Untethered, page 7
Though, even if there were, he was going about it all wrong, picking off those the Shield ignored. Because if the corrupted source wasn’t stopped, it would forever continue to trickle downward and into the worst of souls. Besides, he couldn’t go on killing indefinitely. He’d only die again, and next time she’d refuse to revive him.
She planned on telling him exactly that, too.
Shaw’s home wasn’t hard to find, as she’d learned the route while following Riselda that day. Lux turned down the vaguely familiar alley, sweeping her gaze across the windowless buildings, and stifled a scream. The largest black rat she’d ever seen darted from the shadows. It studied her with beady eyes, annoyed by her disruptive presence before skulking back to the darkness with slow, purposeful steps.
She shuddered. “Nasty varmint.” As if in defense of the whispered insult, a whiskered nose poked forth once more. With a squeal of protest, she ran.
Rounding the corner, she nearly collided with a reaper. Other than to frown at her from beneath large eyebrows and a masked face, he continued to shoulder the body through a doorway. A sobbing man trailed at its feet. Even wrapped tightly in white fabric, Lux could clearly see the perfect black circles as they seeped into the material, staining it with its putrid, sweet scent.
Jasmine. And rotting flesh.
Lux gagged into her bent elbow, covering her nose and mouth. Another body. Another fallen to this same, mysterious sickness—and so soon. She stumbled away as the scent rolled from the home, filling the air so thickly, she felt she could see the noxious cloud.
Her back bumped into something solid, and she mumbled an apology. Glancing up, her cheeks heated at the familiar eyes glaring into hers.
“Returned with more money, have you?”
Lux ignored him, observing the dead being tossed onto the cart instead. She wondered if the body she’d seen the afternoon prior had lived near here.
She could feel Shaw’s eyes on her, absorbing her interest. “That’s the third one. That I’ve heard of, at any rate.”
“Third?” She hadn’t been aware of the second. Unless—
“Another fell. Shortly before dawn.”
Lux felt a fierce blush forming on her cheeks. It would appear Shaw wasn’t to blame after all. She shifted her feet, trying to think up a new reason for being so close to his home as her practiced lecture crumbled, useless.
“Are you feverish?” Shaw eyed her with distaste, stepping back.
“No!”
His stare narrowed, not entirely convinced. “What are you doing here? I thought I made myself clear the last time you tried to sneak through my door.”
“Sneak? I hardly—”
“Hello, Lux.” Aline’s abrupt appearance sported a stare nearly as icy as her brother’s.
“Aline.” She couldn’t recall having ever told the girl her name, which meant her criminal brother must have informed her all about Lux’s visit, and, she was sure, embellished it greatly. Suddenly, Lux didn’t have the energy to deal with the pair of them. Her sleep had been riddled with nightmares.
“You’re far from home, aren’t you, Necromancer? I’m not sure you’ll get your money so easily with that one.” Aline nodded to the body tucked within the wagon.
Flames began to eat at her veins. Tempting as it was to throttle Aline, she decided she didn’t owe these two anything, not even her words. When the death-cart began to rumble away, Lux moved to follow.
A hand gripped her elbow, strong and sure. The third time now he’d touched her, and his third mistake.
“Don’t go anywhere near that body. This disease is likely contagious. All three deaths have been on this street.”
“How kind you are to be concerned for my well-being.” She jerked her arm from his grasp.
His voice darkened alongside his words. “I’m not. I’d just rather you didn’t spread the sickness further. Besides, who would remain to scar little girls and revive our poor mayor should he die? Again.”
His sarcastic blade of a smile was her undoing.
Whipping around, she shoved against his chest. The unanticipated retaliation took him aback, and he stumbled. Eyes widened in wonder as she bore down on him.
“I’m trying to determine its cause! Not even my aunt has seen the likes of it, and she’s the best healer Ghadra’s ever known.” Her glare having turned murderous, she tossed, “And I would watch your back, Prowler. Because my services are forever closed to you.”
With a mocking bow, she left them.
