Chapter 2
J A N E
L ife really does move slowly when shit gets real.
I’m not even sure what possessed me to do this, other than an instinct from all the bar fights and getting in the way of Kathleen if someone threatened her; I could always heal what’s thrown at me.
That’s what I told myself.
A scream tears from the depths of my chest in pure shock. I’ve seen boiled skin before, and even if one recovers… it’s a debilitating injury that haunts someone to the grave.
Shit—fuck. Heal yourself! Now! What do I tend first? What if my hands are too injured? Are they?—
I don’t even have time to process as a fight breaks out; my body coils with white-hot fear. Pain flares at my scalp as I’m quickly pulled down by my hair—which hurts more than my skin—and someone throws a blade so close to my head it might have sheared a few hairs off. Shade barks out furious shouts, something about ‘ruining my skin,’ but I—I can’t feel a thing, except for the cold rain as it hits my face when I’m half-dragged, half-shoved outside through the back door that slams open. Once I’m fully in the street, another shuts the door to lock the rest inside, smacking a bar down to barricade it.
Math. Add. How many outside? Two of them… three are inside with Soren…
I’m trying to maintain balance on my feet to alleviate the searing pain at my roots, but frequently tumble as my feet struggle to keep up with the pace. The sound of a gnarly fight continues in the apothecary, thuds echoing through the wall. Glass shatters, followed by a war cry cut short, and then the sharp clang of metal on metal.
A body even smashes through the window, the man’s throat slit as his head looks half-decapitated.
Not Soren . Please don’t be Soren.
The burning pain ceases from my scalp as my hair is released.I’m then weightless as Shade picks me up from underneath my shoulders, walking backward. Another man secures my legs around his waist, facing forward.
What of the burns?
I try my best to examine the back of Caraham’s, my face flinching as the wooden bar splits open all over the street, the door nearly bursting off its hinges as Soren lunges out of it with heavy panting, his large sword in hand, his eyes locking with mine before I lose him around a corner.
“Oh fuck, he killed Benny, Jack, and Alex! You said he was injured! I told you we shouldn’t do this!” The man who holds my legs yells.
“I bet she fucking healed him,” Shade replies.“We need to throw her in that wagon right behind me!”
I look up, still dazed, still dreading to experience the pain from the boiling water, concerned about moving too much in case there’s fragile skin.
No pain.
I can even see the raindrops right before they fall on my face, as if there’s nothing in the world to distract me. I should be barely able to breathe .
“She isn’t burned,” the other one remarks.
“Good—I’ll get her in, and you hold her down in the back. We’ll ride to the Spiraling Stone. We’ll make it work.”
I stare at the belt of the one that holds my thighs, breathing slowly as the options run through my mind. Soren has men watching, but can I do anything?
“Are there others, Shade?”
“It’s just us,” Shade confesses, his grip under my arms already digging too deeply into my skin, the pain making me wince. “I didn’t want to wait. He was injured, like we needed him. He wasn’t—just hurry the fuck up!”
The thin street clears out, people scattering like clockwork to avoid getting caught up in whatever the hells these men are doing with me; it’s instinctual to duck low and keep out of the way?—
Without warning, the man stops . Shade’s momentum keeps my body moving as I slide out of the other man’s grip, who falls to his knees.
Oh, fuck.
That asshole’s head is sliced clean off.
Shade releases me, pivoting to grip my wrist and then my throat—my airway is immediately constricted, and my wrist fucking hurts .
When our eyes meet, Shade’s intense, rage-filled eyes morph like a skin shifter’s if they could shift emotions; fear consumes him.He looks at my jaw, or the side of it? I’m not sure, but he lets go and just takes off , pushing over a cart of goods behind him as the contents spill out, probably the same one he planned to chuck me in.
Someone is already grabbing underneath my arm, and I flail at being touched, my blood running so hot I can’t feel the cold rain. “Stop flailing like a dying pigeon,” says a voice I know all too well.
I glance up at Bones, his hair wet as rain runs down his face. Blood is splattered all over his outfit, and I look at the decapitated body that spurts out what’s left of the corpse to mix with the rainwater. Bones raises an axe in his other hand, eyeing the crimson liquid on his cold steel. “Shade won’t get far. Don’t worry. We’ll catch that cunt. Have no idea what he’s thinking.”
A woman near us selling oranges yells out, “Oi! Don’t get my fruit bloodied! This street was supposed to be safer than Doggins!”
“He was taking me. Something about seeing an opening with Soren,” I get out through a pant.
