Excerpt – Casting Souls

Warning! The stories in my Iron Souls Series are intended to be read in order.  Reading them out of order will spoil the fun of an earlier tale. You can find the reading order, along with blurbs, covers, and excerpts of the other books here.

Chapter 1

Briar threw a punch.

At the last possible moment, Kali leaned to the side, and Briar’s fist lightly brushed her cheek as it passed. Off balance, Briar stumbled forward and could do nothing to avoid Kali’s punch to her stomach. She doubled over with a grunt, surprised by both the speed and strength of the blow.

“Kali.” Perseus’s tone was scolding, though if a person didn’t know him, they might think him indifferent.

“Sorry.” Kali didn’t sound sorry.

Briar noticed the glint in her eye when she straightened.

“I’m not very good at pulling my punches,” Kali said.

Briar rubbed her bruised stomach. It wasn’t the first punch she had taken. “I’m sure I’ll give you plenty more opportunities to practice.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, lass,” Uncle Liam said from his seat beside Perseus. They had the forward cargo hold to themselves, having chosen this space because it was less cluttered than the aft hold—and it gave them plenty of privacy. Briar hadn’t explained to the crew, or Grayson, what she was working on.

“You’ve only been at this two days,” Liam reminded her.

Briar sighed. “I know, but I’ve been wanting to punch Kali for so long that it’s extra frustrating.”

Kali flashed her a grin, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes.

Liam chuckled and got to his feet. “If it makes you feel any better, she would probably get in a few blows on me.”

Kali was turning away, but Briar caught her smile in profile. She was pleased by the praise, so Briar decided not to tease Liam that even she could get in a few hits on him.

“Now that you’ve gotten your exercise,” Liam continued, “shall we work with the other?” He pulled out the worn throwing knife he’d borrowed from Perseus and offered it to her.

Briar accepted the knife with trepidation. It was a single piece of soul iron with a molded handle. The metal felt warmer than it should—as soul iron often did—but that was the extent of any difference she felt.

“Perseus should teach me how to throw it,” she said to Liam. “That’s about all I’ll be able to do with this.”

“You’re defeated before you begin,” Liam said.

“I’m not. I just don’t sense what the rest of you do. It feels a little warm to me, but that’s all.”

“Maybe if you used your fiddle,” Liam suggested.

Briar sighed. They’d already tried that multiple times as well.

“Briar?” Liam prompted when she remained silent.

“I’m sorry, but none of this is working. I can’t do anything with the inanimate soul iron.”

“What if Drake made—”

“No.” Briar glanced toward the stern of the boat even though she couldn’t see past the stable cabin. Grayson was in the aft cabin, helping Molly prepare the evening meal. He hadn’t asked Briar what she and their Scourge passengers had been doing these last two days, but she suspected he knew. Hopefully, he thought she was just getting some training to better the odds should she encounter another ferromancer’s soulless henchman. Of course, Grayson now had one of his own.

Briar forced that thought from her mind. “No,” she repeated. “I don’t want him using any of his abilities.” Not when they seemed to accelerate his devolvement.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck, studying her for a moment before turning to Perseus. “Any suggestions?”

Perseus remained seated on the barrel where he’d been perched to watch Briar and Kali spar. He hadn’t said much, which was in keeping with his nature—even though he had warmed up a bit since Briar first met him.

“At this point, I am inclined to agree with her,” Perseus answered with that unusual accent of his. “She does not appear to sense what we do.”

“Yet she completely dissolved a ferromancer in a single burst,” Liam said. “Even you can’t do that.”

“Precisely. She’s not like us.”

Briar walked over to pour herself cup of water while Perseus and Liam continued their discussion. It had become a common topic of conversation between them.

“Let’s face it,” Kali said, stopping beside her. “You’re an oddity.”

“I always have been.”

Kali smiled at that, but didn’t continue the teasing as she got a drink for herself.

Briar was glad they’d finally moved past their animosities. It was one less worry, though she had several others.

“I wish we had more time,” Liam said. They would arrive in Portsmouth tomorrow where it seemed every free ferromancer had gathered and awaited her arrival—or more accurately, Grayson’s arrival.

Dread tightened her stomach. Liam must have noticed her reaction because he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do not fret, child.” He reverted to the old moniker he’d used since she was a child in truth. “I have some friends waiting for us in Waverly.”

“Scourge?”