Rounding the corner at a near-sprint to catch up with the cart, Lux abruptly slowed. The mourning man. He had followed the body only to collapse upon the street’s edge, head buried in his hands. Quiet surrounded him. No sobs wracked his body any longer, but instead, his chest rose and fell in drawn, deep breaths.
She approached tentatively, unsure what to do. She wanted whatever clues this man may have as to this strange illness’s origin, but comforting others was a skill she’d never honed. She stepped closer.
“Hello. I’m sorry for your loss.”
The man’s head snapped up in surprise, hands retreating to his knees. He didn’t speak. She stepped forward again and patted him on the worn shoulder of his shirt. It looked awkward. It probably felt even worse.
“Your wife?”
The man began to shake, lips thinning as he fought to hold his emotions from spilling across the stones. Until he couldn’t any longer.
The laugh that echoed across the street sent Lux stumbling back with wide eyes. She glanced around in a darting panic. Was he mad?
“My wife!” He wheezed, sucking in whistling breaths. “Saints no, girl. That was my mother.” His loud guffaws drew onlookers, and Lux seriously considered running into the shadows. “Blasted woman. I never thought she’d die. She often told me that too. You’ll go before me, Ned. Mark my words.” Ned waved a bony finger in the air.
“Oh. Well. I saw you crying…”
“With happiness!” Ned grinned from behind too-stretched lips.
Lux was at a loss. “I see. Congratulations?”
“Thank you!” Standing now, the tall man clapped her on the shoulder. “Have a blessed day.” He spun, meandering down the street, a carefree tilt to his shoulders.
“Ned!” The man slowed, glancing back. Lux jogged to reach him. “Do you have any idea what may have led to her illness? Was it slow? Quick? Did she eat something odd?”
Ned pondered the questions, eyeing the dreary sky. “Quick. The last I spoke to her she was complaining about her bed, as always. It makes her itch. And she was demanding her third cup of tea. Woke up this morning, and—” Ned drew a finger across his throat. At her expression, he hurried on, “It was peaceful though! Her eyes were closed in sleep and everything.” With a soft pat on the top of her head, he dismissed her, whistling out of sight.
“Bizarre man,” Lux muttered into the gloomy morning.
It didn’t appear there would be even a brush of sunlight today. With a final glance about the grim neighborhood, now the location of three inexplicable deaths, she slipped within the alley.
Lux perched like a bird upon the back of a faded bench and chewed a buttery pastry in thought. The Light Market was odious, a true testament to everything she loathed about people in their entirety, but the baker’s booth was worth the torture.
The poor in Ghadra were growing poorer, the line forging deep, separating the town by an unbridgeable chasm. And now death claimed them by new means. Lux finished the last of her sweet roll. Maybe she was reading too much into it. Perhaps it was spread through the water, soon to find its way into the mayor’s morning tea mixed with just a spot of liquor. Perhaps it would infect the entire malevolent lot of them.
Perhaps it would infect Lux herself.
She brushed sticky fingertips across the bench, wincing as a splinter embedded itself into her thumb. She sucked on the offended finger, eyes now trained on members of the Shield winding languidly through the market. A thin-lipped man caught her eye, and running tongue over teeth, he curved toward her.
Lovely.
The uniformed brute sidled up to her, completely undeterred by the fire burning behind her eyes. He rested a gloved hand beside her own leaving Lux no other choice than to draw hers immediately away. The wait for him to speak stretched abysmally long.
“I was wondering when I would see you again.”
He’d pitched his voice low, all syrup and smothering, and Lux didn’t bother hiding her grimace when she replied. “I’m not interested.”
He scoffed, disbelieving. “Not interested in a prestigious member of the Shield?” His hand crept closer.
“Oh! You didn’t mention the prestige.”
Lux thought she had slathered on the sarcasm thick enough, only to realize her mistake when he preened.
Men with brains this dim and egos this large never allowed ridicule to sink so far.
“Very prestigious. I expect to be proclaimed Captain by year’s end. Would you like to see my weapons?”