Bone’s mismatched eyes flash with a depth of cunning that is usually hidden behind a bedlam personality.Bones completely ignores her, and it’s really the first time I’ve seen him this concentrated. With the way he normally acts, it would be hard to guess someone calculated lives in there.
“Bones, what’s happening?” I ask, searching the area for Soren. “Shade was with Rosmertta . He was a guard there.”
“No fucking idea,” he replies with a gritty tone, looking in the same direction as me. “But let’s get out of the middle of the street. And if Soren doesn’t appear soon, I’m giving the signal, so be ready.”
As it was explained to me, Bones is expected to always appear first, keeping a skirmish to a minimum so I can be extracted with little notice, unless a cue is indicated. I don’t answer him as my hands roam my neck and face. “Am I burned at all?”
He frowns, looking at me like I might have hit my head. “What, no. We have to move.”
“Bones, they threw boiling water on me,” I implore, trying to find any spot that might be blistering.
“Are you sure you’re alright, dying pigeon?”
“I—I guess,” I answer, dumbstruck. “I mean, I guess I am. Okay… okay, let’s go.”
I can figure that out later.
As we step to the side to walk along the walls, a few men move out of the alley adjacent to us, with a rather large one in the very front. Bones is swift to shove me back, releasing me to grab ahold of a second axe on his backside. Another set of hands are on my shoulder right away, and I see it’s someone I don’t know the name of, but I’ve seen their face countless times with Soren.
He’s not alone.
The man who faces Bones is a stranger, clearly aged and beyond his prime, yet still easily matches Soren’s height and thickness. His gray beard is braided and bristly, one eye completely milky. His worn leather contrasts his freshly sharpened steel—the only thing about him that doesn’t look threadbare.
Slowly, a handful of similar men reveal themselves from either alley, all with the same milky eye. With each one that emerges, so does another that belongs to Soren—whether it’s on a rooftop, or from down the street.
“You with Shade, old salty dog?” Bones asks.
He sucks his lip to his graying teeth and spits on the ground. “We’re not with any man that runs as cowardly as him.”
Each word sounds as if it’s been scraped up from the bottom of his chest, finished with a rasping undertone.
“You want to clarify what you want then, or just going to stand there? We got shit to deal with,” Bones says.
“He’ll probably just stand there,” says a new, smoky voice whose warmth contrasts so greatly with this cold weather. “Rorge doesn't have much of a personality. Unless there’s tobacco.”
Many heads turn to look behind us. I notice only Bones continues to face forward while I observe a woman approaching from our backside. At least both her onyx eyes match, standing out against her bronze skin. White streaks line her curly black hair, which is pulled back into a partial bun, the rest of it lying on her shoulders, the rain sitting on it in pebbles. Her leathers are well-fitted, and the blades sheathed along her are purposefully placed. “I’m Donna. Anyway, what Rorge means to say is that it’s time to meet the Scorpion. No more delays. We’ll deal with whatever the hells just happened outside of this. We still need to move.”
So, not related to Shade?
“You can fuck right off if you think I’m trusting you,” I reply with a tight tone, not liking that Soren doesn’t seem to be visible anywhere.
“We’re here to take you to the Scorpion,” she explains, nodding toward us, hands in the pockets of her cloak. “He was unable to fulfill his appearance just now.”
I’m starting to regret thinking that Coalfell was too boring for me. The stress of wondering what is going on, and why there are people staring at me as if I’ll disappear if they blink, is beyond exhausting. Let alone why so many have their left eye completely white, as if they all lost the same sword fight.
Panting, I turn back around, refusing to leave without Soren, or entertain these people for a moment without his input.
There’s so many watching us, but mostly from cracked curtains behind windows. Rumors of this will spread swiftly .
When no one moves, not even Bones, an aching solitude blooms rapidly in my chest as the stillness allows me to feel Soren’s absence?—
“ Soren ,” I breathe out when the brute moves around the corner with a bloodied blade in hand, cloak gone, and his thick chest is on full display. A man trails the Zenith, also seeming to have the same milky eye. The stranger even tries to stop Soren, who scowls almost like an animal defending its space. The violence in his eyes is so different from back at Moore’s Inn with that stupid mayor’s cousin—this is real bloodshed.
Soren’s gaze is all over the wet, dingy street as he strides forward, his body moving in a straight line toward me through the drizzling rain until he’s close enough that his gaze snaps to me, rapidly taking me in, his chest heaving. Bones steps to the side to keep an eye on the street, Rorge clearing his throat in the background like his chest is a rumbling inferno.
