Heir of Thunder (Stormbourne Chronicles Book 1) (22 page)

The image in the mirror left me breathless. Maybe it was only
the corset pinching my lungs. Either way, I had to admit I was impressed. The
maid babbled excitedly. My time with Malita taught me much about body language
and tone of voice, so while I couldn’t translate her words, her smirk and the
proud set of her shoulders revealed her self-satisfaction. Thinking of Malita
sent a pang of worry shooting through me. If the Fantazikes hadn’t already fled
Pecia by the time I escaped Thibodaux’s house, then I would try to reunite with
Malita and reassure myself of her wellbeing.

Martin knocked and warned us of the late hour. “Dinner is to
begin shortly and my master bids you join him in the parlor.” He didn’t wait
for a response.

Although grand, the house was not so big that I couldn’t
find my way to Thibodaux on my own, especially when I followed the flow of
voices stirred in conversation. I paused at the parlor’s threshold, uncertain
how to proceed. The parlor, as it turned out, was the room in which I first
encountered Thibodaux. Presently the room encompassed a small crowd—five or six
men and almost as many women all dressed in elegant eveningwear. They cooed at
each other like pigeons while Martin refreshed drinks and passed a tray of
canapés.

“Ah, our special guest has arrived at last.” Thibodaux’s
peculiar voice rose above the din of all the others. He appeared at the doorway
and stretched a hand toward me, willing me to take it so he could draw me into
the room at his discretion.

The strangeness of the affair so overwhelmed me that I didn’t
at first notice the fair haired, silver eyed gentleman standing behind my host.
When he stepped into the open and greeted me, my heart lurched into my throat
and took up permanent residence for the rest of the night.

“Hello, Grace,” said Jonathan Faercourt. “I understand you’ve
been looking for me.”

“Jackie.” I choked on his name. A sickening dampness broke
across the backs of my knees and the nape of my neck. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped forward, gathered my hands in his, and brought
one unresisting set of knuckles to his lips. “I might ask the same of you, but
I know something of your last few hours which is more than you can say for me.”

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” I whispered.

Everyone in the room watched us, and I was reluctant to
start a commotion. Although I had every right to stomp my feet and demand
answers; fear, uncertainty, and the unexpected reappearance of Jackie nearly
paralyzed me. How many more shocks could I stand in one day?

He leaned in, putting his lips to my ear. The warm sugar
scent of rum accented his breath. “We will have more time to talk after dinner.
I am anxious to have you to myself. Do you have any idea how delicious you
look?” He leaned back and gestured to the other occupants of the room. “Shall
we make our way to the dining room?”

Spinning in a cyclone of confusion and dread, I latched onto
the only remotely familiar thing. I grasped Jackie’s hand, desperate not to
lose his connection. He seemed to understand and escorted me to the table. He
pulled out a chair for me, and to my relief, took the seat next to mine. Martin
served the first course, but I had no appetite for food, only for information.

“This man, Thibodaux, he knows me. I mean, he
knows
me.”

“Of course he does,” Jackie said. “I’ve told him all about you.”

“But, how do you—?”

Jackie placed a finger over my lips, silencing me. “I said
we would speak of this after dinner. Please eat, Grace. It’s rude if you don’t
at least taste it. Ruelle has one of the finest chefs in the city.”

Jackie turned away to take a bite from a dish of thinly
sliced, rare beef. It smelled like blood and my stomach bubbled unhappily.

“My name isn’t Grace,” I hissed and stabbed a fork into a
fluffy pink mound on my plate that smelled of salmon.

Jackie paused, his fork centimeters from his lips and a
sudden coldness wafted from him.

His luminous eyes turned to steel. “Then please eat,
Evelyn
.”

I looked away, frightened by his sudden harshness. At some
point during the dinner, Jackie thawed and introduced me to the people sitting
near us at the table. My head felt stuffed with cotton, and everything came at
me through a narrow tunnel. I mumbled things in reply, but had no real notion
of what I had said.

The idea of escape flashed through my mind again. The dining
room was set off the main hallway that led to the front door. I might have had
a chance to run for it, even if it meant leaving Jackie behind with many
unanswered questions. As if reading my thoughts, he placed his hand on my knee
under the table and squeezed, almost painfully.

“I do wish you would relax,” he hissed. “You have more
jitters than a hive of angry bees.”

