Chapter 16
J A N E
D ad doesn’t shift a single inch of his posture.
“Do we run?” I ask Donna, since she knows of the Basilisk. She’s flitting her gaze between the two men, like she’s waiting for a verdict. And just like Bones in the alleyway, Donna’s sociable mien is replaced with a cutthroat glare.
“No,” the Scorpion replies.
“Sir, I don’t trust this,” Donna presses with a low tone.
The golden-eyed man tilts his head to the side when he can’t be but ten feet away, looking at us with an unnerving intensity that confuses what I should feel; this is a man who trained Soren .
That absolutely fascinates me.
But I am also uncomfortable with the fact that Soren hasn’t spoken to him in fifteen years. That’s a lot of time for loyalties to sway, especially harboring the warnings Donna gave about him.
Many clear the space around Basilisk, and some don’t even look up to notice his eyes. The weaponry and armor speak for itself. When Basilisk stops approaching, he languidly blinks before looking at my dad. “You’re unusually readable.”
“What?” my father asks.
Oh, Soren never confirmed Basilisk was a Sensor , too. I bet Dad doesn’t know. Did Soren say it was a secret? I don’t remember.
The golden gaze shifts to me, and I feel the weight of it like it’s a physical thing. He studies me as if trying to solve a very important puzzle as the sound of clacking hooves is behind us, fucking finally. It shouldn’t be much longer before that bridge is cleared.
Basilisk gives his attention to my dad once more. “You know, I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately. And her .” He finally flashes a faint, crooked grin, the act indenting the laugh lines around his mouth and scruff. “It’s fascinating to see the rumors don’t disappoint.”
My heart nearly bursts out to the point I worry I might have to catch it.
“You don’t leave your lands anymore,” Dad replies. “Not unless there’s something that calls for your personal touch. And that’s more rare than the shadow cat that follows you. So why the fuck are you here, and why are you confronting us? You’re supposed to be in the Crimson Isles.”
A… what follows him?
His gaze moves behind us, but I don’t pivot an inch, in case it’s to get us to look over our shoulders. “I think I’m on the right path.” He steps forward to avoid being accidentally bumped into without looking behind him.“I’ve got a skin shifter in the Crimson Isles dressing up as me. Seemed worth the effort. It’s quite difficult to find one of you.”
A feline walks behind him; the cat bigger than any house cat, its eyes as bright gold as his. I swear a faint wisp shrouds the cat that mimics hair when underwater. “Aren’t you curious, Jane, about the spreading word surrounding your name?”
Donna steps slightly in front of me, and my father remains stolid, like he did when meeting Soren.
“Nope. Not one bit,” I say before thinking, just wanting him to move on.
His eyes narrow on me, and he grunts, “Doubt it. A lot of chaos has spun up around you. You’re the topic of many conversations.”
I—is he right? Well, I mean, I’m sure the villagers are all talking. Those at Ern’s Tavern no doubt spread that word like a disease, and I suppose those at the Spiraling Stone are possibly talking. The Noirs, even.
Shit.
My breathing quickens, licking my dry lips as all I want to do is flee. I hate this feeling that Skull’s Row creates, like bugs crawling underneath my skin.
Basilisk’s molten, golden eyes harden. “When that last carriage has crossed, you’ll want to run.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I nearly nudge my father when all he does is stand there. I steal a peek at the line of carriages, only three more still having to make their way over. What are we waiting for, actually? We can just cross around those people. We’re definitely not the first ones to break the rules around here.
“He’s one of the best swordsmen out there,” Dad quietly warns, although I don’t hear any tone of being impressed. “Don’t engage with him in the slightest, Jane. Or run without word. This is dangerous .”
“I’m trying to leave, not engage.”
“You can’t see it, but that raven from earlier is on the other side of that bridge and has yet to caw. We are not to cross until we hear it.”
“What if that cat ate it to distract us, or something else happened to it? We could be waiting for nothing.”
Basilisk notices I motioned to his feline, who rubs against his leg, its long, pointy ears pulled back in an expression I don’t know how to read, given Mom was allergic to cats. “I don’t suggest speaking about my cat in front of me when I can’t hear what you’re saying about her,” Basilisk says.
My mouth parts, about to ask if he’s serious, when he replies, “Oh, I’m very serious. The last person to do that had their skull turned into a bowl for Jasmine to eat out of.”
The cat’s head perks to the side, rubbing its head on his leg at what has to be in a response to him saying its name.
