21 Petals
Petals
Vaelira sat at the kitchen table in Axel’s townhouse, a bowl of untouched soup cooling in front of her.
She stirred the dumplings absently, watching them drift among hunks of meat and finely diced vegetables.
Erryn had brought her here before dinner.
She’d handed her a Royal Crest then looked away when Vaelira pinned it to her cloak.
“Did he say when he’d be back?” Erryn asked.
Axel shook his head. “Just said to get everyone here.”
Erryn sighed and pushed her plate away. The door opened and Willem stepped into the kitchen.
His flour-covered apron was gone, along with his usual charm.
It had been replaced by a black knit jumper, fitted trouser, and a sombre expression.
Throwing knives lined his belt. He looked like he’d aged five years in the thirty minutes he’d been gone.
Vaelira tilted her head. “They suit you.”
He shrugged and dropped into the seat beside her, one foot tapping restlessly against the tiled floor.
“Only weapon I’ve ever been any good with,” he muttered, “been throwing them longer than I remember.” He stared at a blank spot on the wall.
Considering where he’d probably learned to throw those knives, Vaelira didn’t push the subject. The door swung open again.
“About time,” Willem said without looking up.
Elijah entered. He scanned each face then sat at the head of the table. “We move tonight.”
“You’re sure?” Willem asked. Elijah nodded.
Vaelira leaned forward. “What’s tonight?”
“We suspect someone is smuggling relics into New Town,” he said. “We’re going to intercept them.”
“Did you find anything behind that door?”
“Something was definitely being stored there, but by the time I went back it was cleared out. We must have spooked them.”
“You think whoever it was is the same person we’re after tonight?”
“Yes.”
Axel frowned. “Is the source secure?”
Willem gave a short, bitter laugh. “Davey heard it from someone in Shanks, who heard it from his sister who heard it from a brothel girl last week.”
“You can’t rely on Davey to piss straight,” Erryn said. “Let alone deliver reliable intel.”
“As pleasant as that image is,” Elijah said dryly, “I’ve confirmed it. We have one hour to be in position.”
No one dared linger after dark anymore. Shadows stretched down every silent street, the lamplighters seeming to have forgotten this part of New Town.
Vaelira stood with her back against a wall in a narrow alley, hood drawn and her new dagger in hand. She hated how easily the hilt fit her palm, as if the cold metal had been moulded to its shape. Jon’s had always felt heavier and slightly off balance, but at least it had felt like hers.
She peered into the main street. It was unnaturally quiet, as if the stone sensed the strange relics drawing close. In the alley opposite, Erryn mirrored her position and signalled for Vaelira to fall back into the shadows.
She moved back as the sound of hooves echoed in the distance.
She resisted the urge to call on her power.
Elijah hadn’t told the others, and now wasn’t the time.
She had no idea how they’d react. Essensia wasn’t trusted, especially not now, with the summonings spreading fear through the city.
The Gods only knew how that news would land, and if it went badly, it could end up with her in a cell and executed by morning.
The hooves drew closer and Vaelira pressed herself deeper into the darkness as a black carriage barrelled past. It was made of polished wood, its wheels thick iron. Far too fine for New Town. It continued down the street, and Erryn nodded. This was the one.
They slipped from the alley moments later, keeping close to the shuttered buildings as they followed. Overhead, Vaelira spotted a shadow moving swiftly along the rooftops. Willem.
A shout rang out, and the carriage jerked to a halt.
Steel sang and Vaelira quickened her pace.
When she reached them, Elijah had the driver pinned to the cobblestones, a sword at his throat.
The man lay wide-eyed, hands raised on either side of his head, babbling that he was just the driver, that he didn’t know anything. Vaelira felt a pang of guilt.
“Followed?” Elijah said, glancing over her shoulder. Vaelira shook her head.
In her pouch, the moonstone pulsed rapidly. At the same time, muffled noises came from inside the carriage. Vaelira reached for her sword as Erryn stepped forward, a long dagger held in one hand. Keeping her distance, Erryn pulled open the door.
Inside, a woman in a sapphire silk dress trembled. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered.
Erryn looked to Elijah. Taking the opening, the woman lunged, drawing a thin blade from beneath her skirts.
A flash of silver sliced through the air, lodging deep in the woman’s shoulder.
She fell backward screaming. Vaelira caught a flash of movement atop the building opposite.
Willem really did know how to use those knives.
