38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
KAIUS
B lair unfurled from the shadows like the little demon child she was, falling into step with me without missing a beat, as I walked through the grimy streets of Sehksveit. It wasn’t the seediest place in the city, but it wasn’t one of the nicest, either. The tang of sulphur hung in the air mixed with the rotting rubbish and only the goddess knew what.
It was the maze of alleyways that caused the most issues, those in-between spaces that were a favourite of the less savoury characters that roamed the area. The ones who had crawled from whatever cesspit they had originally called home to come here. Lurking, ready and waiting for the next unfortunate to cross their path.
Easy pickings in a place like this.
The invisible stains of past crimes splattered across the bricks had the dark that lay within me writhing as I passed through. More than once, I heard the scuffle of feet exiting an alley before I turned down it, my magik pulsing in quiet warning.
Even without the silver daggers hitched to my sides, I could more than take on whatever I encountered on the streets—not that anyone would try. Blair, too, despite her outward appearance, but it wasn’t always the case for those who had to live and work here. It wouldn’t be until you crossed into Tresveit that those alleys would, for the most part, be safe to walk down.
Further out, in Tuisveit—the closest to Firenze’s boundary—I’d found even the littlest of Fae carrying pocketknives. A wise choice even if the reasons behind it left a nasty taste in my mouth.
I’d timed this visit to miss the rush of people who filled the streets on their way to work in the city central. Only passing the occasional latecomer or someone who hadn’t even made it home yet.
Braziers burned at most intersections, a few figures huddled around them, the lowest around here not even holding enough fire in their veins to keep themselves warm. Their flames did little to chase off the chill air that bit sharply at what little of my skin was exposed to the elements, but I wasn’t from this icy hell.
It was light enough now that the night dwellers had skittered back to their dark holes for the day, though the atruska rats that accompanied them were still out. Their disgusting little bodies were covered in patches of grey fur, with four, long, spindly legs that somehow held them up and ended in claw-tipped toes that pattered on the stone. A couple turned to hiss our way as we disturbed whatever the fuck it was they were up to. I repressed a shudder as a fleshy, whip-like, pink tail disappeared into a hole in the bricks.
It was using those same piss-soaked alleys I bypassed most of the busier areas, keeping my dark hood up and steering away from the cafes and shops that were opening up for the day along the main street. The pubs not yet open for patrons, though windows were thrown wide to air out whatever debauchery had gone down the night before.
Especially if more Faery Wine had been smuggled in from the north. It wasn’t even wine, nor was it made by Faeries, but the vials of liquid that turned to vapour once you cracked them were a rich, deep red. The same colour the whites of your eyes turn when you’ve taken too much of the drug.
I’d had too many of the denizens of this place in the dungeons to want to step foot there unless I really had to.
Being in the dungeons yesterday, breaking open that piece of shit trafficker, had been a nice distraction for a while but it wasn’t enough. Neither was the information he’d blubbered once I’d removed each finger down the knuckle. It was a start, but it wasn’t enough to be of any use. Or to keep the picture of Elodie’s face when she realised I’d failed to protect her from my mind.
It cut me deep, somewhere that hadn’t been touched in a long time, and my fingers were twitching for another round, but that would have to wait. I made do with running my fingers over the sharp edges of my blades, the promise of piercing my skin if I made so much as one wrong move enough to keep me focused.
To remember I wasn’t stalking through this place for the fun of it.
I’d read the files as they hit my inbox, flagged as something my unit needed to look into. I’d done my research; I knew the answers to the question already, but I still needed to come. To see if there was anything they were saying when they weren’t saying anything at all.
Stepping out of the most recent alleyway, the house we were headed to came into view, sitting in the middle of a terrace on a standard street of houses. In need of a little work, but nothing compared to a few streets over.
That’s how Firenze was situated—districts layered around Palace Incendo, the royals main home and the Great Temple of Suri, with the acre of holy Fire Fields that made up its centre. Each one slowly but steadily declining in wealth and status until the poorest were barley clinging to the outskirts, while those fuckers with titles and privilege and money to buy their way closer to the cities central point, benefitted from the proximity to one of this kingdom’s most sacred spaces.
I preferred the fifth layer of the district, as it was far enough away from the city central that there was fun to be had if you knew where to look, yet they hadn’t sunk to the depths that they had here.
