Nevermore (The Never Sky #2)

Chapter 16

16

I woke drenched in sweat, my stomach churning. Rushing to the bathroom, I barely had time to sink onto the cold floor before I was violently sick. I knew it wasn’t real, but the body remembers what the mind tries to forget; every touch, every word, every tear shed because of the Cimmerians. My skin was stained by their touch, and every inch of me wanted to crawl out of my own body, my own reality, and escape.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up from the bathroom floor, ignoring how my legs felt weak beneath me. I rinsed my mouth and splashed water on my face and neck. The icy chill helped soothe the fire, dousing the remnants of Serene’s intoxicating power.

Dressed in Thorne’s shirt once again, I padded back to the bed. Each shadow cast by the moonlight filtering through the window heightened my alertness. My mind was teetering, caught between the aftermath of Lithe and the lingering nightmares of my imprisonment.

My plan wasn’t fully formed yet, but waiting around was becoming more and more difficult. Another night passed. If I stayed with Thorne, he’d only draw the prince closer. Whatever crime ring they were running was none of my business, but the last thing I needed was the trouble bound to come with it. I’d sooner go back to Death’s court and spend eternity knowing I failed the realms, than return to the Maw.

Last night, before I’d fallen asleep, I decided I couldn’t just ask him where the Hollow was. He was far too smart, and he’d ask questions I couldn’t answer. I didn’t need him to question me more than he already was. As long as I was stuck in this world, I needed an ally. And though I wouldn’t be sharing the whys of it, I’d be using him for as long as I could. I had time. I could wait a few days if I had to. Let him settle into a routine with me around before I started following him and figuring it out on my own.

After years of learning hard lessons on the rotting streets of Requiem, I would not, could not, easily trust a single living soul. One could only be burned so many times before the flames no longer hurt, and all that remained were the cold, hollow ashes of what had been. I would not lose myself to the fire again.

I considered using my power to get back to where I’d met the eerie boy that first day. Following the instructions to the Hollow just as he’d given them, but the first time I’d followed them, they’d led me to murder, prison and torture that haunted me. The second time had led me to Tithe. Forcing a different kind of torture onto me.

I pulled the blanket up, staring at the bedside table. My fingers brushed against the worn edge of the small golden book sitting there. Unclasping the latch, I flipped the cover open to find the number two still etched on the top of the page. Below it, a new message from Thorne had appeared.

Paesha,

I set a glass of water outside your door.

The nightmares will fade,

Thorne

I slipped the pencil free and considered writing something witty back. But I was exhausted, and playing this game with him was only a distraction from my escape.

Thank you.

Beyond the door, on a simple little tray, was a glass of water and three small books. I spent the rest of the night curled up on the chair, reading about a woman that rode dragons and fought in battles and died beside the man she never said ‘I love you’ to.

The warm rays of the morning sun cut through the cold draft in the room, gently stirring me from my state of half awake, half asleep. I stretched languidly, feeling the aftereffects of last night’s reading adventure in the stiffness of my neck and shoulders.

The scent of fresh bread filled the air, drawing me like an invisible tether. Navigating through the hall and down the stairs, I passed ornate paintings with intricate patterns and faded portraits of men and women whose eyes followed me with cold indifference. I casually slid the lower left corner of one of the frames to the side as I walked by, leaving it tilted.

The dining room was near the front door, down a small hall beyond the staircase. I found it easily, following that tether as if it were my power luring me to food. Thorne was seated at a large mahogany table with a simple breakfast laid out. He hadn’t seen me come in yet, too consumed by the paper he gripped like a lifeline in his hands.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence, and he slowly lowered the paper, staring at me through his round glasses, eyes falling to the hem of his shirt on my bare legs. I stepped into the room, snagging a piece of toast and sitting at the opposite end of the table.

“Paesha darling. Did you happen to switch the two paintings at the top of the stairs around last night?”

Sliding a pad of butter across my toast, I grinned. “I might’ve.”

He said nothing more, raising his newspaper again, though I could see the white of his knuckles and it brought me an odd sense of joy. After several pieces of toast and a small bowl of fruit, three crisp knocks rattled the front door.

Thorne didn’t move. So we sat there in silence, listening to the next three knocks followed by one more and then Archer’s voice. “It’s colder than Farris’s balls out here, Thorne. Open up.”

I bit back the smile as the brooding man at the head of the table lowered his paper again with a sigh, as if his world were filled with petulant children. Maybe it was. He slid his glasses to the tip of his nose to pin me with a look. “Will you be changing soon, so we can let our guests in, or shall we see how long it takes them to leave?”

I slid my chair back and stood, walking down the side of the table, before reaching all the way across to snag his steaming coffee and bring it to my lips, letting the shirt rise as far as possible on my bare thighs. “Open the door, darling . It’s rude to keep our guests waiting.”