“No, tha—”
The guard pulled his jacket aside, and Lux couldn’t escape the expanse of knives decorating his chest in hidden sheaths, or the row of corked vials, tiny enough they would only allow one swallow. She stifled the huff of laughter in her throat. He mistook it for a gurgle of awe.
“Yes, impressive, isn’t it? These sleeping draughts work wonders. They go into effect immediately, just needing to pass over the lips.” A carriage ambled over stone behind them as the guard’s eyes latched onto her mouth.
She snorted. I dare you to try…
“If it isn’t my elusive necromancer!”
Lux’s body stiffened at that voice, though nowhere near as impressively as the Shield’s. Muscles as rigid as a board, he sprung to attention, arms flush along his sides. If her stomach hadn’t been twisting over the newcomer, she would have laughed.
The mayor stepped from the carriage.
She had effectively avoided him since his last revival, but there was nowhere to run now. Dressed in a maroon coat too short and striped trousers too tight, the rouge decorating his cheeks was much too red to mimic good health. With arms outstretched, the mayor greeted her like a long-lost daughter. She backed away lest he touch her.
“Mayor Tamish.” She inclined her head.
The squat man chuckled. “Oh, none of that formal nonsense. Call me Mayor.” Lux fought to keep her eyes from rolling upward. “Have you received my invitation?” Apparently mistaking her look of confusion for one of chagrin, he frowned in annoyance. “It is to be a masquerade this year. The most beautiful masquerade. And you have avoided them long enough. I expect to see you there.”
Devil’s tits. The mayor’s birthday party.
No, she hadn’t seen the invitation. Having been focused on more pressing matters, it’d been forgotten entirely.
Lux was about to concoct the most elaborate lie to excuse her from such a loathsome event when it died on her lips. The mansion was full of secrets. She knew that from her time there, of course, but now, she sought the answer to one particular question.
She smoothed her smug grin and said, “I’ll be there.”
“Doubtless.” Finally, that knowing leer she despised so much appeared on his face. “Now, onto the rest of my adoring citizens.” The mayor shuffled away, only to turn back. “I have heard a rumor,” his watery eyes watched hers closely, “that my favorite healer has returned from her adventure. She must come as well. We have much to discuss.”
Lux frowned after his retreating form.
“Necromancer?” An incredulous voice wafted over her. The stiffened guard, relaxing at last.
Lux sauntered up to him. “Yes.” With bold fingers zigzagging down the length of his coat, she watched the man’s eyes darken—and roll back in his head as the stolen vial of unstopped liquid passed his lips.
Like a marionette with severed strings, he crumpled at her feet.
“Saints above. You weren’t lying.”
Chapter eleven
The invitation was a garish thing. Lux held the sparkling, sweet-smelling parchment by the barest edge lest her fingers become permanently tarnished at the contact. She shifted in the hard-backed rocker with a scowl.
Her mind surrendered to the saddened wonder of just whose dirty bottom rested contentedly upon her favorite chair’s cushions, or worse—if it was moldering within the marshes. Jaw tightening, she studied the flowery script again:
Please join us in a
Masquerade Celebration
Of our most illustrious Mayor
On the Eve of his Birth:
The evening of the fifth Noxday
Of the month of Mortema
Two days’ time. Her eyes traveled over the bold illustrations:
Gifts, though not required, are greatly anticipated
She nearly choked on her biscuit. Greedy, odious man. He had everything. What did he expect? A slew of guests lined up with wrapped parcels of lifeblood, harvested just for him?
“Doubtless.” Lux’s imitation of the mayor left much to be desired.
The creaking of the front door caused her to sink further into the uncomfortable chair. As much as she appreciated having someone in this life to look out for her well-being, this home was much too small. Especially when expected to encompass one such as Riselda. She filled up the space, and Lux couldn’t help but feel eclipsed in the shadows.
“Lucena?”
She drew a long breath before conceding. “Here, Riselda.”
Her aunt floated down the stairs. “Oh, there you are.”
Lux battled to keep her expression neutral at Riselda’s appearance: clothing askew, tangles in her hair, a smudge of dirt along her jaw. Riselda pushed a few wayward strands from her eyes before washing at the basin resting on a corner pedestal.