Soren touches my face before trailing that hand down to expose the skin on my chest, slightly pulling my tunic side to side. “No burns...” he comments with clear relief. “You don’t feel like you’re in pain, either.”
I didn’t anticipate the way it would make me feel to have someone like him—an impossible bastard to get close to—analyzing my body as if the state of me matters. To feel me out as if my pain might hurt him, too.
“Yeah,” I state, squinting when rain hits my eye, my mind so effortlessly derailed by him. “I don’t know how I’m not burned. I’m glad you’re okay.”
Soren deeply inhales before his hand moves to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as he looks over his shoulder at the world around us. It’s almost instantaneous how his touch calms my anxiety, especially as I’m pressed right up on his warm, exposed skin, breathing in his sweat while he’s protecting me.
“I wouldn’t hold her close like we’re not taking her, Zenith,” Rorge warns, Soren’s hand still firm on my nape. “We are Ritter’s men. We are here to collect her.”
Collect me.
If I wasn’t so damn curious about my father, I’d be more annoyed at how everyone is pulling on me, as if they’ll win a prize for being the one to catch me. At least with Soren, I’ll be able to tell if they’re lying or not.
In all this madness, my heart leans heavily on him, completely trusting that man.
A tightening of his hand on my nape, along with pulling me even closer, feels like an acknowledgment of what I just felt for him.
“Why did he appear and leave?” Soren asks. Despite fighting what I know has to be exhaustion, his voice easily carries through the quiet street as he addresses them.“Is Shade with you? Was that why he took her just now? To take her for the Scorpion?”
“No, we’re just as shocked at that man’s behavior as you are. The Scorpion appeared at first because he thought it was clear,” the woman named Donna answers from behind, and I glance over my shoulder once again. “But then it wasn’t, so he had to abandon plans. It’s been hard to approach Miss Jane without eyes on us. And clearly, they were,” she explains, biting her bottom lip. “Which is why we need to go. Now . Shade coming for her confirms our suspicions that she’s in more danger than ever because he’s not working with us. He’s working with Blackwell .”
Oh, fuck .
“Well, that dumb cunt will be caught shortly, if he hasn’t already been.” Irritation is undeniable in Soren’s tone. “I want the smoke and mirrors over with, so get us out of these damn streets.”
My heart nearly launches out of my chest at hearing we’re doing this. “Are they actually here for him?” I quietly ask Soren. “Can you feel that they’re with my dad? This isn’t a trap?”
“They’re all stained with his energy,” Soren confirms, an edge in his tone that keeps me apprehensive. “Nothing about this feels like an illusion.”
The old, leaden man who first confronted us grunts. “Your troupe can follow, but if they get in the way, we will create a barrier. Scorpion’s orders.”
Emotions hit through me like a barrel being slung around on a stormy, craggy coastline. My dad gave orders to protect me, too? I… I don’t even have words for what’s happening inside of me. Since when do I have so many people in my life who care this much?
Except for Kathleen… my racing heart calms. I cannot let my emotions get the best of me when she’s probably still at Rosmertta’s. I need a steady head on my shoulders if I’m to help her.
“Kathleen is at Rosmertta’s. It’s not safe,” I quietly remark.“Someone has to get her.”
“The men with me will have taken care of that.”
I glance at his chest. “Really? She’s a part of your plans?”
“Kathleen is a target of manipulation for you. She’s heavily watched and guarded.”
Oh, that makes sense.
Without much transition, the lot of us move like a current; it’s an awkward integration of who walks where and what formation we take. Soren’s grip loosens on me, but his hand still remains on my back. If I wasn’t certain that he was feeling out every damn corner, I would be more dubious. But he can feel the energy of the environment, right? Surely his powers will hint at something being wrong?
He didn’t sense Shade, though. Or did he? Is it the blood loss getting to him?
As we pass through the alleys, I notice the same people trail alongside as well in other streets, and I imagine if I were a bird to fly above, I’d see an amalgamation of people all moving in the same direction, wherever we’re going. I’m now paying attention to any abnormalities, or patterns, that could indicate a signal. How will Soren’s men know if they’re needed? They can’t all fit in the narrow alleys. Does he have enough?
Then again, I barely know a thing about how this world works as an adult. And now, after an agonizing era of silence and boredom in my life, two very accomplished Zenith are crossing lines, over me .
Best face on, Jane. It’s time to see Dad.