Chapter Two Damien
Chapter Two
Damien
The Fates’ gift weighed heavily in my pocket.
It would fetch a decent price, and I might haggle for a higher amount with my client for my troubles—I’d been hiding alongside the edge of the representative’s fine town house on the northern side of Andalay for hours.
A guard patrolled the streets, but with a flick of my wrist, I took advantage of the gift I’d been given on my own eighteenth birthday a year ago.
Concealed by the prickly hedges, I watched through the window as that insipid young woman paced. She couldn’t sit still, much to her parents’ and older sister’s dismay, and her rosy cheeks got redder and redder as the seconds ticked by.
She was a bright thing, full of hope and light, and with nothing better to do, I’d studied her, taking in her pink gown and flowing sleeves, the neckline a tad low by society’s standards.
Or perhaps she had moved and tugged at her garment so often that it had shifted.
Either way, I’d been captivated by her anxiety.
The way she displayed emotions so easily and without concern.
I bet she’d never experienced a hardship in her blessed little life.
As the daughter of Representative Hayes of Ward One, she possessed riches beyond my wildest imagination.
It helped that they were blessed by the Fates themselves—much like most high-ranking lords and their children.
With each new generation, a dog came to the Hayeses’ home, and without a doubt, Wren would follow in her ancestors’ footsteps.
Lucky, was what she was. The rich and powerful got all the magic, while the people of the Void got nothing.
The Fates claimed they gave out their trinkets based on faithfulness, but that also was a falsehood.
I knew plenty of the faithful in the south, and none of their children received gifts.
No, they were smart, the Fates, gifting those who paid for their opulent palace and did their bidding with charmed tokens.
I shouldn’t have magic in my own hands, but that mystery—why I of all people in the Void had received a gift from the Fates—had never been solved. And not due to my lack of trying.
My eyes found hers through the glass, and for a moment, my chest squeezed, convinced she had spotted me.
Fates, they were blue, even from this distance and with the glass between us.
My heart pounded, but thankfully, she darted off to the right, wringing her hands as she babbled, her rosy lips moving a mile a minute.
I sighed in relief.
Even if I took her gift, she’d be fine, likely married off to some wealthy lord. Her ruthless father would arrange for it, surely. Hayes wasn’t one to be trifled with; he had that damned pen that could change history itself—
Including making the Void and those without gifts second-class citizens.
My people could barely afford food, let alone a roof over their heads, and that man had signed into law every act that made it more difficult for us in the south to secure proper work.
I bet he’d even had a hand in the mysterious disappearances of the southern people over the last few years.
Politicians like Hayes took out anyone who tried to fight the criminal laws they shoved into our faces. He was nothing but a gangster.
I doubted the bastard’s younger daughter was any different.
Wren. That was her name. I kept forgetting, as it was far from important.
All that mattered was that when that clock struck midnight, I’d be ready—
And ready I was.
On cue, the black hound trotted down the walkway, one of the Fate’s dutiful messengers. Clutched between his sharpened teeth was a simple blue box tied with a yellow ribbon. Wren’s gift.
With my enchanted mirror in my pocket, I crept from my hiding place, my other hand reaching for the fresh scrap of meat I’d snagged from the butcher’s shop on the way over.
The beast sniffed the air but continued, ever dutiful.
Here, boy. I tossed the scrap before him, mere steps from the Hayeses’ home. This time, he paused, and it was a long enough pause for me to seize the box he carried, though some of the elegant ribbon had frayed from the pull of his teeth.
The dog abandoned the meat, a whining filling the air as he searched for the valuable package…which I’d slipped into my jacket pocket, nice and safe. I cringed thinking of the animal’s warm saliva coating the box, but the price outweighed my personal distaste.
Despite the local lads not knowing how I became so exceptional at general deception and thievery, they nicknamed me the Ghost for a reason: I could break in and out of a home while the victim stood in the same room—with or without my mirror.
I was a criminal, and a well sought-after one at that.
Even before I miraculously received a Fate’s gift last year.
I’d been shocked beyond belief when the hound had stood over my worn mattress, the oil in my lamp long gone and my closet of a room cast in darkness.
Dropping it gently on my chest, the beast had turned and trotted away, leaving the door open and me stock-still with my jaw dropped.
Even with hatred for the Fates burning away in my heart, I’d opened the package with care, a small jolt working up my arm when I brushed over the cold metal of the mirror.
That moment changed everything, and not just my trade, but how I viewed the world. When all of my searches as to why I’d been blessed led nowhere, I’d given up, silently forming a plan to get what I needed.
