Page 16

Chapter

Sixteen

T he air is sticky as we leave the Darby house and all of its hauntings behind. The two guards lean against the rail on the porch, straightening when they spot us.

“Get anything from the wife?” one of them asks.

I pin him with a cold glare, and his face pales as he takes a step back.

“She’s more than just someone’s wife,” I remind him evenly. “Have some respect.”

His throat bobs as he swallows, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Yes, wraith .”

The name rankles, but I suppose it’s better than being called pet. Still, the reminder of how everyone sees me stings. I’m not a person. I’m a thing . A dark, monstrous creature creeping through their nightmares.

Hurrying down the steps, I get some space from this cursed place. I breathe in through my nose and hold it for five seconds before releasing the air through my mouth. After a few minutes, my rapid heartbeat quiets, returning to its normal pace.

We spent barely half an hour in the house, but in that short amount of time, the weather has already changed. Dark clouds roll in from the sea, overtaking the bright morning sky. A series of loud thuds pull my attention to the neighbor’s house, where I find a man and a boy nailing boards over their windows. It’s smart. The incoming storm may appear minor to some, but this part of the city is prone to flooding.

Turning back toward the Darby house, I find Thorne speaking quietly with the guards, both of whom are glaring at him with a mix of fear and contempt. I cringe when I think about what he overheard inside. I used to be the perfect actress, never breaking character. Every performance was flawless. But lately, I keep screwing up and forgetting that I have a part to play. I break character and let little glimpses of my true self peek through. The worst part is I don’t even know who that person is.

And I think I’m afraid to find out.

But searching for the almanova and keeping it out of Baylor’s hands feels big. Important. For the first time in ages, I have a real purpose. More than an assignment from the king or a name from Della. I think I might actually be doing something good. And while I may have been pushed toward this path, I chose to follow it.

Now I just need to pull myself together and finish the job.

Thorne walks down the steps, coming to meet me near the street.

“What were you telling them?” I ask as one of the guards takes off running down the street while the other one heads around to the back of the house.

“I ordered that one to tell your captain what we learned.” He points at the sprinting guard.

“Was it truly so urgent he needed to run?”

“That was all him.” Thorne shrugs. “I got the impression he was frightened of me.”

My lips twitch. “What gave you that idea?”

He ignores the question. “And I told the other guard to start boarding up the windows for Mrs. Darby.”

“You did?” I ask as my brows shoot up. “But you were so angry with her?”

“I still am.” He nods, shifting uncomfortably. “But I’m not heartless. Her situation isn’t her fault.”

I look away, trying to rationalize the various sides of his personality. I wouldn’t have expected Thorne to be this thoughtful, especially after the way he frightened her inside. But people are complex beings. Perhaps it’s impossible to ever truly know what another person is capable of. I’m sure Mrs. Darby never believed her husband could do the things he’s done. I can’t imagine how terrified she must have been when he showed up in the middle of the night covered in blood.

As her words replay through my mind, I realize something is bothering me about what she said.

It looked like something tried to take a bite out of his leg…

I stitched him up as best I could…

“Something’s not right.”

Thorne cocks a brow. “Care to elaborate?”

“Darby made it out of the tunnel with the sword,” I say slowly, piecing my thoughts together. “But Mrs. Darby said he didn’t have it with him when he came here last night.”

Thorne nods. “So, if he didn’t bring it with him, where was it?”

I glance around the street, taking in the run-down homes.

And the blood… Alice had said. There was so much of it.

“Darby’s mortal,” I murmur as everything suddenly connects in my mind.

“I’m aware,” the reaper says flatly.

“No, you don’t understand,” I insist. My hand almost reaches out to grab his arm, but I pull it back midair. If he notices, he doesn’t comment on the slip. “Darby’s wound was still bleeding when he got here. For a mortal, that kind of injury would have slowed him down considerably. That much blood loss would put him on the verge of passing out.”

I kick myself for not making the connection sooner, but as a high fae I don’t usually have to worry about that kind of thing. It can be easy to forget that others do.

“And yet, he had time to stash the sword somewhere and still make it here for help.” Thorne’s eyes light up as he follows my thoughts.

“Wherever he left the sword must be nearby. Probably within a few minutes’ walk.”

