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six

Cal

Elation surged through Cal as he followed Griff out of Bald Locke’s office.

He couldn’t resist casting one last smug look back at the Brotherhood leader laid out on the floor.

Serves the Void-eater right.

He still couldn’t believe his plan had worked so well.

Or that Griff had actually held up his end of the bargain.

Cal had half-expected him to accept Bald Locke’s deal and hand Cal over, washing his hands of the whole affair.

It’s probably what Cal would’ve done in his place

Instead, Griff had stood up for him.

Cal knew that supporting him was mostly incidental—it was the threat of the void orb that Griff cared about, not Cal’s well-being.

Still, it was a nice feeling to have someone else in his corner for the first time since…

well, since Kelsith.

Yeah, and look how that turned out…

Cal grimaced and focused back on their surroundings.

They weren’t out of the woods yet.

At any moment, Locke might start shouting for his guards.

The only reason he hadn’t already was probably Griff’s threat with the ledger.

Making sure no one was watching them, Cal shifted his disguise into a random Brotherhood thug, their signature crossed swords tattooed on the back of his neck.

There . That should make it easier for them to slip out unnoticed.

He gave a gap-toothed grin to Griff beside him.

“You really put Bald Locke in his place. Maybe you’ve earned that badge after all. Remind me never to cross you—well, more than I already have, anyway.”

Griff just grunted.

Cal’s smile faded as he took in the inspector’s pale face.

“Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Griff said, sounding strained.

“Never felt—”

He cut off as he stumbled barely a handful of steps from Locke’s office.

He would’ve fallen, maybe even toppled off the edge of the dock into the murky water, if Cal hadn’t snagged his arm.

The maneuver left Griff flush with his chest—a position Cal didn’t particularly mind.

“Care to finish that sentence?” he said with a smirk.

“Because it looks to me like…”

He trailed off as he noticed something hot and sticky on his fingers.

He glanced down, his eyes widening when he saw the fresh blood coating Griff’s side.

“Eternal Dark, you’ve been shot! I thought he missed!”

“I’m fine,” Griff repeated through clenched teeth.

He struggled feebly to extricate himself from Cal’s arms. “I’ve had worse.”

“Your tough-guy act doesn’t impress me.” Well, okay, maybe it did.

Just a little. “We need to tend to that wound before you lose any more blood. You can barely keep your feet!”

“Later,” Griff hissed.

“Once we’re out of here.”

He tried again to pull free of Cal, but Cal refused to loosen his grip.

“Fine,” Cal said. He resumed walking, ushering the wounded inspector along with him.

“So long as you let me make sure you don’t go tumbling into the cove. I don’t want to see what this bracelet of yours makes me do if you start to sink to the bottom of the bay.”

Griff grimaced but relented in his resistance.

Cal couldn’t help noticing the sensation of the inspector’s hard muscles pressed against him as they walked.

They drew a fair few stares from the dockworkers they passed, but no one interfered.

Guess that was one benefit of working for a violent criminal syndicate—everyone minded their own Void-cursed business.

The stairs were the hardest on Griff.

They were forced to take their time, each step eliciting a pained grunt from the inspector.

Cal remained on edge for anyone coming to accost them, but no one did.

When they reached the top, Cal took a moment to fiddle with Griff’s coat, doing his best to cover up the worst of the blood.

The less attention they drew, the better.

Then, affecting his best bad-guy snarl, he shoved open the door.

The barkeep glanced up.

His brow rose as he took in the disguised Cal assisting a stumbling Griff.

“What the Void happened to him?”

Cal shrugged and spat on the ground.

“Boss got a little carried away. Not that I can blame him—Void-cursed protties. Told me to see our guest out.”

He started across the bar toward the exit, then skidded to a surprised halt when he suddenly found the glaring bartender in his face.

“What the Void was that?”

Cal blinked.

“What was what?”

The bartender gestured angrily to the wet splotch Cal’s spit had left on the dirt-streaked floorboards.

“How many times do I have to tell you lot not to do that in my bar!”

Cal found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

Furrowing his brow, he made a sweeping gesture to indicate the floor.

