Chapter Twenty-One Damien
Chapter Twenty-One
Damien
She shut me out. Again.
Not that I didn’t fucking deserve it.
Like the fool I’d become, I’d gone to her window the past three nights hoping she’d eventually let me in and talk. Thinking that if I plied her with empathetic words, she’d forgive me. Hell, I expected her to.
Sadly, she remained steadfast in her hatred for me.
That first time in the alley—when I’d kissed up and down her neck, secretly relishing her scent, her taste—had been a ruse, even if my head swam whenever I returned to the stolen moment.
The second time…even if she’d initiated a hesitant kiss, the rest was all me.
I’d leapt at the chance she provided, indulging in what had been building in my core for weeks.
A want.
A need.
An obsession.
Once I’d left her on those stairs—her crestfallen face haunting me with each blink—I’d spent that night wandering the party, invisible to all and learning nothing but how ignorant and careless I’d been. I hadn’t thought of the flower or the ash it had become, and I threw myself into investigating.
The attendants’ drivel about the trouble they’d be in should magic vanish was damn near impossible to stomach.
They didn’t care that Dusk was still missing, they just knew that their power would be gone should the immortal somehow die.
And Fates, when they smugly showcased their gifts, half drunk and cackling, all I wanted was to return to the strong-willed blonde who worked some sort of dark magic on me.
The same one who’d brought this mess of fucking emotions to the forefront.
It was her fault.
Even my mirror liked her; it had never shared its power with anyone else. The significance of it—well, I wasn’t sure what it meant. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. It only worked to tie us closer together.
Nothing enduring could ever happen between us, but I’d gone ahead and acted on what I wanted anyway, devouring her and that smart mouth that had made me feel more alive than I had in years.
All of our bickering had ended with a moment of vulnerability, a combustion that I’d mistaken for hatred. Or wished was hatred.
I hurt her when I ran away. When I played the coward and used my power to vanish before I could say or do anything I’d later regret.
Because I would regret it.
Attachment will only get you hurt. Or killed.
Then why had I gone to her window three times like a lost pup? Why did she suddenly fill my thoughts first thing upon waking? When I closed my eyes at night?
She was still the daughter of a man I loathed, a possible murderer and a crime lord, for Fates’ sake. She was still a sheltered ward princess. But Wren herself, down to her bare bones…she was more than the titles I’d given her. Well, sunshine fit her well.
Brave. Confident. Daring. Still a know-it-all. Those all worked too.
She could be na?ve, but she wanted to learn.
Wanted to help her city. The problem was, she felt powerless.
I sensed her defenses drop whenever her shoulders slumped in raw defeat as she spoke about the Void or even her father.
Little did she know, her empathy, her trying to right this wrong, was the first step.
The attraction I’d assumed would go away hadn’t—it had grown. I liked the princess in the tower. A disaster waiting to happen—I was no fabled knight in shining armor.
I was the thief that had ruined her life.
Ruby would be laughing her arse off if she knew what ran through my thoughts like a plague.
Speaking of Ruby…
She should’ve been here by now. It was nearly midnight, and I called in a favor she owed.
If I was to get the locket back to Wren and restore my magic, it was time to go back to the beginning—to uncover the original buyer.
It should’ve occurred to me sooner, even if the person cloaked themselves in secrecy and shadow.
For all I knew, they’d been at the ball the other night.
Their carriage was nice enough to fit in on the northern side of Andalay.
Unfortunately for me, they’d never showed their face, just their bodyguard when we first met to agree to the terms. And their carriage?
When I scoured the houses in the north, not a hint of it could be found.
So when I stumbled upon that very carriage—with its silver handles and blue curtains—sitting right out front of the Broken Wing Tavern like a wrapped present, I sent a ruddy-cheeked messenger boy to fetch Ruby.
For all I knew, the buyer or his assistant recognized me, but they wouldn’t recognize Ruby.
As much as I wanted to go barreling into the tavern and demand answers, I was forced to wait in tense silence outside in the alley, which reeked of Cap’s unpopular fish stew; no surprise there.
Anxiety dug its claws in, my teeth grinding together whenever someone exited. Whoever the buyer was, I needed them to stay put.
“You’re really abusing your nickname, you know,” came a raspy voice from just behind me.
I reared back, bumping into a solid body. Ruby’s laughter floated like smoke in the alley, and the tips of my ears grew hot. “Maybe you should be the one nicknamed the Ghost. Fates, Ruby.”
Maneuvering around me, she stared up through her thick lashes. “What was so important that you had to send a messenger to come and get little old me?”
I could tell she was delighted nonetheless. Ruby lived for the days when I cashed in on a favor. Or maybe my cynicism was at play, and she actually enjoyed my company. I didn’t exactly despise hers.
I nearly snorted aloud at the idea.
“See that carriage over there?” I tilted my chin to the side, where the finely carved wood stood in stark contrast to the rest of the wagons parked on the street.
Distinct sky-blue velvet curtains with silver trim had been pulled back, but as long as I’d been watching, no one had exited.
Only a burly bodyguard with a low hood covering his face stood sentinel, his muscled form leaning against the door.
Probably the same bodyguard I’d encountered.
I turned to Ruby. “That was the carriage belonging to the original buyer for Wren’s locket.