He rolls up his sleeve, concentrating on his bare skin. Just like in the tunnels, dark lines move down his veins, and a snake appears in his palm before slithering to the ground between us.

“What are you doing?” I ask, urgently scanning the street to make sure no one is witnessing this.

“You said it yourself—Darby was bleeding when he got here. What do you bet he left a trail for us to follow?”

I nearly jump with joy as I recall how easily they sniffed out blood in Darrow’s shop. “That’s brilliant,” I admit.

He shrugs. “It was mostly your idea.”

The snake nudges my leg, and I peer down to find it gazing up at me. Its crimson eyes blink slowly, as if to say “hello.” Unsure what to do, I find myself bending down to brush my fingers over its wispy scales. Part of me expects my hand to go right through it like my blade did, but instead, I find it corporeal. It nuzzles against my hand for a few moments before coiling around my leg.

“Your little friends aren’t so vicious anymore,” I tell Thorne as I straighten.

“Only with you…” He trails off, his brow furrowed as he watches the shadow cling to me.

When our gazes connect once more, a strange sensation flutters through my stomach. My lips are curling into a shy smile when a large raindrop splashes against my cheek. Our heads tilt back simultaneously as we take in the stormy sky above us. When our eyes meet again, the urgency I find in his mirrors my own.

“Quickly!” he commands the snake, who slithers into action.

Our feet pound against the cobblestone as we race behind it. Raindrops splatter around us, blurring out our surroundings as I try to keep track of the shadow roving the streets ahead of us. As we follow it around a corner, a prickle of unease stirs inside me.

I can’t explain how, but I know exactly where we’re going.

A few minutes later, the shadow snake comes to a stop in front of the gray home that captured my attention earlier. Something dark and oily settles in my gut, leaving me nauseous. No figures haunt the windows this time, but the house still radiates a sense of wrongness.

We shouldn’t be here , my intuition whispers.

Unfortunately, I have to ignore the trusted voice that has kept me safe many times before. I offer a silent plea to the Fates, praying this isn’t a fatal mistake. Thorne stands at my shoulder, his gaze drilling into the side of my face.

“Strange coincidence,” he says as the snake at our feet dissolves, its shadows scattering with the wind.

I shrug, hoping the gesture doesn’t look as stilted as it feels. “I guess my instincts are better than yours.”

“That must be it,” he agrees, but the doubt lingering in his eyes tells me he doesn’t believe it. He’s likely cataloging this strange coincidence in a mental folder with my name on it.

“Don’t suppose we can just knock?” I change the subject.

“As much as I enjoy making an entrance, I’d suggest something more subtle.”

“Perfect.” I nod. “Breaking and entering it is.”

Without waiting for his agreement, I disappear before Thorne’s eyes.

The illusion stings as it settles over my skin, delivering tiny shocks to my nerves. But the prickles of pain are worth it as he takes a step back. His lips part as his eyes widen in surprise, and perhaps a tiny hint of awe.

“That truly is an incredible gift,” he murmurs, sounding impressed.

Suddenly, I’m immensely grateful he can’t see my blushing cheeks.

“We should split up. You can take the back,” I say quickly, leaving him behind as I head toward the front door.

I eye the porch warily, noting how parts of the wood are broken and rotted. Choosing my steps carefully, I make it to the door without falling through. I try the rusted latch, finding it unlocked. I suppose there’s nothing inside worth protecting. A creak echoes through the house as I push the door open. With one last glance at the empty street behind me, I call on my iron will and force myself to cross the threshold.

The first thing I notice is the smell. Something definitely died in here.

Perhaps multiple somethings , I think as I catch another whiff.

The lack of light is the next thing I notice. Whoever lives here has nailed moldy blankets over the windows. Paint is peeling off the walls in most places, revealing an array of black spots and gaping holes. Pieces of destroyed furniture are scattered around the room, dust and leaves littered on top of them. The only item that isn’t broken is the couch, but judging by its threadbare appearance, I’d say it’s probably mildewed.

Fuck Baylor.

It’s his fault the mortals live in this kind of squaller. He has the power to clean up this district and provide aid to those who are struggling, but he does nothing. And whatever grain he brings in from his deal with Death, I doubt it will be used to feed the people of the Lowers. They’ll continue to starve and live in filth while those in Highgrove have more than they could possibly need.