Erryn hauled the woman out of the carriage and shoved her face first against the side, hands pinned behind her back. “I don’t recognise her.”
Elijah turned to the driver, then to Vaelira. “Watch him.”
She stepped forward, drawing back her cloak to reveal her father’s sword. “Don’t make me use it.” The driver shrank back further, nodding wildly.
Elijah strode over to the woman and grabbed her chin, turning her to face him.
“What’s your name?” She tried to twist away, but he held firm, and she whimpered.
Red blotches rose on her skin from the force of his grip.
“What is your name?” Elijah repeated, slower this time, each word laced with threat.
The woman spat at him, then she bit down hard. There was a click. She smiled, her teeth stained black. Then she collapsed to the ground.
“Gods have mercy,” Elijah muttered, crouching beside her. “Poison.” He stood abruptly and slammed a fist into the side of the carriage. Vaelira flinched.
A scuffling noise came from within. Elijah drew a dagger and stepped inside. Seconds later, he came flying out, crashing into Erryn. They hit the ground hard, a small figure leaping after him.
It was a child, no more than six. Black veins snaked up her arms, her legs, her neck. She leapt on Elijah, Erryn still pinned beneath him, and lashed out with frightening speed before sprinting away into the nearest alley.
Silver flashed through the air, Willem’s blades finding their mark, but the girl kept running, unfazed by the steel lodged deep in her flesh.
“Now!” Elijah shouted. A flame arced from the rooftop above.
It fell as if in slow motion, a blur of orange across the dark night sky.
A wall of fire erupted down the alley, blocking the girl’s escape.
They had rigged every alley on this stretch of road with godsbreath.
All it needed was a small flame and the powder would go up in an instant, then remain burning for hours. There was no escape for the girl.
Axel came charging from ahead of them where he had been waiting in case the carriage had tried to escape.
Vaelira knew how strong the demon would be, Axel would underestimate it, and Elijah and Erryn were only now scrambling to their feet.
She glanced at the driver. “Stay,” she ordered.
He nodded, his eyes squeezed shut, his hand held up to shield his face.
Vaelira caught up to Axel quickly. Footsteps sounded from behind, and she knew the others had followed. There was a grunt from somewhere above. Willem was still with them.
“There’s nowhere to go,” Axel told the girl.
The girl's face spread into a grin. “Mama says don’t talk to strangers,” she crooned. Her voice sent a chill down Vaelira’s neck.
The girl moved and she was in front of Vaelira. She was so fast. Impossibly fast.
Vaelira slashed with her dagger. It connected, but the girl danced back, a hysterical laugh escaping her pale lips. She darted from side to side, a blur of motion.
“Stand together,” Axel called.
Elijah stepped up beside Vaelira. A thin scratch ran along the length of his jaw. Erryn flanked Axel. Another blade flew from overhead, lodging deep in the girl’s thigh to join the others littered across her body.
Axel let out a groan and dropped to one knee. Vaelira whirled, finding the girl behind them now, raising a blood slicked hand. She breathed deeply, relishing the scent of fresh blood, grinning like this was all a game.
“Axel,” Elijah said, keeping his eyes on the girl.
“I’m fine,” Axel said. He struggled to stand, but he held his sword steady. Vaelira’s chest loosened slightly at the sight, and she gripped her own tighter.
The girl vanished again. There was another burst of manic giggling from behind.
The girl spun in circles before the wall of fire, her tattered pale pink dress flailing around her like petals.
“This is fun,” she sang. Her golden braid swept through the air as she turned, a dirty ribbon at its end.
Vaelira had no doubt it had been tied there with love.
By a mother or sister, or even a father or brother.
Her palms stung and anger surged white-hot.
She charged, ignoring the shouts from the others. She raised her sword high and brought it down fast. It sliced nothing but air.
There was a giggle to her left. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”
Vaelira turned and swung again. The girl ducked and darted in close, dragging a single nail across Vaelira’s cheek. The pain hardly registered. The girl giggled again. “Poor little Lira doesn’t know how to play.”
Vaelira’s limbs locked for a breath, then rage exploded in her chest, scalding, blinding. Uncontrollable.
She embraced it.
A flame ignited in her palm, and her sword rattled to the stone. Someone shouted, a warning maybe. She didn’t listen. Flames devoured her hand, racing up her arm. Her knees shook. She’d pulled too much too fast and her vision tunnelled. Someone whispered a prayer.