14. Cal #3
They listened for more servants on the way out but didn’t encounter any more issues.
Soon enough, they’d made it back across the yard, up the wall, and down the other side.
Kelsith waited to speak until they’d traveled several blocks and used his enchanted rope to scale onto the roof of a closed shop.
“Ah, nothing like a good robbery to get the blood flowing!” Kelsith opened the sack, dumping its contents onto the roof. “Let’s see what we got.”
Cal watched as he began deftly sorting their loot into two piles—separate shares for each of them.
Staring at the assorted jewels and other valuables, Cal caught an odd glint in the moonlight.
He crouched down, sifting through his pile until he held up a silver locket studded with gemstones. It had a small engraving on the back:
To my dearest sister. May they always watch over you.
Cal’s gut clenched as he carefully opened the locket. Inside was a tiny portrait of an older man and woman. Cal didn’t recognize them, but given the context, he assumed they were probably the parents of the woman who owned the house.
His hand shook as he let the locket drop back into the pile of loot. Whatever lingering thrill he’d felt from the successful job faded, replaced by a sickening sense of shame.
“I don’t want it.”
Kelsith paused, glancing up at him. “Don’t want what?”
“My share. You can keep it all.”
Kelsith frowned, his brow furrowing. “That’s not how this works, Faces. We’re partners now. That means we split the haul, fifty-fifty.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want it.”
Kelsith’s eyes narrowed on Cal’s face as his hands stilled over his share of the loot. “You know they can always buy more, right? People like them always can.”
That’s what Cal had always told himself. Eternal Dark, he’d thought essentially the same thing about the people at the gala earlier that night. For all he knew, the minor lady they’d just robbed had been among those in attendance.
But his time spent with Griff had already begun to alter his perspective.
Kelsith had always been more ruthless than him, willing to take on any job for the right price.
But that divide seemed starker than ever now.
Stealing simply didn’t have the same thrill it used to.
If he was honest, it hadn’t for quite a while.
Tonight had been an amusing diversion, but it didn’t hold a candle to how he’d felt the past week working alongside Griff on something that actually mattered. Recalling Griff’s confidence in him that he could do more, be more, he was suddenly filled with shame.
Perhaps he didn’t owe the inspector anything…but that didn’t mean he didn’t owe himself to strive for a life he could be proud of.
When Cal still didn’t move to take his loot, Kelsith scowled.
He shoveled both piles back into his sack.
“Fine, have it your way.” His scowl faded as he held out his hand.
“But you’ve got to admit, we still make an amazing team.
Come on, Faces—give us another chance. I’ll even let you pick the jobs from now on: only targets you approve of. What do you say?”
Without a hint of hesitation, Cal shook his head. “No.” He stood, gazing down at his former mentor. “Sorry, Kelsith. I wish you well, I really do. But I’m done with that life. For good.”
He expected Kelsith to get angry. He braced himself for an argument, or even for Kelsith to attack. But to his surprise, Kelsith simply nodded, looking sad.
“I can’t say I’m surprised. Even if I am disappointed.
” Cal flinched when Kelsith stepped forward, but it was only to wrap him in a loose embrace.
He patted Cal on the back. “I guess this is goodbye. Take care of yourself, Faces. And hey, who knows? Maybe you and that inspector of yours will defy the odds.”
Kelsith pulled back. Flashing Cal one last parting smile, he gave him a sloppy salute and, sack in hand, leaped from the rooftop.
Cal stared after him for a time, an overwhelming rush of emotion freezing him in place. This felt like closing the chapter on a huge part of his life. Yet while there was melancholy, there was also an enormous sense of relief.
He didn’t know exactly what happened next. All he knew was that this life wasn’t for him—not anymore. He’d outgrown it. And it was past time he returned to Griff and saw their investigation through to the end.
Feeling lighter than he had in a long time, perhaps ever, he began his trek back through the streets toward Griff’s apartment.
It wasn’t until he was nearing Griff’s street, anticipation for seeing the inspector again building in his chest, that his fingers strayed absently to the thief’s mark containing the void orb.
Usually, he could sense when something was stored in the magical tattoo, a slight tingle spreading down his hand, along with a mental image of the object. Yet as his fingers brushed over the spot, he felt nothing.
Sudden, sharp dread seized him. Dashing toward the nearest streetlight, he tore open his shirt, peering down at his exposed chest. But he already knew what he’d see.
The void orb was gone. And so far as he was aware, there was only one other person alive who knew where his thief’s mark was and how to activate it.
Kelsith had betrayed him yet again.