Page 21 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Des

Our first adventure carried us into old ruins, crumbling and decrepit. Gemellus was intent on showing off, heavens knows why, leaping into every danger he could find. We emerged bruised and bloody, idiot kids who knew no better. Do you remember?

-Private letter from Sir Penna to Professor Aevus

Des gathered her hair into a bun and pinned it back with the hairpiece Gemellus had sent her. Her eyes never left Talon as he hummed to himself, pulling on his boots and coat before smoothing back his hair.

He messed up a few strands purposely and flashed her a roguish grin. “You’re going to be miserable.”

“Does that delight you?” Des folded her arms tightly.

“Only the thought of you squirming.” He sighed. “Do you really have no control over which. . . you, you are?”

“No.” Des pursed her lips. No one understood her condition. Not even the doctors.

“Try to have fun.” Talon encouraged, flipping up his collar. “You’d be amazed what juicy tidbits slip through in quiet gossip.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Des promised him. “I had a mentor for this very occasion.”

“For tea parties?”

“For political games. For seeing past sweet smiles to find the knife hidden under the table.” She smiled. “I had a good teacher.”

“Clearly they didn’t teach Janus.”

“They did. She just didn’t listen.” Waving a hand idly, Des shooed him away. “Well, go on then. If you see anything interesting at the market, bring it back.”

“As you say, my lady.” He bowed his head exaggeratedly and walked away.

“Talon?” She called, and he froze by the door. “I think I know who wants my head. It’s not Heras. It’s her son.”

Talon nodded. “Stay away from Brand. At least, not without me there to punch him in the mouth.”

The door to the manor swung open and shut. Kalid fastened the lock and came over. “You’re going out? I thought the meeting with Alfaris was tomorrow.”

“It is. I’m going to take a nap today.”

Kalid bowed his head, electing not to ask about her lie, and returned to his post. Walking into her room, Des closed the door and quietly locked it.

Working as quickly as possible, she changed into a simple black tunic with tightly-fitting black trousers.

Swinging a cloak over her shoulders, she grabbed her satchel and peered out the window.

One of her guards patrolled the gates. Des watched him pass and opened the window, slipping outside. She hastily closed it behind her and jumped the fence, slipping behind the neighboring suite before the guard turned around.

Taking an unconventional route to avoid her men, Des looped back onto the main road, quickly catching sight of Talon.

Slipping behind a pair of men, Des watched him closely.

He seemed more on edge than usual, repeatedly glancing over his shoulder.

Dipping behind the pair of broad men in fur cloaks, Des eluded his gaze and continued trailing him.

Countless nights, Des had practiced shadowing Evander through the palace halls. An effort that paid off.

Wherever Talon headed, it was not the market. He was smooth, but Des had been taught by the best; subtle signs gave away a lie. She had found the truth not in his mannerisms, but in the map he’d stared at this morning over breakfast.

His eyes had studied the western edge of the map, not the central market district.

Brand had appeared with assassins disguised as Altanese soldiers. Felsin had led Janus to the remote location. Nobody could be trusted, least of all the lying ‘merchant’ who had met with Dinu that first evening.

Gradually, the crowds thinned, and Des paused to read the Altanese glyphs on the arch overhead: Stone Quarter. This was a slum neighborhood, wasn’t it?

What an uninviting place. Ramshackle wooden huts haphazardly lined dirt lots, some surrounded by low stone fences. A veritable maze of cramped homes sprawled before them, weaving and winding, with no street lamps to light them come night.

Talon fished a paper from his bag and unrolled it, stepping aside and leaning against the archway to read.

Figuring she had him cornered, Des snuck up on him.

Once she came within five steps, Talon reacted to the sound of footfalls and grabbed a dagger hidden beneath his coat as he spun to face her.

Snatching her own dagger from a hidden sheath on her thigh, Des leveled it at his throat before his dagger escaped its sheath.

He slowly released the pommel. “I should have known.”

“That you’re so easy to tail?” Her eyes flicked to his belt as he pushed his coat over the dagger. “Now, what could possibly bring a merchant to a rough part of town like this?”

Talon tapped his fingers on his paper, doubtless toiling to conjure a suitable explanation. “I-”

Des stepped closer, backing him against the wall. “I thought you were perusing the market for souvenirs?”

Talon sighed. “You’re much less oblivious than Janus.”

“You just noticed that?”

