House of Curses, page 30
“Where?” Fordham snapped.
“That’s not important.”
Kerrigan saw that he was going to argue with her, but they didn’t have time for any of that. If they could go after the Collector, then she was beyond ready.
“Tell us everything.”
“I don’t think she told us everything,” Fordham said as he stared up at the Row house from across the street at nightfall.
Kerrigan had known there were Red Masks on the Row. No one was as scared about losing their place and privilege as those with money. But it was still disorienting to be on the Row, knowing she was entering a member’s house.
“She told us as much as she knew,” Kerrigan said. “Now, shut up and move.”
They wore all black, and Kerrigan pulled a hood over her red hair. They stalked around to the rear of the building. The home that Fordham had bought for her was a townhouse. This was a Row mansion. It might not have been one of the old houses a street over, which were estates with hundreds of rooms, but it was close.
And the house wasn’t empty either.
Lights were on in the front windows. She had seen people walking through a second-story room. But what they were after was supposedly on the third floor, and it had seemed empty enough up there.
“Shadow jump?” Fordham suggested.
She glanced up the back side of the building. She could scale it. She was fit enough for that, but it didn’t sound appealing.
“How many jumps do you think you have?”
“Enough for the two of us to get up there and out if need be.”
She nodded. “Do it.”
Fordham’s arms wrapped around her. She sighed with relief at that touch. All day, she had wanted nothing but to feel him against her. The bond that existed between them strengthened every second that his hands were on her. She could feel it now. The thing she had never found with Tieran. A call within her to Fordham. She was sure she could feel him across great distances. But at the same time, she’d always felt that way about him. The bond was just the physical manifestation of what she had already known.
His fingers tightened around her waist, and then his shadows encased them. One second, they were there, and the next, they were gone. Fordham landed lightly on the roof of the house. It would have been convenient if he could have dropped them into the room they needed, but it wasn’t safe to jump into a place you had never been. You could run into a person or land inside some furniture. Always better to know exactly where you were jumping.
“You can let me go,” she teased.
He dropped his head down and captured her lips. “Never.”
She leaned into that kiss for the span of a second before stepping back. She located the rooftop door and lifted it open. She stared down at the set of stairs, saw they were empty, and then nodded down.
Fordham went first, holding his shadows tight around him as he surveyed the area. When he called clear, she traipsed down after him. This was not particularly her skill set. She was more reckless abandon, dragon riding, and close fighting. Stealth and spying and breaking into a magical vault were far from what she was good at. But she had snuck around enough, growing up in the mountain, to understand the mechanics, and this was too important to leave for another time.
The roof led to attic space above the third floor. Fordham opened the door on the other side of the room, which led to another set of stairs and their destination. Valia had been uncertain where exactly the vault was kept. There was a library, a study, and several bedrooms on the top floor.
“All right. You go for the library,” Kerrigan said. “I’ll head to the study.”
Fordham shot her an alarmed look. “We do better together.”
“We are together.”
“You want us to split up.”
“We are on limited time,” she argued. “If we split up, then we cover the ground twice as fast.”
“I can’t protect you if we’re not together.”
Kerrigan patted his cheek affectionately. “Poor princeling.” He growled at the condescension that she couldn’t hold back. “I’ve been on my own for months, Ford. I can take care of myself. Find the damn Collector, so we can get out of here.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t care,” she told him. She put a hand to his chest. “You can feel me, right? If you need me, pull like you’re pulling for Netta. Okay?”
Relief slowly returned to his features. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Nope. We broke that curse.”
His laugh was music to her ears. She slipped past him and down to the third-floor landing. Music and voices drifted up the grand stairs, but the upstairs seemed silent. She turned left toward the study and glanced back only once to see Fordham moving toward the library.
Good.
Kerrigan found the study in the third door and quickly closed it behind her. The desk was clear of any papers. The chairs were covered by sheets. The curtains were pulled closed. For all intents and purposes, the room appeared unused. But she knew appearances could be deceiving.
Kerrigan reached inside her bodice and slid the Ring of Endings onto her finger. She couldn’t use it with Fordham if she wanted to jump, but she felt safer, wearing it inside this room. She didn’t know what else the owner had that could hurt her. If they had the Collector, then anything was possible.
She did a quick sweep of the room—dug through the drawers, opened the desk, and checked behind the curtains. But there didn’t appear to be anything in here. She knocked at the bottom of the desk drawers to check for false compartments.
One of their tutors in the House of Dragons had kept liquor in a hidden drawer in his desk. She and Lyam filched it once and got rip-roaring drunk. The teacher had found another place for his libations.
But there was nothing like that.
Kerrigan checked behind the few paintings and inside a chest by the window. Nothing seemed out of place.
She sighed heavily. Well, no vault in here. It must be in the library.
She stood, prepared to follow Fordham, when the door clicked.
Kerrigan froze in place. Someone was coming into the room. It wasn’t Fordham. She would have been able to tell if it was him. No, this was someone else. And there was no escape. She couldn’t reach the curtains to hide behind them in time. She definitely couldn’t get out the window. There was nothing else big enough for her to hide behind or in.
