Untethered, page 5
The door tucked within the crumpling porch was nowhere near large enough for the frame it’d been meant to encompass. Raucous laughter pelted her ears through its wide gaps. Lux curled her lip. It was much too early in the morning for this, but gossipmongers abounded this place, and any information could be traded for a pint of the Bog’s signature brew. With a resigned sigh and leveled shoulders, she grasped the rusted handle and pulled.
She resisted raising a sleeve to her nose against the onslaught of puffed cigar smoke—mostly homemade marsh grass and much more potent than any that could be purchased in Ghadra. Clouds of it escaped out the door only to be replaced with the next breaths of conversation, arguments and laughter, and she couldn’t hold back a cough. It was soft, but it was also vastly out of place, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim haze of the room, she regarded the probing stares of the patrons attracted by her disruptive entrance.
Mostly men, a few women, and one head of hair, the back of which held a touch of familiarity as its owner leaned over the bar in a faded blue shirt. She marched straight toward it.
He sat slouched, broad shoulders slumped, absentmindedly spinning a worn copton beside the pint before him. Lux ignored everyone else.
“It’s a little early to be drinking ale, isn’t it?” She plopped upon the vacant stool beside him.
Tired eyes met hers from beneath a wool cap only to widen. The rest of him didn’t move. He spun the coin again. “Not for me.” To prove his point, he swallowed another mouthful. “In fact, it’s almost my bedtime.”
The prowler smirked into his cup, knowingly, hinting toward what she’d already guessed upon discovering two more bodies bound for the forest at dawn. Her jaw tightened in her fight to keep the scowl from her face. That tactic wouldn’t work on him.
“You don’t sleep at night?”
“Neither do you if the gossip can be trusted.” His eyes roamed over her face, and though their color appeared warm as ever, his gaze was decidedly not.
“If that were the case, go on and end my suffering now. I hate the moon.”
A breath of a laugh escaped him, and Lux loathed the way he looked at her afterward: like she was ridiculous. Ridiculous and insignificant. She considered ordering a pint solely to pour it over his head.
“Who hates the moon?”
The question, for all its haughtiness, caught her by surprise. By all rights, she shouldn’t hate the moon. It was cold and pale and distant—like the dead. But for some foolish reason, a part of her still sought an unattainable warmth. A warmth that abandoned her long ago, and the moon mocked her for wanting its return. The few minutes of sunlight on her skin, however, were almost enough.
“It taunts me.”
The boy stared at her for a time, his brow furrowed. “Saints above.” He turned back to his drink. “What I wouldn’t give for a pretty girl open to a flirt. I’m too tired for this.”
Your own doing, imbecile, Lux thought. Meanwhile, she soaked her voice in polite innocence and asked, “What’s your name?”
“Why?” Palms pressed to his eyes. He didn’t look up.
“I’m Lux Thorn.”
Lucenaaa.
Lux twitched involuntarily in her seat. She gasped a quick breath and hoped the boy would be too tired to notice. Because for a moment she’d heard it—the devouring forest—although this time it was different, more melodic. Another voice harmonized with the ghostly sigh of its own. She shuddered.
“I cannot begin to tell you how little I care.”
So help me, I will kill him. “Excuse me?”
In a sudden movement, his hands dropped from his eyes, and the fierceness of his attention startled her. Did she really deserve the animosity she saw there?
“For what purpose? Thinking of turning my name into the Shield? Or toss it up to the mayor himself?”
Lux dropped her voice, nettled. “Believe it or not, Prowler, I hate the mayor and his precious guards even more than you.” It came across a touch more menacing than she intended, but what could she do? He grated at every nerve.
His lips parted in disgust. “What did you call me?”
“It’s my nickname for you. Until you decide to tell me your real name.”
“That is by far the worst—”
“Is it?” Her lips quirked. The truth was she’d come up with far more intriguing ones since they’d last met. None of which would garner his assistance, however. If anything, he might stab her, too.
His gaze dipped to her mouth. “I’m a man, Necromancer. Not some dimwitted boy playing in the dark.”