Lux peered at her aunt from the edge of her teacup as Riselda gazed into the mirror, rubbing her chin clean.
When Riselda’s piercing stare met hers through the glass, Lux flinched. “Plucking about my old solarium. A mundane task.” Before Lux could question her, she added, “Not all of a healer’s necessities can be bought.” She laughed darkly, pulling a dried leaf from her hair. Twirling the dead thing between her fingers, she tossed it to the floor. “Or maybe they can…”
Lux’s brow furrowed, wondering at the meaning—until she remembered the mayor’s message. “The mayor requests your presence.” She waved the invitation in the air, and Riselda was there in a breath, snatching it from her outstretched fingers.
“Oh, my sweet Bartleby.” Spinning on her heel, a grin stretching her cheeks, she strode to the kitchen, plopping onto a stool. It groaned beneath her. “Hush, or I’ll replace you too.” Frightened into silence, the rickety piece of furniture obeyed.
Riselda traced the elaborate sketches with curling strokes of her long finger, and Lux wondered aloud, “I can’t believe he still requests gifts. What could that man possibly need?”
Her aunt turned toward her, eyes softening. “Oh, it is never about needs with these men. Wants, my dear.” She turned back to the parchment. “What do you have…that he wants?”
Lux glanced around the small room, taking in the bright furnishings in too cramped a space, knick-knacks and a lone painting. “I don’t—”
Riselda tutted. “Not so hard. It’s quite a lot easier than you think.” She glanced at Lux’s shifting form. “Services. Promises. Secrets.” She laughed without humor. “Our mayor certainly knows how to enjoy his parties.”
Lux was severely reconsidering her assent in attending such an event. “Will you go?”
Riselda inhaled the paper, filling her lungs with its scent. “I haven’t decided.” Her eyes sought Lux’s again. “Will you? I assume from your questions that you haven’t attended before.”
Lux shook her head, draining her teacup. “I’ve never had the desire to step within that house again. But now, I wonder—” Cut off as if of their own volition, the words grew heavy, and she couldn’t pull them out. Lux swallowed against her tight throat.
Where did this bout of anxiety rear from? Why couldn’t she tell Riselda her concerns, her frightening theories? Her aunt had been closer to him at one time than his own family if rumor could be believed. She may have heard something or noticed peculiar happenings.
Lux tried again. The words bit into her tongue.
“But now you wish to experience it?” Riselda finished for her. “I can’t imagine it’s much changed. The mayor only lays out the most beautiful banquet, dozens of wines and barrel-aged ciders. The music is lovely, and the dancing…” Riselda grinned devilishly. “With the right clothing and your eyes, you would never be without a partner.”
Lux scoffed. “That’s hardly my priority.”
“Oh, but it should be, Lucena.” Riselda’s stare darkened. “It should be.”
Lux pulled her gaze away. There would be no dancing for her. Her muddled plan was to greet the mayor with one breath, place a ludicrous gift upon the table with the next, and sneak quietly into the shadows.
She couldn’t very well hunt for the mayor’s secrets while dancing. With a muffled laugh, she stretched as she stood, then strode to the door.
“Where are you off to?”
Lux paused. “A walk.”
Riselda’s eyes roved over her face before she smiled. “Fresh air is important. Tell the crow I say hello.”
Lux opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she say anyway? Turning with eyes uncomfortably wide and feeling uncomfortably seen, she ascended the steps.
The crow perched upon the bridge, its interest revealed in the haughty tilt of its head. Twilight neared, and the bird expected her. Lux’s fingers brushed against the familiar stones.
“Riselda says hello, crow.”
The bird cocked its sleek dark head further, studying her. She shook her head. Absurd animal. It hopped closer.
The air thickened, the wind hushed, and Lux drew in a deep breath full of damp grass, old stone and a lone, brave wildflower. Her gaze found that of the forest as feathers brushed her arm. She ran a finger absently along the bird’s head. Twilight.