“Yes. I’m sure they’ve already scouted the situation in Portsmouth and can tell us what we’re up against.”

“Is that wise? What if they’re noticed? Solon might think I’m behind it and retaliate.”

“These men and women have been doing this sort of thing for a very long time. They will not be identified.”

“Remember,” Kali spoke up, “a ferromancer has to be within a few feet of us to know what we are.”

Briar knew that was true, but she wasn’t entirely reassured.

Movement made her look up to see Jimmy crossing the catwalk above them. He stopped when he saw he had her attention.

“We’re coming up on a lock, Captain.”

“I’ll be right up,” she answered.

Lock climbed from her waistcoat pocket and scampered up to her shoulder. He leaned out to look at her, offering a whirr of puzzlement.

“No, not you,” she said with a laugh, then reached up to rub the little metal dragon beneath the chin.

Kali laughed as well, stepping closer. “Did he really think Jimmy was talking about him?”

“I think he just wanted some attention,” Briar answered.

An indignant screech of metal on metal came from the little construct. He leapt to Kali’s shoulder, then pressed his cheek against hers.

“Totally deserved attention.” Kali rubbed him beneath the chin as well.

Briar watched the way Lock leaned into the caress, marveling again how far she and Kali had come. She truly trusted the woman and knew she would never harm Lock.

Liam watched the exchange with a faint frown. Unlike Kali, he’d been raised in a world where the Scourge didn’t play with constructs or befriend ferromancers. Perhaps with time, he would warm to the idea.

Perseus on the other hand, smiled as he watched Kali pet Lock. But he’d always been far more sympathetic to the ferromancers’ plight. Although his current smile might be a reaction to seeing happiness in Kali rather than her usual anger.

“What about a construct?” Liam asked.

Briar frowned, not following the question. “What about him?”

“Can you dissolve one?”

Lock made a squeak of alarm and scooted closer to Kali’s neck.

“You’re not suggesting—” Briar began.

“Of course not,” Liam answered. “I meant in general. A construct is made of its creator’s living soul iron.”

Watching Kali try to comfort Lock, Briar frowned as she considered Liam’s words. “How can that be? Don’t ferromancer boys create their constructs before their final casting?” Before they come into their full power and their ability to make their own soul iron.

“When the ferromancer’s soul is transferred to the construct he created—”

“You mean when his flesh-and-blood heart is transferred to the construct.”

“Yes,” Liam answered, nonplussed. “The soul permeates the soul iron and makes it its own. Think of it as the young ferromancer’s first creation of soul iron.”

“I’d rather not think on it at all.”

“That’s not the point of this discussion. Can you dissolve a construct?”

“I’ve never tried, but I suppose I could. With my fiddle.”

Lock sprang into the air and began winging his way toward the stern.

“Lock!” she called after him, then gave Liam a frown. “Thanks.” She walked away not giving him a chance to answer.

Climbing up onto the stable deck, she crossed to the catwalk that would carry her over to the aft deck. The three main decks on the boat were technically the roofs of the three cabins, one forward, one midships, and one in the stern. The areas between the cabins served as the boat’s two cargo holds. Normally, the holds would be filled to the roofline, necessitating a catwalk above to traverse the boat. But this trip hadn’t been a typical run, and the holds were empty.

But empty or full, staying above on the catwalk was her most direct route. She knew where Lock would go, or rather, who he would go to.

Briar hurried toward the aft deck. They had stretched a tarp across one half of the hold below, providing some shade from the relentless early-September sun. But the tarp made it difficult to climb down into the hold and cross to her cabin as she normally would.

She stepped onto the aft deck, intending to use the hatch to access the cabin below, but stopped when she noticed that Eli wasn’t in his usual position at the helm. To Briar’s surprise, Molly held the tiller while Eli sat on the rail beside her, a bowl in his lap.

“Have you two swapped jobs?”

Eli chuckled, then squeezed the nutcracker he held. With a loud crack, he halved the walnut shell trapped between the nutcracker’s teeth.

“Don’t worry,” Molly spoke up. “I won’t be steering us into the lock. I’m only holding the tiller while Mr. Waller tackles a few stubborn walnuts for me.”

“Ah,” Briar answered, smiling at the excuse. Molly always seemed to have some reason to linger on the tiller deck.