Lux ran a finger down the bar’s sticky length, immediately regretting the decision as she eyed the result in disgust. “Pity the reminder, but your dead self did get dragged through the streets by your waif of a sister…and required a girl younger than yourself to revive you. A man? I’m afraid you must convince me.”
His eyes narrowed, and Lux grew very happy they were in a public place. “Shaw.”
“Shaw…?”
“Roser.”
“Okay, Shaw Roser. Why do you believe the mayor is some everlasting creature?”
He made a show of returning his ale to the ring it’d left on the bar top. “I would think you’d know better than anyone.”
“Why?” It was less a snarl than a growl. A commendable effort, she thought.
“Devil’s tits,” he grumbled.
Lux opened her mouth to demand he answer, when without warning, he leaned forward, mercilessly crowding her in. His voice cut between them, unforgiving and brutal, “Maybe it’s that you’ve revived him time and time again. Or maybe, perhaps, it’s because you’ve lived in his mansion. Maybe it’s because we would have been rid of the lot of them several times over if it weren’t for you. Tell me how it feels, Necromancer. Tell me first how your conscience has dealt with your subscribing to this terror before you come for mine.”
Those final words knocked her like a fist to the gut. Lux took quick note of the number of people now intently focused on their conversation. Her whisper fell into a strangled hiss. “You know a lot of details about my life.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, love. I know a lot of details about his life.”
He leaned away, and she shuddered a breath outside his line of sight. She couldn’t allow him to see her undone. “Necromancy can’t extend a lifetime. I would think someone as all-knowing as you would understand that.”
Though he’d be far from the first who hadn’t. The fear of her own brilliance grew crippling following her parents’ deaths, made all the worse by the continued rumors and misunderstandings surrounding it. The darkness had burrowed deeper and still, she couldn’t ignore her gift. The Risen whispered to her in the night, and her heart had yearned to answer.
Shaw’s chair scraped over worn wood. “Have a nice day, Necromancer.” The way he said it sounded as if he sincerely hoped she would not.
She wouldn’t allow him to escape a second time. Scrambling from her stool, she stepped in his path. He stood anyway, the barest breadth between them, and she vaguely registered she only reached his chest as she lifted her eyes.
“I need to know.”
“I’m tired. Please go away.”
“This girl bothering you, Shaw?” With a hearty laugh, the brew-spattered barkeep scooped the empty pint from its perch.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Where do I know you from?” The middle-aged man rested rolled-up sleeves on the counter as he leaned in, studying her. She opened her mouth only to close it when he snapped his fingers in her face. “That’s it! The Dark Market. You’re always buying up all sorts of weird things.” His expression drifted into one of intrigue. “I heard a little rumor you’re the necromancer.”
“That’s true. Though I don’t waste my energy on those who annoy me.”
Hazel eyes creased at their corners as the man smiled. “Let this one go.” He inclined his head toward Shaw. “He’s always brooding. Have a seat, I’ll buy you a drink.” He patted the bar top before her vacated space.
“I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Breakfast?”
“I’ve already eaten, thanks.” Not that she’d ever touch a bite of food that came from this place.
The barkeep laughed. “Fine. I guess I’ve got nothing to keep you here.”
Lux made to reply, something like “You certainly don’t,” when she noticed the absence of warmth at her side. Whipping her gaze through the Bog’s expanse, she glimpsed a flash of blue as it disappeared out the front door.
“Damn it all.” Ignoring the barkeep’s calls, she weaved through the growing crowd.
The following lungful of clean air did little to ease the ache in her chest. Shaw had vanished. Cracked cobblestones branched off into foul-smelling alleyways, and he could have gone any number of ways. She puffed a breath through her cheeks, kicking out and missing a rock as she stepped down from the tavern’s entryway. She was irritated with herself for allowing him to slip away so easily. That blathering barkeep. Seeing no help for it, she chose to continue following the street. Maybe she’d get lucky again.