I know he’ll recognize me if I go inside, so… ”
She placed both hands on her narrow hips and skewered me with daggers in her brown eyes. “You’re going to have me go inside and check it out, aren’t you? See if I notice anything unusual?” Not the daring adventure she probably imagined I’d planned.
I gifted her a toothy grin, a smile many had called handsome. It didn’t work on her. Fates knew I was far from her type.
“Stop making that face,” she said. “You look like you have a stomachache.” I glared back.
It did not. Or I didn’t think it did. “Such a pain in my arse, Damien.” With a huff, she lifted her long cherry skirts and stormed inside the tavern, her dark brown curls loose around her tonight, the gas lamps shining on every strand and making them glow.
Ruby loved to play spy, so I gathered that her little act had been just that.
Besides, she liked Wren—hell, she wanted to get to know her more, and she’d made it obvious she wasn’t pleased that I stole Wren’s gift.
Long ago, Ruby and I had promised we’d only steal from those who abused power or could afford to lose a copper or two.
A pang of guilt clenched my chest. I had failed to keep that promise.
Slouching farther against the wall, I observed the drunken men and women who entered and exited the tavern.
All harmless, all out for a fun night when the burden of living became heavy.
While entertaining to watch, I became restless, pacing the small alley until I stubbed my toe against a bin, sending the top clattering loudly to the ground. So much for subtlety.
My nickname was a joke tonight.
Twenty excruciating minutes passed before a slinky silhouette graced the entrance of the alley.
“Well?” I asked Ruby. “Did you get a good look at them?”
It would have been easy to pick out a newcomer among the regulars. Just as I spied Everett that day when he visited the tavern. While he’d done his best to dress down, the materials he wore were far too rich for anyone who lived in the Void.
Ruby crossed her arms as she sauntered closer. “There was no one there who looked out of place,” she admitted crossly. She hated to lose. “I don’t know why the carriage is parked here, but no one suspicious is inside. Or anyone I didn’t recognize.”
I grumbled a curse before scrubbing a hand over my face. “That makes no sense. The buyer’s carriage is right there. Meaning they’re here. Or somewhere near.”
Ruby shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you, but seems like your luck ran out.
” She whipped out an ancient timepiece and checked its polished surface.
“Shite. I’m late. I told Annie I’d be at her place by now, and I was late the last time.
” Her eyes lifted to mine, narrowing. “If you just cost me a fun night, it’ll be me who haunts you,” she threatened before shooting me a crude middle finger and skipping away. “Next time pick a more fun favor.”
I prepared a clever retort, but the same needling sensation I’d been experiencing stole my breath.
As I stared at Ruby’s back, nausea churned and slick sweat slithered down my back.
Ruby’s face popped into my thoughts like a vision; her inquisitive brown eyes were closed, her lips unsmiling.
She lay still on a metal table. The same table I’d seen that tailor’s assistant on.
Fuck, I had to be losing my mind. Imagining the worst possible scenarios. Losing Ruby…the very idea had to be my own fear rushing to the surface. A hellish trick my mind played.
When was the last time I’d truly gotten a decent night’s rest? What else could explain why I’d been the victim of these sporadic hallucinations?
I released a frustrated groan and faced the filthy, mud-streaked wall of the alley.
Resting my forearm against the cool brick, I silently seethed, focusing on the task at hand.
I just needed to track down the buyer. So damned simple, and yet they remained elusive.
If they weren’t inside the tavern, they had to be close—unless the carriage functioned as a distraction.
The question was, had it been a distraction for me? I had reneged on our deal in the end.
Before I had the chance to exit onto the street, the distinct squelch of steel meeting flesh greeted my ears.
A few seconds elapsed before the pain followed.
Fates. A burning sensation shot across the left side of my upper chest and down my back and torso like a venomous snake bite. I let out a low and anguished noise deep in my throat as my vision blurred and blackened, the edges tapering into slits.
Copper filled the air, and if the pain wasn’t clue enough, the smell was.
Stabbed. Someone had stabbed me.
I dropped to my knees with a painful jolt, my hands grasping the grimy black stones by my boots. I tried to turn my head, to see who’d attacked, but my body didn’t seem to be working. Nothing was working.
A shadowy figure draped in a dark cloak stepped around me, his size imposing—tall and built of hard muscle. He must’ve turned around, because for a split second, I swore I glimpsed a spark of blue eyes in the shine of the nearby gas lamps.
I ground my teeth and attempted to ease myself up, my hand grazing the alley’s wall. My knees nearly buckled with the effort. The man…why did he seem familiar? If I could trust my sight at all with the way the damned world continued to tilt.
He hadn’t even used magic, just what I assumed to be a fucking knife…in my back.
How poetic.
A second later, reins flicked and a horse’s whinny echoed down the street.
I staggered forward, the world and the night slanting like a twisted carnival mirror.
Excruciating agony drowned out every logical thought of survival. It dug its pointed claws into my bones and squeezed, sucking the very life from my flesh. Never had I experienced such pain. Such a feeling of helplessness. Fear.
A pattering sounded behind me, and I reached around with a groan. Darkness coating my fingers. So. Much. Blood.
Delirious and defeated, I took one more step before my knees lost the battle and gave out.
The last image I saw was of myself—
On a metal table, dissected and beaten, eyes wide open in horror.