A blade manifests from Dad’s sleeve, some onlookers giving us slightly more space, but no one is concerned—if anything, they’re all focused on staying away from the golden-eyed man. “Idle threats are not being disregarded. So if you want to threaten us, use your fucking words and let us know if this is going to get bloody or not.”
“Good to see you’re taking this seriously,” Basilisk replies, his gilded gaze looking over our shoulders. “People are looking for her, and that’s the last carriage. Your raven is about to—” he tilts his head as a raven caws. He scrunches his nose. “I would definitely run .”
As soon as the bird makes its sound, Dad’s entire energy morphs into action as his hand is on my back, glancing down at me. “ Now .”
He guides me to the rocky bridge, and I find a pace between running and walking without hesitation, still wondering what the fuck Basilisk wants while being happy to be away from another Sensor. I can only take so much of that kind of invasion from another. And it’s the wrong man .
Donna yells from behind, “Sir, that’s not good news. Every rumor surrounding him suggests he’s here for her .”
Well .
She could have told me that.
“Cypress said to move when the raven cawed, so that’s what we’re sticking to. If she didn’t see Basilisk,” he takes in a deep breath, “Then she would have appeared in one way or another just now. We ignore him.”
The earrings dangle at my earlobes, the sensation so abnormal and distracting, just like the wind at the nape of my neck. Knowing what Cypress told me, I do believe that she lives to serve her god. Which means, for better or worse, my safety is her priority; until she’s done using me.
Crossing the bridge is a terrifying experience, a slight draft tugging at my cloak that whips up from the abyss below. The rope slightly sways like masts on a ship, and I keep focusing on placing one foot in front of the next.
“ FASTER !” Donna shouts. “Ropes are falling. Don’t look back!”
My legs pump on command; I had this discussion with more than one person that if I’m given an order of urgency, the extra second to question it could cost everything .
There’s zero hesitation as I run like I’m back in a flaming Coalfell, so I can finally turn around…
Commotion greets me on the other side of the bridge, many of the onlookers shouting and covering their mouths; a lot of expletives. Panting with burning lungs, I finally see one of the wooden pillars is hanging sideways, its rope severed so it eerily dangles down into nothingness.
My dad and Donna make it across, my subsequent exhale carrying so much relief.
I rub one of my eyes when it appears that the Basilisk starts crossing the bridge, walking confidently as his cat follows his wake. The man swings his long sword to lop at each pole, the ropes releasing as the straw-bound barrier slowly collapses, covering the bridge in ruin. People scream with fury, many starting to cross the bridge from behind, weapons drawn, only for one of the men to get caught in the ropes, then scream in terror as he’s sent over the edge. I watch in abject awe and incredulity to see one completely plummet down into the darkness—not as lucky to get caught in the ropes as the others—his screams echoing far beyond when he’s last visible. The surviving ones swing and dangle, their pillar of support already cracking under their collective weight as they scramble to get back on the bridge.
The screaming from the blackness is abruptly quieted.
So much shouting, screaming, and chaos erupts. The Basilisk continues forward with more confident swipes of his sword, a few on our side debating on who will move forward to challenge him first. “That’s a shadow cat! Their fangs have venom. You got an antidote?”
“I swear to the fucking sirens that’s the Basilisk. I’m not going first!”
Just as quickly as they were to get lost in an uproar, the people start scattering like mice as Basilisk crosses beyond halfway.
Then it hits me—“The others,” I urge, knowing that we’re one of the first to cross, if not the first. “How will they cross?”
My father’s arm is placed in front of my chest, slowly nudging me to keep moving. “We get you to the ship. That’s the priority.”
“The others ,” I reiterate, not willing to leave Soren.
Ern’s eyes are sterner than I’ve ever seen them, the display distracting me because he looks so much like my father even though his actual face hasn’t changed. “If Soren can’t figure this shit out, then he’s not worthy of you—” fear displaces stringency as Dad looks across the bridge. “I sense a Zenith. It’s not Soren.”
“I said to run! ” Basilisk bellows, his deep voice echoing over the crevice.
Dad urges me forward, genuine concern emanating from him like heat from a forge. The three of us break into a sprint, feet pounding against uneven stone as we navigate through a crowd of people.
“If the Zenith are down here,” Donna manages out, her voice uneven from all the rushing, “They could be up top, too… and Basilisk… just cut off the main escape route.”
Oh.
Shit.