Midmorning approached and thin clouds coated the sky, hinting of sunshine once midday ascended. Even the promise of it brought a smile to her lips despite her annoyance over what occurred in the Brewing Bog. Face upturned to still-hidden sunlight, she startled at the sound of rocks skittering over stone. When midnight skirts swished in the corner of her eye, she spun. Ebony hair disappeared around the bend.
Riselda?
Shops on this side of town would offer nothing she’d ever want to lay her head upon. Surely Riselda must know that? Before she could think otherwise, her feet changed direction, following her aunt.
Skulking through the alley, spying on Riselda, left Lux feeling like the worst sort of miscreant. Head held high, shoulders back, her aunt’s blue skirts sashayed as her hips swayed with every step. She certainly appeared as if she meant to be here rather than refurbishing their home as she’d led Lux to believe.
A mound of trash offered a perfect, if not odorous, hiding place when Riselda suddenly stopped before a descending basement door. Lux dove behind it as her aunt’s head swiveled, scraping her knee and landing her palm in something that squelched. She barely suppressed the gag. She readjusted as best she could, neck screaming in protest, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
A fist upon wood echoed against the crumbling mortar around them only to be followed by a screech as rusted hinges ground open. Lux breathed as softly as she could, hoping to pick up conversation, but was met with only silence. She didn’t trust herself to measure time correctly with her pulse so wild; she counted out several minutes before peeking around the piled garbage.
The alley had emptied.
Riselda must have gone inside.
Lux bit at her lip, indecision drawn in every line of her crouch. Self-preservation warred with curiosity. What could her aunt possibly desire in the Dark after spending so long away from home? That question, along with how easily she’d maneuvered away from Lux over breakfast, led her to believe it to be something unsavory.
Before the cautious half of her head could overrule, she crept forward, keeping close to the wall. Muscles tense, she discovered slime-coated stone steps leading toward a basement entrance. But the door was closed. Lux’s heart plummeted with disappointment, though it battled a little with the relief over not finding her aunt’s angry gaze glaring up at her. She wasn’t sure how she’d talk herself around why she’d followed Riselda here.
Lux pivoted only to pause partway. A glimmer snagged her eyes.
A window? Very few of these buildings possessed functional ones, and those that did overlook the street. This window not only faced the dim alley, but it rested just inches off the stone path. Shoddily shuttered, Lux caught the glimmer again as it leaked through the cracked wood.
She crept forward, intrigued.
Candlelight. Through the shutters, she could see they lined the planked walls in dripping sconces, and the resulting shadows danced over a large desk and even larger worktable. An old, bent woman, a wart her only adornment, dug carefully through a chest in the corner of the room. Riselda watched on, fingers drumming a silent tempo beside a bubbling red liquid puffing fumes from its beaker.
It wasn’t the only one.
The entire workspace was a mess of transparent tubing, glass beakers and flickering flames. The old crone was some form of alchemist. She must be. Riselda sighed, voicing a question Lux couldn’t hear. Judging from the eye roll at the answer received, her aunt wasn’t pleased. She appeared in a hurry to be done with this particular errand and the old woman’s snail-pace wasn’t helping.
Finally, the alchemist straightened. Or rather, she unbent herself slightly, with a small item tucked carefully within her hand that Lux couldn’t see no matter how she strained her eyes through the cracks. Riselda lit with a palpable eagerness and reached greedily toward the woman, gripping the small vial deposited in her palm as if it were a pound of purest gold.
Though a staggering pound of gold is what it appeared to cost, as her aunt proceeded to count the mass of goldquins into the alchemist’s awaiting purse. How could such a tiny vial be worth so much? What did it do?
Lux burned with curiosity, gaze fixed on the bubbling, steaming liquids with ever-increasing interest. How she’d love to sneak inside and explore…
A door’s old hinges screeched.
