13. Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
The morning faded beneath dreams for the first time in so many days, Lux couldn’t even drudge up another recollection.
It had been nearly noon when she’d finally stretched her sore muscles and aching joints. Cautiously adjusting the mussed rug of the living room floor, she’d taken the time to note her aunt’s absence before leaving herself. Perhaps Riselda was out shopping for more extravagant potions.
Lux trailed gloved fingertips along the brick, crumbling mortar giving way beneath the black material. It was a cold morning for high summer. Then again, it was often cold around the mayor’s birthday. A weird blip in the season that occurred with an unsettling regularity.
She wiped dusted fingers against her dress.
She rounded the street corner where the smells of the Dark Market greeted her first and a sea of masks second. She slowed, surveying the crowd. The furtive glances were magnified above the thin fabric, spread to even the vendors as they hardly bartered their prices, voices hushed and foreboding like the sickness could latch onto their words, coat their tongues and slip down their throats.
Lux scanned the sellers, searching for one in particular as she strode to his usual place. It was empty of its usual tins, the dark wood scratched and weathered. Her eyes traveled the market again swiftly, but she knew Finias wouldn’t be found. Which wagon ride had been his?
And how would she replenish her supplies now?
Lux caught the stare of the old woman from whom she often purchased wyvern claws. Across the Dark Market, she hurried to stand before her squat booth, observing the jars of claws and talons without turning her lip up at the hideous jewelry the woman attempted to craft from them.
“When did Finias die?”
The old woman hacked, no mask in place, and Lux backed away. “I don’t know. Yesterday. Maybe the day before.”
“Was it the new sickness that took him?”
“How should I know!” Irritation dragged the woman’s eyebrows down, and she swatted the air. “Why do you care?”
Lux glowered. “Howler canines.”
The humped vendor clucked, jowls quivering. “Ah, guess you best set your own traps about the forest, girlie.” She cackled, revealing toothless gums. “Are you going to buy claws from me today?”
Lux spun, ignoring her entirely.
“Rude, ungrateful chit!” A spew of hacking coughs followed.
Lux called over her shoulder, “You really should cease smoking those marsh-grass cigars or you’re sure to join him soon, madam.”
A massive talon grazed her cheek, but she kept walking. Perhaps not . The old crone did possess more strength than most.
Standing before Shaw’s worn door, Lux wondered at the flutter in the pit of her stomach before quickly deciding it must be indigestion. It couldn’t be anything else. A glance over her shoulder at the alchemist’s now-covered basement window made her huff in annoyance. Attempting to glimpse any further clues of its secrets would be a wasted effort. Damn it all.
She turned her back on the disappointment and knocked once. Then she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her dress as she waited. She hoped he was actually at home. They should have discussed a time.
A mimicked screech sounded from behind her, and Lux whipped her head toward it. High above, a child dangled from a fourth story balcony, picking her teeth with a bone and grinning. A second screech left the little beast’s mouth.
Don’t leave me out here, Prowler.
She knocked again, harder.
Not a handful of heartbeats passed, and Shaw’s bare chest filled the doorway, trousers low on his hips. He squinted up at the overcast sky. “It’s afternoon.”
Lux couldn’t say a thing. The odd flutter in her belly had morphed into an unfamiliar flame that not only sent a flush of heat through her but burned every thought from her head. She had seen him in less once and hadn’t even blinked. Fine, she’d blinked a bit. But this was something else entirely. What was the matter with her?
Shaw finally took notice of her silence. He stared at her now, bemused.
Why did he look at her like that? Could he see the flush against her skin? Death take me. “What of it?” she demanded, nose in the air.
“I assumed you’d have come by this morning.”
“I slept through it.”
Shaw yawned and she frowned at the implication, the heat fizzling. “Well, come in.” He stepped back, ushering her through. She obliged, skirting wide of his bare skin.
She found its inside to be brighter than the time before. She’d not realized in being shoved against the door, and subsequently held at knife point, that he’d an entryway table perfectly sized for a lamp. One burned atop it now, and it lit the brick wall behind it, drawing her attention.
Lux felt the ground tilt.
She tripped forward, stretching out shaking fingers.
“They’re—” But she couldn’t finish.
They hung from nails bent and scuffed due to the force required to drive them into the mortar. She ran her forefinger along the first frame, the dark wood sleek and polished. She did the same to the second, and finally, the third. By then, she could sense what threatened, her throat thickening and begging for an escape, but she’d die before she allowed Shaw Roser to see her tears.
Majestic mountains. A crashing ocean. A vast, red forest.
The outside world.
Lux wiped at her eyes just to be sure.
“Necromancer…”
“Who did this?”
“Lux…”
“Who saw this?” Lux spun back toward him only to stumble. Her eyes were blurred and his were so…
Hands grabbed hold of her elbows. Heat poured from him—into her. She’d never been stabbed but she imagined it must feel something like this. She jerked from his grasp.
“I did.”
“ You— ”
“In dreams.”
Vulnerable. That’s what his eyes were. Damn it all. “You painted them. I can hear them. I think I can even feel them.”
Neither breathed for entirely different reasons. Lux didn’t want it to end: the rhythmic fall of waves, the crisp mountain air, the rustle of green leaves. She looked back toward the scenes, and when she wiped her eyes next, her fingers came away wet.
Horrified, she spun away bodily.
What a gift he had. Common knowledge said every soul possessed their own. Gifts of arts, manipulations, healings—necromancy. But for many, at least in Ghadra, they seemed to remain undiscovered. Or, even if discovered, then uncultivated. To deny a part of yourself so completely? Lux had tried. Once, she had sworn to never open The Risen again, her spirit crushed and splintered by the festering hand the fates had dealt her. But the gaping hole it’d left behind…
“It’s certainly no bringing back the dead,” he murmured.