I take a deep breath, nearly choking on the foul air, as I attempt to quell my anger. It won’t do anything to help me right now. I peer at the far corner, finding a narrow staircase that leads to the second level. The first step groans as I put my weight on it, the sound not inspiring confidence in its structural integrity. Holding my breath, I force myself to keep going. Whoever I saw here this morning must have used these stairs, so they can’t be that bad.

Relief hits me as I reach the second level, but the feeling is short-lived. A faint sound comes from the last room. It takes a moment to identify it, but what I hear has me pulling a blade free.

Someone is in there.

The soft tones of their voice rise and fall as they hum quietly. The song sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. I approach slowly, peeking into the other rooms as I go. They are all in a state of disrepair, but otherwise uninteresting.

Bracing myself, I push the final door open by a few inches and peer through the crack. A woman wearing a dirty shift sits on the floor. Gray hair hangs limply in her face, obscuring my view of her features.

With my illusion in place, she won’t be able to see me, but she could still find it odd if the door opens on its own. It’s better for me if I don’t capture her attention at all. Very slowly, I crack the door slightly wider while keeping a close eye on the woman. If she notices the change, she doesn’t show it as she continues to hum her song.

As quietly as possible, I slip through the gap.

The room is similar to the others. Though the paint in here has fared better than downstairs, someone has taken the liberty of drawing crude depictions all over the walls. I glance at the old woman skeptically. Is this her artistic work or do others live here too?

The sound of her low voice startles me as she begins to sing.

“The rats can run, but the rats can’t hide.”

Unease trickles through me, but I brush it aside. I need to finish my search and then get the fuck out of this place. Taking silent steps toward the window, I peer at the rain-soaked street below. Judging by the angle, this is where the person was standing earlier when they were watching us. It’s hard to judge the woman’s height while she’s sitting down, but I don’t think she’s large enough to fit the outline I saw.

Someone else must have been here. Was it Darby?

“He’s coming now, and he tells no lies.”

The woman shifts restlessly, her nails digging against the floorboard. Judging by her agitated state, now is probably a good time to leave.

As I start for the door, her head snaps up. Her wrinkled skin is pale and sallow, as if she hasn’t seen the sun in far too long. Wild eyes search the room before landing on my feet. Dread unfurls as my gaze drops, finding a shallow puddle collecting at my boots, the product of the rainwater dripping from my clothes and hair.

The woman’s thin lips curve, revealing a black-toothed smile as her hand reaches behind her.

“He said all the rats will bleed and die, when all the stars fall from the sky.”

A flash of silver catches my attention a second before the woman leaps from the ground, launching herself at me with surprising strength. Her body slams hard against mine, knocking me to the ground. The impact shocks me into dropping my illusion as a sharp pain stings my arm. Looking down, I find a dirty knife clutched in her hands as she slices into my skin.

Ignoring the pain, I grab her arm as she swings the weapon wide, digging my thumb into the tendons at her wrist. My own blade is still in my other hand, but I try to angle it away from the woman. Even though she’s attacking me, killing someone so pathetic feels wrong. But getting her off me without doing serious damage is difficult, especially when she has no such qualms about hurting me.

She grits her teeth, hanging onto the knife as long as possible before finally dropping it. Her eyes track the blade as it lands somewhere near my head.

“You know what they say about hungry rats?” her scratchy voice asks.

The stench of her breath nearly chokes me as I finally get hold of her other wrist.

“They feed hungry mouths.”

She snaps her teeth, her gaze trained on my arm as she leans forward to bite it.

I brace for the pain, but it never comes.

All at once, she’s pulled off me. Her struggling form hits the wall with a loud bang before sliding to the ground.

Thorne stands over me, his vengeful gaze fixed on the woman. I can hear her coughing as she tries to pull air into her lungs, but I can’t drag my attention away from the reaper. The tendons in his jaw clench as his eyes find mine.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his tone hard as flint.

I nod, finally pushing myself to my feet. My upper lip curls as I notice the fresh layer of grime coating my clothes. Honestly, I’m not sure if it came from the floor or the woman.

