Fearless

Fox didn’t answer. Her eyes wandered to his chest, to where the moth was hiding beneath his shirt. She hadn’t forgotten about death. From his backpack, Jacob pulled the necklace he’d taken from Ramée’s granddaughter. Her face incredulous, Fox touched the black heart.



‘Two treasures in one go,’ Jacob whispered. ‘I’ll tell you the whole story. But now you have to rest.’



She was so pale. He felt as though he could see through her skin.



Outside, one of the devil-horses whinnied.



Fox sat up.



The horse was quiet again, but it wasn’t a good silence.



She was quicker to the stable door than he. His eyes couldn’t make out anything suspicious between the dark trees, but Fox reached for the saddlebag with her fur dress.



‘Someone’s there.’



‘Let me take a look.’



She just shook her head. Jacob watched the trees while she put on the fur dress. The horses were still restless. Maybe they just smelled the Witch.



No, Jacob.



It was a moonless night, and he barely noticed the vixen dart off. There was still light behind the Witch’s window. A dog was barking somewhere.



Why did you let her go, Jacob? She was too weak. He could still see the pitcher, filled to the rim with her fear. Again, a dog barking. His hand reached for his pistol. He was just about to go after her when the fur of the vixen brushed against his leg again.



‘They are over there, to the left, between the trees. The Bastard and five others.’ Fox pulled Jacob away from the stable door. He thought he could still feel the fur on her hands. ‘You can smell the Waterman from miles off. And they have two bloodhounds.’



Damn. How did the Goyl get there? Jacob seemed unable to shake him off, like a shadow. Jacob rubbed his bandaged arm. It was his left – the heart arm, as the Witches called it. Sadly, it was also his better shooting arm. Not to mention the blood he was missing, and he still had the fight with Troisclerq in his bones. The Bastard would take the heart, and it would be like taking it off a child.



‘Maybe the Witch can help us,’ Fox whispered.



‘Perhaps. But I can’t afford to give another two cups of blood. And have you forgotten about the Waterman?’ Witch magic was as powerless against Watermen as a lit fuse thrown into a pond.



‘I can try to lure them away.’



‘No.’



She knew him well enough to know that this ‘no’ was final.



Jacob looked towards the devil-horses. Even if he and Fox managed to get away, what about Donnersmarck?



Damn. Too little time in the wrong place.



He took the black heart from his pocket. Fox flinched as he put the necklace around her neck. Jacob had wrapped the stone in a piece of cloth so it wouldn’t touch her.



‘Take it off before you go to sleep, and make sure the stone never sits on top of your heart!’ he whispered. ‘The cloth will only protect your skin. I’ll try to get you at least an hour’s head start.’



‘No!’ She wanted to take the necklace off, but Jacob grabbed her hands.



‘Nothing will happen to me. I’ll surrender myself before things get too hot.’



‘And then what? That Goyl already tried once before to kill you!’



‘He won’t, as long as I am his only chance of getting the heart! You just can’t get caught. Meet up with Valiant. Let the Dwarf deal with the Bastard. There’s an empty watchtower by the Dead City. I’ll tell the Goyl that’s where you’ll be waiting for him.’



She leant her head against his shoulder.



‘It’ll be all right,’ he whispered.



‘When?’ she whispered back. ‘Let’s try together. Please! We’ll be on the horses before they can start shooting.’



‘And Donnersmarck?’ Jacob brushed a will-o’-the-wisp from her hair. An hourglass. He’d find one. But the moment was now lost.



‘Take the rear.’ He drew his pistol. ‘The wall’s so rotten, I’m sure you’ll find a crack over there.’



Fox turned around, but Jacob pulled her back once more. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. Her heartbeat was like his own.



Something stirred outside between the trees.



‘Run!’ Jacob whispered.



Red fur where just a moment before was pale skin.



She was gone before he had turned around again.



CHAPTER FIFTY



A TRADE



Yes, the vixen had spotted them. However, the stable she’d disappeared into had only one door, and Louis would hit anything that came out of there. He yawned as often as he breathed, but his eyes were halfway clear again, and he was a decent shot.



‘Shall I let them go?’ The dog man could barely hold his panting charges.



‘No. Not yet.’ The thought of them tearing the vixen to pieces made him nauseous. It wouldn’t take much and soon he’d be throwing up at every turn, like Lelou.



Speaking of the Devil . . .



‘Are you sure he’s in there?’ The Bug stared at the stable as though he were trying to burn a hole into the brittle walls. He was very proud of the pistol he’d started to carry in his belt.



‘Yes. He’s standing right behind the door.’



Reckless thought the darkness hid him, but he’d forgotten he was dealing with a Goyl.



‘I’d best hit him straight in the head.’ Louis trained his rifle. ‘Or do we need him alive?’ His clan’s passion for the hunt. The excitement even made him forget to yawn. They still believed the story about the Albian spy.



‘No. Just shoot him dead,’ Nerron replied. He didn’t want Louis to think he was softer than him. And, anyway, Reckless wouldn’t be so stupid as to run out in front of his rifle. Nerron was sure he had the heart. Once more, Reckless had been faster. Two to one for him, Nerron.



Lelou nervously licked his lips. The pistol on his belt had not made a warrior out of him. Eaumbre was with Milkbeard by the Witch’s house. After what had happened in Vena, Louis had become even harsher towards the Waterman, but Eaumbre bore the insults with a stoic expression, and he kept acting as if he’d never given up the bodyguarding business.



At Nerron’s sign, Eaumbre kicked in the Witch’s door. Yes, he was useful, though one could never be too sure which side he was on. Probably his own. The child-eater fluttered past him and landed on her roof with a loud croak. The magpie was the Dark Witches’ bird of choice; the White Witches preferred swallows. Reckless had probably been watching, but there was no movement behind the stable door.



‘One thing’s for sure,’ Louis muttered. ‘When we find that crossbow, I get the first shot.’



‘Yes? And who would that be aimed at?’



Louis gave Nerron an icy look. ‘A Goyl, of course. And with the second shot, I’ll wipe out the Albian army.’



Eaumbre stood in front of Nerron. ‘Just one wounded man. He’s sleeping some kind of Witch sleep. Shall I bring him here to flush out the other one?’



‘No. I’ll get him out anyway.’ Nerron drew his revolver and checked the ammunition. Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun.



Eaumbre stood by his side. The well had obviously not dampened his lust for treasure hunting.



‘I’m coming as well.’ Louis suppressed a yawn.