Black London 05 - Soul Trade

Pete as she had on Jack. “There is no Prospero Society. That wasjust to get you out here.”
    It felt like a punch. Of course—she should have seen it from the very start. One secret mage clubhouse strained credulity; two was a stupid plot from a bad movie.
    “Sorry,” Donovan said with a shrug. “They needed someone to play the villain, and let’s face it—for you two, I fit the bill.”
    Morwenna stood up again. “Who better than Jack’s estranged father to get youon the right track?”
    “I know that Crotherton’s not the point of all this, then.” Pete seized on the chance to slot in the missing pieces. Morwenna wasn’t a Dr. Doom type, but she was chatty, and anything Pete could learn would help them get out of this mess.
    “It’s very simple,” Morwenna said. “You’re a wild card, Petunia, wherever you go. You never listen to anyone but yourself, and in thiscase I knew you’d find me what Preston killed himself to avoid giving up. But only if I told you not to—only if I sent you here with some utterly mundane task that you’d rebel against.”
    Pete felt her teeth grind. “You used me to find the soul well.” She resented being tricked—being used was beyond the pale.
    “Will use,” Morwenna said. “None of us can stand to be in close proximity. The only reasonwe’re not already shambling is because we’re all mages. But none of us are Weirs.” There was the smile again, cold and satisfied. Morwenna thought she was very smart indeed.
    “Well, you’re shite out of luck, then,” Pete said. “Because I don’t know where it is. So do your worst, because that won’t change anything.”
    “Fine by me,” Morwenna said. “You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since theday I realized we needed you and Jack to pull this off.”
    “Pull what off?” Jack scoffed. “The soul well ain’t going to make you immortal, luv. It’s going to drain you dry and fill you up with something blank and evil and that’ll be the end of you.”
    “If I want ignorant prattle, I can get it from the telly,” Morwenna snapped. “I don’t need the live show. And if you’d stuck with anything long enoughto learn about the Black, Mr. Winter, you’d know that the soul well can grant power to the mage who knows the proper ritual steps, which I do.”
    “So that line about Jack being the Merlin?” Pete said. “Just something to string me along?”
    “I fully believe Mr. Winter is the Merlin,” Morwenna said, as Jack’s eyes went wide. “It’s just a shame he’ll never get a chance to realize his potential. There’sno room for mavericks or loose ends in what’s coming, and sadly you’re both.”
    Pete shook her head again, drawing Margaret closer to her. “We’re not helping you.”
    “I understand you want safety for this child,” Morwenna said. “And for your own. If you don’t help, I can guarantee they’ll die screaming.”
    Margaret flinched under Pete’s hand, and Pete had to admit Morwenna had thought up an answerfor every angle.
    She thought about the raven, when she’d woken up from the dream. This is a place of death. Run and never look back.
    “I don’t know how to get back there,” she admitted. “My talent got drawn in, not me. I woke up and I was there.”
    “Not a problem,” Morwenna said. “Donovan, might I borrow you for a moment?”
    Victor took up Donovan’s position behind Jack, while Donovan approachedPete. “Don’t worry, luv,” he said. “This’ll only hurt for a minute.”
    Pete tried to shy away, tried to pull back, but Donovan caught her, his powers sweeping away her own talent like so much flotsam under a flood. His talent drowned Pete, and when she opened her eyes, everything had vanished.

 
    24.
    Pete saw nothing but the mist, the slivery shapes of the wraiths darting through it like fish above a reef. Her feet were bare, and she dug her fingers into the graveyard earth to see if she was awake. Pebbles dug into her flesh and dirt crept under her nails.
    The graveyard was empty, and she was colder than the air would suggest. So maybe not dreaming, but not awake, either. The mausoleumwas tumbled down, covered in black lichen, and the village beyond, what she could see, was ravaged by fire and time. Tendrils of smoke, the same gunmetal color as the sky, wafted upward like the tentacles of some great creature, reaching for the last vestiges of light sinking in the west.
    This time, there wouldn’t be any sudden awakening at her