Page 63 of The Magpie Lord
“One chance.” Stephen’s voice came from behind Crane. “No mercy. Down or die.”
Lady Thwaite’s eyes darted from side to side. She looked again at Stephen, gave one suppressed sob, and made a sudden lunge towards Crane, which stopped almost instantly. She shook for a second, a gout of blood erupted from her mouth, and she fell forward.
There was no question in anyone’s mind but that she was dead before she hit the ground.
“What the hell was that?” said Merrick.
“Judgement,” said Stephen.
He walked forward, five feet tall, and Crane knew that even the most lethal killers of his past would have shrunk back to let this mango by at this moment. His eyes were their normal tawny colour again, but every time he blinked a flutter of black and white and blue danced across them. Magpies pecked and jumped around him, and gathered silently in the bushes and trees around them. There was a heavy thump as one landed for a moment on Crane’s shoulder.
Stephen looked intensely solid, almost vibrating with energy. His face was dirty and spattered with drying blood, but he didn’t look beaten, and his fingers weren’t raw and crooked, and he no longer moved like a man in pain.
He glanced down at the woman he had just killed, and up again.
“Miss Bell. And Mr. Merrick. What, exactly, are you doing here?”
Merrick shrugged defensively. Crane tried to remember the last time his henchman had felt the need to justify himself. “Went up to Miss Bell’s place, we had a little chat, reckoned we might do more good here than on a train. So we come over. Got here about five minutes before they brought you out. Miss Bell had her eye on the brown-haired lady, and I had a gun on the big sod the whole time. I was just about to take the shot when—” He made a gesture with his hands, fingers fluttering upwards and outwards. “Didn’t realise you had it under control, sir, beg your pardon.”
“In fact, I didn’t. Thank you.” Stephen nodded acknowledgement, and something in the atmosphere relaxed slightly.
“You, on the other hand,” Merrick went on to his master, “you need to get your hands dirty more. Letting that bloke kick you off.”
“Did not. Swine used magic.” Crane spat blood onto the ground.
“Soyousay.”
“I refuse to get involved in this,” Stephen said. “And Miss Bell? Why are you here?”
Miss Bell looked slightly self-conscious. “It’s like what you said, before. There’s no good doing the right thing unless you stop people doing the wrong thing. Is there?”
Stephen smiled at her, the real, crooked smile that lit his eyes. “There isn’t, no. Thank you, Miss Bell. Thank you very much.”
She huffed. “I didn’t do anything, in the end.”
“You held that cow off,” said Merrick supportively.
“You came to help,” said Stephen. “Youacted. I appreciate it.”
He walked forward, holding out his hand. Miss Bell stepped around Lady Thwaite’s body, took it, and immediately snatched her hand away again with a sharp intake of breath. “What the—how are youdoingthat? Why aren’t you burning up?”
“Good question. Come on.” Stephen started back to the other side of the Rose Walk.
Crane took a long stride to catch up, and Stephen turned to him. “How’s your mouth?”
“Hurts.”
“I am sorry, Lucien. I didn’t have any choice. Here.” He reached up, and as his fingers closed round Crane’s jaw, the prickling turned to a warm, intense glow that rapidly grew searing. Crane made a noise of protest, but Stephen held on with a soothing murmur for a few seconds more. “Better?”
Crane explored his lip with a cautious tongue, realised that his bruised eye was also eased. “Yes. Much. You can heal wounds?”
“Me? No, this is borrowed. From Piper. The charnel posture’s broken, the flow is coming back.” Stephen gave him a swift smile. “There’s power in this house.”
“So I see. Tell me, if, as I deduce, the ring is giving you access to the Magpie Lord’s power, why exactly did you leave it quite so bloody late to use it?”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Stephen said. “I worked it out in the cellar. Your blood had met mine, on our hands, and when I tried to do—something—I felt the power stir, and I realised. Stupid of me. It should have been obvious that the ring needed Vaudrey blood. But there wasn’t enough from just our hands, and I was about to say so when those swine came in. And then I had to find a way to get more ofyour blood into me before they killed one of us. That got a bit closer to the line than I’d have liked.”
“Yes, it did, didn’t it,” said Crane, with some restraint. “So it came down to blood, bone and birdspit in the end?”