Fordham was on the other side of the house. It would take him too long to jump to her and away without being seen. The last thing she wanted was to raise an alarm. The Collector would be lost for good.
Kerrigan was going to be caught. The person on the other side of the door would see her. She’d have to kill them to keep their silence. There was no other option.
Unless …
The door swung inward.
Kerrigan didn’t think; she just acted. She threw her spirit magic out, wielding an illusion that settled upon her skin like a sticky film. She almost gasped and gave away the entire thing as she disappeared in the room.
She had never successfully created an illusion. She had spent the time since Cleora’s training trying to force one into existence. Any kind of illusion, even the tiniest spider. But it had been beyond her. She hadn’t been successful. In fact, she had been certain it was beyond her. That her spirit magic just didn’t work in this way.
And now, as most of her other magic had manifested, when need arose, it came to her. She could instantly feel how taxing holding that spell was. But she couldn’t break it. If she did, she would lose everything.
She held her breath and waited to see who would enter.
When she saw the person, she nearly lost the illusion entirely.
Darby? she mouthed.
44
The Collector
Darby had been her closest friend for years. They had lived together under the mountain. Been Dragon Blessed of the House of Dragons at the same time. Kerrigan had entrusted her with every secret. She just couldn’t fathom that Darby—innocent, lovely, beautiful Darby—could be involved in all of this. That Darby could be a Red Mask.
It was beyond reckoning.
And yet … Darby walked into the room as if she belonged. She wore Bryonican navy, cut specifically for her. Her onyx skin glowed in the candlelight she held in her hand. She’d never had an affinity for any magic other than healing. Her head was held high as she walked right over to the painting Kerrigan had looked at only moments ago and discarded.
She pulled it down, ran her hand down the face of the wall, and then seemed to press an invisible button. To Kerrigan’s shock, the wall popped open to reveal a compartment completely hidden by the painting. So, she had been right. She just hadn’t known where to look.
Darby withdrew a key from her pocket, wet her lips, and slid it into place. A click sounded, and the vault within popped open. Then, she hissed a glorious, “Fuck.”
Kerrigan’s eyes widened. Darby never cussed if she could help it.
Kerrigan leaned forward and looked inside the vault. She saw exactly what had made Darby use that word. The vault was empty.
Her heart dropped. So, she’d been sent here for nothing. Did that mean Valia had double-crossed her, or had she had false information?
“It’s not here,” Darby whispered with alarm. Her eyes darted around the room, and she wiped her palms on her dress. So, she wasn’t as cool and collected she appeared. She was sweating. “Where could it be?”
That was what Kerrigan wanted to know. Maybe Darby didn’t know, but Kerrigan wanted answers.
It was twice as hard to keep the illusion in place as she took a step behind Darby. But she only needed a second longer. She reached out and put her hand over Darby’s mouth, whispering, “Don’t scream.”
Then, the illusion popped, and she came back into focus.
Darby, to her credit, didn’t scream. But she went stiff as a board.
“I’m going to release you. Don’t raise the alarm.”
“K-Kerrigan?” Darby mumbled against her hand, obviously recognizing her voice.
“Do you agree?”
“Yes,” she mumbled.
Kerrigan released her, and when Darby didn’t immediately call for reinforcements, she took a step backward. Kerrigan reached deep within her chest and felt that lovely bond and tugged ever so lightly. All those dragon training lessons came back to her. Was this how easy it could be?
“What are you doing here?” Darby asked. She was trembling now.
“I’m going to ask the questions,” Kerrigan informed her.
Fordham jumped into the middle of the room a second later, and Darby clapped a hand over her mouth in fright. He looked like vengeance itself, prepared to slaughter his enemies. He had a knife in each hand, and his magic was coiled to strike.
Then, he saw Darby and relaxed a fraction. Confusion marred his features. “What is going on?”
“That is what I would like to know,” Kerrigan said. “Darby?”
Darby’s words came out shaky. “I … I … I don’t understand what you’re doing here.”
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
“Okay,” she said in confusion. Her eyes darted to the door. “I was going to tell you. I just … I wanted to get his stuff first. I wanted to get it done before I left him.”
“Left who?” Fordham demanded.
“Trask,” Darby said as if it made perfect sense.
“You’re leaving Trask?” Kerrigan asked.
Darby nodded. “I decided after I heard your speech. I knew he wasn’t … a good male. I knew that he didn’t care for me. But I wasn’t entirely sure until that night where his loyalties lay. I couldn’t be with someone like that, not when I was … well, when I loved someone else.”
“Clover,” Kerrigan said intuitively.
“Yes. He bragged about the people he worked for, but I never paid much attention. Then, I realized exactly who and what he was. I wanted to get proof for you to hand in to the Society. But the safe is empty.” Darby pointed at it uselessly.
“Wait, are you saying that this is Trask’s study?” Kerrigan asked.
“This is his home,” Darby said. “You didn’t know?”
