Chapter 1 A Pretty Bad Start
A PRETTY BAD START
Kat
Now you’re free of me and my mistakes.
Kat had never yelled at her sister before. Gods, she’d never yelled at anyone. Her hands shook as she strode away from the stone table under the trees, her throat burned with hateful words both spoken and not, and her heart pounded like a caged thing despite the freedom to flee.
She had been so excited to see Kalypso after two weeks apart.
Never had they spent so long on their own, and with reunion, Kat expected a reprieve from the chaos of waking in the Achreos Barrens.
Though, there was a little apprehension too.
She was at least marginally anxious about the fuck up that had gotten them into this whole mess, and maybe those momentary nerves had influenced her behavior in some minuscule way.
Kat knew, of course, that there was no such thing as a little apprehension, marginal anxiety, or nerves that were anything but permanent and all-encompassing, but anger was almost magical in its ability to convince even the most reticent human she wasn’t meant to be that way.
Regardless, seeing her sister was supposed to make things better.
Or at least easier. But when Kat found herself swept into Kaly’s arms, crushed, smothered, something inside her snapped.
While Kaly inspected her like a fragile bird who needed mending and locking away, the last of Kat’s threadbare optimism unraveled.
Her sister’s eyes were always too sharp, and they’d landed on every flaw as they darted over Kat’s form, seeing right through to the weaknesses inside. The anger was easy then. Easier than it had ever been before.
She darted into an alley before the tears could come.
Pressing her back to the cold stone of a closed shop, she took a painfully tight breath and squeezed her eyes shut.
It was bad enough she had to traipse through the streets under the scrutiny of so many demons, she couldn’t walk back to the post sobbing too.
Demons already thought humans were strange—an accurate observation—and weak—even more accurate in Kat’s circumstance—they didn’t need to believe humans could be brought to tears just by walking down the street.
Get a grip, she demanded silently of herself, too many emotions roiling deep in her belly. A grip would have been helpful earlier, but there was another matter that came bubbling up when they were finally face to face: Their separation was all Kaly’s fault.
Perhaps it was understandable to take a few swings and hurl distasteful curses upon waking in a strange infirmary surrounded by demons—not that Kat would ever do such a stupid fucking thing herself—but Kaly hadn’t stopped there.
She’d committed to being an utter menace and gotten herself drafted into the guard.
To keep her in line, Kaly wasn’t allowed to see her sister until she could prove trustworthy.
The fact that Kat would be punished by that decision too apparently mattered to no one, her sister included, because Kaly was still scheming.
Oh, my gods, she thinks we can escape.
Where the fuck had Kaly gotten such a ludicrous idea?
That they might simply return to the shithole they’d been abducted from by outsmarting a whole city of magic-wielding demons and surviving the realm’s deadliest forest?
It was asinine! And then what? Keep scrounging their way through Ankerick with the added threat that slavers could snatch them from any alley and cart them off to Cyrinth?
They wouldn’t get lucky a second time around and be saved by a scouting party of demons, that was for damn sure.
Though Kaly probably didn’t consider anything about their fate lucky—if it wasn’t her idea, pulled off exactly her way, any plan was doomed.
Kat’s anger bloomed anew, but a furrowed brow and a sour look were better than tears.
I should leave that tail hole in Kaly’s trousers so her ass hangs out at that stupid fundraiser.
She would never, of course, because that would be an affront to seamstresses everywhere, but the fleeting malicious thought gave her the tiniest bit of solace.
Something like a grip gotten, Kat tucked her arms around her middle and hurried through the nearest alley to wind her way back to the Crescent District.
The center of the district was made up of its namesake street, wide enough for a sprawl of flora in its middle and tapering on either end in a curve.
Kat skirted the shadows and crossed the road with her head down at its narrowest point.
Hunching her shoulders to mimic the height of other women didn’t offer Kat the ability to blend in a city full of massive demons like it did back in Ankerick, but old habits were hard to kill.
It took a little longer that way, but there were too many strangers meandering in the park she would have to cross to reach the post straightaway.
But I like the post.
Kat hadn’t said it out loud until her argument with her sister, but the truth flooded her chest as she stepped inside the mud chamber and pressed her back to the closed door.
Sure, she’d been terrified of its size and what was expected of her at first, but Heck Post was always quiet, it was always warm, and it was as close to solitude as she could get.
Just the way she liked things. Why the fuck would she want to go back to Ankerick?
Go back to any life where they had to run schemes and risk life and limb just to scrape by?
Couldn’t Kaly see this place, this Heck, was as simple as its silly name?
It was like falling off a cliff and landing on a mound of feathers.
It was…it was soft. And didn’t they both deserve a little softness after all this time?
Kat took a deep breath, the first full one since she’d mustered the courage to leave for that mistake of a meeting with her sister.
