Limp and breathless, they collapsed in a sweating heap upon the bed.
Silence reigned in the shivering dark. The shadows in the room swaying and rolling in the aftermath. Books had toppled from their shelves, strewn spread-eagled and dog-eared across the floor. The dresser doors were flung open, her stool upturned, the room in chaos. But Tric gathered her up in his arms and kissed her brow, and just for a single, tiny moment, Mia let herself go. Shut her eyes and forgot. Listening to his heart against his ribs, feeling the warm glow recede, a smile on her lips.
She lay there for an age. Pressed against his skin, cheek to his chest. Her hair was strewn across him like a blanket, gossamer black like the shadows all around. And there in the now-still black, she whispered.
“I paid that sweetboy far too much.”
She waited for his reply. Moments stretching into minutes. Finally raising her head and realizing he was dead to the world, gentle breath slipping through parted lips.
Mia smiled, shook her head. Leaning over, she kissed him, long and gentle. Wrapping her arms around him and closing her eyes with a contented sigh and falling, at last, into sleep.
And as she drifted away, the shadows began to move again.
Slowly at first.
Rippling.
Writhing.
Coalescing finally into a ribbon-thin shape, perched now at the foot of the bed.
A not-cat, staring at the girl with its not-eyes. Waiting patiently, as it always did. For the dreams to come. For the chance to rend and tear the terrors that arrived to haunt her every nevernight since it had felt her call. Every nevernight thereafter, perched beside her as she slept. Growing strong and ever stronger with each mouthful.
The thing called Mister Kindly waited. A patience learned over eons. A silence like the grave. Soon now. Any moment she’d begin to whimper. Whisper for him. What would she dream of tonight? The ones who came to drown her? Her father’s legs kicking, face purpling, guh guh guh? The Philosopher’s Stone and the horrors she’d found within, fourteen years old and lost in the dark?
No matter.
They all tasted the same.
Any moment now, the nightmares would come.
Any.
Moment.
Now.
But for the first time since forever, the nightmares never arrived.
The girl was not afraid.
And there in the empty dark, the not-cat tilted its head.
Narrowed its not-eyes.
And it was not pleased.
Mia opened her eyes. Sat up in bed. Smiling as she realized Tric was still beside her, naked and glorious in the arkemical gloom, saltlocks strewn across the pillow.
There it was again. The sound that had woken her.
Knock, knock.
Tric stirred, frowned in his sleep. Mia touched his cheek and he opened his eyes, realizing at last where he was and sitting bolt upright with a soft hiss.
“Black Mother, I fell asleep?”
“Shhh. Someone’s at the door.”
Mia crawled out of bed. Searching among the chaos for her robe, smiling as she felt Tric’s eyes on her body. Slinging the black silk about her shoulders, she crept to the threshold just as another knock sounded.
“Corvere,” a voice hissed.
“Ash?” Mia twisted her key, opened the door a crack and peered out. Wondering why Ash hadn’t just picked the lock like she usually did. She saw the girl waiting beyond, blue eyes wide in the dark. “What time is it?”
“Almost mornbells.” The girl pushed past Mia and into her bedroom, black stormclouds gathered overhead. “One of the Hands just told me. Fucking Jessamine, that slippery littl—”
It was only once she was inside she noticed the disarray. The clothes and books strewn across the floor. And, O, yes, the naked Dweymeri boy sitting in Mia’s bed.
“Ah,” Ash said.
Tric waved hello.
Ash glanced at Mia, a little abashed. “Sorry, Corvere.”
Mia shut the door so no one else who happened by could see Tric in her bed. If anyone told the Revered Mother he’d been out after curfew …
“You fancy telling me what this is about?”
Ashlinn said nothing. Lips parted, struggling for the words.
“What?” Mia searched her eyes. “What’s happened?”
“Mia …”
“Fucksakes, Ash, what is it?”
The girl shook her head.
Softly sighed.
“Lotti’s dead.”
CHAPTER 26
HUNDRED
The Hall of Truths smelled different that morn. Among the rot and fresh flowers. Dried herbs and acids. A new scent, rust-flavored, smothering the familiar perfume.
Blood.
Mia pushed her way past the assembled Hands, Ash and Tric close behind. The servants tried to stop her, but she railed and shoved and elbowed until at last a voice called from within, “Let them through.” Mia found herself inside the hall’s green light, eyes wide with rage.
Carlotta was slumped over the workbench, a quill clutched in one cold hand. A slick of congealed scarlet covered the table before her, puddled beneath her stool. The song of the ghostly choir hung in the air with the ironshod stink of blood.
The Revered Mother and Spiderkiller stood by the body, speaking in hushed tones with Solis. Mother Drusilla’s habitual smile was missing entirely, and Spiderkiller looked even graver than usual. Solis stared at the empty air above Mia’s right shoulder as she entered, his face as grim as an abattoir floor.
“Lessons do not begin for hours, Acolytes,” Spiderkiller said. “You should not be here.”
“That’s our friend,” Mia said, pointing to Carlotta’s body.
Spiderkiller shook her head. “No more.”
“How did she die?” Tric asked.
“She didn’t die,” Ash spat. “She was killed.”
“Throat cut,” Spiderkiller replied. “Very quick. Almost painless.”
“From behind?”
The Shahiid nodded.
“Jessamine,” Mia hissed. “Or Diamo. Maybe both.”
“Those fucking cowards,” Ash whispered.
Mother Drusilla raised an eyebrow.
“You know something about this matter, Acolytes?”
Mia glanced at Ashlinn and Tric, slowly nodded. “Carlotta and Jessamine quarreled at evemeal a few turns back, Revered Mother. Lotti was close to cracking Spiderkiller’s formula, but Diamo destroyed her notes. Lotti almost broke Jessamine’s nose and Jess promised to kill her for it. Ask anyone. We all heard it.”
“I see.”
“Lotti said she was going to ask Shahiid Spiderkiller for permission to work late to make up the lost ground. Jessamine and Diamo knew she’d be here.”
“From what you’re describing, anyone who attended that evemeal would have known she was here.”
“But Jessamine promised to kill her. In front of all of us.”
“And that proves what exactly?” Solis snapped. “I recall Acolyte Tric here threatening to murder another novice over evemeal not so long ago. And that same novice turned up dead the next turn.” Solis turned on Tric. “Do you have something to confess, Acolyte?”
“I had nothing to do with Floodcaller’s death, Shahiid. I swear it.”
The hulking man turned on Mia and scoffed. “Idle threats do not a killer make.”
“You don’t even care she’s dead, do you?” she asked.
“On the contrary, Acolyte, we care very deeply,” Mother Drusilla said. “Which is why we are investigating thoroughly instead of leaping to obvious conclusions. Jessamine is a cold-blooded one, true. But do you think her fool enough to murder a girl she openly threatened in front of a room full of people a few eves before?”
“Maybe she thought none of you would give a damn? You weren’t exactly tearing the place apart looking for clues when Floodcaller got his throat cut. More than half of us have died since then and not a tear’s been shed for any of them.”
Solis glowered, blind eyes flashing. “I would counsel you to watch your tone when you speak to your betters, girl. Your distaste for Jessamine is well known. The beatings she’s given you in the Hall of Songs would be reason enough for you to spread lies about her now. And if there are any among this congregation who stood to benefit from Carlotta’s death, it was you.”