Kerrigan shot Fordham a look. “That was left out. It was mentioned that he was a Bryonican noble of some note, but I wasn’t given a name.”
“On purpose?” Fordham asked.
Kerrigan bit her lip. Was Valia double-crossing her double cross? The Collector was missing. This was a problem.
“Is there anywhere else he would keep his things?” Kerrigan asked.
“I don’t know,” Darby admitted. “I took this key out of his room while he was occupied in a meeting downstairs. I was going to end it after that.”
“What kind of meeting?” Fordham asked.
Darby shrugged. “Same kind that he normally is in.”
Kerrigan froze. There was a Red Mask meeting happening downstairs at this very moment. That could mean the Collector was still in play. He could have taken it out of the vault to use for the meeting.
“Can you take us to the meeting?” Kerrigan asked. “Somewhere we could listen without being seen?”
“Whatever for?” Darby gasped.
“Wait, you believe her?” Fordham asked.
Kerrigan gestured to Darby. “She is literally trembling. I saw her hands sweat as she unlocked the vault. She was terrified when she found it empty. I didn’t see it for what it was. But her story makes perfect sense.”
“Wait, do you think I’m with him?” Darby asked in alarm. “I would never! I hate him. He’s a horrible person. He’s been sleeping around. And he has despicable loyalties.”
“Worse than that,” Kerrigan said, “he’s a Red Mask.”
“A Red Mask.” Darby shivered. “I’ve never said that out loud.”
“See,” Kerrigan said to Fordham, and he nodded. “He’s actually one of the head Red Masks, I wager. It’s a good thing you’re ending it.”
“I will take you to listen to the meeting. Just … be very quiet. Actually, can you make yourself disappear again?” Darby asked.
Fordham shot her a look. “Disappear?”
“Oh yeah, I got my illusions to work finally,” she told him.
He smirked. “Life-threatening situations only.”
“From what I’ve gathered. But no, I don’t think I could hold it up that long unless I’m in real danger. It’s exhausting.”
Darby nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”
Kerrigan pulled her friend into a hug. “I love you. Go somewhere safe afterward.”
“I will.”
Then, Darby lifted her chin, prepared to go into danger. Kerrigan loved her friend all the more for it.
Kerrigan slipped off her ring again, so she’d have a quick escape if need be, and then followed her into the servant quarters. Kerrigan shot Darby a confused look. “Why do you know about this?”
“It’s a lady’s duty,” she said simply. “I was to run this house. I wanted to know its intricacies. Staff included.”
“You would have made a wonderful mistress,” Kerrigan said.
Darby swallowed and nodded. “I know.”
They meandered through the back corridors of the house until they reached an empty hallway.
“Here,” Darby whispered. She put her finger to her lips and pointed at the doorway from which the help could enter the sitting room. “I’ll keep any servants from this corridor. Good luck.”
Kerrigan pulled her in for a swift hug and then put her eyes to the opening in the doorway. She almost gasped at what she saw inside. She clutched Fordham, and her body went rigid.
Ashby March sat across from Trask.
“Well, March, I can’t say I’m surprised to see you,” Trask said with a laugh, passing him a cigar.
March took it and lit it with a bit of his fire magic. He took a long puff. “Why is that?”
“You know why.”
March’s gaze hardened. “Perhaps you should tell me.”
“You were humiliated by that leatha bitch you’d insisted on marrying,” Trask said with a laugh.
March did not seem amused. His eyes narrowed to slits. Though Kerrigan doubted had less to do with Trask calling her a leatha bitch and more to do with his own humiliation.
“Kerrigan and I were betrothed,” March said darkly.
“And she ran off with a House of Shadows traitor.”
“She was going to help me secure my throne,” he said instead of addressing the rest. “That was all that mattered.”
“I’m glad to hear that. For a second there, I thought you actually cared about her,” Trask said with a full-bellied laugh. As if he couldn’t imagine caring for anyone. Let alone a half-Fae.
It was good that he didn’t see the look that crossed March’s face. Kerrigan despised him with every fiber of her being. Getting out of their engagement was one of the best things she had ever done, but it was blatantly obvious that in his own way, he had cared for her.
Not enough for it to make a difference. Not enough for Kerrigan to feel anything for him back. Not enough for any of it.
He could bluster all he wanted in front of his friend, but his affection for her was obvious.
Fordham’s arm tightened around her possessively. He must have noticed too.
“So, have you changed your mind?” Trask asked.
“What is the benefit of me joining you?”
“You know what is coming. The world is going to be born anew in blood and sacrifice. Those who partner with the Father are going to be the ones on top. You want the throne of Bryonica? He can give that to you. Not some leatha. You won’t have to debase yourself for what is already yours for the taking.”
March clearly liked this line of reasoning. He wanted that throne above all else. Kerrigan had just been the easiest way to get to it.
“And what happens if he loses?”
Trask leaned forward. “He won’t.”
“Anyone can lose.”
“Not when they have this,” Trask said. Then, he reached into his pocket and removed a small disc.