“You’re doing fine, Miss Molly,” Eli said. “No reason why you shouldn’t continue.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly steer us into a lock. Please take back the tiller, sir.”

Eli placed the nutcracker in the bowl with the nuts and left his seat on the rail. He stepped around behind Molly, but didn’t take the tiller from her. “I’ll be right here to guide you.”

She stared up at him, then swallowed loudly. “I don’t—”

“It’s part of being a canaller,” Eli explained. “Any one of us can do any job on this boat.”

“Except cook,” Briar spoke up.

A small smile curled Molly’s lips. “Sounds like each of you needs to spend time with me at the stove.”

“But cooking is an art,” Eli protested.

“Wait until I bounce this boat off the lock walls, then tell me that steering a boat isn’t an art.”

“The way Eli does it, it certainly is,” Briar agreed. “But I’d much rather have him steer my boat than fix my meals.”

“Who’s to say he wouldn’t make a fine cook—with a little instruction?” Molly insisted.

“I’ll leave you two to sort this out.” She winked, then crossed to the hatch and climbed down the ladder into the aft cabin. With preparations for the evening meal well underway, the cabin was stifling. That was probably why Grayson was nowhere in sight.

She stepped out into the hold and saw Grayson immediately, though she didn’t see Lock. Grayson and Benji sat at the folding table where the crew typically took their meals. Grayson’s small black tool bag sat on the table beside him, but he wasn’t working on any of Benji’s fishing lures.

The gadget Grayson had constructed looked like a propeller encased in a cage and attached to a rectangular box.

“Captain,” Benji greeted her, his evident excitement overcoming his usual reserve. “Have you seen Mr. Martel’s latest invention?”

“I didn’t actually invent it,” Grayson said with his familiar British accent. He had doffed his waistcoat and rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt to battle the heat, but judging by the color in his cheeks and the sweat dampening his dark hair, he hadn’t been the victor.

“It’s an electric fan,” Benji informed her. “Except it doesn’t run on electricity.”

“Oh?” she prompted, amused by Benji’s enthusiasm. Normally, the sixteen-year-old had a tendency to blush and go mute around her, but that seemed to be changing.

“But it could,” Benji quickly added. “Mr. Martel made it with all the wires and such an electric fan would have, but he has to use a ferromantic power cell.”

“Listen to you,” she said. “You’re starting to sound like an engineer.”

Benji blushed, but also beamed at the praise.

“Unfortunately, I have to interrupt your lesson,” she said. “We’ve got a lock coming up, and Jimmy needs you to help with the downstream gates.”

“Of course, Captain.” Benji sprang to his feet, though he cast the fan a wistful glance.

“I need to get back to my stew anyway,” Grayson told him. “We can drag out the tools again after supper.”

“We can?” Benji grinned from ear to ear. “Thank you!” He hurried away, still grinning.

Amused, Briar watched him climb up onto the stable deck and head toward the bow. “With that kind of enthusiasm for mechanical things, he might as well be a ferromancer.”

“Few ferromancers actually make things.” Grayson got to his feet and began to pack away his tools. “Except their construct.”

She looked up. Was that an indirect reference to what had just happened? “Where’s Lock?”

“The aft cabin.” Grayson picked up the tool bag and his fan. “You didn’t need to come looking for him. He is yours to command.” Without another word, he took his things and retreated to the aft cabin.

Briar frowned after him. A distance had grown between them over the past two days, but it seemed it wasn’t just the events in Newark that had caused it.

She took a step to follow him. “Miss Briar?” Eli called to her from the aft deck. “We’re getting close,” he added when she stepped out from beneath the tarp.

“Would you lock us through?” she asked.

His bushy eyebrows drew together, but he nodded. “Aye, Captain.” He turned toward the tiller and moved out of sight.

Briar squared her shoulders and stepped into the aft cabin.

Grayson had set his fan on the table and now knelt beside his open trunk, tucking away his tool bag.

Lock was nowhere in sight. Her heart stung with the possibility that she might have frightened him.

Grayson closed the trunk with a thump, then slid it back under the table. He rose to his feet and flipped a switch on the base of the fan. The propeller began to spin, generating a breeze that blew across her skin.

She stared at the contraption in amazement. “That’s ingenious.”

Grayson’s blue-gray eyes met hers for a moment before he turned back to the fan. “It’s a simple design.”

She eyed the moving blades. “So it runs on ferromancy?”

