The King's War

38. The Warship

NATHANIEL

Abel's war base was turned out to be an aircraft carrier floating off of the Georgia coast. We'd arrived by way of the camp's convenient helicopter, escorted by the gracious Corporal Wilson, who'd trained a gun on us during the entire flight.

I tried to keep myself calm for Avery's sake. How could we have escaped the clutches of one enemy only to end up in those of another? Only Abel was far worse than Balthazar. The Duke had principles, at least, and he cared about me in his own twisted, misguided way.

Abel didn't care one single bit. And from the position of a mere human, that thought was terrifying.

Dread sank further and further into my stomach with every mile we flew, coming to a head when we finally landed aboard a giant warship swarming with enemy soldiers. After we disembarked, Corporal Wilson and his gun nudged us towards the control tower, at the top of which Abel had made his wartime office.

I'd used the long walk as an opportunity to glance around for an escape route. The only way off of this ship was either to fly or to swim. Both would get us shot down by the ship's many guns. The outlook wasn't good.

Abel stood in front of a long panel of green-tinted windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. His pose was regal — arms folded behind his back, head raised in expectation. His spotless white suit was out of place among the fatigues worn by the officers around him, but he was in a position to get away with it. When he saw me enter the room, he bared his teeth in a way that barely passed for a smile.

"Nathaniel," he announced. "I knew that body double story was too good to be true. Still, I never anticipated seeing you so quickly. I expected a manhunt."

I remained silent. There was no point in denying my identity if his witch was going to be able to find out the truth soon enough.

Madame Levesque chose that moment to glide into view. "Order your men to leave this room."

Abel raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"You won't need guns when you have me," she replied flatly. "Besides, there's a chance you won't want what happens next to fall on anyone else's ears."

Abel shrugged and shooed out the soldiers who stood guard. The corporal followed them, leaving Avery and me inside the lion's den by ourselves.

"Well, is he actually human?" Abel asked impatiently.

Madame Levesque circled me, scrutinizing me like an appraiser at an art auction. "I can feel Daphne Sinclair's signature on him. But it was only a healing spell..."

I kept my eyes trained on the witch. "I'm surprised to see you still working for him, given that it cost you your daughter."

Madame Levesque shot me a cutting glare. "Abel was not the one who pushed her into Daphne Sinclair's knife."

Before I could retort, she grabbed my face with both hands. Her long, sharp nails dug into the back of my scalp and I choked out a pained gasp. She pressed her thumbs into my temples and a blinding pain shot through my brain. A foreign, malignant entity entered my mind, tearing through my thoughts, flipping through memories like pages in a photo album.

Arriving on the aircraft carrier. The camp. The blockade. Waking up after the fight. Chase, dead. A knife in my side. She rifled through them until she came to the one of Balthazar standing in Sheridan's office, offering me the cure.

Madame Levesque let me go and I stumbled back, breathing hard. My head felt as it had been bashed in with an icepick. My mind felt unclean by the invasion. No one should have this power.