Chapter 58
Jane
The glass panels of the ceiling cast the platform in a greyish light, barely doing anything to illuminate the weathered brick walls surrounding us.
My stomach churned at the sight of humans mingling near the tracks, their voices rising and falling in chatter. Too oblivious to who was around them. The departing train’s whistle cut through the half-crowded station, echoing in my strange ears.
My hand drifted to my chest, still feeling the ghost of a blade there, although there would be no scar now.
In the past days, I had woken with a spinning skull more times than I could count, checking my own skin for a blade that wasn’t there. I tried not to think of how many times they had drugged me unconscious.
Someone braver might not have felt their eyes stinging, might not have cried at all. But I knew I was slipping.
Cahir had stopped trusting humans to bring my meals or take me to the washroom, so when he said I was leaving the mansion with them, he’d brought the cobalt skirt and the heavy grey sweater I wore now.
It was safe to assume that it hadn’t been him or Madden who had compelled that servant, but another Scion in that mansion had wanted me dead.
Cahir ushered me toward a long stairway crowded with humans going about their cloudy afternoon. Their coats glistened with the sheen of a recent rainfall, and the bright rain jackets of children became the only lively colours in the entire station.
Little pockets and little shoes that filled me with more dread.
Madden’s boots squeaked on the cobblestones after we reached the upper levels and stepped out of the station. When I peered behind me, the other Scions accompanying us had vanished from sight.
They led me towards a three-storey apartment block with aged bricks and crooked windows, its ground floor home to a shopfront.
Human dwellings.
Cahir nudged me forward, and I dropped my gaze, peering down at the boots that weren’t mine. The darker skin on my hands was not mine. The ruby-red nails, glossy and perfect, belonged to a woman I had never met. Nothing on me belonged to me.
Through the glass door of the shopfront, I could see families at small tables, steam curling from their mugs, children climbing onto seats with their muddy shoes planted on the cushions.
Unaware. All of them so unaware.
Cahir held the door open, letting Madden walk in first and closing a hand around my elbow to guide me forward.
The warmth inside made the sweat beneath the choker on my neck itch, and I reached for it. The glamour relic.
“You won’t be able to remove it, milady,” Cahir murmured. When I instinctively reached for the clasp, a sharp shock pulsed through my fingers and forced my hand away. “I suggest you stop trying.”
When Cahir had fastened the clasp on my nape at first, I felt a surge of heat and ice flash through my body. When I’d noticed my hands were different, nausea had rolled inside me.
My face no longer resembled mine. A rounder shape, bigger nose, unfamiliar features staring back when I passed the reflective glass on the door.
The glamour was only one effect of the choker. The relic clamped down on my throat, and I couldn’t speak. Madden had said that relics never drew suspicion even in the most dutiful mageborn buildings, and certainly not here among humans.
Through the stranger’s eyes, I watched customers laugh and drink their coffee, watched them slice generous pieces of cake while their children tugged at sleeves.
They had no idea the men beside me planned to tear lives apart today. And not only here. Others had come with us and were already scattered throughout the town.
Perhaps the ones in this café were safe.
Pulling out a chair for me, Cahir commanded me to sit. Madden sat across from us at the worn wooden table, his tall frame draped in velvet and tailored finery that made my hands curl into fists. Cahir wore similar black clothes, the eye tattoo on his temple visible.
“Sit,” Cahir said.
“Sweetheart, sit so we can wait,” Madden added patiently, as if addressing a stubborn niece. “Or I’ll choose one of these lowlives to join us.”
Some nearby patrons glanced at where I stood, tense and unmoving. But without a voice, I couldn’t warn them. With my heart in my throat, I sat.
“We can’t put up with this for much longer,” Cahir muttered toward Madden. “Bringing her is one more thing to worry about.”
“I’m already arranging a place for her,” Madden replied, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it, the smoke drifting towards other tables.
A waitress approached with a white apron and a warm smile, hair the colour of dark wine. “Afternoon. What can I get for you?” she asked lightly.