“Of course.” He turned the fan so that the breeze blew toward the stove, then he walked over to check his stew.

She frowned at his back, wondering at the shortness of his answers. Was he angry?

“No luck?” he asked.

“Luck?” What was he—

“Learning to be Scourge.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. So much for him not knowing what she was up to. “It’s not what you think,” she said.

“It’s not?” He kept his back to her as he tended the stove. “So you’re not going to start dissolving constructs with your fiddle?”

“Have you been spying on me?” she demanded.

“Spying on you?”

“Through Lock.”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

Grayson stopped stirring his stew and let the large metal spoon clank against the side of the pot. He faced her. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you’re up to. Why else would you sneak off with our Scourge friends?”

“I’m not sneaking off. I’ve been working on my hand-to-hand technique in the forward hold because it is less cluttered.”

He remained silent, but his expression made it clear that he didn’t believe her.

“All right. Fine. I’ve been trying to learn more about the other side of my magic, but I’m only doing this as a precaution. If I fail to save Solon’s son, I’m going to need a way to stop him from destroying my hometown.”

“I’ll take care of Solon—if it comes to that.”

“Solon isn’t alone. We could be talking about dozens of ferromancers. That’s why I’m learning to use my Scourge magic.”

“You can be honest with me. I do understand.”

She frowned. “I’m telling the truth. My primary goal is still to save you, and the others. If I fail—”

“That was never a concern before you…saw what I really am.”

“That isn’t true.”

“You’ve avoided me the past two days. This is the first private conversation we’ve had since…” He let the sentence hang, but she didn’t need him to finish. She knew he referred to the horror she’d experienced in Newark. When Grayson created his first soulless.

“Never mind.” He turned back to his stew. “Lock is in your alcove.”

She gave him a frown he didn’t see and crossed to the curtain that partitioned her bunk from the rest of the cabin. Pushing back the curtain to let some light into the windowless space, she looked around. Lock wasn’t on the bed or any of the shelves that lined the walls.

“Lock? Please come out. I would never let anyone hurt you.”

Her pillow wiggled, and a moment later, the little dragon crawled out. He gazed up at her with worried eyes.

She walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, then rubbed him beneath the chin. “I love you, Lock.”

He leaned into the caress.

“But some ferromancers have to be stopped before they hurt other people. We were just discussing ways to do that.”

He gazed up at her, emitting a soft whirr.

“You know that a construct is part of the ferromancer who made him. If he goes bad, well…”

Lock sat up straighter, and she sensed alarm. He was remembering what had happened in Newark, when Grayson went bad.

“No,” she whispered. “He just lost control. Everything’s fine now.”

A doubtful whirr followed. He had also noticed how distant she and Grayson had become. It always upset him when she and Grayson didn’t get along. Not that they were actively arguing, but a silent rift had grown between them.

She looked through the curtained doorway into the cabin. She couldn’t see Grayson, but the sound of the spoon clanking against the pot carried to her.

Lock gave her a nudge.

“All right,” she relented. “I’ll talk to him.” She got to her feet, and Lock sprang up onto her shoulder. Stepping out into the cabin, she hesitated.

Grayson looked up from his stew pot but didn’t speak.

“Lock thinks I’m mad at you.”

“I know.”

She was about to question why he hadn’t set Lock straight, then realized that Lock wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“You think I’m mad at you, too,” she said.

“Mad, no.” He looked away. “I figure it’s closer to disgusted—not that you share what you feel anymore.”

“Did you forget that I forgave you?”

“That was then.” He kept his eyes averted. “This is now.” He took a breath as if to brace himself. “You feel it, don’t you?”

“Feel what?”

“My…soulless.”

“Darby?”

Grayson nodded.

“What do you mean, feel him?”

“Here.” Grayson touched his temple. “Similar to how I feel Lock, just not as pure.”

Lock emitted a grating sound of metal on metal. He didn’t care for the comparison.

“I’m with Lock. That was a rude comparison.”

“Don’t make jokes. I’m serious. He’s part of me—or more accurately, I’m part of him.”

Briar schooled her expression to hide how much that bothered her. “Because it’s your soul iron in him.”

“My living soul iron.”

Briar frowned. Despite what he claimed, he had definitely been eavesdropping on her conversation with Liam.

“And you sense him in me,” Grayson continued. “A man you despise. That’s why you’ve kept your distance from me.”

