Page 4 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion (Tales of a Monstrous Heart, #2)
Chapter Three
Alma
A dark wind pulled in from the east. Some say it was formed of nothing but putrid smoke, only no flames followed.
Instead of thunder, there was nothing but distant screams contained in the storm winds, a storm so heavy and vicious it trapped the souls it killed.
There was no relief when it broke, for its rains were nothing but blood, turning the canal waters red.
Whatever monster visited the bone markets was made of nothing but death, and all it left after its feast … was ash.
Council report from the eastern fields
I ran my palms down my creased skirts, trying to stop the sweat gathering against my skin. The rough nature of my hands snagged on the cotton. It didn’t matter how many times I changed forms, I couldn’t erase the callouses from my fingers. Couldn’t erase the past.
This mortal skin is just another disguise. One of many. Just another form to hide within, making me wonder if I was real at all, or just a ghost encased in flesh. A beast with no name.
A sharp shiver moved down my spine, the restless bite of my scales pulling me from my own pity as my eyes focused on the old Portium door before me, how the paint had begun to crack and peel at the edges. Something else that shouldn’t exist. A forbidden, dangerous thing.
Just like you.
‘You’ve chosen madness then?’ came Thean’s words over my shoulder, followed by their sharp scent. Rich cologne, brandy and a telling tang of blood.
Against my better judgement, I turned. A wild urge streaked through me in response to their small, teasing smile as the shadows cut across the striking feminine face they’d chosen and those amber eyes gleaming with devious intent.
‘I didn’t see you as one for loyalty,’ I challenged. Rebels didn’t do things for free. They also didn’t risk the wrath of their master for a Kysillian of all creatures. Not one beyond their master’s bounds.
‘I made a promise. Surely you of all beings understand that, darling?’ The voyav shrugged, picking at a stray thread on their sleeve. ‘Besides, your dear friend still owes me a favour.’
Thankfully, Thean’s latest taunt was interrupted as Emrys moved towards us through the dark, narrow shelves. A glowing crystal rested in his gloved palm, the white light reflecting in the pitch-black of his eyes.
‘You’re certain?’ He asked, an unforgiving shadow before me.
‘I can’t forget it.’ That was the only certainty I could give. ‘The trader didn’t trust anyone. He blindfolded his clients but I could smell the way. Then I was brought there. They wanted to steal what he had, but they ran out of time.’
My voice was distant, detached from that version of myself I’d once been. Scuttling and weak. Refusing to remember that my Keeper never had a chance, not when he’d been foolish enough to loosen my leash.
Whatever Blackthorn saw in my expression seemed to be sufficient as he held out the iridescent crystal to me. A portal stone. ‘Take this.’
‘I can change.’ I’d been a bird before and despite the fact the flight might hurt over such a far distance, I could get myself to safe territory, maybe even find my way back here.
‘This will bring you back here.’ He pressed the cold stone against my palm, clearly it wasn’t up for argument.
‘Do we all get one of those?’ Thean raised a dark brow as they ran fingers through their loose auburn hair with mild boredom. ‘Considering I’m being coerced into this madness?’
Emrys ignored them, turning to the portal door to rearrange another crystal in the compartment. Kat had explained to me how it all worked but I didn’t dare allow myself to remember.
Everything about her hurt too much. Like picking at a scab. So, I watched Emrys’s movements numbly as he let the door click and whirr before the knob turned on its own and the darkness of night greeted us. Stale cold air nipped at my cheeks and stole away the warmth of the house.
‘Charming,’ Thean sighed, their breath brushing upon the back of my neck, making scales ripple in the wake of that ghostly touch. Curious, perhaps.
I should have sent my elbow into their ribs at their sudden closeness, but fear had frozen me in place.
Welcome back, little rat , a ghost seemed to taunt in my mind.
Blackthorn crossed the Portium threshold, from polished wood floor to damp cobblestones into a cold grey night mist, forcing me to follow until we all stood in the shadows of the abandoned warehouses that filled the south side of the markets. Or what had survived the dark storm.
The crumbled remains of the old buildings pierced the shadowy night, as did the creak of the chains that still swung from the wooden loading cranes.
The musty smell of the dank canal water filled my lungs as I noticed the rot from the abandoned wharf had shattered the wooden barrels lining the walkways.