He didn’t take his hand away, and I resisted the impulse to
stab his fingers with a fork and dash for the door. I wondered how far I would
get in my ridiculous shoes and unforgiving corset.

When the meal finally concluded, the men made way for the
parlor for cigars and port wine at Thibodaux’s behest. Jackie declined and our
host nodded at him knowingly. Jackie pulled me to my feet and led me to the
rear of the house. He showed me a small door that opened into the courtyard I
had spied from my room.

In any other situation the setting would have brought to
mind romantic thoughts. Blossoming flowers scented the cool night air. The moon’s
soft beams caressed the spray from the fountain, flashing in tiny explosions of
light. Jackie led me to a bench hiding under a thin trellis of wisteria as if
he knew this place well. He motioned for me to take a seat. I complied to keep
from inspiring any more of his ire, and because I was starving for whatever
information he could feed me.

“I know you feel hurt and betrayed right now,” he said after
settling close enough for our hips to touch. He swept a strand of his luminous
hair behind his ear and offered a slim smile. “It’s true I’ve known who you
are. I’ve known it from the day I first met you.”

“But, how...?” I faltered. “How did you know I would be
there, in Thropshire, at that creek?”

Jackie inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then
released it through his teeth. “I’ll explain everything, I promise.” With his
fingertip his pushed a loose curl of hair from my cheek and tucked it behind my
ear. His touch made my skin crawl. “But please, first, tell me how you came to
Pecia. What happened that night of the storm on the
LaDonna
, and how did
you find yourself among the Fantazikes?”

“Tell me one thing, first,” I said. “Please.”

He nodded, his silvery eyes peering into mine.

“What about Gideon? What happened to him?”

Jackie closed his eyes and swallowed. “I cannot say. I
believe that vile man who had planned to kidnap you, Praston was his name, must
have waylaid your guardian—and yes, I know Gideon wasn’t your brother. The
captain had the ship searched thoroughly, but we found no signs of him.”

If I hadn’t already taken a seat, I would have crumpled to
the ground, but it didn’t stop my heart from imploding. Cold, harsh, and sudden
grief devoured me. The world I had begun to make for myself after fleeing Fallstaff,
though shaky to start with, had come crashing down once again. I felt as if I
was afloat in a vast ocean, equal to the night I fell overboard the
LaDonna
.

“Oh no,” I sobbed and buried my face in my hands as shudders
wracked my body. “
No, no, no
.”

Jackie’s arm slid around my shoulders and held me while I
cried. He pressed his lips against the hair at my temple. “Did you love him so
very much?”

I didn’t have the heart to push him away. I needed someone
else’s strength for the moment, and Jackie’s would suffice, even if he had lied
to me.

“He was a good person,” I said. “My father trusted him to
protect me and he did. He left everything and risked his life for me.”

“I regret your loss, but I cannot regret
you
, Evelyn.
I have you to myself, now. I don’t plan to let you go.”

With those words my sense of self returned, and my grief for
Gideon receded. “What do mean?” I rose to my feet and wiped my face, rubbing
away tears. Jackie rose beside me and tried to pull me into another embrace,
but I pushed him back. “Were you part of the plot to have me out of my home?
Did you have a hand in destroying Fallstaff?”

“What happened to you was bigger than any one man or one
purpose.” He dropped his hands away, letting me win my little rebellion. “When
your father died, he left a void. I only want to see it filled and you put in
your rightful place.”

“But I can’t do that this far away from Inselgrau. The
Stormbournes have ruled there for hundreds of years.”

“The days of the Stormbournes as rulers ended when your
father died,” Jackie said. “The power of your kingdom relied on the people’s
belief in you, and they don’t believe anymore. Your ancestors were gods. What’s
left now is only a pale shade.”

“Don’t say that.” I bunched my fists at my sides. “My father
ruled the storms. I watched him do it. He had power. Someone must still
believe.”

“What your father had was merely a shadow of his fathers
before him, and what you have is even less.”

I thought of how I handled the lightning on the Tippany’s
airship, but kept it to myself, thinking I was better off with Jackie believing
in my impotency. “So, out with the old, and in with the new? Is that all this
is about?”

“That’s what the men who chased you out of your home thought
it was about,” Jackie said. “But they are simple minded and think small
thoughts.”

“But you don’t?”

“The blood that runs through your veins is the blood of a
deity. It is rare and precious. What you have now is not much, but it can
become something greater than you ever dreamed… than your father ever dreamed.
Together, Evelyn, we can make something grand, and it won’t be limited to Pecia,
or Galland, or Inselgrau.”

