  May the Lord Almighty sm
ile down upon you.

  His Radiance, Holy Father Francois

  “I am going to murder Rupert,” Allegra muttered.

  “Who’s Rupert?” Dodd asked. A beat later, he lowered his voice and said, “What? What did I say?”

  Rupert was Allegra’s childhood friend, rival, potential suitor, and partner in crime. He was more commonly now known as Holy Father Francois, His Radiance, The Annoying One, and so on. He knew exactly what he was doing when he wrote that letter, and most likely was grinning while he penned each word.

  Through gritted teeth, she asked, “Captain, are you aware of the contents of this letter?”

  Rainier cleared his throat as way of reply.

  “I will assume that is a yes.”

  “We are your escort back to the Cathedral,” Captain Rainier said.

  ****

  Stanton stared at the Contessa in wonderment. He knew he was staring. He knew he needed to stop. And he knew he was still staring at her. She was nothing at all like what he’d expected. For one thing, she couldn’t have been much more than thirty, and while true that wasn’t young enough in many aristocratic men’s eyes, she was not the decrepit, feeble old woman he’d imagined.

  She wasn’t pretty, either, which was a point in her favor. She wasn’t all ribbons and silks. No, that wouldn’t have suited. The Contessa wore a stylish, but practical dress. She lacked adornments and was without rouge or stencils marring her flawless, golden-brown skin.

  There was a hint of arrogant superiority that lingered in her posture, but it never crept into her voice. Her body posture announced her high breeding and station, but that haughtiness was tempered by the haphazard tail of wavy, black hair that cascaded over one of her shoulders.

  She was handsome, beautiful, elegant, poised, and confident.

  Damn.

  She stood up quickly, and the others struggled to their feet to match her movement. She thrust her chin out and said, “I’m sorry for your long journey, but I don’t wish to leave the abbey. Please let Francois know I said no. Good evening.”