The challenge in his eyes was unwavering as he also stood, plucking the coffee from my hands and placing it back in the exact spot I’d taken it from. He even twisted the handle.

With a subtle but deliberate turn, he moved toward the door. The winter breeze slipped into the hall, carrying with it a rush of crisp, invigorating air that licked my legs. I waited patiently, knowing the worst thing I could do to Thorne was remain standing until the company came in. They’d make their own assumptions, but as far as most were concerned, we were newlyweds. Besides, everyone had legs. It’s not like I had my chest on full display. I looked down to confirm the buttons were secure as Harlow, Archer, and a rather rakish man stepped in. Harlow led the trio, her golden hair dancing around her shoulders like a blazing halo.

Without much preamble, they claimed their positions around the table. Harlow seated herself elegantly beside Thorne, her dress pooling around her in a wash of midnight blues and starlight silvers. Archer lounged on the chair next to mine, his boots stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

The third man was a tall, thinly built figure with an air of intensity. His brown eyes were deep set, shrouded in shadows. He had an uncanny resemblance to a hawk. Maybe this was the Lord of the Salt.

They’d come in dressed in finery and layers of clothing to keep them warm. It wasn’t until Thorne looked at me and then my chair that I remembered I was still standing there, in nothing but a shirt.

As I took my seat, Archer nudged me. “Nice shirt.”

I sat back casually, lifting a strawberry just to give my hands something to do. “I had so many choices this morning, I couldn’t decide.”

Thorne casually rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt until I was sure the width of his massive forearms would tear the stitching. “What my wife means to say is that she needs to go shopping. Harlow.”

Harlow straightened in her chair. Only then did I realize she’d been staring at the third man. “You can drop the act, no need for pretend names. Everyone here knows the truth.”

Archer tossed a grape into his mouth. “Harlot here told Wee Willy on the way over.”

“Archie!” she squealed. “Don’t call him that.”

“It’s fine, Har,” the third man said. He turned to face me, holding out a hand. “I’m Willard.”

It was the softest handshake I’d ever had from a man. “Nice to meet you. I’m Paesha.”

“Lovely.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see red bloom across Harlow’s pale cheeks. I promptly pulled my hand from Willard’s. I knew that color, that lingering gaze of hers.

“Indeed,” Thorne responded, his eyes leveling on mine. “My wife has a unique charm.”

There was no mistaking the soft emphasis on my fictitious title, the quiet assertion meant only for me. The small hum of amusement from Archer told me he hadn’t missed it either. “Speaking of unique charms,” Harlow began, looking back to Thorne. “I’m happy to take Paesha to get a new dress, but I have something to drop off at the Hollow before we can do that. And then she’ll have to find her way back. We have that thing later.”

The room fell into a tense silence at the mention of the Hollow. I kept my face calm and collected, when really I wanted to leap from my chair. I knew Thorne had been connected to the Hollow somehow, but this was all I needed. And I didn’t have to wait to get it.

Thorne gave Harlow a look, dark brows knitted in confusion. “What thing?”

“It’s the seventh,” Archer said, pulling a coin from his pocket, letting it dance over the top of his knuckles as he expertly juggled it.

The room was silent for a moment, acknowledging without words that whatever they meant to do, I was not privy to know. Thorne managed to cover his surprise with a nod, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Ah, right, the seventh.”

Whatever ‘the seventh’ meant, it was important, and I’d bet my death it was related to the Hollow. Thorne rose from the table, carefully folded the newspaper exactly where the creases had been, and tucked it under his arm. “I’ve got to do the books for the Parlor today. I can try to find Tuck.”

“No need. I’ll go with the twins and be the third, Thorne. No problem,” Willard said, rising from the table.

“Great,” Thorne turned to me. “Will you be wearing my shirt to the Hollow, wife?”

I ran my finger around the rim of my glass, wondering if it was a good time to push his buttons or leave him alone. I couldn’t jeopardize my invitation, but if I seemed too eager, he’d get curious. “Would that be frowned upon?”

Deep hazel eyes narrowed on me. Thorne ignored Archer’s snort as he turned and left. I followed suit, heading to my room to throw on the dress I’d stolen after my prison escape.

I quickly braided my hair and slipped into the boots that were a little too big. And though I debated it, I snagged Thorne’s golden pocketbook on the way out the door. This was it. The single thing I’d been waiting for since being dropped into this godforsaken realm. Should I truly find the path home today, maybe I could send him a message just to let him know he didn’t need to pretend anymore.

Somehow, the biting cold didn’t hurt my face so much today. I crept into the carriage beside Archer, watching him flip his coin through the air while he whistled. Harlow sat a little closer to Willard than necessary. No one spoke though. As we rode together, each block carrying us closer to my freedom, I couldn’t help counting the minutes. Picturing Quill's eyes light up when she saw me. Sitting in Thea’s bedroom and telling her everything that happened.