The smell of magic and wax and stew mingled as they filled her lungs with heat, familiarity, and something like comfort.
There wasn’t even a comparison to be made to the piss-soaked cobbles and burnt henbane that plagued Ankerick.
But the post was missing one thing…
A zingy smell like citrus squeezed over a winter night filled the air, and she knew the mail portal had just activated. That would be the mid-morning delivery, and that meant sorting. Kat was good at sorting.
Magic was still sizzling overhead when she entered the portal chamber.
Purple and orange light danced over the runes carved into a huge stone suspended from the ceiling.
The table beneath of the exact same size was carved with a similar rune—a sister rune, it had been appropriately if annoyingly called.
The space between and the packages that appeared were never to be touched until the runes on the edge of the table lost their color.
She watched the last of them dim into nothing as she lingered on the threshold.
“Welcome back, dear. How did—” A dark violet tail swished on the other side of the room as if it had cut off its owner’s words.
Kat kept her head down, eyes averted. “It was good,” she lied, wiping at her face despite that she’d never let a tear fall.
Alamar made a sound that was meant to mimic confirmation, and they were both polite enough to pretend the other was being totally honest. “There aren’t many parcels. I can sort these if you’d like to take the letters to the back.”
Kat peeked up through strands of brassy hair and surveyed the portal dais. “Oh, um, is that what you want me to do?”
“Yes. Take these to the mail room and get each of them sent off. When you’re finished, come find me, and we’ll see what else needs doing.” Alamar held out a thick stack tied with twine in her commanding but cordial way.
It was useful to have exact directions, so Kat walked with more confidence across the room to accept the letters.
Demon magic was a wonder, and if she thought too much about the fact they could transport goods long distances instantaneously, she would fall into other deeper thoughts like how there was another demon city out there somewhere better integrated into human society that was sending Heck packages and letters.
Was their magic even stronger? What about the magic all around her?
There was so much more to see, to know, to feel…
Too much really, so she sewed shut those thoughts too dangerous to have and tied them with the thickest knot.
The letters were still warm with magic, though, and it was a little like having some sort of power when they were in her hands. Not to wield, but just to hold. Just for a brief moment.
Magic or not, she had a job, a legitimate one with responsibilities and expectations and even rewards, and that was what mattered.
She didn’t even care if she was getting fair coin for it; she had no idea what fair coin was, only that she had all her needs met in the living quarters of the post and was still handed a small sum every few days that she squirreled away.
It probably wasn’t enough to properly look after herself, but it would do until she could figure out how to make more.
The letter sorting room was connected to the portal chamber, but when Kat closed the door behind her, the hollowness of its height swallowed up the last vestiges of her worries.
They called it a room, but it was more like a tower, square and windowless but protected.
Sure, it smelled a little like drayks, but Kat liked it so much that on that first day when Alamar showed them around, she volunteered to take the letter sorter position.
There was no competition with Brioni, though—that woman was just itching to traverse the city and meet every demon she could.
Thank the gods neither wanted to share the other’s responsibilities because this was where Kat belonged: in the dark and alone.
Wheeled ladders were propped against each wall and a table sat in the center of the chamber.
Symbols were marked every few inches along the table’s edge that corresponded to the drawers lining the walls, denoting districts and neighborhoods.
Each drawer was marked with a name and street, and they ran at least twenty-five feet up to the top of the tower.
The addresses that got the most mail, like the barracks or the council chambers, were found at ground level, but to reach many, like the first letter she picked off the stack, it was a climb.
That wasn’t a problem for Kat, though—if there was one thing she was better at than sorting, it was climbing.
If only she could physically climb her way out of the mess she’d just made with her sister or the even bigger one that Kaly was going to get the both of them into if she pursued this absurd escape plan.
But Kaly was good at escaping. She had proved it many times.
Kat reached up and touched the scar that ran from the corner of her mouth and across her cheek to her ear.
It happened long ago, and she could only remember it like a vivid tale recalled from someone else’s life.
A small hand pushing open a door as its owner followed familiar but terrifying sounds.
The shadows of a child moving down a dark hall and then the much bigger shadows cast from the parlor’s firelight.
The smell of alcohol, the sounds of shouting.
Then the attack, the floor, the blood. There was screaming.
Everyone screaming. And it was all her fault.
Damn it. It’s all my fault.
Kat swallowed thickly. Her sister would never stop worrying about her until she proved she could take care of herself.
No—until Kat could take care of both of them.
As much as Kaly deserved to be looked after, though, she would never ask.
She would just resort to what she knew—fighting and running and fighting some more—to keep Kat safe.
No more, she thought as she grabbed the nearest ladder with letters in hand and began to climb. No more mistakes, and no more uselessness. I’ll fix this for us both.