Next, because he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he forgot, he grabbed the Fenzetti blade from the corner where it had landed and hefted it on his shoulders. Finally, he gently lifted the black bundle that was Nico and held her against his chest. Going slowly so he wouldn’t jostle her too much, Josef walked to the door of the warehouse, which, miraculously, was whole and untouched. He opened it with a swift kick that took it off its hinges and stepped into the night. Clutching Nico carefully, he ran across the one remaining bridge over the now inexplicably glowing river. Soft, cold rain splattered on his shoulders, and he could hear people far away yelling, but the streets he could see were dark and empty. Ordinarily, this would have put him on his guard, but Josef was in too much of a hurry to worry about threats he couldn’t see. Instead, he picked up the pace, moving toward the citadel, Eli’s most likely location.
He only hoped the thief was alive to get them out of this.
CHAPTER 22
Gin ran through the silent, rain-soaked streets of Gaol with Miranda crouched low on his back. The city cowered around them, crushed under the duke’s will. It made Miranda ill just passing by, but she ignored it as best she could. Her duty right now was to get her rings back, then she could help Monpress put the duke in his place… assuming he even intended to carry out his end of things.
She looked back over her shoulder at the river, and Gin growled. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, picking up the pace. “We’ve got our plan and we’re sticking to it. If we start second-guessing things now, we won’t save the town or your spirits.”
Miranda nodded and let him run. Hern’s tower was on the northern edge of the city, an ornate stone spire surrounded by wealthy houses. Or at least that’s how it had looked that afternoon. What met them now as they came to a stop at the end of the charming little street leading up to Hern’s private domain was not an elegant tower but an enormous spike of rough stone. Gin slid to a stop and Miranda jumped off for a better look. Hern’s tower looked like a boulder had fallen on it. Miranda walked up and put a hand against the stone and then snatched it away again with a grimace.
“It’s Hern’s stone spirit,” she said, shaking her hand where the stone had bitten it. “He’s wrapped it around the tower like a shell to shield himself and his other spirits from the Enslavement.”
“He has a spirit powerful enough to stand up to the duke?” Gin snorted.
“Normally I’d say no,” Miranda said. “But he’s got the same advantage we have right now, namely that the duke is stomping on his own spirits, which leaves the Enslavement too thinly spread to press down much on Spiritualist servants.”
Gin crouched down, nosing the spot where the rough stone met the cobbled street. “Does it go all the way down?”
“It would have to,” Miranda said, tapping the stone with her fingers. “I hate to say break it, but I don’t see any other way we’re getting in. Of course”—she opened her spirit a fraction, putting a warning edge of power into her voice—“I’m not feeling particularly charitable toward spirits who willingly help Hern stamp out mine.”
The stone shuddered, and high above them in the tower, something made a low grinding noise. A second later, the smooth rock face in front of them cracked, and a gap just wide enough for Miranda to slip through opened up.
Miranda and Gin exchanged a look, and the ghosthound sat down firmly.
“No,” he said. “That might as well have ‘trap’ written out in glowing letters. You’re not going in. Especially not without me.”
Miranda put her hands on her hips. “Who was it who just said we’re sticking to our plan?”
“That plan didn’t include you facing Hern alone on his own turf,” Gin growled. “You might as well hand him the knife to stab in your back.”
Miranda glanced at the opening. Inside was pitch blackness, but for the first time since that moment by the river, she could feel the wisps of her spirits through their connection again. Very faint, but there, and that made her decision for her.
“Keep watch, Gin,” she said, turning toward the tower. “If you hear anything strange coming from the keep, go and help Eli.”
Gin reached out and slapped his paw down on the hem of her skirt, pinning her to the pavement. “What part of ‘you’re not going in’ didn’t you understand?”
Miranda took a deep breath and turned to face the hound. This wasn’t a card she played often, but sometimes Gin was too protective for his own good.