In the shadow of chimney pots, Malcolm blew on his chapped hands while crouching beneath his black greatcoat. From his rooftop post, he could see the front door, the window of Barnes’s private bedroom, and the other cellar exit into the alley. He had a vantage point on the three lanes that led away from the house. Malcolm had been waiting like a soot-blackened stone for three days. Every limb was cramped. It reminded him of how long it had been since he had hunted from ambush.
The modified rifle lay across the peak of the roof with its metal wrapped in dark cloth to suppress glints. His stiff, cold fingers flipped two of the magnifying glass lenses down, adjusting the range once more. He leaned over to squint into the scope and peered at a small crack on the door. He positioned the rifle to train it on Barnes’s bedroom, which appeared to be empty.
A sound behind him brought him onto one knee. His heavy dagger flashed up, blade tip between his thumb and forefinger, raised above his shoulder. He spotted a dark figure below him at the eaves of the roof.
“Don’t!” Penny fell against the tiles. “It’s me!”
Malcolm lowered the knife and said matter-of-factly, “Careful. You’re on a rooftop.”
“I know that!” The engineer spat angrily. She rose nervously to her feet, glancing over the edge to the street thirty feet below. She pulled strange metal discs with small spikes off her hands with a scowl. “Don’t stab me. I brought you a present.”
Malcolm indicated the metal discs that she slipped in her pocket. “Did you climb up here?”
“Yes, for the pleasure of you trying to kill me.” Penny picked up a leather satchel she had dropped. “Didn’t you climb? How did you get up?”
“I walked up the stairs and stepped out an attic window.” He slid down and helped her up with him.
She settled just below the peak. “How is the starlight telescope working?”
“Excellent. I can see all the places where he hasn’t shown himself very clearly and very brightly.”
Penny pulled a small piece of oilcloth from inside her bag. She unfolded the cloth to reveal two long cartridges. She seemed very proud, but they didn’t look appreciably different than the ordnance he was already using.
“More shells?” Malcolm asked.
The engineer held one up. She shook it slightly and small wings popped out of the casing. Malcolm leaned in for a closer look and Penny took obvious pride in his intense stare.
“These shells,” she said, “will increase your accuracy tenfold at least. I’ve only had time to make two, so don’t miss. At least not twice.” She folded the wings tight against the brass casing and handed both shells to Malcolm.
He quickly took up the rifle and snapped it open. He fished out the shell and replaced it with the new winged cartridge. Closing the breech, he said, “I’ll only need one. But I’ll keep the other. Thank you.”
“So, no sign of him?”
“Brief glimpses. No chance of a shot.”
The wind changed and black coal smoke descended over them. Penny began a hacking cough and clamped the inside of her elbow over her mouth and nose. “Even I can’t breathe up here. How do you manage?”
“I stopped breathing yesterday.” Malcolm took the rifle and replaced it in its perch just as the front door of the Red Orchid opened.
A crowd of people emerged onto the street below. They were all clad in red-and-white robes. Malcolm recognized a broad-shouldered shape in the center as the behemoth corpse he had fought in the cellar of the Red Orchid salon. Rowan Barnes was in the center. Malcolm dropped flat on the roof, the rifle pressed close to his shoulder, and he laid the sights on Barnes. He heard Penny speaking, but her voice was a soft buzz as he focused only on the target. He slipped a lens into place and the dim nightscape burned yellow like sunlight. Barnes was surrounded by a group of fifteen women who were distressingly active with giddy frolics, leaping about, holding hands, dancing together around the great man. Barnes smiled with not a care in the world. Every time he appeared in the scope, a women’s head drifted in front of the rifle’s sights. Malcolm recognized Eleanor and Lilith among the group.
Damnation. Barnes stopped, focused on something out of Malcolm’s view. The hunter now brought his target into sharp focus, settling his breath. The necromancer was as good as dead.
Malcolm didn’t pull the trigger. He saw the face of Kate, quietly distraught at the idea that killing Barnes meant endless agony for Simon. The scribe wouldn’t care; he understood. But Kate cared for Simon, and Malcolm was about to drive an aching pain into those beautiful green eyes.
Barnes vanished from the scope when he bent over but then popped up again. Another shape wavered into view. It was a young girl, no older than Charlotte. Barnes lifted the waif onto his shoulders as if he were a loving father. Then it caught Malcolm by surprise when the necromancer looked up to stare at him directly with a smile twisted with diabolical glee. Barnes actually winked at him. Malcolm clenched his teeth and his finger tightened against the trigger.
Barnes and his acolytes started off down the street. Malcolm was sure he could place a shell in the man’s head without hitting the little girl. Relatively sure. So he didn’t. Barnes and his group turned a corner and vanished.
“Damn it!” He pushed the rifle away. “He knew I was here the whole time. Idiot! Idiot!”