“But…this whole place is one enormous mess. If anything, I helped clean it up a bit.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

The bartender crowded in even closer, right up in Cal’s face.

His eyes flashed. “Dirt is one thing. A floor’s supposed to be dirty, especially in a place like this. But I don’t want anyone’s bodily fluids—spit or otherwise—infecting my workspace. The boss gave me authority over how things are done up here. And I say that you and the other bilge rats keep your spit in your mouth where it belongs. Is that understood?”

The absurdity of the situation made Cal want to laugh.

An hour ago, he’d been relaxing in one of his usual safe houses after a successful heist. Now, here he was helping his wounded captor escape from a mob boss while a criminal thug lectured him on proper bar etiquette.

“Sorry,” he said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“My mistake.”

The bartender glared at him a moment longer, then slowly nodded, retreating back behind the bar.

“Yeah. It is. If you’re so worried about the cleanliness up here, you can grab a mop and bucket and help out once you’ve taken out the trash. I’m sure the boys’ll be happy to help.”

The scattered people at the tables laughed and leered.

Somehow, Cal doubted that.

He hurried as fast as he could with Griff propped against him past the tables and out the door.

Thank the Dark he’d never need to return to fulfill that particular duty.

Once they were outside, Cal took a moment to glance up and down the street.

Clouds gathered in the sky overhead, casting a dreary pall over the city.

Their hasty plan had only gone as far as confronting Bald Locke for information on the void orb.

Now that that was done, he wasn’t sure where to go next.

His Cassandra safe house was closest to here, but it had already been compromised.

He didn’t put it past Balde Locke to send more goons after them the first chance he got.

Most of his other safe houses were too far from here to reach safely in Griff’s current state.

Certainly not without risking unwanted attention.

That only left one option.

“Come on,” Cal sighed, steering Griff left toward the ocean.

“I’ve got a place we can go.” He took it as a worrying sign when Griff didn’t argue.

The journey didn’t take long, even with the limping inspector.

The little house sat nestled along the shoreline amid a section of broken rocks too jagged to offer much use to ships.

Though little more than a shack on the outside, Cal had taken pains to make the inside cozy.

He’d gone so far as to decorate with a handful of paintings that caught his fancy, and a comfortable rug that was as soft and plush as it was faded and threadbare.

The place wasn’t anything fancy—Cal had plenty of other more lavish safe houses to maintain his wealthier personas or to stash portions of his ill-earned loot.

This was where he came when he wanted to relax and unwind.

It had been the first place he’d bought in the city after setting off on his own.

It was the closest thing he had to a true home…

which made it weirdly intimate to have Griff there bleeding over everything.

Griff must’ve been keeping himself upright through sheer stubbornness because the instant Cal got him inside to the bed, Griff collapsed onto it with a groan.

Cal eyed the inspector, hesitating a moment before reluctantly allowing his duskflame disguise to drop.

Though he could maintain the magic for long stretches without much issue, it did gradually drain his internal reserve of duskflame.

And with how much he’d been using it, he could do with a chance to recover.

It meant revealing his true appearance to the inspector for the first time, but that couldn’t be helped.

Besides, one glance at Griff was enough to tell that he had other things on his mind right now than what Cal looked like.

Once he had Griff situated on the bed, he checked the wound in his side, then winced.

The bleeding had mostly stopped, but he could see the torn flesh through the hole in Griff’s tunic.

At least Vantoric weapons fired blasts of force rather than actual bullets so there was no need to worry about any shrapnel lodged in the wound.

“I don’t suppose you know how to treat this?” he asked Griff hopefully.

For all his other skills, Cal was no healer.

Griff’s eyes were closed, but he managed a weak shake of his head.

“You should…put something…on the wound.”

Right, of course.

Cal searched around the space before mournfully selecting one of his favorite blankets from the foot of the bed.

He wrapped it around the wound as best he could, grateful that Griff at least pretended every touch wasn’t utter agony.

That taken care of, Cal studied Griff’s wan face with a frown.

“I’m not sure if that’ll be enough.” A sudden thought sprang to mind.

“I could go fetch help or medicine for you.” He raised his wrist and waggled it before Griff’s face.