Through the winding streets of the crowded city, nestled within its heart, sat a building of no great consequence. Crumbling brick plagued the southern side, and though worn, it boasted the same walls as all the others. If I didn’t look close enough, the spires along the buildings and history worn into the walls might’ve tricked my mind into believing I was surrounded by ancient castles and not a dangerous city. Anyone strolling by paid the building no mind at all, but I supposed that was the point if it housed a secret portal out of this world.

Archer and Willard hopped out of the carriage and walked around the building, but Harlow remained at my side. She looked nothing like the prim, proper woman I’d met at Lithe, nor the leather clad thief orchestrating prison breaks. Now she was hardened, shrewd. Like a mother protecting her babe. The many faces she wore were interesting. I knew women like her. I was one. If you wear a thousand masks, no one will know the real version of you.

“Beyond this point, anything you see or hear is not to be repeated. We need to know we can trust you.” Harlow moved to stand in front of me, her hands on her hips, her mud-soaked clothes dry and stiff.

“Trust is for lovers and fools,” I said. My eyes flicked over to the seemingly innocuous building. “And I’m neither. Take it or leave it.”

She stared for several moments contemplating, though it was clear she’d already made up her mind about me. And if she hadn’t, it didn’t matter, because Thorne had. At least on some level, or he would have tried to keep me from coming. Harlow wasn’t in charge, and that’s all I needed to know. But then maybe Thorne wasn’t in charge either and they all worked for the Lord of the Salt.

“Okay, well, this is the Hollow. The door on the south wall is always unlocked unless there’s something major happening. I know it’s not much, but the Salt can come here for food or shelter.” She beat three times on the door, waited a second, and knocked once more.

“What? No secret handshake to learn? Disappointing really.”

Her answer was a soft snort as the heavy door swung open, revealing a tall, round man with a curly brown mustache. His smile lit his whole face as he melted for Harlow. “Miss Harlow,” he said with a chuckle, scanning her from head to toe. “Did you find it?”

“I left it in the carriage for you. It’s pretty heavy.”

He wiped his hands on the apron hanging loosely around his neck and not tied in the back as if he’d been about to take it off, and answered the door instead. “The best pots always are.” His eyes flicked to mine. “Who’s your friend?”

“Paesha, Jasper. Jasper, Thorne’s new wife.”

She flourished her hand between us and the man’s smile widened. “Quite the looker, aren’t you?”

“Well, aren’t you charming?” I crooned, slipping into the role of a dainty woman.

He stepped to the side, cheeks blooming red. “Come in out of this cold while I get things settled. There’s breakfast.”

“Welcome to the Hollow,” Harlow said, pushing the door to welcome me inside.

The smell of old wood and slowly simmering stew drew me in beyond the warmth. The Hollow lived up to its name as a cavernous expanse that swallowed the meager light streaming from the few scattered lamps. The large room was sparsely but practically furnished with cots of various sizes arranged in rows. They likely weren’t comfortable, but they were better than sleeping in an alley and each had a nicely folded blanket on top.

Several people surrounded a wooden table dominating the center of the room. Laden with a large spread of food, the ambiance reminded me of the Syndicate from Requiem; a patchwork group of people just doing their best to help others and make life a little easier in a harsh world.

My boots echoed softly against the worn floorboards as I shuffled forward, noting first an upstairs balcony that overlooked the enormous room, hinting at a private second level. I turned to find Harlow ruffling a child’s hair as he held a bowl up to her with a toothless grin. She knelt, taking the bowl and sharing a secret with the boy before he trampled off.

I thought back to Tithe, to watching Archer steal to save the woman with the children. Then to Lithe, watching Harlow steal again. They were dressed in finery, as was Thorne, so they hadn’t given away their livelihoods. They’d maintained it as a mask, allowing them to steal from the Silk and give to the Salt. They were heroes, in their own way. The Hollow was not a portal. It was a shelter.

But why here? Why had the God of godly things and a thousand names sent me here? From what I’d gathered, the Lord of the Salt was being hunted by the prince. Even Thorne wanted him caught. He’d goaded the prince about it. How was he to be the missing piece to this entire journey?

I sat at the long table, feeling my stomach sink into my toes. Everything I thought I knew, everything I’d hoped for was wrapped up in an assumption. And clearly I’d been wrong. There was no magic here. No portal unseen. No gossip about separate worlds or traveling between them. There was nothing here. And now, I had no plan at all, other than hunting for the Lord of the Salt and praying it was more successful than finding the Hollow. However, the Hollow had to be part of the equation.

I could leave. But where would I go? Someone here had to know something. Talk was cheap when people lacked entertainment and this was a honeypot of Salts. I needed to only consider my words and actions while watching them all. Listening to the Salt, but more so, watching the Silk. I had one motive. One goal. It wasn’t being a charity case or a wife, but if that was the path promised in the bargain, then I’d trample down it with a hell hound’s fury and a dancer’s grace.