Chapter 3
THREE
Matthieu, still determined to stay in my good graces, allowed me to use his boat to coast deeper into the city, returning to the Grand Canal to drift along the edges of the waterway, where local pubs and cafes overlooked the passing boats.
Opal’s wasn’t on the water exactly, but it was close.
The waste from downtown ran off into a narrow ditch.
The water here was a little thicker and fouler, filled with last night’s regrets and mistakes.
Night drew shadows in the alleys just as streetlights flickered alive over the sidewalk.
A windbeaten sign dangled over the darkened channel, hung from one of the oldest buildings this side of the canal.
I tied off Matthieu’s river cruiser to a busy dock crammed with paddleboats, taking the key with me in case the unsavory crowd that attended the tavern got any drunken ideas.
It was an enchanting hour, when the lights of the city winked on in succession and cast the filthy streets in gold, when laughter from broken windows echoed across the cobblestones, replacing the roar of traffic.
The hour when work ended and revelry began, and the cycle repeated itself every evening.
The dice seared through my pocket, or perhaps I was just more aware of their presence and the swelling urge to get rid of them. I dared another touch, slipping my thumb and middle finger into the pouch to read the images carved into each face.
There was more than one way to access magic.
Some bloodlines were assigned Archetypes that could be passed down through generations.
Others carried stolen magic in their blood, forever marked by their crime and named the Cursed by society.
The title was fitting, since they were forced to drink from a bloodline for the rest of their days to maintain their power.
Then there were relics. Artifacts given specific magical purposes, crafted from residue of the essence, the same all-powerful substance that the Architect discovered centuries ago.
This was a manufactured magic, created at the Academy by the hands of engineers, who used codes to give purpose to the mundane.
Guns crafted to never miss, boots that never made a sound, pens with unlimited ink—their relics ranged from harmless to harrowing, and I had discovered everything in between those extremes while working in the surgery.
The dice, however, were different. I couldn’t decipher their purpose. What game required magic? And why had two men ended up dead over them?
Bria was working, as she was most nights.
I caught her cleaning off a table as soon as I stepped inside the tavern.
A favorite spot among the locals, the place was busy with bodies, some sitting around cold glasses, some standing with glazed eyes near the bar.
A violinist and a brass horn played a song in the far corner, and it lifted something in my spirit.
Shelves stocked with liquor bottles lined the back wall between a pair of staircases leading to the upper balcony.
“Nina!” a few faces called from their chairs, my face too familiar in this corner of the Fissures. I smiled at each of them anyway, grateful to be welcomed at all.
“You’ll never guess who just showed up,” Bria said, making her way to meet me in the main aisle.
Any attention my arrival had drawn disappeared then, and the hubbub hid our conversation. “I don’t have time for guessing games. I have something for you. Can you meet upstairs?”
She blew a lock of fiery hair from her eye, frowning at my disposition. “Possibly. My relief hasn’t shown up yet, and there’s a client upstairs I was trying to speak with—”
“Get rid of your client.”
She was aghast. “No! The world does not revolve around you and your trinkets, Nina.”
“Says the woman who loves selling my trinkets,” I countered.
“Finding buyers isn’t so easy,” she spoke under her breath. “If I sever every connection in this city at your slightest whim, there will be no one to buy your scraps.”
I slipped off my coat and draped it over an empty chair at the bar, marking it as mine.
Since I’d come straight from work, I hadn’t been able to change into something flashier than my bordeaux silk blouse and tailored trousers from two seasons ago.
Not that I wanted any attention tonight.
I had too much money in my pocket to take my pants off for anyone, even without considering the artifact I’d snatched.
Appearances aside, I’d still unpinned my hair to let the loose curls fall down my back, feeling an inch more feminine among the girls in silky, jewel-toned dresses, uncomfortable corsets, and fake jewels, the ones leaning against men in stripped-down suits.
“Who is upstairs, then? Who’s so important that you’d blow me off?”
“That’s what I was getting to before you interrupted me,” Bria murmured.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice as her dark eyes glanced to the balcony.
“He came to me just a half hour ago, looking for something specific. Obviously, I had to finish my shift before getting into it, so I don’t know what he wants.