“That isn’t true. Yes, I’ve been a bit withdrawn, but it has nothing to do with any bad feelings toward you, or whatever you think I sense with Darby.” She moved closer. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think of my learning to use my Scourge magic. Though I guess I made it worse by remaining silent.”

“I have no problem with you learning to use that side of your magic. I’m all for it if it’ll keep you safe from the monsters. Even if that monster is me.”

“That’s not—”

“If you deny it, you’re not being honest with yourself.”

She held his gaze. “You are mine, Grayson Martel. You are my heart and my responsibility. I fully accept both.”

“Briar,” he whispered, all his misery wrapped up in a single word.

“Stop this. I forgave you. I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

She walked to him and laid a hand over his heart. Looking up, she prepared to tell him she loved him, but closed her eyes instead. Reaching out, she shared her feelings. How she longed for a solution to their problems, so they could have a chance at a life together.

A surge of love and longing washed over her, wrapped in worry and shame. She might have forgiven him, but he hadn’t forgiven himself.

“Grayson.” She slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him, her head resting on his shoulder. “I love you and forgive you. Can’t you feel it in me?”

“Yes,” he whispered, hugging her just as tight. “But…”

“No buts.”

A thump echoed through the boat, and she pulled back in surprise.

Grayson frowned. “Eli doesn’t normally bump the walls.”

Then she remembered. “He had Molly try her hand at steering.”

Grayson’s focus returned to her and she caught a hint of a smile. Briar was so pleased to see the smile, that she didn’t care if the bump had put a hole in her boat.

A lighter thump carried from the cargo hold, followed by the sound of rapid footfalls. Someone had dropped into the cargo hold and was hurrying toward her door.

“Oh no.” Briar grimaced. “I hope Molly didn’t damage the boat. She’ll be devastated.”

“I can fix it.” Grayson released her.

She started for the door.

“Briar, wait!” Grayson seized her shoulder and pulled her back.

“Wh—” She didn’t get to finish her question as the door banged open. A man she didn’t know stood on the threshold. Before she could ask what he wanted, he lifted his hand to display the revolver he held.

The man looked pleased as he trained the gun on them. “Look what I found.” His gaze settled on Lock who still sat on Briar’s shoulder. “The missing drake.”

Chapter 2

Briar’s heart pounded as she stared at the man holding the gun. If he recognized Grayson, he was either Scourge or a ferromancer. Judging by the knives in his belt and boot top, she was going with Scourge.

“Lock, be the necklace,” she whispered. A tingle enveloped her throat as Lock complied.

The man frowned, but didn’t get to comment as more footfalls echoed in the hold.

“Jack!” an unfamiliar voice shouted. Had this man—Jack?—brought friends? “Look out!” the same voice added.

Suddenly, Perseus appeared behind the man and jerked him back into the hold.

She rushed to the shelf above the table and took down her fiddle. She intended to open it and take out the instrument, but Grayson was already stepping through the open door.

“Damn it,” she muttered. Taking her fiddle, case and all, she followed Grayson into the cargo hold. She arrived just as Perseus disarmed the other fellow. The revolver went flying over the side of the boat, clattering off the top of the stone wall of the filled lock chamber.

The man pulled a large knife from his belt, glancing at Grayson before addressing Perseus. “What the hell are you doing? We kill him, we demoralize the rest of them before the fight begins.”

Briar frowned. It sounded like this guy knew about the gala.

“I cannot allow you to harm him,” Perseus answered, his tone cool.

Movement drew Briar’s attention to both sides of the boat. On the port side, a half dozen well-armed men stood atop the lock wall. While her crew, along with Kali and Liam, watched from the starboard side.

“Jack, stop,” one of the strangers called. “Don’t you know who that is?”

“Some misguided sap who hasn’t the sense to break free of his mistress?” Jack sneered at Perseus.

“That’s Perseus,” Jack’s friend supplied.

“Yeah, right.” Jack laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I’m not so gullible as to fall for that fairy tale.” Without warning, he sprang.

Briar tensed, squeezing the handle of her fiddle case. She wasn’t truly worried for Perseus, but she hadn’t expected that kind of speed. No wonder Jack was such a mouthy bastard. He was ferromancer-fast. Then too, so was Perseus.

At the last moment, Perseus stepped back, avoiding the wicked slash to his stomach.