Invisibility. A rarity—even among high society. Hell, I didn’t know why a man like me had been favored by the Fates, but I sure as shite wasn’t about to broadcast it. If anyone knew, they’d string me up or kill me and steal the mirror for themselves.
Good thing I liked to be left alone…and people thought me a cutthroat. I didn’t correct them.
I smiled as I made my way down the sidewalk and away from the frantic hound, who sniffed the ground, his small whimpers growing louder. The potent scent of the meat overwhelmed his senses; divine dog or not, he was just as susceptible to temptation as any average mutt.
Whistling a soft tune, I took in the neighborhood for signs of movement.
Of course, at this hour there wasn’t a peep.
This side of town was all fixed up nicely, not a stone out of place.
Each town house was pristine, constructed of brick and shrouded with lush ivy.
Arched windows peeked out, some decorated with painted glass and depictions of the Fates.
It all felt too perfect; like a picture painted by some fanciful artist with rose-colored glasses.
Good riddance.
All of Aurilia’s crooked lords, ladies, and politicians resided here, pretending to be upstanding citizens.
It was laughable, really, when in reality, the blood of innocents painted their delicate, uncallused hands.
Even if they weren’t directly involved with the city’s one-sided regulations aimed at making the rich richer, they were complicit.
A mile passed before I reached into my trouser pocket, fumbling around for the small oval mirror I never took off me.
I slept with the damn thing. With care, I held it to my face.
Only its surface showed the truth, and I beamed at my reflection, overlooking the smudges marring my tan skin and the grime greasing my black hair.
Fates above. Taking her gift had been far too easy. The fact that it belonged to Hayes’s daughter made the prize in my pocket all the more satisfying. Maybe I should do this more often—steal from the rich like some fabled hero. I liked the idea of that. Except I’d keep all the winnings next time.
With a final peek at myself—followed by a gleeful wink—I snapped the lid closed and placed it in my left jacket pocket, a sigh escaping when it settled right over my heart.
Thank you, old friend.
Too bad Wren Hayes would never experience the pleasure of owning magic. She had enough as it was.
I whistled all the way back to the dim streets of the Void, my shoulders losing more of their tension the dirtier the stones beneath my scuffed boots became.
I passed by a couple of Missing posters, recognizing one woman as Tilly.
She used to work at the laundry a few months ago but then vanished into thin air.
Rumor was, she’d run off with a lover, but I’d never seen her with anyone before her disappearance.
Her grayed poster fluttered, seconds from being ripped away completely by a harsh wind. That was how it felt living here—one step away from ruin.
I shook off thoughts of Tilly and all the other posters I’d spotted on my walk. Some familiar faces, others strangers with bad luck.
Time to sell off whatever silly bauble Wren Hayes had received.
There was a fool reckless enough to schedule a meeting with me in the dark this evening, and maybe I’d take a souvenir from them, too, after the transaction.
I hadn’t seen their face the first time we met, as they’d insisted upon wearing a ridiculous cloak with a low hood and hid in their carriage, but I’d suspected they were someone important when they sent their bodyguard to do the negotiating.
They wanted a gift, and they’d get it, and I’d save up my new coins and get out of this hellhole.
I didn’t care who they were or why they wanted a gift. That wasn’t my business.
I turned down Sulley Street, on my way to the predetermined meeting spot, when I had the sudden urge to see the damned thing for myself. What kind of present might the princess of Ward One get?
The buyer had specifically asked for it to remain untouched, but fuck that. I put my neck on the line for this.
Carefully undoing the flimsy ribbon, I lifted the box’s top.
Sheltered inside a nest of yellow rose petals lay a simple silver locket. I frowned, reaching inside and turning it over, searching for any clue or symbol as to its powers. I found none.
Unease prickled down my back. I shouldn’t have opened it, but now that I had…
Pulling out the delicate locket and its thin chain, I once more flipped it over, finding nothing exceptional. I supposed that was true with all gifts, mine included. “Let’s take a closer look.” I pried open the clasp, wondering what image the locket concealed, if any.
The two sides fell open and all the air rushed from my lungs.
Shite.
The night tilted on its head.
I should have continued to my buyer, but I found myself instinctively whirling around, my feet picking up into a run as I bolted in the opposite direction from Sulley Street, away from my client, and away from the darkest parts of the Void.
I didn’t cease running until I’d stormed through the Broken Wing Tavern and climbed the stairs leading to the dimly lit room I rented above. I slammed the door and locked all four locks behind me, muffling the raucous laughter and lively music carried up from below.
Uncharacteristically shaken, I slumped to the floor, my heartbeat pounding against my ribs. With trembling hands, I clutched the locket, eager to confirm that my eyes hadn’t played a trick on me after all.
There was indeed a photograph inside…
And it was of me.