“Wait until we get home before you scold me,” he replied. I could barely see his face beneath the brim of his cap. He’d pulled his collar up as well, doing an admirable job of blending in with the shadows. Together, we made our way out of the encampment and back to safer streets.
Returning to Blackwood’s at this time of night made entering through the front impossible, so we scaled the stone garden wall. Rook climbed it, catlike and lithe, and I floated up and over on the wind. The garden at midnight was lush and quiet, the fruit trees by the wall silver in the moonlight. I sat on a stone bench by the fountain, listening to the gurgling of the water as church bells tolled the hour, and Rook sat down beside me. The scent of lavender and rose should have made this the most romantic setting possible. And it would have been if I hadn’t wanted to throttle the boy I loved.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said gently. He was being so patient it made me want to scream.
“Like I can’t believe you’re running about in the worst parts of town at night, pummeling criminals? It’s a very specific look.” When he sighed, I could have exploded. “I don’t like being lied to!”
“Bit funny, isn’t it?” There was no anger in his eyes, only a kind of weary humor. “When you’ve done your fair share of lying.”
That stung. “I did it to keep us under the ward.”
“Which doesn’t exist now, so why should I worry?” He shifted in his seat to face me. My heart did a traitorous little flip at his nearness. “Why should I watch you court danger as I stay behind in safety?” Quiet shame tinged his voice.
“It’s the sorcerers’ job to protect the city.” I tried to sound soft and reasonable.
“They defend against the monsters outside, yes, but there are monsters in here as well.” His eyes blazed. “You know it’s true. That man with the bread was trying to feed his family. If I didn’t protect him, who would?”
I hated when he made this much sense.
“I don’t want you to risk yourself,” I murmured.
He put a cool hand to my face. “I don’t want you to do that, either, but I know it’s who you are.” He tilted my chin. “Please don’t get in the way of what I am.”
That was the difference. What he was becoming was monstrous. But should I tell him, You can’t protect people because you’re morphing into a hideous shadow demon? Somehow that seemed the wrong thing to say.
“Can’t you wait until Maria and Fenswick make a better treatment?” I asked. He dropped his hand.
“They make me sluggish and stupid.” His expression hardened. In the moonlight, I watched as his shadows danced along the garden path like living ink. Whispers slid past me, the whispers of dark things, monstrous things. Whenever Rook became frustrated, the blackness got worse. I held up my hands.
“All right,” I said, my voice easy. Slowly, the shadows and whispers died. Rook cleared his throat, bashful.
“I worry that you’re ashamed of me,” he said at last. Ashamed? I nearly laughed with the absurdity of it. “I do this partly so I can feel worthy in your eyes.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
He took my hand in his own, his skin growing feverish.
“I know that I must humiliate you,” he muttered. “Living in that fine house, on someone’s charity. You must see what a poor wretch I am, Net—Henrietta.”
“You think I care about fortune?” I swung between furious and happy. “You silly, ridiculous…thing!” I couldn’t think of the right words, or nearly any words. “Don’t you know me?”
“Did you call me silly?” He laughed, surprised.
“I love you, for God’s sake.” I nearly shouted it at him. There. The words were out. I clapped a hand to my mouth. What had possessed me?
“What?”
“I—I only meant—” Then I was silenced.
Rook swept me up and held me close against his chest. I could feel his heart beating, a quick tattoo that matched my own.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“I love y—”
He kissed me, stopping my mouth.
I leaned into him, sliding my arm around his neck. This was madness. We were alone in the middle of the night, like some wonderful scene from a play. But this was no fantasy; no one was pretending. Rook was here, with me, his mouth on mine. At first, his kisses were gentle, feather-light. But then his arm circled my waist, and he deepened the kiss, driving me mad.
His hands trailed up and down my back. Our mouths opened, and I gasped when his tongue flickered against mine.
We pulled apart and I slid my fingers through his hair.
“I don’t believe it’s finally happened,” he whispered, his breath shaky. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long.” His kisses dusted down my cheek until he found my mouth once more. I put my hand on Rook’s chest, feeling the thundering of his heartbeat.
When I’d kissed Magnus, it had been wild, frenzied. This was like a homecoming, each kiss, each embrace, a reminder of where I belonged.
I looked into his black eyes, which shimmered with wildness and desire. Fear gripped me, and something else even more shocking: want.
“I don’t repulse you?” he breathed. No, the shadows and the scars meant nothing to me, not as long as he was here.
His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing a line of scars along his left arm. I took his hand and put my lips to his callused palm. Then, slowly, I kissed down his wrist until I found the scars, kissing them gently one after the other. His intake of breath was so sharp that I stopped.
“Is it painful?”
“The opposite,” he growled. Rook’s whole body shuddered. He grabbed my wrists and gazed down at me. “We can’t do this,” he murmured.
If we kept going, where might it lead? “I know,” I said.
And then every hair on my head stood on end; I heard someone else breathing. We weren’t alone here. Something crawled on its belly out of the shadows, hissing as it inched across the grass.
The creature had no stag, no terrifying friends. In fact, it was the most pathetic thing I had ever seen. In the moonlight, its tattered black robes scraped over the ground. Smoke curled in feeble whispers over its body, and a black hood cloaked its face from view.
I hadn’t seen a shadow Familiar since Korozoth had fallen. The Familiar looked up at Rook and hissed one word: “Master.”
The thing bent its head and began to lick the ground. God, it was tasting Rook’s footprints in the dirt, lapping them up in adoration. He kicked at the thing, sending it crawling off with a whimper.
“Get away from me, you demon,” Rook spit.
Despite the horror in front of us, his violence startled me. The creature only gurgled as it reached for him again. The thing’s nails were shredded and filled with grit. This was the most miserable monster I had ever seen.
“Don’t fight it,” I said, but Rook didn’t listen. With a quick sweep of his arm, even more shadows rushed in from every corner and crevice of the garden, covering the Familiar. I listened for the monster’s horrified screams.
Instead, a crowing emerged, repulsive in its delight. When Rook uncovered the Familiar, we found it rolling about on its back, ecstatic as a cat in a beam of sunlight. It crawled on its belly to Rook, grasping at his ankles and licking at his feet.
“Leave me alone!” he bellowed. His face was crimson. God, someone would hear us.
The Familiar got to its knees, and its smoke hood rolled away, revealing a face I instantly recognized. Pale, stringy hair, eyes cruelly sewn shut with a black thread—it was Gwendolyn, Master Agrippa’s daughter. She’d fallen to R’hlem’s influence long ago. Her teeth chattered as she stared mournfully at Rook. Blood tracked down her cheeks like an obscene parody of tears.
“Master,” she whimpered. She leaned forward, putting herself nose to nose with Rook as he crouched down. The fury and hatred fled his face. Gwendolyn held up her hands in a pleading gesture. “The bloody king wants her. Come. Come with me, master. Come.” She tugged at his sleeve the way a child might beg a parent for a sweet. Rook’s disgust dissolved into…tenderness. It was as if some energy existed between the two of them. Shadows bristled and slithered toward the pair.