Madden stared past her, not deigning to respond.
Cahir answered instead, locking eyes with the girl. “We are not having anything. Do not disturb us again.”
Her smile remained, though her eyes dulled slightly. Compelled. She nodded and walked away.
Cahir withdrew his own cigarette and studied me through the hazy air. “Is she really worth it?” he asked Madden. “Perhaps a spy would be less trouble.”
I watched the green and brown leaves sway in the oak trees outside. Watched the parade of people moving in and out of the clothing shops and restaurants and tobacco stores.
It all rang…familiar.
“A spy cannot predict the outcome,” Madden said, sounding more bored than cautious. “I already have more than enough information. What I need is reassurance.”
Reassurance I couldn’t offer unless I had a body free from wounds. The only reason they had bothered bringing me at all was because of the risk of someone else trying to harm me if I stayed behind. Madden still wanted me alive.
“We are naked,” Madden continued, crushing the cigarette in the ashtray at the centre of the table. “The new reform room is stripping us faster than others are keeping warm. Either we reduce the costs on paint or…” His gaze drifted lazily around the café. “On coffee and cake.”
Cahir nodded, smoke curling from between his fingers.
He’d mentioned supplies before, something about Madden needing me for information. Whatever operation they were discussing with their coded language, they needed to cut expenses. Perhaps those costs were related to the servants, who needed food and housing to keep working. Coffee and cake?
But why would Madden risk breaking laws for house servants? I didn’t know him, but he didn’t strike me as reckless. He was more calculating than this.
He might want to profit again from the backs of captured humans. He didn’t need only house servants. He wanted people for the tunnels. For mining.
They sat in their quiet triumph, hiding much more than I’d seen or heard.
As if sensing my stare, Giddeon Madden turned to me, studying me for a long, unsettling moment before leaning in slightly. “You’ll make me a very rich man, Deborah,” he said low, then looked to Cahir. “What do you think?”
“Her name doesn’t matter,” Cahir replied dully, gaze sliding back to the window as if he waited to see someone there.
“But I’m asking you anyway,” Madden said, the first sign of firmness threading his tone.
Cahir caught it and met his master’s stare. “Deborah works. It’s her surname we have to consider.”
“Deborah,” Madden repeated slowly, his eyes weighing me like a thing, not a person.
Or rather, another person.
My pulse thumped beneath the borrowed skin. The stranger’s face hid my panic, but I still felt it, coiling within me. Sweat broke on my back, and the air was too heavy, hard to breathe.
My palms turned clammy, and I recognized the signs, the panic rising and rising.
I clawed at the choker, trying to rip it free, dragging in frantic breaths when the clasp sent a painful pulse along my fingertips.
Oh gods. Oh gods.
The second time I reached for it, my hand went stiff, my fingers hardening.
“Deborah needs some air,” Madden said, sternly. “Take her outside.”
Cahir rose, his tight mouth coming into view as his grip on my arm pulled me with him, yet I barely registered the pressure.
Cold wind cut across my cheeks as he guided me out the door, around the café and into a narrow side alley. A startled cat sprang away between trash bags. Cahir pushed me against the brick wall as I fumbled with my hands, watching as my fingers slowly moved again.
He stepped into my space. “I’ll warn you only once. If you draw more attention to yourself, I’ll quiet you the hard way. Understand?”
It had been days. Too many days. I could feel myself losing it, too rattled to think straight. Madden called me by another name, and I—
I braced my palms against the cold brick wall and forced air into my lungs.
Breathe. Breathe.
The rough texture beneath my fingers and the uneven stones beneath my boots grounded me. At least they weren’t white. They didn’t hurt.
I let the cold seep through my fingers until the haze in my head began to recede.
When I opened my eyes again, Cahir had moved to the corner of the building and was gesturing at someone across the street.
A blond man walked hand in hand with a brunette in a navy trench coat, both of them smiling at each other.