Though I’d never understood the draw to the city myself, why those living here—especially those barely eking out a living on the outskirts—were so desperate to be here.
But then I suppose Suri wasn’t my patron goddess.
The Great Temple and the Undying Fires that glowed night and day before it, was a lure, and while Incaendium was a harsh Kingdom to live in, there were better places—much better places.
The small front garden was bursting with weeds, but at least the gate wasn’t hanging off its hinges, which was more than I could say for most of the other houses. Its windows were clean and not a single one was broken or boarded, curtains hiding the view within.
I climbed the three shallow steps to the grey front door, symbols of Suri carved into the lintel above, the goddess’s image wreathed in her sacred flames— little help she had been to those inside —and reached for the salamander-shaped bronze knocker.
As the two raps faded into the quiet of the morning, the door was yanked open. A woman peered around the side, brown eyes flooded with disappointment before they tightened as she looked up under the hood that shadowed my face, as I stood at least half a foot taller than her—even while standing on the second step.
“Calloway Purnell?” I asked, and she nodded in reply, pieces of pale, blonde hair slipping free from where it was heaped on top of her head. Hands gripping the side of the door, her eyes were dark and ringed with red, though they remained steady as they looked me over. Measuring the dark clothing, the weapons that were strapped around me glinting in the weak sunlight.
“Colonel Kaius Sceres, Arasauk Special Unit.” It wasn’t often I threw that title out there, but now it was needed.
The woman knew who I was, the fact that her expression remained the same told me as much. I had been paraded around enough to be recognisable, Prince Kaius Telluscere of Terrae. That title meant little to me, hadn’t for a while now, and I preferred not to use it.
“You’re here about Marina.” It wasn’t a question, and we both knew it was unlikely our paths would have crossed for the fun of it.
“We are.” It was then that Calloway’s eyes darted to Blair as she stood by my side, youthful face hiding the depths of her powers beneath those big eyes.
She didn’t say a word as she stepped back, opening her house to us.
Like the outside, the inside was worn but clean. The carpets a little faded, and a fresh coat of paint would go a long way, but this was a home that was cared for. Calloway entered a room to the left, off the entrance, and we followed behind.
Two large, emerald-green sofas filled the space, along with a grey side table; a single cup of tea sat on top, long since gone cold from the look of it. Boxes of toys were piled in a corner next to the hearth that was smouldering as though no one could really bring themselves to tend to it, a cone of incense trailing sweet smelling smoke into the air in front of the embers.
The TV that was mounted to the wall stood blank, no real sound filled the house and Calloway made her way to the sofa, setting herself into the tangle of blankets that filled one side. Placing the phone clenched in her fist on the arm, her eyes darted to it often, as if to reassure herself it was still there.
“The constabularies have already taken my statement. Why have they sent you?” I knew what her rough words implied, and was impressed she spoke them at all. The rumours were plenty on what I was doing here in this Kingdom. On what my role was in Incaendium.
“I suppose we’ll find out, won't we?”
I’d be wary if someone like me turned up on my doorstep.
Sitting on the opposite sofa, I pulled down my hood while Blair walked around the room, fingers trailing across the walls.
Calloway Purnell, thirty-five, Widow. Mother of Marina Purnell. Professor of Ancient Studies. Not a suspect.
That’s all the notes on her had said, which was why I’d got Calida to pull up as much information as I could. The constabulary’s guards were disappointingly lax in their files.
I knew she had married young and moved to Firenze for the job she still held, that despite the grief that clung to her, thick and heavy, she had power. Nothing compared to Marina, but she was more than capable of looking after herself, and from the hard set of her eyes, she wouldn’t hesitate to take me on. She wouldn’t win, but she’d still try.
I respected that.
I let my magik flare, watching the subtle wince as it swept over her. The slight tensing of her jaw as she shored up her defences. I pulled back, directing it elsewhere but she kept hers ready. There was no hint of The Darkness on her, no trace of magik that wasn’t connected to her own.
“I have nothing to tell you that I haven’t told them.”
“We’ll see,” was all I said as I felt Blair pass behind me, watching Calloway’s eyes track her movement.
“Are you going to do a better job at finding her than they are?”
“They did find her. The cameras have her following Basit street in the direction of her friend’s house before the lead ends on—” Blair began.
“Olanskig Street,” she cut in. “You don’t think I got their updates? She can’t have just vanished.” The anguish that twisted her face told me she knew what I did, that there was every possibility that she had.