I rubbed my face and sighed. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Ruelle told me you’ve never heard of Le Poing Fermé
,
correct?”

“No, I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Le Poing Fermé, The Clenched Fist, it’s an ancient society
birthed in Pecia centuries ago. It’s been around in some fashion for as long as
the gods have existed. Maybe I don’t have the blood of a deity in my veins, but
there are others who have been gifted with special knowledge and abilities.” Passion
blazed in his eyes as he talked, and it made him both beautiful and frightening.
“Le Poing Fermé sees to it that those abilities are fully realized.”

“Are you talking about Magic?” I asked. “The last of the
Magicians died hundreds of years ago. Everyone knows that. Their knowledge was
even more arcane than my family’s powers.”

Jackie chuckled, paused, and then chuckled again. “The thing
about Magic is it doesn’t require anyone but the Magician to believe in it. So
go ahead and doubt. I know who I am.”

“Let me understand what you’re saying.” With my hands
clenched behind my back, I paced before the fountain. My second-hand slippers
pinched my toes, so I kicked them off and strode back and forth on bare feet.
The paving stones were cool and their solidness reassured me. “You think that
we can combine our... our
powers
, and do what? Take over the world?”

Jackie reached out and snatched my hand, bringing me to a
halt. “We are but dust and ashes, you and I. You are the last in your line, and
with you dies a birthright that can never be reclaimed.” He grasped me by my
upper arms, urgency fueling his actions. “Unless you pass it on to an heir.”

“I don’t care about any of this. I only want to go home.” I
stamped my foot. “I want things to be the way they were.”

“Things will never be the way they were!” Jackie roared. “If
you go back to Inselgrau now, it will only mean your death. Listen to me.”
Caught up in his fervor, Jackie’s grip on my arms had tightened and he ignored
my resistance. “What I am, it’s limited, and what you are, it’s almost dead,
but if we had a
child
....” He said the last word with a longing that
twisted in my gut like roiling snakes. “A child born of the blood of a deity
and a Magician and raised under the tutelage of Le Poing Fermé.... The world
has never known it. He would be limitless.”

I blanched and my world spun, nearly taking my feet out from
under me. “The world has never known it for a good reason, I’m sure. If what
you’re saying is at all possible, then such a child would be an abomination.
Why would you ever want to create such a thing?”

“The child would be
ours
,” Jackie said. “To raise as
we see fit. You are good and lovely. Your child would be also. He would
transcend the conventions of this world. He could reshape it, rebuild it, and
we would be a part of that. We would be the mother and father of a new creator.”

“You’re insane,” I said and pulled away. He didn’t challenge
me, so I continued. “There was a book in the library at Fallstaff written by a
man with different ideas about the way people should live together as a
society. One thing I learned from reading it is that unlimited authority will,
with great certainty, ruin a person completely.”

“But our child will be no regular person, no mere mortal.”
Jackie said this as though it were a foregone conclusion.

“You’re right. It may be an
immortal
horror.”

Something dark and wicked blazed in Jackie’s eyes. I shied
from him, and he realized what he had shown and tried to mask it, but too late.
I twirled on my heel to run for the safety of the house, limited as it was, but
he was faster.

He seized my shoulder and spun me around to face him. “You
don’t realize what you’re saying. You need time to think about it. You’ll see.”

“No, Jackie. Let me go.” I tried pulling away from him again
with no success.

He pushed me against the house’s stone wall, beside the door
through which I had hoped to escape. He pressed me there, holding me with the
weight of his body. “No, Evie. One way or another, you
will
be mine.”

He brought his lips down on mine, crushing and possessive.
He didn’t have Gideon’s girth or height, but he was strong, and I couldn’t
force him away. I sobbed against his lips, but he ignored me.

My first kiss and it was a nightmare.

Finally, Jackie released me and stepped away. I sagged
against the wall at my back and resisted the urge to wipe my mouth, not wanting
to anger him further. His kiss lingered on my lips like a foul and indelible
stain. He motioned toward the doorway leading into the house. “Go to bed, Evie.
We’ll discuss this more when I visit tomorrow.”

I fled without looking back, not allowing him an opportunity
to change his mind. Only a few weeks before, I had thought being in Jackie’s
arms was such a pleasant thing, and his quick embrace had left me wanting more.

Why did the good things I believed in always have to die?