Though Griff’s eyes were closed, he couldn’t have missed the light tinkling of the pacifier cuff there.

“Of course, that would mean letting me off my leash.”

Slowly, Griff’s eyes creaked open.

Despite his current frailty, they remained sharp as ever as they regarded Cal.

Cal realized the inspector still wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Did that mean he was reading Cal’s aura right now?

An uncomfortable tremor scoured his back at the notion.

It left him feeling far too exposed.

After a long, interminable moment, Griff closed his eyes again and gave a weary nod.

“All right.”

Cal felt certain he must have misheard.

“All…right?”

But Griff nodded again.

“All right, I’ll remove the cuff.” A brief grimace flickered across his face, perhaps from a flash of pain.

“I know a Sunseeker sage you can go to—someone who will help and be discreet about it.”

The inspector rattled off an address.

Then, with a strength that must have rivaled that of the Immortals, Griff forced his eyes back open and shifted in bed to raise a trembling hand.

“Here, give me your wrist.”

Cal could hardly believe his luck.

The inspector must be more out of it than he’d realized.

Or just that desperate, if he was willing to risk his quarry like this.

A large part of him still expected some sort of trick as he held out his wrist. But true to his word, Griff unhooked the cuff’s clasp.

His trembling hand, along with the unbound cuff, fell back to the sheets.

Cal stared down at the bracelet, rubbing his freed wrist. So much for all his scheming to get out of it.

With a rueful shake of his head, he started for the door.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”

Rain drizzled over the streets, the storm clouds from earlier finally breaking.

Standing outside his ramshackle house in the rocks, he pondered his current predicament.

Somehow, miraculously, he’d wriggled his way free of another jam.

He had the void orb in his tattoo, and the inspector hunting him was out of commission.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to bolt.

With his ability, he could easily flee Derimay on one of a thousand different boats to a hundred different towns up and down Allaria’s coast. It would be the smart thing to do, now that the secret of Blackjack’s ability was out.

He’d miss the reputation he’d garnered here in Derimay, sure, but he’d earned it once—he could do it again.

Almost against his will, his gaze was drawn to the closed door behind him…

and the inspector who lay dying in the bed inside.

Griff was the one wrinkle in that plan.

So far, the inspector had proven true to his word.

He’d trusted Cal enough to carry out his scheme with the Brotherhood, and even to remove his cuff.

In a weird way, it made Cal yearn to be worthy of that trust, as silly as that sounded.

Maybe he really does intend to let me go once this is all over.

Unsure whether he was being noble or stupendously idiotic, Cal set off down the street toward the address Griff had given him.

It was away from the docks in a nicer section of the city—one Cal had frequented often on jobs.

Rich enough to have plenty worth stealing, but not quite so rich that they could afford the kinds of guards or magical protections that would give someone like Cal trouble.

It was much quicker going without a wounded inspector slowing him down.

The light rainfall didn’t bother him.

He’d experienced far worse in his time on the streets.

You didn’t know true misery until you’d struggled to keep warm in a broken barrel during a storm.

As he hurried down alleys and across rooftops, keeping off the main street by force of habit rather than any real need, he kept picturing Griff huddled in that bed, blood caking his side and a pained grimace marring his face.

I’ll at least visit this sage and bring Griff back the medicine.

I owe him that much.

Then, I’ll be on my way.

Turning a corner, his thoughts lingering on the inspector’s intelligent brown eyes, he glimpsed a flash of color from the corner of his vision.

He whirled toward it, his breath catching.

For the briefest moment, he swore he spotted Kelsith’s familiar patchwork cloak billowing in the wind.

But when he focused on the spot, it was gone.

Everything was silent save the light patter of rain over stone.

Cal stared at the spot, then hurried over to check: nothing there.

No signs of anyone else but him.

Frowning, he quickened his pace.

As he did, he shifted his form, adopting a new duskflame disguise as a random laborer.

He probably should’ve done that sooner, but he’d let himself get distracted.

Still, better late than never.

When he reached the given address, he found a pleasant estate set back from the road.

Though the grounds were surrounded by an iron fence, the gate stood open.

Familiar fluttering banners marked this as the residence of a Sunkeeper sage, welcoming all in need.