If Jack was surprised, it didn’t register. He struck again with the speed of a striking snake, and once again, Perseus eluded him.

“Aren’t you going to fight back?” Jack demanded.

“If you like.” Perseus’s tone was pleasant, if a little cool.

Briar didn’t see Perseus start to move. It seemed she’d blinked and he had already closed with Jack. An instant later, Jack’s knife clattered to the deck. There was an exchange of blows almost too fast to follow, then Jack stumbled back, blood gushing from his nose.

Jack glared at Perseus, who had relaxed his stance as if expecting that to be the end of it. Perseus was obviously the better fighter.

Without warning, Jack pulled a small knife from his belt, and in the same motion, hurled it at Perseus.

Briar glimpsed the surprise on Perseus’s face, but it was all the reaction he had time for. He was too close to get out of the line of fire.

Kali gasped as the knife sliced into Perseus’s abdomen.

Silence fell over those gathered around them. Even Jack looked astonished. Did he feel remorse, or was he just surprised by his success?

Without comment, Perseus gripped the knife handle and jerked the blade from his stomach. Blood immediately bloomed around the hole in his white shirt.

“See?” Jack seemed to regain his bravado. “He bleeds. I told you. Perseus is a fairy tale. Besides, this guy’s Greek accent was terrible.”

Briar frowned. If Jack truly believed that Perseus was just some guy, he showed a distinct lack of respect for the man he’d just stabbed. No matter how mad he got, Eli never belittled a fallen foe and often helped them up after the fight was over.

Maintaining his silence, Perseus tugged his shirttail from his pants and lifted it to reveal the bleeding puncture wound in his stomach.

Briar flinched at the gory sight.

“Yes, I bleed,” Perseus told Jack. “And I feel pain.” A muscle tensed in his jaw. “Asshole.”

Even expecting it, Briar stared in wonder as a golden glow began to emanate from the depths of the wound. The glow intensified, and all but her crew gasped as it grew more visible. The golden light moved toward the surface, the wound closing behind it, shrinking steadily to a puckered scar. With one final burst of light, it vanished, leaving no trace of the injury on Perseus’s unblemished olive skin.

Perseus dropped his shirt and lifted the knife. Purple lightning ignited along the blood-slicked blade. “Shall we continue?”

“Enough,” Liam cut in. “Not to deny you your due, Perseus, but I would prefer to let him live.”

The lightning vanished as Perseus lowered the blade. “Are you certain?”

“He seems an able fighter—if that mouth can be tamed.”

“Who are you?” Jack demanded, his bravado returning now that Perseus no longer held the knife on him.

“The name is Liam McAdams. I suppose you believe my reputation a fairy tale as well?”

“Reputation? All you had was the patronage of a powerful ferra.” Jack lifted his chin, challenging Liam to contradict him.

“Is that what you believe?” A bitter smile twisted Liam’s mouth.

“It’s common knowledge that you whored yourself to her—or was it the other way around?”

Liam pushed back his coat and gripped the handle of the knife he wore. “Careful.”

Jack smiled. “Did I get too close to the truth?”

“You seem to be lacking some facts,” Liam said. “The Scourge is a recent development. Hunting ferromancers wasn’t my original calling.”

“Is that meant to frighten me?” Jack sneered. “Sorry, old man. Your exploits between the sheets with some ferra doesn’t scare me—it disgusts me.”

Liam jerked his knife from his belt. Violet arcs of lightning ignited along the soul-iron blade, but they didn’t remain that way. Gradually, the color seemed to leak away until the lightning was silver-white.

Jack took a step back.

“Better run,” Liam said softly.

Jack spun away and lunged toward the gangplank. He took about three steps before Liam was on him, moving with a speed that shocked Briar. Her elderly-seeming godfather looked anything but elderly when he took Jack to the deck.

Briar thought he only intended to frighten the man, so when Liam buried the knife in Jack’s back, she gasped.

Jack threw back his head and opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. He thrashed a moment in eerie silence, then went still.

Frogs croaked along the canal and cicadas chittered from the trees, but otherwise, all was silent.

Briar closed her open mouth. Yes, Jack had been a loud-mouthed troublemaker, but killing him seemed a little extreme for a few crude insults. Liam must have been very fond of the ferra he had slandered.

Liam pushed off Jack’s unmoving body and climbed to his feet. “If any of the rest of you feel as he does, speak now.”

