“You’re really are going to have to make up your mind pretty soon about what to do,” I said. “As for me, tonight I’m going to check out a clue to Roche’s whereabouts.”
“You want company?” Menolly asked. “I’d be glad to go with you.”
“Me too,” Delilah added. “I could use a night on the town.”
I scrambled onto a flat boulder and crossed my legs, trying to think of a way to say no without making them suspicious. “Maybe…but don’t you have class tonight, Menolly?”
She grunted. Menolly attended a twice-weekly intensive workshop for acrobats and gymnasts in the agency to keep in shape. “Yeah. Thanks for reminding me.”
“And somebody better be home to eat dinner with Father. You know how he gets about family meals.” I glanced over at Delilah. She rolled her eyes but nodded. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry. Jahn’s helping me.” A little white lie, though technically Jahn had helped me. Or at least he’d tried to.
Menolly darted a quick glance my way. “Jahn? Don’t tell me you’re taking up with that lecher? He’s been after you since you first hit womanhood.”
I grinned at her. “Better not let Father hear you talk about Jahn that way. He thinks the man can do no wrong, and frankly, there are far worse businesses than being a nightclub and brothel owner. At least he treats the women under his roof with care and compassion. But you’re right. He’s been after me for a long time. He’s not my type, though. He’s sweet, but…no…” Jahn paled in comparison to Trillian.
Delilah swung out of the tree, landing next to me. She kept her distance from the lake. Like a typical cat, my sister didn’t like water at all. When she was little, it had taken all of our mother’s threats of taking away her toys and pets to get her to bathe. She still viewed bath time as punishment rather than pleasure.
She gazed over the water as the wind rustled the grass across the lea. “Do you think we’ll still be doing this in ten years? Will we all still be single, working for the agency, living with Father?” She sounded almost wistful.
“I don’t know,” Menolly said, pushing herself to her feet. “I think I’m ready for change. Something different, you know? I feel like we’re marking time. Maybe I’ll marry Keris. Have children.”
She’d been dating our neighbor for several months and things were heating up. He was Fae, but he didn’t care about her half-human blood or that she also loved women. They’d recently started talking in terms of the future.
As I slid off the rock to stand beside them, something in the wind sent a shiver racing down my back. I closed my eyes, listening to the energy. A low rumble of static ran through the astral as a dark cloud rolled across my inner vision, reeking with the scent of fresh blood and flame and fear. As I stiffened, the echo of a shriek—long and drawn-out as if from far in the distance—washed over me. I staggered under the wave of malevolence and fell to my knees, forcing my eyes open.
“What? What’s wrong?” Menolly knelt beside me.
I glanced at her, then up at Delilah. All of the joy had drained out of the day, and the sun seemed harsh instead of nurturing. I shook my head. Though I didn’t understand it, the premonition had left me shaken and afraid.
Sometimes my magic went awry, and sometimes my foresight was blurred. But this…This energy had crossed my grave. And I knew in my heart that—perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow—but that in the near future something was going to happen. Something we weren’t ready for, and wouldn’t welcome. Change was in the air, all right.
The market was a lot more risky at night when the thieves and muggers came out of the woodwork. Underage whores worked the crowds—runaways and orphans who were too afraid to brave the countryside where they might be able to hunt and forage for their food.
Pickpockets slid through the throngs, looking for easy marks. Vampires occasionally roamed the streets, looking to put the bite on someone. The vamps were the most dangerous. Most of the bloodsuckers lost their consciences after a while, falling to their inner predator. Our father hated vamps—he’d witnessed his cousin being killed by one and barely escaped with his own life. The bloody memory stayed with him.
I stood at the front entrance to the Marketplace, scanning the faces, looking for Trillian. I’d dressed to impress, a black sparkling bustier over a spidersilk skirt the color of a peacock’s feathers. A pair of leather gloves covered my hands, in black, up to the elbows. I’d worn a pair of my mother’s shoes—odd, high-heeled sandals made from leather with spiked heels and delicate straps. She’d had the same size feet as I did, and I’d claimed her shoe collection, since none of her clothes would fit me. I had also tucked her wedding dress away in my closet, secure in a wooden trunk filled with moth-repelling sachets. I was saving it for when Menolly got married—she’d fit in it no problem.
Now, I cautiously maneuvered over the cobblestones, sticking close to the entrance, hoping the Svartan wouldn’t stand me up. But just as I was about ready to leave, there he was, dressed in black tunic and trousers, a silhouette gliding through the street, silver hair bound in a braid, a smile on his face.
Trillian reached out his hands and I took them, my heart jumping a beat. I pressed in, kissed him deeply and he returned the fire with his own.
“You came,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“I promised. Did you think I’d space out?” I gazed into his eyes and saw a flicker of confusion. “Idiom from my mother’s world. You really didn’t think I’d come, did you?” Could he be as nervous as I was?
“I didn’t know. To be honest, I haven’t been able to think of anything else today. The image of your face haunts me.”
I smiled, feeling unaccountably happy. But all I said was, “Is Roche here?”
And then, he was all business again. Trillian tugged my hand, pulling me behind him. “Yes, he is. Follow me and be careful. Did you bring something to bind him with should we catch him?”
“Right here.” I touched the shoulder pouch hanging from my right arm. Inside, I had several things that could stop Roche, short of a bodyguard or a mage. The agency didn’t know I carried them, or they’d take them away. But my sisters and I had accumulated a trunk filled with goodies that bordered on illegal. We figured we needed the advantage, given our faulty powers.
In my bag, among other things, I’d tucked a pair of iron handcuffs, careful not to touch them with bare skin. Not only were they iron, but they were bespelled with confusion magic, guaranteed to knock any Fae on his butt.
Torture device? Yeah…the iron would burn his skin until he was locked up and they were removed. But considering Roche’s crimes, I wasn’t exactly feeling merciful. In fact, Delilah thought I was an ogre for using them, while Menolly just gave me a knowing look. But I was rapidly learning that the only way to win with the YIA was to play down and dirty.
I also had a bottle of pixie dust that I’d picked up at the flea market. Guaranteed to turn anybody who breathed it into a klutz. And resting next to the handcuffs and the pixie dust was a scroll that I’d spent a lot of money on. The magic was deadly, and if I broke open the wax seal on the charm and inserted Roche’s name into the spell as I read it, he’d never walk this world again.
Death magic was more common than anybody wanted to admit. I didn’t like using it—there was something too familiar, too enticing about it, but with his track record I wasn’t about to leave my ass uncovered. The best of circumstances would leave me holding the death charm for a different time, but it felt good to have a little insurance tucked away.
Trillian led me along a winding path through the maze of carts and awnings and tents and canopies. We passed by the stalls of dancing girls and whores, of junkies and beggars sleeping it off by the edge of the road. Trillian paid them no attention, but my gaze flickered to the faces as we passed.