Cal frowned up at the house as he approached the front door.

It looked rather large compared to other Sunkeeper clinics he’d seen.

The sage must operate out of his living space.

Did that mean he had a family here with him too?

Like the front gate, the door stood open.

From what Cal knew of Sunkeeper customs, that meant he was supposed to walk right in.

A short hall led past several closed doors before opening up into a kind of living space.

Rather than the usual arrangement of furniture, however, it contained a bed in the middle, with a workstation along one wall and rows of chairs positioned along the others.

A young girl sat on the bed, her little legs dangling off the edge and swinging back and forth.

An older woman Cal took to be the girl’s mother sat in a nearby chair while an older man stood beside the bed.

Dressed in the white and gold silks of the Sunkeeper sect, he had a hand pressed to the girl’s chest. His eyes were closed, and golden dawnflame pooled around his fingers.

Tendrils of the magic flickered over the girl.

“Take a seat and I’ll be with you in a moment,” the Sunkeeper grunted without opening his eyes.

Griff’s pallid face and blood-soaked side flashed before Cal’s eyes, and Cal stepped toward him.

“It’s urgent!”

“So are all of my patient’s woes,” the Sunkeeper said.

He opened his eyes and stepped back from the girl, the golden dawnflame on his hand fading.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Any pain or issues moving it?”

The little girl flexed her left arm.

She opened and closed her fingers, then extended and twisted the arm back and forth before grinning up at the Sunkeeper.

“Nope, it’s all better. Thanks, mister!”

Hopping down from the bed, she darted past Cal toward the door, then peered back toward the woman.

“Now can we go, Ma? I promised Lucile I’d meet her at the park.”

“Just a moment, hun.” The woman approached the Sunkeeper.

Tears stood out in her eyes as she bowed her head.

“Thank you so much, honored one. If there’s anything we can do for you—”

“Nonsense,” the man said gruffly.

“You know we don’t accept payment for using our gifts. It’s part of our oaths. I’d tell you to make sure she’s more careful, but…”

The woman let out an aggrieved sigh.

She shook her head fondly as she glanced at her daughter.

“But we both know it wouldn’t do any good. Thank you again, honored one. Hopefully this time it’ll be longer before we need to return.”

Cal watched as the woman and her daughter moved past him down the hall.

When he turned back to the Sunkeeper, he found the man examining him with narrowed eyes.

“So, tell me, what is it that’s so urgent? You look fine to me…if a bit on the scrawny side.”

Scrawny?

Shoving down a flare of indignation, Cal said, “I’m not here for myself. Griff sent me.”

He’d hoped the name would mean something to the Sunkeeper.

Sure enough, his entire demeanor shifted in an instant.

If Cal had thought him gruff before, it had nothing on the disapproving scowl he wore now.

“Of course he did. What did Griffin do now?”

Griffin.

He was definitely going to have to remember that one.

After a brief moment to gather his thoughts—and filter his tongue—Cal said, “He suffered an accident in the line of duty. Nothing too serious: just a minor a wound on his side. I tried to wrap it for him, but there was a lot of blood. He said you’d be able to give me something to help.”

He’d expected the Sunkeeper to ask more questions and was already figuring out how best to avoid some of the more sensitive subjects.

But to his surprise, the Sunkeeper simply pressed his lips together into a thin, disapproving line.

“It’ll take me a few minutes to prepare a poultice.”

The Sunkeeper turned and, without another word, strode from the room.

Cal stared after him uncertainly.

“Should I take a seat?” he called.

The Sunkeeper returned with a case full of vials.

He set it down on the workstation in the corner and began pulling out stoppered ingredients.

“Sit, stand, it doesn’t matter to me. As long as you stay out of my way.”

Pleasant fellow.

I see why he and Griff are friends.

Cal sank into the nearest seat.

It was surprisingly comfortable.

At least this curmudgeonly Sunkeeper cared enough about his patients to do that much.

His impatience mounted with each passing minute as he watched the sage work.

What he was doing lay somewhere between alchemy and more traditional magic, mixing together ingredients in a little jar while applying short bursts of dawnflame to supplement the effects.