It doesn’t stop me, though. Dad is right that Soren will be relying on us to act as directed. At least, I hope so.
I hope he’s not stuck.
We’re on a hurried path for so long that my ability to pump my legs starts to fail me, my lungs burning so much it brings tears to my eyes. A sharp, aching stab in my side begins to slow me down. I’m out of shape .
And then, the stairs . They appear in maddening bursts—a short, steep set here, another long winding one there. It’s good that we’re moving up, but damn, this is more than I’ve moved in a long time, and my calves are even starting to protest. The stony ceiling is slowly getting lower, too, bringing on claustrophobia.
Glancing at Donna, she moves with precision, but even her breaths come hard and fast. Dad moves like a man possessed, his focus unbreakable.
Donna’s gaze finds mine when I keep looking around, my head growing dizzy. “Keep moving,” she commands, her face slick with sweat.
One more step.
One more set of stairs…
It seems to happen all at once.
Without any clear source of enemies, Dad’s primary blade is removed from behind his back, countering an attack from someone charging at us through an alley. Scraping metal and grunts surge a new round of adrenaline through me. Donna has both her short swords out in a flash, fighting off her own assailants.
Metal pierces flesh, blood splattering all over. Some wounds are of my people, and other, more fatal ones, are inflicted on those who pounced.
Quickly, I’m the only one without any injury.
My short sword is in my hand, although I know I have to be careful. I’m not trained; the stint with Bones was for last-minute muscle memory, not to train in the offensive.
Watching my father fight is terrifying, both in how easily he cuts through others and how much I can’t stand when there’s a close call. I’ve seen this happen all too many times, and I know all it takes is one misstep, one exhausted raise of an arm that’s too slow…
Balancing staying out of the way and wanting to keep these men off of my father is made impossible when one attacker’s eyes lock with mine. I grip my sword but then loosen it as I hear Bones in my mind: You’re not your father or Donna. Barrel roll your ass around until they’re tired .
Okay, evasion.
The man comes near me, sidestepping when one of the fights nearly takes him out, my father glancing our way—it’s enough to embolden me.
Don’t worry about me, Dad. I can heal my wounds if this gets nasty.
Whether he can feel that or not, I’m not certain, but if his powers are anything like Soren’s, then maybe he can tell I’m at least confident, which seems like half the battle.
I step back on the street, trying to glance at his footing when possible. “You’re wanted alive, woman. Don’t make us fight you.”
“Best I can do is dead.”
He snarls, falsely lunging at me, to which I immediately pounce back, smiling with certainty. The three days with Bones were for something , then.
Terror streaks through the man’s bloodshot eyes before he takes a few steps back, focused on something behind me—a golden-eyed brute moves unnaturally quick, a long sword pulverizing the man through his chest as he turns around to try and run away, which slices down through his abdomen. He collapses, Basilisk raising a blade with one hand that I couldn’t lift with two. The cat named Jasmine gently struts over and starts drinking the blood as if the freshness is a delicacy.
My father comes near, my heart racing when I try to look for who he was fighting—four dead bodies are strewn about the street, Donna removing her blade from the neck of a fifth one. Dad is covered in blood, panting like how I was on those steps. “You a fucking enemy or what?” Dad asks Basilisk, wiping his face with his forearm, blood smearing.
It’s odd how quickly I’ve associated Ern’s more ragged face with my father’s identity.
“Usually depends on who's paying and who has offended me. Presently, I’m not your enemy,” Basilisk replies, wiping his blade on the dark cloak of a dead man, seemingly unbothered by Donna’s glare as she still grips her weapons like she’s ready to fight him.
“You ruined that bridge,” I say, and he slowly looks down at me.
“Saw that, did you?” His words are as saturated in sarcasm as he wipes the dead man’s clothes with his blade.
“ Others needed that bridge.” Meeting his gaze is unnerving, knowing what he can feel within me.
“There are other exits; they just have worse things than Misery’s lapdogs haunting them,” he coolly replies. “We need to keep moving.”
So, he knows of Misery?
“Why are you helping?” Dad asks.
“I owe someone a favor. You’d be surprised what debts can make a man do, including traveling across dangerous seas and returning to a home he’d rather leave behind.”
“I don’t trust you,” Donna replies through tight lips, her stance still aggressive, her shoulder shoving into someone who is too busy staring at one of the bodies, asking who is going to clean this up. “You better share your damn good reason for being near us. Someone like you doesn’t owe favors like these.”