Ropes curled like waiting snakes turned green with time as weeds clung to the cracks in the stone.
This was what remained of the bone markets.
The reek of brine, stagnant water and bitter dead magic carried on the ruthless winter breeze.
The horror of it all sent a shiver down my spine.
I was unable to stop myself remembering how it had been before.
I could hear the ghostly whistle of the barge workers through the mist. The cackling laughter of the night traders and calls of the street girls who had nothing left of value but their bodies.
The sweet tang of sugar buns that would make my starved mouth water.
‘The rebels never wanted to cleanse this place?’ I whispered, turning to see that Thean was not considering the derelict streets beyond but looking down at me almost expectantly.
‘The creatures here resisted rebellion law.’ Their answer was careful, those amber eyes tracing every inch of my expression, seeking something unspoken from me. ‘This is justice in her eyes.’
Her.
The Countess.
The name sent a wave of nausea through me, even though Thean hadn’t spoken it aloud. How rarely it was said. As though speaking of her too often could summon her to your door. Just like all dark things in this world.
The leader of the rebellion. A blood witch hiding in her lair in the midlands.
Some said she was ancient, others young and vicious, only her cruelty was a commonality in the tales.
A murky memory threatened to surface. Small rodent eyes peering through cracks in stained floorboards, hearing a sharp cruel laugh as soft lamplight played through strands of inky hair.
Show me what you have. A dark purred command. The scent of marrow and iron. A memory I recoiled from as a shiver dragged down my spine like an unwanted caress.
I shook it away. There was enough horror before me without wallowing in the haunting agony of my past. The bone markets had been slums, taverns and brothels, but there were beings here who had no choice.
Lost and poor. Left in the shadows of the world.
Those the rebellion saw as having little value. Lesser fey and impoverished mortals.
A screech cut through the misty night.
Emrys’s arm forced me deeper into the safety of the shadows. The wildness in my blood sent a piercing pain into my temples, alerting me to a threat. My nails shifted into claws just as a grey silhouette cut through the fog barely feet away.
Its hunched, spiked back and long thin claws were too clear before it lurched into obscurity once more, patrolling the ruins for whatever it could scavenge. My breath stuttered in relief knowing the harsh wind had stopped it sensing us.
‘Croverns.’ Emrys’s voice was the barest puff of frosty breath.
Croverns . Shadow eaters and devourers of dead things.
‘Croverns eat remains,’ Thean observed quietly, slipping their shadow blade from the sheath at their thigh, their full attention on Emrys as they pressed closer to my side. ‘They shouldn’t still be here.’
Croverns feasted on dark magic.
Yet, all that was left beneath the debris was charred bone. The dark fires would have claimed any flesh. Any bodies that survived the chaos would have been devoured by scavengers years ago – their magic too.
Those croverns remained because they could sense there was more to devour. Just like the skelmor in Fairfax Wood.
Something was luring them here. Even after all this time.
Dark magic. The remains of it.
‘It’s here,’ I whispered, my focus on the darkened path beyond us where the moonlight made the shadows shift between the ruins.
‘Stay where you are.’ Emrys gave the barest nod, the command was quiet as he pulled a blade from inside his coat. He moved into the darkness and out of sight.
A strange coldness lingered after his departure.
How easily he shed the demeanour of a lord.
Like a snake being free of an old skin. Of course.
He’d fought in streets like this for years.
The fight against the Mage King hadn’t been held on a grand battlefield, but down cobbled narrow streets where the bricks were still chipped from the deadly spells they’d survived.
Emrys had once been Lord Commander. The most ruthless title to hold.
I should have focused on him and what direction he took – only there was something else on the wind, beneath the stagnant memory of death. Familiar and strange. Like damp earth, old scrolls and tobacco laced with hookers’ weed. That trader’s scent. Taunting me.
My skin almost burnt with the urge to change. To hunt.
I took the portal stone from my skirt pocket, not looking behind me as I forced it towards Thean’s chest, barely having a moment to think of how tangled our fingers became. Too consumed with that scent, how faint it was in the wind.
‘ Alma ,’ Thean barely had time to snap in warning. It was the first time I’d heard my name from their lips – and it almost made me stay.
My beasts had other ideas.