“How can you compare?” Forgetting her reddened eyes, she glared up at him. “The only thing you might say is that you’ve discovered your brilliance same as I’ve discovered mine. If it weren’t for a book, I’d just be a girl uniquely obsessed with bodies, dressing them for a trip to the trees. Look at what you’ve made!”
At some point during her tirade, Shaw’s lips had parted, his eyes grown wide. And it wasn’t until its end that Lux realized how close she’d moved. A half step more and she’d be flush against his warmth.
Would it feel as good as she imagined?
A hoarse clearing of his throat brought her careening back to her cold reality. She was chained to Ghadra. She was a necromancer who preferred the dead for company. He was a murderer who despised her for her past.
Imagining only hurt.
“The journal is this way.”
Shaw continued down the hall and rounded the corner without glancing back to see if she followed. Lux did, though slowly, and looked everywhere but his naked back. She’d cried in front of him. What an idiot, you are. She passed into his main room, where a small wood stove sat and an ancient kettle trilled a high whistle to greet her.
Since Shaw had already escaped to his bedroom, she swiped up the cloth on the counter and moved the kettle from the heat. Tea . She’d half-expected him to rise to a pint of ale. Lux studied the teacup set out for his use, delicately painted with woodland animals so real she saw them wriggle their noses back at her.
“Did you get lost?”
She startled, clattering the cup to the worn counter. She hadn’t meant to pick it up. “No. Your water was hot.” When he didn’t speak, she glanced over her shoulder in time to catch his sardonic expression. She scowled, turning entirely. “And I was admiring your teacup.”
His expression faded to smooth indifference as he strode toward her. His eyes refused to leave hers as he reached around her body, his newly donned sleeve brushing against hers, before returning to his side with the cup in hand. Her forearm tingled. She ignored it.
He pressed the book to her chest, and her hands reached to clasp it. “The journal. As promised.” He backed away, pouring a cup of tea, the steam wafting upward in twining tendrils. “Would you like one?”
She’d planned to say no. “Yes.”
With a tight-lipped smile, he gestured above her, and she followed it to the three remaining cups hanging from rusted hooks. They were really much too beautiful for such things. She chose one painted with various birds in flight, soaring beneath rays of yellows and oranges. Running a thumb over their fluttering wings, she turned toward him.
“Have a seat.”
She sat, holding a beautiful, empty teacup across from Shaw, and for the life of her, unable to think of a thing to say. Stacks of small boxes rested between them, and he sifted through the lot.
“You have a lot of teas.”
His eyes lifted. “Yes.” Raising the lid of one, he held it out to her. “Black vesper?”
“Yes, please.” He spooned aromatic leaves into an infuser, pouring the kettle immediately following. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence ensued, the weighted awkwardness of their forced politeness stretching without end in sight. Lux could hardly stand it. She watched him shrug suspenders over his shoulders, his lashes lowering as he drank from his cup. Her foot began to tap a disjointed rhythm, and she thought, This boy? This boy paints dreams?
She said the first thought that came to mind after that. “What must you do to bring them to life?” She tapped the teacup’s edge, and Shaw followed the gesture.
“I drip my blood into the pigments while mixing. They remain this way only while I live.”
Lux’s mouth gaped, horrified. “You use blood for your brilliance?” The muscles in Shaw’s jaw twitched at her expression, and only too late did she realize he’d lied. “I despise you.”
“No blood. I only whisper sweet words to them, and they respond.”
Knowing he probably lied again— what sweet words could he even know?— Lux seethed, her spine straightening in her chair. “Anyone die by your knife last night?”
Over a long sip of strong tea, she watched his eyes shadow, though not in the anger she expected from her goading. “No. Not last night.”
She carefully replaced her cup on the table.
His eyes flicked down her face, finger tracing the rim of his own cup. “That child. The grief. How you allowed the father to work off his debt. I couldn’t put it out of my head.”
“You were eavesdropping?”
He scoffed. “It would have been impossible not to.”
“Not if you’d left when you were supposed to.”
His brows slashed downward. “I wished she weren’t the exception. That all the poor of Ghadra could choose to utilize your services if they wanted. It was gut-wrenching to overhear.”
Lux slowly placed her palms flat upon the table, fingertips blanched white. “Shaw, do you have the slightest idea what ingredients are required for the enchantment?” He opened his mouth, only to shake his head. No, of course he didn’t. “I just discovered my only source of howler canines died . They’re the most expensive, as they’re the hardest to get. And if you’re not brought to me before your eighth hour, they’re essential. If I’m to be free to revive all of Ghadra, how do you suggest I procure the funds? Hunt and harvest them myself?”
He contemplated the question, but she knew he wouldn’t find any answers. She couldn’t find any answers, and it was her job. At last, he sighed, giving up. “Have you chosen a costume yet?”
Lux lifted her eyes from the first page of the journal, taken aback at the change. “Yes. Have you?”
He grinned, shadows giving way to reveal that rarely seen gold shattering the copper of his eyes. The flutter in her stomach returned, that traitorous thing. “I’ve an idea.”
“Care to share?”
“Not at all.”
Lux bit her cheek. If he turned out dressed as a barrow troll or a marsh creature, she’d be forced to abandon him. She knew her opinion had next to no weight, however, so with a final swallow, she stood.
“Thank you for the tea. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Clutching the journal to her chest, she slipped from the chair.
Shaw remained where he was. “Be careful with that.” Lux waved a dismissive hand, her back already to him as she strode down the hall. “Necromancer! No one can find it.”
“Yes, Prowler. I will guard it with my life!”
She allowed herself one last reprieve before the paintings, one last imagining, regardless of the hurt, before she opened the door and closed it tight. Against all the wishes that could never be.