“Poor timing for trust issues,” Basilisk replies, clearly unfazed, spinning his finger. “Like I said, let’s keep moving.”
“I don’t know what the fuck he wants,” Dad says, glancing at Donna, “but everything about his aura is clean. We need to hit Third Row’s tunnel system if we want to be topside in time.”
Basilisk’s eyes gleam. “No can do. It’s infested with Blackwell’s men.” He motions to a street that’s darker than the rest, and much less traveled. “We need to go there, and follow the claw markings in the walls. Should spill us out near the ports.”
Jasmine meows, leaving little bloody paw prints as she stalks around, strutting down to where her master just pointed.
Donna laughs, some blood staining the spaces between her teeth. “You hear this dumbass? Follow him through the Grapnel?”
My eyes widen when I finally piece together what he’s propositioning. Threats of places like the Grapnel were made whenever I’d demand to come down here as a kid; scratch marks are all along those corridors, like grapnel being thrown and then digging into the sides.
Creatures make those marks.
“Once you’re done pissing your pants, we can get moving,” Basilisk replies. “They’re creatures of the ocean, coastal really, and Tempest is waiting on us. They’ll leave us alone.”
“You’re with Tempest,” Dad states, more than asks.
“I’m aiding her cause, which is to get Miss Jane to her ship. They’ll let us through for that.”
Donna eyes my dad. “Tempest doesn’t have that kind of sway, does she?”
“She might,” my father breathes out, and nods to the darker alley.
Before Donna can respond, Jasmine hisses in a direction that doesn’t seem to have anything other than someone bringing an empty carriage, also complaining loudly about the bodies.
“She’s hissing because shit we don’t want to fight is that way.”
Donna says, “Well, we could have had two dozen with us if only a bridge had been available.”
“I slowed down that Zenith for you. So you’re welcome,” Basilisk replies, glaring at my father who seems to have a nonverbal conversation with the old mentor. Donna is clearly confused, but also looking at my father for guidance, much like Anya would for Soren, everyone’s shoulders heavily rising and falling, save for Basilisk‘s.
A single nod comes from the Scorpion before he faces the entrance of the grapnel. “Let’s go.”
Donna is about to protest, but a scream from nearby sends us all moving forward, my legs shaking from exhaustion.
Entering down this pathway is like walking through a veil, the static noise diminishing into nearly nothing, the shadows almost alive with the faintest hum. Torches are sparse, and I wonder for a moment who lights them, but that consideration flies away as soon as it lands.
We’re all silent, except for the sound of our breathing. Basilisk is told to lead the way so we can all keep an eye on him.
The torches slowly change colors the longer we walk, until they’re nearly crystal blue. Again, I don’t question why or how that works, and just follow a man who once trained Soren, hoping to all the gods he is here to help.
When we pass by other crossroads, the empty tunnels make the hair on my neck crawl, as if waiting for something to come to life in them. There’s even a skeleton lying on the ground, worn clothes hanging off the bones.
“Fucker got lost,” Basilisk mutters, his grumbling voice almost making me hush him. I don’t even think anything is following us, but the idea alone is enough to freak me out.
Then, we stop.
The faintest, clicking sound echoes all around, followed by a guttural growl, and I swear I hear clacking claws.
Jasmine jumps up onto Basilisk’s shoulder, settling around his neck like a scarf.
My blood turns to ice when there’s a second wave of clicks, growls, and claws.
Basilisk looks back at us, his molten eyes nearly glowing. “I know I said Tempest is on our side, and these creatures revere her, but I really think we should at least jog .”
We all move without thought, my legs finding a second wind from literally nothing. We’re in a dangerous labyrinth, and the passages we run past are growing wider, darker.
I actually shudder when one of them has eyes peering out.
Dad’s hand is on my back as we continue to move, my vision tunneling onto the Basilisk while he guides us through the forbidden underbelly of Skull’s Row.
I nearly gag when a rotten stench saturates the corridors until we near a section much like the Undercroft where light bleeds in from a grate so incredibly high up.
It shines down on a mountain of bones.
My skin nearly melts off my body, my jaw dropping so I can nearly taste the rot when I see copious amounts of legs moving in the light among the pile, eyes flashing our way as many heads of creatures I can hardly process look at us.
It’s as if someone took the torso of a thin, emaciated human with stringy hair and placed it on a large body with many legs.