A beat of silence answered him, then a tall fellow cleared his throat. “Jack was an unruly hothead, but good in a fight. That’s the only reason we brought him along.”

Liam eyed the larger man for a moment, and Briar feared Liam might attack him as well. “Indeed,” Liam said at last. “I asked those I had contacted to gather in Waverly. We were on our way there.”

“That’s where we were headed,” the same man responded.

“And you are?”

“Gordon. Miles Gordon.”

Liam nodded. “What stronghold do you hail from, Gordon?”

“Captain?” Jimmy moved to her side, followed by the rest of her crew.

Briar faced them as Liam and his new friend discussed their respective origins.

“What’s going on, Miss Briar?” Eli asked, eyeing the small crowd of armed men standing a short distance away.

“These are friends of Liam’s,” she explained. Or perhaps, friends of friends. Word must have spread.

“Scourge?”

“Yes. Liam contacted them about the situation in Portsmouth. I guess there are more gathering in Waverly.”

“More Scourge?” Jimmy perked up. “That’s good, right? They won’t let those ferromancers get out of hand even if we’re late.”

“We won’t be late,” she said.

“Not through any failing on our part,” Jimmy agreed. “But it don’t hurt to have help.”

“I suppose.” She glanced at Grayson, but he was watching Liam.

“We were looking into a rumor north of here,” Gordon was telling Liam.

“What kind of rumor?” Liam asked.

“The tale of a man killed by a metal monster.”

Liam stood straighter. “Find out anything?”

“I interviewed the lone witness—who did admit to being inebriated at the time. But after meeting with the undertaker, I am inclined to believe it was indeed a construct.”

“Why do you say that?”

“This.” Gordon pulled something from his coat pocket. At first, Briar thought it was a small silver knife, but as he turned it in his hand, she saw that the blade was curved.

“Is that a claw?” Liam asked.

“It appears to be.” Gordon handed it to him.

“Huh.” Liam examined it a moment, turning it in his hands.

I thought constructs were indestructible, Briar directed at Grayson.

Mine is. Perhaps that isn’t so with a weaker talent. Your godfather doesn’t seem overly surprised, and he should know about such things. There was a sense of chagrin with the comment, as if Grayson was embarrassed to know less about his kind than Liam.

Liam returned the claw to Gordon. “Any idea what became of the ferromancer—assuming there was one?”

“We found nothing. It was a small town, and we searched it thoroughly. Believing it likely that this ferromancer was heading south to meet with the others, we traveled on.”

“What kind of construct was it?” Briar spoke up. “Did the witness say?”

A faint frown shadowed Gordon’s hazel eyes as his gaze dropped to her throat. He had noticed her necklace.

“My goddaughter,” Liam said by way of introduction.

Gordon continued to study her, then finally answered. “The witness said it was too dark to see properly, but it was big, had claws, and pounced on him from above.”

Could it have been a lion? Solon was traveling south, but he should be well ahead of them.

“If I may ask…” Gordon turned to Liam. “How is it that you are godfather to ferra?”

“My goddaughter isn’t ferra. She is a unique variant of Scourge. One that I suspect has never existed before.”

Briar wished Liam wouldn’t categorize her as Scourge, especially with Grayson listening, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

“Her talent gives her several ferra-like abilities,” Liam explained. “She can resist soul fire and take a construct.”

“The ferromancer?” Gordon glanced in Grayson’s direction.

“Hers,” Liam answered. “And there’s more.” His look turned smug as he continued. “She’s a soul singer.”

“What?” Gordon took a step back as if Liam’s admission had been a physical blow, while several others voiced astonishment or disbelief.

“Like the ferra, it’s not an active power, but one she must channel through something else. In Briar’s case, it’s music.”

“Music?” Gordon looked stunned.

“And it’s not soul fire she channels,” Liam added. “She channels Scourge magic.”

“A Scourge soul singer,” Gordon concluded, awe in his tone.

“And since she uses music, she doesn’t need to touch.”

“Liam,” Briar muttered as those gathered behind Gordon burst into excited conversation.

“Then why have you called us here?” Gordon asked, a smile on his face. “Doesn’t sound like we’re needed.”

“You’re backup.” Liam returned the smile.

“Would you excuse us?” Briar asked Gordon. She didn’t wait for an answer. Gripping Liam’s arm, she pulled him aside. “We discussed this, remember?” she whispered. “I’ll be your assassin only if all else fails.”

