Page 9

eight

Cal

Food .

Cal scoffed as he donned a fresh duskflame disguise and made his way away back onto the streets.

It had been a poor excuse, but it was the first thing that sprang to mind to get him the Void out of there.

He darted down a familiar alley, mostly just wandering for the sake of it.

He had no real destination in mind.

At least the rain had stopped, though it remained overcast.

Eternal Dark, it was stupid enough that he’d gone back for the inspector at all instead of fleeing the city while he could.

But bonding with said inspector while massaging lotion into his side?

That was a step too far.

So what if Griff had shown him a scrap of common decency?

Or if he felt some fleeting empathy for the investigator?

He was still an officer of the law tasked with hunting Cal down.

Still determined to toss Cal behind bars the instant he had no further use for him.

A single honest conversation didn’t change any of that.

Cal scowled at a discarded pile of rubbish choking the mouth of an alley.

He veered around it, kicking at some of the scraps scattered about the cobbled street.

And what the Void had been up with that comment Griff made about making more of his life?

Probably just the inspector playing mind games with him.

The Void-eater probably wanted him to feel guilty enough to turn himself in and repent.

Well, the joke was on him!

Cal did enjoy his life, no matter what the inspector thought.

And he was Dark-cursed good at it, too.

Void take Griff for thinking he knew the first thing about him or his life!

So his thoughts went, churning around in circles, for the next hour as he meandered through the familiar streets.

He shifted disguises several times, just in case Bald Locke and the Brotherhood were out looking for him.

When the sun began to sink below the horizon and the fresh ocean air had calmed his jagged nerves, he started heading back.

That Sunkeeper had been rigorously clear with his instructions, and as annoyed as Cal was at Griff’s presumptuousness, he didn’t intend to let the medicine he’d procured go to waste.

After a brief internal war with himself, he made for the nearest evening market he trusted to have food that hadn’t gone bad.

He’d only intended to pick up enough for a single meal—it wasn’t like Griff would be staying around long enough for more once he mended.

But somehow, he ended up lugging two large bags stuffed full of enough food to fend off their hunger for a week.

Best to be prepared, he told himself.

Griff might not be there long, but Cal needed to stock up to lie low for a bit anyway until all this business blew over.

And if Griff did end up sticking around for a few days, well, at least they wouldn’t starve to death.

He turned down a narrow side street back toward his cliffside house.

Despite his foul mood, his instincts were keen as ever, and he didn’t miss the hint of movement he caught from the corner of his eye.

Someone was following him.

Years of practice kept him from showing any visible reaction.

He continued on his way at the same quick pace he’d had before, his mind racing.

Most likely it was a Brotherhood thug.

Bald Locke didn’t seem the type to learn his lesson easily.

Though how he could’ve found Cal so quickly while he was disguised eluded him.

Did Locke have some way of tracking him?

Or maybe they’d found his safe house?

A small knot of worry for Griff tightened in his chest at the thought.

He quickly stifled it.

The inspector’s safety wasn’t his top concern.

He needed to look after himself first.

He followed another street for a bit before it abruptly veered to the left.

The instant he was out of sight, he stashed his grocery bags behind a rubbish bin—they were too identifiable.

He could swing back around for the supplies once it was safe.

Then, he shifted his appearance to that of a beggar with a flare of duskflame.

Affecting a limp, he hobbled down the alley and exited onto one of the main streets in this section of town that paralleled the docks.

It was late enough that there weren’t too many people out, but there were still enough for him to blend into the sparse crowd.

Rather than head straight back home, he looped around for a while first, hoping to catch a better view of whoever was following him or else lose them for good.

As he went, he swapped disguises several more times until he felt certain he’d confounded any potential tail.

Just to be safe, he turned off onto a side street and feigned a drunken stumble against the wall to give him an excuse to glance back.

Shock rippled through him when he caught a hint of a flapping cloak as someone ducked out of view into a nearby alcove.