Their eyes glint white like a dog’s in the moon. Hissing and clicking fill the space and Basilisk, very quietly, says, “Keep. Moving.”
I focus on his back and continue to do so, my eyes drying from being unable to blink. Why the fuck are these things living underneath Skull’s Row?
As we follow him, a few of these creatures walk aside us, looking at us. Their stench so foul I grow dizzy. They scutter ahead swiftly, then look back, watching as we continue. Every time one does, I shudder and get closer to my father. A few heads get so close to ours, tears from utter fright clouds my vision.
The sight is shocking .
One gets so close to my face its wispy, white hair touches my shoulder, the sheen to its skin so clammy . A flash of red illuminates across its face, and it screams at me, my earrings glowing like a torch light. The others come to its aid, and Basilisk shouts, “Fucking run for it!”
We bolt until we come across a round gate, the bars embedded into the stone. Basilisk works at the necklace around his neck, holding it to the lock, muttering words under his breath.
Dad and Donna shield me, both drawing their weapons as the weird creatures screech in the background, filling the space with their bodies as they all scurry our way, mouths baring their fangs, black tongues unfurling.
My pulse thrums in my ears, the seconds stretching into an eternity. Finally, with a soft click , the grate door swings open.
“Let’s go!” Basilisk shouts, moving with such speed to get through, and shuts the grate behind us. The creatures slam into the metal, their skeletal arms and claws reaching through the bars, screeching at us like a horde of undying creatures.
“Don’t stop,” Dad says, his voice steady in this chaos.
The tunnel twists and turns as the screeching dies down, and when I start to smell the salty air of the ocean, I nearly want to cry with joy.
We come across a wooden door with cracks that sunlight streaks through in little beams, and Basilisk opens it without issue.
The sunlight is blinding , and I gasp for the fresh air like… well, like I’ve been underground for days.
I lean against a wall, sliding down to relax my legs and breathe in the cool ocean air.
The eerie grip of the Undercroft refuses to let go completely, even once sunlight washes over us, my body shivering from the way my sweat-infused clothes begin to dry.
Probably doesn’t help that I’m sitting underneath a red lantern like it’s a reminder of what’s fucking down there.Opening my eyes, my father is standing in front of me, and Donna is surveying the area, much like Basilisk.
“Your cat,” I say, noticing she’s gone.
“Shadow cat,” Basilisk corrects. “Can’t kill them in the shadows, but you can in the sun. She already took off as soon as we exited?—”
My dad and Basilisk both draw their blades at the same time, Donna and I scrambling to get our weapons out, searching for whatever set these men off.
“ Matthias ,” Father hisses, transforming into his actual self.
“This one is different from who I felt earlier,” Basilisk warns.
I take in the environment more, the space reminding me of a pier city with all the wood and netting, although I can’t see the ocean in any direction. Looking at my back, it’s a tall, natural stone wall of the cliffs with a small, wooden door covering the only entry.
It’s like we just emerged from a service door to the hellscape we fled from.
“This way,” Basilisk urges, guiding us to the right and down through tent-covered stalls.
“Tempest’s port is the other way,” Dad instructs.
“Soren is in this direction!” he glances over his shoulder. “And he’s got a lot more people.”
Dad picks up his pace, urging me forward.
Soren? My gods, I actually forgot about them in our escape.That’s when, through one of the alleys, a man emerges who looks just like the pale blonde from the Council, more men matching his speed and halting with the same intensity.
Basilisk doesn’t stop, barreling toward them and parrying immediately with two of them, catching them all off guard.
Even Matthias looks at him like he’s crazy before adhering his Zenith mask to his face.
Dad lunges forward, striking at Matthias, who yells out when he barely avoids being gutted. Fear grips me almost immediately, knowing that he’s risking everything right now. Matthias is twenty years younger, and in more shape.
Even so, my father demonstrates that he has years of training. The blows are so forceful, the dodges so swift, and hair cutting close, I don’t know what to do. I want to help, step in, and do what I can.
But this isn’t a fight for me. I could make it worse.
What’s worse than him dying?
In the distance, I hear screams and scuffles. A hoard of horsemen ride fast toward us. In the front is a man wearing a black skull mask. But when I glance back at my father, my braid whipping around my neck, it might be too late. We’re tired and just escaped near death, more than once.
My body shakes as if it’s been shocked by an eel when I see a blade pierce right through my dad’s shoulder, his echoing cries stretching through the streets, the blade sinking further as Matthias twists .