His eyes dropped to the blade at his neck. “Is that necessary?”

“Until I’m sure you’re not my enemy.”

“Fine.” Talon rolled up his paper agitatedly and then unrolled it again. “What are you hoping to find by following me?”

Des paced around him. “I want to know who you are.” She noticed a few names listed on the paper before Talon managed to hide it. “A traveling merchant has no need to come here, but a songbird might. What’s that list of names you have?”

A contentious silence lingered, broken only by the sound of her steps. Talon studied her, the same gaze Des was undoubtedly giving him. Eventually, he answered. “I think a murderer is loose in the city.”

A murderer? Des immediately perked up, intrigued, and attempted to hide her reaction. “Is that his list of victims?”

“Not quite.” Talon hesitated, then offered her the sheet. “It’s a list of disappearances here.”

Unrolling the parchment, Des scoured the contents. Talon spoke true. This was a guard report listing names, residences, and dates. All missing persons, none of which had been found. Quite the staggering number as well. Fifty, in total.

Figuring this sufficient, Des reluctantly lowered her blade. She couldn’t deny the sight of him at her mercy had been appealing.

“He’s successful. Fifty?” Des looked up from the paper. “And he hasn’t been caught?”

“We’re in the mountains, in an ancient city. There’s any number of places to hide a body.”

“True, but that still begs the question.” Des closed the gap between them, placing her nose a hair from his. She made him uncomfortable, and in Des’s experience, making a man uncomfortable was advantageous for a woman. “Why are you looking into it?”

Talon shifted and averted his eyes before smirking. “I’m a songbird.”

He admitted it so casually. Did that mean he wasn’t? Des’s confidence wavered, but she attempted to restore her seductive pout before he noticed.

“And if you’re going to follow me.” He plucked the paper from her hands. “Then you might as well aid my investigation.”

“Where do you intend to start?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Talon wandered away, tapping the paper on his hand. “Do you have any ideas?”

He had wrested control of the encounter, his earlier fluster gone. And Des wanted the lead back. Pursuing him, Des snatched the report from his loose grip. “We should question the families. Search for a connecting line between the victims.”

“Not a bad idea.” Talon folded his arms and nodded at the report. “Who should we start with?”

Scanning the list of names, Des found one with an address, avoiding the names without. Hertwig of the Esseg clan lived two streets down from the entrance. Rolling up the paper, Des strode off. “Follow me.”

Talon placed his hand on his dagger hilt as they walked, though not for his protection this time. “Are you planning to knock and say you have a few questions?”

“Why not?” Des said. “If the guard hasn’t found them, don’t you think the families would hear out anyone willing to try?”

“Maybe. I prefer to have a cover story.”

“Oh, I know.” Des narrowed her eyes at him. “But I’m not too impressed with your choices thus far.”

His mouth twitched, but Des couldn’t tell if he was smiling or scowling. “What have I done to earn your ire?”

“You’ve been remarkably suspicious.”

“I don’t think I have.” Talon stretched causally. “Three weeks, I could have snuck into your tent and slit your throat. To say nothing of when we shared a room at the inn. Would have been all too easy to strangle you in your sleep, steal your valuables. . .”

“We shared a room?” Des blurted out.

The twitch grew into a smirk. “Yes. Janus was terrified after the attack, so I kept her company. She practically begged.”

“I remember that.” Des snapped. “But you left after she fell asleep!”

“Did I? I recall lying beside her, afraid she’d wake and notice I’d left.”

Curse the fuzzy memories of Des’ life. Janus would have squandered such a lucrative opportunity.

Taking a breath, Des counted the houses until she found the one she sought. A bit nicer than its neighbors, a house of simple gray stone, with enough space for two rooms. This account said the man had been reported missing by his mother.

Dancing up the steps, Des knocked and waited. The door swung open, revealing a fireborn cefra, judging from the threads of orange in her brown hair and piercing yellow eyes. A tattered green tweed wrap lay over a simple, well-worn dress.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Des said politely, speaking slowly to avoid mispronouncing the Altanese words. “We’re investigating the disappearances in the neighborhood. Your son, Hertwig, was one of them, was he not?”

“Yes.” The woman answered somberly.

“May we come in and ask you a few questions?”

Uncertainty hung in the woman’s eyes as she looked between Des and Talon before desperation replaced it. She nodded and waved them into a barren home, the thin wooden table cluttered with bowls and utensils.