It could have been a coincidence, but Cal’s instincts screamed otherwise.

Whoever this was, they were good.

Likely a professional like him.

Bald Locke clearly hadn’t wanted to take any chances.

Well then, time to switch things up.

Picking up his pace, he continued down the side street until he reached an intersection.

The instant he’d turned the corner, he ducked into the darkened entryway of a closed fishing shop.

Huddled against the wall, he called upon his talent to alter his appearance so that he was dressed all in black to blend in with the shadows.

Then, he waited.

His tail was cautious, Cal had to give them that.

Eventually, however, Cal heard the soft scuff of footsteps nearing.

When he saw the outline of a passing figure, he lunged from the shadows, aiming a brutal kick at their shins.

But the figure seemed ready for the maneuver, countering it with a tidy block.

Same with each of Cal’s follow-up strikes.

It was almost as if they knew exactly what Cal would do before he did himself.

Something swept Cal’s leg out from under him, though he hadn’t seen the figure move their legs.

His pursuer followed him to the ground, deftly pinning his arm beneath his side.

Cal struggled desperately to free himself, confused how his opponent had managed that.

Then he spotted the rope coiled around his ankles, glowing with the faint azure sheen of runeflame.

A construct! An object imbued with magic in order to animate it.

His mind instantly flashed back to five years ago, and he sucked in a ragged breath, squinting up at his attacker.

“Kelsith?”

A light chuckle came from above him.

“Took you long enough, Faces. I was beginning to worry you’d forgotten all about your dear old mentor.”

The figure atop Cal released him and stood.

Now that Cal got a good look at him, he recognized his mentor’s wiry frame and signature patchwork cloak.

Kelsith wore a gray mask, which he tugged off now to reveal his grinning face.

The lines there were a bit more numerous than the last time Cal had seen it, but it was otherwise the same.

Emotion squeezed his chest as he watched Kelsith extend an arm.

Obeying his silent command, the animated rope unwound itself from Cal’s legs and rose like an undulating serpent to slither and coil around Kelsith’s arm.

Kelsith didn’t possess any magic of his own, but he’d had the rope for as long as Cal knew him.

He’d told Cal once that he’d stolen it right out of a mage’s study.

Cal had seen him use it for everything from binding enemies to making a quick escape by scaling a wall.

Staring up at the grinning face of his former mentor, an avalanche of emotions threatened to bury Cal, elation and relief tempered by confusion and anger.

Resisting the powerful urge to hurl himself up and embrace the man he’d once thought of as a father, Cal narrowed his eyes.

“Where the Void have you been all these years?”

Kelsith’s grin fell.

He lowered the hand he’d extended to help Cal stand, averting his eyes.

“I thought it best if I stayed away after everything that happened.”

“Everything that happened?” Memories assaulted Cal then of a job left incomplete—of an estate crawling with protectors.

He shoved himself to his feet, glaring at Kelsith.

“You abandoned me in the middle of a heist! I was almost caught!”

Kelsith scratched at the back of his head, then gave Cal a sheepish look.

“I’ll admit, not my finest moment. But with your power, I trusted you to get away. And I was right, wasn’t I?”

Cal grimaced, then reluctantly nodded.

“I got away, sure. But when I returned to our hideout, I couldn’t find you. I thought for sure the protectors had you. I spent weeks trying to figure out how to break you out of Rockshore prison before I realized they didn’t, then months more looking for you. But you were just…gone.”

Kelsith hung his head.

“I truly am sorry for that, Faces. When I realized the deal had gone bad, I had no choice but to go into hiding. And after everything I’d done, putting you in danger like that…well, I thought maybe you’d be better off on your own.”

Hurt squeezed Cal’s throat.

“So you abandoned me, just like that? Was I really so easy to discard?”

Kelsith’s eyes widened.

He took a halting step toward Cal.

“Of course not! You know how much I valued your talent. I may have kept my distance since then, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t keep an eye on you over the years.” A proud smile appeared over Kelsith’s face as he regarded Cal.