The Sunkeeper muttered to himself as he worked, though Cal couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Who are you anyway?” the Sunkeeper eventually said.

He shook some kind of fine powder into the jar, conjuring a brief puff of smoke.

“And how do you know Griffin?”

Cal squinted at the Sunkeeper’s back.

Being around other magic users always made him antsy.

This one hadn’t reacted to his duskflame disguise, but you never knew what spellcasters were capable of, and sages tended to be an esoteric sort.

From what Cal had heard, many of them possessed other talents besides healing.

“My name is Cal,” he said, opting for that much of the truth.

“And I’m…Griff’s new partner.”

That last part was kinda true as well, at least for now.

The Sunkeeper grunted.

He seemed to accept that explanation as he focused back on his preparations.

“I knew I should’ve turned Griffin away when he came to me this morning, asking for help,” the Sunkeeper said.

“His job always leads to more trouble. Now here is, with some mysterious wound. And don’t think I don’t know that you’re hiding something from me!” The Sunkeeper waved a vial of bubbling liquid in Cal’s direction.

“Too afraid to come himself, so he sent his partner instead. ‘Accident’…ha! Whatever foolishness you two are wrapped up in, keep me out of it.”

“I promise we’re being careful,” Cal offered.

He regretted speaking almost at once as the Sunkeeper whirled on him, his eyes flashing.

“Careful? You call this careful? Bah! If you wanted to be careful, you wouldn’t go running through the streets hunting this Blackjack fellow!” Shaking his head, the Sunkeeper added another surge of dawnflame to his brewing concoction.

“If Griffin’s mother were here, maybe she’d be able to get through to him. But that boy has had a stubborn streak since he was a child.” The sage cast a narrow-eyed glare toward Cal that made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“Not that you must be much better if you’re his partner.”

Eternal Dark, please let him be done soon.

Recalling what Griff had said about trusting this particular Sunkeeper, Cal ventured, “It sounds like you’ve known Griff a long time. It’s, uh, good he has someone looking out for him.”

The Sunkeeper slowly turned, raising an eyebrow at Cal.

“Of course I look out for him. I’m his Light-blinded father after all.” He shook his head, angrily adding another vial’s contents to his brew.

Cal flinched as the concoction emitted a loud hiss.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t mention it.”

Father?

Now that the Sunkeeper said it, Cal thought he could see the family resemblance, though it was subtle.

They had the same square faces and boxy frames.

The same warm brown eyes.

Thinking of his own family—what little he remembered of them—conjured a distant pang in his chest. One he’d grown used to ignoring over the years.

It was hard to miss something that felt more like a dream than a genuine memory.

Cal leaped eagerly to his feet when the Sunkeeper finally declared the poultice complete and brought it over.

Cal peered down at the jar of gray, sludge-like paste.

“This is meant to heal his wound?”

The Sunkeeper looked at him like he was daft.

“No, I gave it to you as a practical joke. Of course it will heal it! So long as you use it right. You need to gently apply it to the entire affected area, then rub it in. Don’t press too hard or else it’ll hurt like the Void, but don’t be too soft either or it won’t be properly absorbed. Use nice, circular motions to massage it into the skin. And be quick—once you take it out of the jar and expose it to the air, you’ve only got a few minutes before it starts to harden. Leave it on for at least an hour but no more than three, then scrape it off and wash away any residue. Got it?”

Cal nodded, reaching for the jar.

“Got it.”

The Sunkeeper yanked the jar back, narrowing his eyes.

“Good. Then repeat the instructions back to me, word for word.”

Cal resisted the urge to roll his eyes and did just that.

He was positive he’d gotten every detail right, but the Sunkeeper still made him complete the exercise twice more before he was finally satisfied.

Securing the jar in a pouch at his waist, Cal started for the door to the hall.

“Thanks for the help.”

He was almost to the hall when the Sunkeeper’s gruff voice stopped him, surprisingly hesitant.

“We don’t usually ask for payment for our services, but do me a favor, will you? Look after Griffin for me. Whatever you’re wrapped up in, promise me you’ll do what you can to keep him safe.”

An emotion Cal couldn’t properly name coiled through him, warming his insides.

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, he nodded. “I promise.”