But he’s not from here. Looks like he’s from across the canal. ”
“If he’s from the other side, he has no priority here. Unless he’s rich.” I motioned for the barkeep to pour my usual.
“Not rich.” Bria sighed, brows jumping. “Still wouldn’t care to be on his bad side. He’s armed to the teeth. Literally.” She pointed to her canines.
So he was already here. The Cursed man… the one from the surgery.
“I have what he’s after,” I told her. “He was in my surgery earlier, looking for artifacts I had pulled off a dead guy not twenty minutes before he came stumbling in. I had a feeling he’d pay well for them.”
“Nina…” She stepped closer. “Tell me you didn’t steal from him.”
“Not directly… I just saw an opportunity. Now all of us can get what we want.”
Bria pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. As if my flawless idea had been an incredible mistake. “You’re trying to hustle one of the Cursed? Do you have a death wish?”
Odd to be asked that question twice in one night. “I don’t have much time to wait around. Bernard needs me home. So let’s make it quick.”
If I walked away, I didn’t know if I’d get another chance to sell them to her.
Any relic, anything created by the Academy, was not to be traded or used for anything besides its intended purpose.
If a copper caught me with them—and they could smell the stuff, practically—I wouldn’t need the bodies to earn a ticket to exile.
And that Cursed would be looking for me, too.
“What does he want so badly?” She looked me up and down, arching a brow.
A hand went to the necklace around her throat, a green gem dangling on a dainty, gold chain.
Her russet eyes were deepened by the glow of the bar lights and the deep red of her hair piled high in a messy arrangement on her head.
“Not sure, exactly, but I know they’re relics.”
Her eyes widened, glancing at Leon as he slid ales across her tray to serve. “Even so, this client already demanded privacy upstairs and several pints of plain blood. He doesn’t look like one to mess with.”
“Then I’ll go up there and face him myself.” I sighed. “Either way, I want to get rid of them!”
“Nina, I’m serious,” Bria said with an arched brow. Her face was a warning. “Don’t you dare go up there until I meet with him.”
“This outsider has until I finish this.” I lifted my glass of gin with soda water and a lime wedge, throwing half of it back on the first sip. Bria rolled her eyes.
“Nina—”
“Hey, can we get our drinks while they’re cold?” a patron called to Bria from a large table.
She pursed her lips and slid the tray from the bar counter. I rose from my seat. “Why don’t I take this, and you go upstairs to take care of your other business.”
Her eyes slitted, as if seeking my ulterior motives. “Fine, but you’d better be nice to them. And don’t take my tips.”
I balanced the tray of drinks on my shoulder as I’d seen her do countless times, though it was trickier than she made it appear. While I started toward the table, she stared at me from the bottom of the stairs.
“Go!” I waved her on. Honestly, three hours ago, I’d shoved a man’s intestines back into his abdomen. I could stomach the tempers of a few drunk old men.
One of them recognized me, a patient of my surgeon’s. “Broussard paying you so badly that you have to pick up shifts here, Nina?”
I slid the drink across the high-top, spilling some of the foam over the glass edge. “I’m paid fine.” Another lie. “Any chance to see you more often, Mr. Comeaux.”
“Best team this side of the canal, I’ll tell ya,” Comeaux told his friends. “You should go let them look at that growth on your groin, Mel. Dr. Broussard could get it right off.”
“Maybe I will,” Mel replied, looking at me with a crooked smile.
“Wonderful.” I sighed. “Just let me know if you boys need anything else.”
I slipped away before any of them could need anything else, tossing the empty tray on the bar for Leon to refill with orders. After a few rounds, I collapsed in my seat. The barkeep was busy shaking a cocktail when I asked, “Why is she so nervous? I’ve seen Bria deal with worse than a Cursed.”
He shrugged. “From what I’ve observed, business has been slow for her. Hasn’t seen steady coin in weeks. Fewer people are buying artifacts, the Academy is cracking down on the market, and many believe the coppers are working undercover. I might go check on her, just in case.”
“You’re really worried?” I asked. Bria met with lots of men alone. She’d had her share of experiences with sleazy clients and knew how to take care of herself. But if Leon was concerned…
He shook his head. “Just a bad feeling. She’s wearing her necklace, at least. Still, I don’t like relying on relics.”