“You’ve made quite the name for yourself in my absence…Blackjack.”

Despite his anger, Cal couldn’t help the warmth that seeped through him.

His mentor had never been an easy man to please.

He swallowed and shook his head, hating the pleading note in his voice.

“But why? Why wait so long to approach me. I…I needed you.”

Kelsith’s hand jerked up as if to reach for Cal.

When Cal shuffled a step back, Kelsith’s face fell.

He lowered his hand, his expression pained.

“I was scared,” he said, his voice soft and low.

More vulnerable than Cal could remember ever hearing it.

“Of how you’d react. I was the one responsible for planning that botched mission. I failed you, Faces. Both by almost getting you killed, then again by being too much of a coward to face you afterward, knowing how much you must hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Cal said, even as a part of him wondered if he should.

After all, what Kelsith said was true—he had felt furious at his mentor’s betrayal, crushed over being left on his own.

It was almost like he’d lost his family all over again

But hate?

Not once had he hated the man who had picked him out of the gutter and taught him to strive for more.

Kelsith had been a strict master, demanding in his expectations and set in his ways.

Yet without him, there would be no Blackjack—no Cal.

He owed the man for that, if nothing else.

This time, when Kelsith hesitantly reached for him, he didn’t shy away.

Kelsith rested a hand on his shoulder, offering a brief squeeze.

Cal bowed his head, struggling to keep his emotions under control.

For Kelsith, even this much was a dramatic admission of affection.

Kelsith dropped his hand, and Cal looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

“Why now?” he asked.

“Why track me down now after all these years?”

There was a subtle shift in Kelsith’s demeanor.

Cal wouldn’t have noticed it had he not spent the better part of his childhood idolizing the man, memorizing every subtle indicator of his moods so he could better predict and manage them.

It was the look Kelsith got when he was ready to get down to business.

“I saw you with that inspector earlier,” Kelsith said.

“The one who cracked the recent blackmailing case. What are you doing with someone like that, Faces? You know he’ll lock you up the first chance he gets.”

Cal had been thinking much the same only minutes earlier.

But hearing his own doubts parroted by someone else, even someone he’d once trusted with his life, raised his hackles.

It made him want to defend Griff.

“We have an arrangement.”

Kelsith’s brow rose.

“What kind of arrangement?”

“I help him with his current case, and he lets me go.”

Kelsith snorted.

He made a point of turning around to peer about the dim alley.

“Am I missing something? It looks to me like you’re here and that inspector isn’t. What’s to stop you from letting yourself go right now?”

Good question.

“It’s complicated,” Cal muttered, not sure he could explain his tangled feelings surrounding Griff even if he wanted to.

“But the case shouldn’t take long. Soon enough, he’ll be out of my hair.”

“Perhaps,” Kelsith said.

“But you know as well as I do that people like him will never understand what you and I have been through. What it’s like for people like us. No matter how noble he might seem, you can never trust an inspector.”

Cal didn’t reply.

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

Kelsith wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already told himself.

Even if Griff honored his word and let him go for now, that amnesty wouldn’t last forever.

Sooner or later, the inspector would come for him again.

And the more time Cal spent with him in the meantime, the more clues he gave away about his ability and himself.

When the silence stretched between them, Kelsith sighed.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re doing, Faces. What’s this case of his about anyway?”

Cal hesitated.

Something compelled him not to say, and he shrugged.

“The usual sort of prottie nonsense. Look, it was good to see you again, but I need to get back. I promised Griff I’d bring back some food, and thanks to you, I’m already running late.”

He turned and strode back the way he’d come.

Hopefully, he’d stashed the bags well enough that they were still there.

“Just be careful!” Kelsith called after him.

“And don’t let down your guard, even for a moment. Remember who your real friends are. See you around, Faces.”

Cal couldn’t resist glancing back, but Kelsith was already gone.