Lux lurched, scrambling back, her aunt nowhere to be seen in the basement room. Which meant—
With a panicked whine, Lux scanned the nearest buildings, her pile of trash mocking from far away. She would be caught. Absolutely. What could be her excuse? Her legs pedaled backward all their own; maybe she should run? But no. Wait. A narrow doorway materialized. One tucked within the shadows along the building abutting the alchemist’s. Thank fate. Lux hurtled forward, praying to find it unlocked.
She shoved against it once. It didn’t give. Not a bit.
This is it. What lie will you spin now? But her mind had thickened to sludge.
When her sweat-drenched hands grasped the handle a second time, she closed her eyes. Please! she begged.
And toppled headlong into the gloom.
The latch snicked closed beneath her palms, her forehead finding the worn door a heartbeat later. Against it, her breath huffed in relief until a strangled laugh replaced it. This is why you stay out of what doesn’t concern you.
She pushed from the door.
There wasn’t even a moment to react before her chest collided with the rough wood. Instead of her brow, her cheek scraped along the grain. Lux scrabbled rather than shouted, her nails coming round her shoulder, searching for vulnerable skin, but the forearm shoved against her neck was covered and unyielding.
A hand gripping a knife encircled her wrist. Before she could continue her attempts, it flattened her palm beside her cheek. A knee met the back of her thigh. Lux was losing, and badly, but before she could decide if she should scream, breath brushed her ear.
“You are psychotic.”
Shaw Roser. Lux’s eyes widened at the glimmer of his blade beside her head. It couldn’t be possible for so much ill luck. She wasn’t religious, but clearly, she’d angered something. She pushed back against him, one last test, but his forearm sent her neck pulsing, his knee driving a hot ache into her thigh.
“Get off me, you lout!”
His response was to lean in closer. Lux could hardly breathe between his body and the door; she was so angry she thought flame would lick across her skin.
“Explanations first, Necromancer. Though I think I shouldn’t believe anything out of that mouth.”
A headache brewed behind her eyes, her thigh and wrist gone numb. She wanted to rake her nails along his face and see what he thought of that explanation. Instead, she gritted her teeth and said, “I didn’t follow you. I’m hiding, you blasted idiot. Maybe you should utilize that lock if you wish to keep out the world.”
His answering scoff blew across her cheek. “Hiding from who?”
“My aunt.”
“I thought you didn’t have family.”
Didn’t know the details of her life, indeed. With renewed fury, she struggled against him, her free hand searching for any revealed part. But all that earned was the freedom of her neck as her other palm met the door. Lux’s teeth ached from the grit. “I didn’t think I did either.”
There it was—the force against her wrists alleviating by the barest fraction. She used it, wrenching her hands down. Spinning in his arms, she made to duck, and it might even have worked—if the chilled flat of a blade hadn’t frozen her in place. Shaw tipped her chin upward with a careful pressure.
Lux’s gaze lifted along with the knife, defiant. She glared up at him, noting his cheekbones tinged with color and how his eyes snapped with pent fire. It appeared she’d caught him in the process of undressing, and her attention dipped to his unbuttoned throat. Heat sang along her skin, and with her back pressed to the door as it was, she couldn’t prevent the look of bewilderment from washing across her features.
“Lie to me, Necromancer, and I will never forget.”
I should have left you for the trees. “It is no lie.”
His eyes searched hers, and she let him find his truth there. Abruptly, the chill disappeared from her jaw. The knife returned to his side. “Get out of my apartment.”
“Wait—”
“Damn it all.” The blade moved, and Lux flinched, but he only sheathed it. “I will pick you up and toss you out, Lux Thorn.”
Eyes narrowing over that idea, she unwound the purse from her wrist and held the bag toward him. His gaze flicked from it to her and back again. His fingers twitched at his side.
“It’s what Aline paid me. Increased threefold. I want your information. All of it. And then I want you to stop murdering people.”
Shaw burst into laughter.
Lux frowned, dropping her hand.
“Do you think I’m so easily bought? I don’t need your money.” He strode to the door, unlatching it and throwing it open. “Now go.”
“Fine. I will.” Lux looped the purse around her arm. “After you tell me what you think you know.”