Another woman in a leather jacket strode past, holding her child’s wrist while scolding him.
Two young women in cerulean uniforms and plaid skirts walked arm in arm, laughing as they crossed the cobblestones, unaware of the hooded figure approaching from the shadows in the opposite alley.
It came to me why this street felt familiar.
The pressure in my lungs eased as I realised this was the same street from my vision. The Sight had been leading me here, showing me this place, this moment.
Ahead of me, Cahir tipped his head in a silent message. The Scion across the street marked the movement, and his attention slid towards the women in uniforms. Ready to ruin lives. Ready to gather more servants for their revolting plans.
Ragged clothes and empty stares flashed through my mind, and I imagined those girls’ faces among the mansion’s captives until I could barely breathe.
The hooded Scion crept closer.
My panic receded, and I could think clearly again.
With my eyes on Cahir, I fell back into the alley, stealthily slipping between buildings. I counted three corners before breaking into a full run, veering from one narrow passage into another. If my sense of direction was correct, I had to turn left at the next corner.
My heartbeat raced as I emerged onto the wider street, stepping straight in front of the two women.
They stumbled, one of them yelping. With no voice to warn them, I pointed frantically behind them, desperation etched across my borrowed features. They followed my gesture and saw the cloaked man withdrawing into the alley.
Recognition widened their eyes. One girl caught her friend’s wrist, offered a single nod, and tugged her into a swift retreat. They vanished down the street.
Cahir lingered on the far side of the street, his murderous gaze fixed on me.
My pulse drowned out the rest of the world. The alley swelled with motion as people noticed the hooded figures in sight, some fleeing, some staring suspiciously at them.
I staggered back as Cahir made for me. He moved slowly as not to call attention to himself.
My instinct overrode fear. I turned and ran.
Too many eyes watched me, followed me as I sprinted down the wet cobblestones, boots slipping as I careened around a corner, catching a glimpse of Cahir vanishing into an alley, away from the humans who couldn’t see him.
Flinging.
I needed to get out of sight and veered into another alley. Each step pounded in my skull. If I could lose them, I could escape.
A Scion shed his cloak in one of the alleys, and I made a turn, searching for another way. A flash of green and gold caught my attention.
My breath hitched.
At the end of the street, a sage-coloured sign above a storefront read Goldsworth. I blinked, certain my mind was playing tricks. But the letters remained, the same ones I’d seen before. I moved toward it, glancing behind me for Cahir, but there was no sign of him.
The shop was shuttered, wedged between two buildings, its interior dark and empty. It looked like nothing more than an ordinary store. I couldn’t understand why I had seen it.
Jus then, I noticed a Scion hiding at the alley next to one of the buildings, but he wasn’t looking at me. His attention was fixed elsewhere, his veins shimmering faintly. A second Scion slid into view beside him, murmuring something as they both focused on something to their right.
My gaze followed theirs.
I stopped breathing. Because…it was him. A head taller than the rest, with the messy hair I recognized. I had woven my fingers through those strands countless times.
Reagan’s hair clung to his forehead, though the velvet blazer he wore was dry. I’d bet it was Gwin next to him, hidden behind the mass of bodies between us.
A battle mage I recognized was there, though not in his usual uniform. More of Mountheim’s patrollers mingled in a larger square down the cross street, blending with the crowd.
The Scions next to the shop watched him, one aiming at Reagan as he scanned the streets, searching.
Looking for me.
His gaze found me across the open street, held me—and kept searching.
A muted sob clawed its way out of my throat.
Down the street I’d just come from, Cahir strode in my direction, his fists balled.
I should run to Reagan, but the hidden cowards kept their aim, waiting for the perfect moment when the crowd would part.
My access flared to life, coursing down my arms and gathering in my hands.
Cahir’s footsteps thudded behind me, and I lunged forward, bumping into shoulders as I moved toward the alley. The distant screech of a bird rang in my ears as I wedged between people.
There was power thrumming in my veins, and I let it loose towards the alley.