14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
“What an interesting choice, Lucena.”
Riselda eyed the feathered wings with no small amount of uncertainty. For the second time, she reached out a hand to stroke the black tips. Lux only smiled.
It was perfect. Exactly as she’d pictured.
She studied her kohl-lined eyes and red lips, the rest of her face hidden beneath a feathered, black mask. Her hair would have become hopelessly entangled within her wings if she had left it long—instead she’d coiled and pinned it at her nape. Several tendrils brushed along her temple, trailing down behind the mask, but she didn’t try to contain them again.
She stepped away from the mirror.
“Have you thought on a gift for the mayor?”
Lux wondered at the near-pained expression on her aunt’s face. Yes. She had thought on a gift for some time. She’d been thinking on it ever since she’d read the journal cover to cover, stashing it deep within her wardrobe, resting alongside the stolen lifeblood.
The mayor’s obsession with immortality, or as near as one could get, seemed to have begun long ago. Fifty years old, and reaching an age when one realizes life does, in fact, come to an end, his research dug into the unnatural.
Lifeblood, in particular.
Not much was known about it then, perhaps only slightly less than what was known currently, but that didn’t stop the man from hauling in every physician, psychic and healer that could potentially offer him answers. None impressed him, according to the journal’s notations. None, save for a young girl. A girl with a strong brilliance.
Sixty years old now and gravely ill, the girl brought him back from the brink. And from that night forward, she never left the mansion. Remaining at his side, he consulted her on all matters. Matters that a young girl couldn’t possibly understand.
His family grew jealous. His wife attempted to have her killed. The wife died instead.
And the mayor appeared to stop aging. One by one, his family did as well. His favorite cousin, a niece, an uncle. But as for the young girl, she grew. Into a woman, bound and talented, with churning shadows in her eyes.
Shaw’s great-great-grandfather dated his entries until his death, which ended in speculation rather than significant findings. Lux had glanced over them briefly, mind sifting through the information she’d learned. He had been eighty-six years old. The mayor should have been an ancient man—one hundred and one. He was not.
Lux didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand how the oldest of Ghadra were not concerned that their mayor looked as fresh as he ever did while they all aged and died. She’d become adept at listening in to conversation not meant for her ears, and still, she’d not heard a whisper.
Looking up to Riselda now, her aunt smiled, patting a masked cheek. “I’m sure you’ll think of something worth his time.”
“You’re not coming then?” Lux surveyed Riselda’s plain dress, dirt at its hem. She hadn’t dressed in much more for several days now.
Riselda followed her gaze, a serene smile lighting her mouth as she studied her soiled skirt. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
Her aunt was a puzzle Lux couldn’t solve, growing more difficult with each passing day. So she gave up trying and attempted to appreciate having someone who cared for her well-being at her side instead. Lux forced a smile.
A carriage rumbled along the cobblestones, slowing to a stop. “That will be my ride.”
“Have fun, Lucena. Don’t drink too much wine.” Riselda patted her hand. “You do look beautiful. Very much like your mother.”
Lux’s eyes blinked much too frequent behind her mask. “Thank you, Riselda.”
She climbed the steps and opened the door, Riselda’s sing-song voice trailing after her, “Secrets, my dear. He adores secrets.”
Lux adjusted the black silk of her gown again. It was long and flowing, tight through the plunging neckline and across the waist. It had been her mother’s dress, and with a bit of tweaking, it fit every inch of her. She would have purchased more appropriate shoes, but sneaking about a den of predators required comfortable, trustworthy footwear.
Lux tucked her sturdy boots beneath her dress with a swish of dark skirts.
Her wings were delicate things, black feathers draped artfully down her back rather than spread wide. Shaw could sit beside her if he chose. Not that he would. No, never.
The carriage slowed. She adjusted her mask.
The door swung open with a click. At first, she could see nothing in the waning light as cool mist rolled through the opening, swirling about her knees. But as it settled, Lux caught a glimpse of black boots, a black coat, and a skeletal mask that caused her to bite back a scream as she pressed herself further against the seat.
Shaw’s laugh filled the carriage with a warmth that sent the mist skittering away, returning to the night air. “Did I frighten you?” He swung in with ease, settling across from her.
Lux couldn’t stop staring at the white mask, edged in silver, appearing so real it may as well have been made of— “Is that bone ?”
Her hand quickly dropped to her lap at the smirk of his lips beneath it. “Too morbid?” He studied her then, their bodies jostling as the carriage ambled forward once more. In the dimness of the small space between them, his eyes appeared black as midnight. “You have feathers on your mask.”
“And on my wings.” At his continued scrutiny, she added, “A crow.”
His head tilted, his lips unmoving, until at last, “I like it.” She laughed, and it coaxed a ghost of a smile to his mouth. “What?”
“It nearly sounded genuine is all. What are you? The dead?”
His grin turned wicked. “Death, itself. I feel the mayor needs a reminder he cannot cheat the beast forever.”
She scoffed. “Probably not the best choice for stealth and secrecy, however.”
“You underestimate me, love.”
Lux rolled her eyes, parting the curtains to stare out into the deepening shadows. Several heartbeats of silence passed, marred only by the crunch of carriage wheels.
“How did you find the journal?”
Her gaze swung back to his dark one. “Terrifying. I read it through. It certainly sounds as though he discovered how to harvest lifeblood. And offered it up to his family. Though I wonder how he’s gotten away with it. Even more I wonder how he’s gone about choosing his victims over the years.”
“Well, if I were him, I would choose people I wished to be rid of. People unable to fight back. I’m sure there are many in the Dark that fit the description, and it isn’t as if the Shield mind doing the work.”
“I’m not sure those of the Light are much safer any longer.” At his questioning stare, she recounted her encounter with the old shopkeeper. “They mentioned the prison, though I’ve not a clue where that might be.”
Lux couldn’t see much at all within the darkening space any longer, save for a glimmer of stark white now and then as the carriage ambled over loose stone, rocking their bodies. She shivered.
“I’m surprised you could have slept at all in that house. What with their screams.”
“What are you talking about?” Spiders, real or imagined, skittered up her arms.
The skeletal mask shone, sudden and clear in the moonlight, and Lux nearly believed Death did hover beneath, watchful and biding. “Under our illustrious mayor’s home lies the most uninhabitable prison you could imagine. A sentence to it may not need be for life, but it will claim it regardless. This is where the mayor harvests his precious lifeblood. I’m sure of it.”
Lux allowed the horror to cascade over her. “How do you know this?”
“My father. Resisting the Shield has only one consequence, and when I failed to save him from that cell, when I discovered his death not many days ago, something in me broke.” Lux twitched away the outlandish urge to reach for him. “There are so many innocents buried within those walls, begging for light, for life—for death. I killed an abuser that night. On his way to the tavern after beating his wife to unconsciousness, I stabbed him in the back and slit his throat. It was easy. Too easy. The dagger passed through like melted butter.” She scrunched her eyes closed, but the images rose vivid anyway. “If the Shield won’t defend Ghadra’s people, if the mayor only selfishly seeks that which will make him immortal, who am I to do nothing?” The carriage slowed, and streetlamps peered through the curtains. Lux gazed at Shaw, forearms resting on his thighs, head hung low. “It should have been me in there, you know.”
Pebbles crunched as the wheels stopped. “Why?”
His lips parted as the carriage door swung outward, bathing them in soft light. He smiled, straightening. It was an expression brimming with retribution.
“Never mind. Let’s not keep the mayor waiting.”