Probably both.

I attempt to brush it away, hissing as the movement pulls at the jagged cut on my arm. Thorne’s eyes narrow on the wound before shifting to the knife lying a few feet away. The room darkens as he turns to face the old woman again.

“Who are you?” he demands.

A laugh bubbles out of her as she rolls onto her back. “It doesn’t matter who I am. It only matters who he is.”

My brows pinch. “Are you talking about Darby? Was he here?”

The woman’s mouth opens wide as a horrible cackle comes out of her.

“Answer the question,” Thorne growls.

Her attention flicks to him before settling on me, on my collar. Something flares behind her eyes, and her hands twitch.

“He’s coming for you, little rat.”

A shiver crawls over my skin. “Who?”

“ The rats can run, and the rats can hide ,” she sings, ignoring my question.

“Tell me!” I shout.

Her only response is to start humming again.

Thorne sighs. “Come on. We’re not getting anything from her. We need to leave.”

He moves toward the door, waiting for me to follow.

I can’t shake the feeling that this woman knows something. If I could just get her to answer my questions, maybe it would give us a new lead. Some kind of clue as to where Darby is hiding.

But Thorne’s right.

Whatever she knows, she lost the ability to share it with us a long time ago. The hard life she’s lived has left her trapped in madness. Digging my hand into my pocket, I pull out a few coins and place them on the floor in front of me.

“Get some food,” I tell her.

Her gaze meets mine once more, and the cruelty that flashes there makes me wonder if I’m going to regret not killing her when I had the chance.

Ignoring the morbid thought, I turn and follow Thorne from the room. The woman’s voice echoes through the hall, louder now than it was before.

“He’s coming now, and he tells no lies.”

Neither of us speaks as we make our way down the stairs.

“He said all the rats will bleed and die, when all the stars fall from the sky.”

Thorne shuts the front door behind us as we finally escape. I hurry over the rotted porch and into the street, desperate to put some distance between myself and this place. Closing my eyes, I lift my face to the rain and let it wash away the stench of the house. I take deep breaths, trying to dispel the strange sensation lingering in the pit of my stomach.

Heavy steps trudge through the puddles before coming to a stop a few feet away. I open my eyes to find Thorne watching me with that sharp gaze of his.

“Did you find anything?” I ask, praying my voice sounds steady.

He shakes his head as drops of water drip down his face. “Just some dried blood. If it belonged to Darby, he’s already moved on.”

I nod stiffly. “I guess it was a stupid idea.”

“Just because it didn’t work out doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” Thorne offers.

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t be nice.”

“Why?” he asks, tilting his head.

I look away. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“My apologies.” He hardens his voice dramatically. “It was the worst idea I’ve ever heard, and you’re an idiot for suggesting it.”

My lips twitch.

“Better?” he asks, softer this time.

“Much.” My gaze drops to the rain splashing against the cobblestones. “What do we do now?”

“We should interview Darrow again,” Thorne announces.

My brows lift. “Oh, is that what you called it the first time? An interview?”

He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was an exchange of information.”

“More like a hostile extraction.”

He rolls his eyes. “Either way, Darby was the guard who sold him information about the whisperer. They knew each other. If Darby needed help, it’s possible he went to Darrow.”

It’s not a bad idea.

“Alright. You go reinterview Darrow at his shop, and I’ll check with a few local healers around here.”

His expression darkens. “You want to split up?”

I shrug. “We have a lot of ground to cover. We’ll get through it all faster this way.”

He scrutinizes my face for a few moments before relenting. “Fine. I’ll check in with you tomorrow for a progress report.”

I nod, turning to leave.

“Why did you try to help her?” Thorne calls after me.

I’m not sure if he means Mrs. Darby or the old woman, but either way, the answer is the same.

“Because I’m not heartless,” I parrot his earlier words.

Leaving it at that, I make my way down the rain soaked streets. When I reach the end of the road, I turn around and find Thorne gone. Tilting my head back, I check the sky above me, exhaling with relief when I don’t spot any wings.

Pulling up my hood, I continue on my way, checking again every few minutes. After several blocks, when I still don’t sense him nearby, I wrap myself in an illusion and turn north, heading toward my true destination.