Liam studied her, but instead of arguing, he sighed. “At least give these men a demonstration of your power. Let them see that if it comes to a fight, the losses won’t be too great.”

“There won’t be any losses if I accomplish my goal.”

“Please? It’ll be good for morale.” He held out his hand. “I’ll hold your case for you.”

She sighed. “Fine.” She handed him her case to hold while she opened it. She removed her bow, then went to pick up her fiddle.

“Use the soul-iron violin.”

Lock? “But…”

“No one will act unless I command it,” Liam said, his gray eyes holding hers.

The Scourge encircled them, watching quietly. Would Liam’s power over them hold when she revealed that she carried the construct of a drake? None of them had seen what Jack had.

Briar glanced at Perseus who silently nodded. He trusted Liam to keep order.

She closed the case, leaving it for Liam to hold. “Lock?”

A sense of uncertainty washed over her.

“It’s all right,” she reassured him.

A tingle of static encircled her throat, then Lock’s slight weight settled on her shoulder.

More exclamations came from those watching, and she heard several pronouncements of missing drake. Lock leapt from her shoulder, morphing into the fiddle in midair. She caught the instrument by the neck and gave Liam an expectant look.

“What exactly do you want me to do? I can’t show off my Scourge magic—as you advertised.”

Liam turned to Gordon. “May I see that claw?”

Gordon dug the construct claw from his pocket and passed it to Liam.

“Hold this?” Liam passed him the fiddle case, then faced Briar. “Let’s see if you can dissolve this.” He held up the claw.

“You know I can’t—”

“This isn’t inanimate soul iron. It’s part of a construct.”

“Or you suspect it is.”

Liam shrugged. “This is the perfect opportunity to try.”

Grayson’s eyes met hers, but he said nothing. He didn’t look angry, but there was a tightness around his eyes that suggested he wasn’t happy.

You don’t have to watch this if it makes you uncomfortable, she told him.

I believe you are the one who’s uncomfortable. I do not like to see you manipulated.

It’s just a demonstration, she insisted.

“Briar?” Liam prompted.

She turned back to her godfather. “I make no promises that this will work.”

“That’s fine.” He bent to place the claw on the deck. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She brought the fiddle to her chin and began to play. Focusing on the silver claw lying at her feet, her song turned harsh and aggressive. Much as she had done the time she faced Farran, she lashed out, striking at the small piece of soul iron.

Just when she thought it wouldn’t work, an explosion of violet arcs of light danced across the surface of the claw. An instant later, the claw vanished in a burst of white-hot light.

Briar gasped along with everyone else. Her song ended mid note, and she took the fiddle from her chin.

“I didn’t believe you,” Gordon said softly. “But…”

Liam laughed. “See?” he said to her. “Nothing to it. Just play them a song.”

“Liam, stop,” she cut in. “I told you. My way first.”

His amusement faded, a stern expression in its place. She knew she was in for a fight. It would be nice to do this in private, but she wouldn’t back down just because they were in public.

He stepped closer. “I know you’re doing what you feel is right,” he said to her, his words soft. “But you must understand that I know far more about all of this than you ever will.”

“That doesn’t—”

He held up a hand, and she saw the blood on his sleeve. “Let me speak my piece. I’ve been working on it for a bit.” A bitter smile twisted his lips. “The fact remains that you are a twenty-two-year-old young woman who is following her heart, and I stopped making decisions based on sentiment over six centuries ago.”

Briar was about to respond to his comment on her youth and sentiment, but the mention of his true age silenced her—and was why, when he lunged toward her, it took her completely by surprise. He grabbed the silver fiddle before she’d done little more than register the movement, and wrenched it from her hand.

“Liam!” she cried, stunned and horrified.

“Don’t,” Liam said when Perseus took a step toward him. “Yes, if we fought, I know you’d be the victor, but not before I dissolve the construct.”

Grayson gripped her shoulder, having moved up behind her.

The Scourge that had gathered behind Gordon moved closer, several pulling out their weapons.

“What do you want?” she asked Liam, her tone as cool as any ferromancer’s.

“I love you, Briar.” Liam’s gray eyes held hers, and though she was absolutely furious with him, she knew he told the truth. “But I can’t let your youth and naivety destroy this opportunity. We’re going to do this my way.”

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