Page 5 of The Unweaver

“Bloody hell!” Eyes wild, Teddy jumped and swung a blow she barely sidestepped in time.

“Teddy, it’s me.” Tugging back her hood, she held up her hands and leapt away from another swing. “It’s only me. It’s all right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He flinched away from her cautious touch, his quick breaths rising in billows. She dropped her hand, cursing herself. She knew better than to sneak up on him.

The indolent young man who had gone off to war had returned a hardened shell of himself. Horrors Teddy wouldn’t speak of had muted his exuberance, whittling him down to his animal instincts of fight or flight. He had a temper like the grenades lobbed at him in the trenches. Unexpected and destructive.

Both just shy of six feet tall, they stood at eye-level as she searched his averted face. They shared the same subtlety of features, more interesting than striking, save for their eyes. To Teddy, they were agate gemstones, hazel limned in turquoise, set within thick lashes. To Cora, they were blue pools with rotten centers.

Eyes were the window to the spirit; Cora’s had been calloused by a thousand cuts, but Teddy’s had not always been so jaded. His once brilliant eyes were now sunk into weary hollows, ringed by dark circles in the pallor of his haggard face. He looked like he’d aged years in the past month.

“Breathe, Teddy. It’s all right. Just breathe.” With careful movements, she brushed back his unruly waves of chestnut hair that matched her own. He winced but didn’t withdraw, breathing raggedly until his expression unclouded.

“I really ought to put a bell on you, Cora dear.”

She managed a weak smile. Still the consummate hedonist despite the wars, Teddy’s vibrancy was dulled tonight, and by more than a hangover, she feared. His pupils were blown wide like dark portals into the unknowable turmoil of his thoughts.

A man of appetites, Teddy called himself. Appetites that were growing more uninhibited since he returned from France.

He often regaled her with the sordid details of his amorous conquests. It wasn’t his revolving door of lovers that worried her—men and women, mages and humans; Teddy’s tastes were non-discriminating. It was the opium dens he met them in.

Was he backsliding into the pit of addiction she’d just pulled him out of? For weeks, she had watched him grow paler and thinner, screaming in his sleep, soaking the sheets in cold sweat.

Cora didn’t judge him. He had pulled her out of the pit before, too. What she considered as a weakness of character in herself, she saw as a cry for help in her twin, too proud to admit he was suffering.

“Teddy bear.” She cupped his face. “You are my favorite part of us. I’m worried about you. Are you…using again?”

He jerked away. “Oh, sod off.”

Her hand fell. Now wasn’t the time to determine whether his anger was born of fear or a relapse. “Mother’s got us tangled in something right nasty. What’s the old bird squawking about now?”

“Ah. Right. We’d best do Mother’s bidding before she pops a blood vessel.” From the pocket of his plum coat, he pulled out a familiar-looking note. “Mummy dearest sent me the conversational starters for our chat with the chap down below. Afraid he’s no longer among the living.”

“So I heard. What the hell is Mother doing with Verek? Gunning for the Realmwalker?”

“Politics.” He offered her his arm with a flourishing bow. “I do believe Mother is most eager to hear the Chronomancer’s secrets. Shall we?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I sense death nearby.”

“Oh, you’ve been saying that for years. You really ought to consider a new cryptic warning.”

“We don’t have to do this, Teddy. We can feed Mother some bullshit story, go grab a drink.”

“I fear Mother personally insisted I come. If I don’t follow through, she’ll have my head. Or worse, my balls. I am inordinately fond of them. I’m just doing Mother a—”

“A favor,” she said bitterly. “I know.”

“My dear, odiferous sister.” He held a hand to his chest. Humor sparked in his eyes like a banked fire. “I merely seek to escort you upon your sepulchral duties. WouldIdisgrace the illustrious Walcott family name?”

The Walcott family did not, in fact, exist. Walcott was the name of the street the Sacred Heart orphanage was on, used as a placeholder on their intake paperwork. The nuns were not known for their creativity.

Teddy’s mouth curved into a sly smile. A smile that evoked a lifetime of memories. Cora found herself, as she often did, returning that smile. Glimpsing the old Teddy again, some of the unease left her. She took his arm. A tingling energy seeped into her skin. The brush of his Animancy on her heart quelled her suspicions, soothed her fears.

“No magic,” she said, squeezing him tighter when he began to pull away. She wished she could absorb the poison in his blood. Take the burden from his shoulders. Exorcise his demons.

Teddy wrapped her in a sudden, fierce embrace. She stilled. Were these the resurrecting demons of his dope habit? Without Animancy, reading his moods was like divining tea leaves. She embraced him back, basking in his warmth on this cold night.She was a dark house, empty save for its ghosts, and Teddy was the light in the window. Even if that light had dimmed.

Just as suddenly, he let her go, stepping towards the gaping maw into the tunnels. Death rattled in her ears.

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