“Why do you live here, Calloway?” Her job paid enough to live somewhere at least a district closer to the city centre.
A defensive bite came to her words. “What’s wrong with here?”
“It’s just you and the two girls?” I’d already spotted the smaller girl amongst Marina’s photos. Calloway only nodded, her eyes flicking to the black phone screen.
“Your husband?”
“He’s dead.”
I knew that.
“How?”
She chewed the side of her mouth, knee bouncing slightly as she found her words, as she debated on what to tell me. “Fighting pits.”
I didn’t know that.
I didn’t like that I didn’t know that.
Years of training kept the shock of her words from my face as I asked. “Whose?”
“We moved here, and I got my job—a good job. We had a house in Viersveit. One with panelled walls and fire poppies that grew all year. I could see the third boundary from my window.” Calloway tapped her phone screen once again, checking it before facing me. “Krie… he got into the wrong things. Deep into the wrong things. So fucking deep.” Her breath left her in one long sigh. “We sold that house and moved here.” She waved her hand in gesture to the room they were in. “But, it wasn’t enough, there was no way left but for him to take the out that was offered. A term in the fighting pits. How long he lasted, how much money he made them, would all come off the debt.”
“Whose pits, Calloway?” This case was turning in a completely different fucking direction with every word she spoke. The Darkness, traffickers and now the fighting pits. Not to mention she could just be a kid being a dick and running away from home. I wasn’t getting that vibe, but it was possible.
Would be the best of a shit list of options though.
“What does this have to do with Marina?” Her temper flared, as painful memories danced behind her eyes. “I’m paying that debt.”
Had Marina been taken to be used towards that debt? I tucked that information away for later.
“How long has she been missing?”
“Since yesterday morning,” the mum said, eyes flicking to Blair in confusion as she stared at photos of the missing girl lined up in age order, from a chubby little baby to what I knew was the most recent shots of her on a unit against the back wall. “She’s home from school for the week and said she was going to see her friend. When she didn’t come back at lunch, I just assumed she was eating there. Then it got later and later, and she wasn’t replying to my messages. I rang, but it cuts off every time.”
She unlocked her phone offering up the call log. 135 calls had been made to Marina’s number.
I took in the times, the date. There had been no reports of The Darkness anywhere near here, and I couldn’t sense any lingering stain from its rotten presence, but all that meant was it hadn’t been here, in the house.
“Has the phone turned on since?” I could see she had continued calling, a record of a mother’s hope that just once it would connect.
“No.” She put it back on the arm, tapping it to make sure it was still on before looking back at me.
“And the friend?”
“They said Marina never turned up.” Her words hitched as she spoke, and she pressed her hand against her mouth, eyes closed shut for a second.
It all lined up with the reports.
Missing girl in Sehksveit, fifteen years old, blonde hair, blue eyes — Anomaly. Last seen leaving home on Olanskig street, never made it to friend’s house. No trail found.
“Why didn’t that friend tell you Marina didn’t turn up? Did they not try to contact her the same way you had?” Blair asked, still facing the photos.
Another lead to be chased.
“I don’t know.” Calloway swallowed, eyes darting to Blair’s back and cringing a little. That primal part of her magik knowing instinctively that Blair was something different, something unknown.
Blair turned then, head tilted at a slight angle as she faced Calloway who leaned away slightly, despite the fact Blair had come no closer.
My lips pressed into a tight line, smothering the smile that didn’t belong here as I— once again —was witness to how utterly creepy Blair could be without an ounce of effort. Sometimes I wished she knew she was doing it so we could laugh about it together later. But she didn’t, because then she wouldn’t be Blair.
“I’d like to see her room.” It had been searched already, but I doubted it had been thorough.
Calloway’s eyes swept over me then, assessing. Whatever she saw must have gone in my favour as she nodded, gesturing to the stairs outside the small sitting room.
“It’s the first door on the right,” she said, sighing heavily. “I… I haven’t been in there yet.”
I stood, heading for the stairs and leaving Blair to do… whatever it was that she was doing. The steps groaned under my feet as I reached the landing, four doors leading off it.
Marina’s name hung in navy letters on a plaque nailed to one. My magik trailed over it. Over the handle, the wood. The carpet outside.
When nothing of interest was found, my shadows pushed at the door, and I stepped into her empty room.