A pungent, wraithy stench filled the street, wafting up as the cat growled and lashed its tail. With a ripple of muscle, the beast struck. Black Knife blocked, but his wrist wrenched sideways, and the sword went spinning beneath the creature. The crossbow was nowhere I could see. Black Knife drew a pair of knives, but they had no reach. The wraith beast crouched and growled.
“Hey, cat!” My voice sounded shrill and strange against the night, and the wraith beast looked up and yowled.
Black Knife lunged for his sword.
I fixed my grip on my daggers, jumped, and slammed onto the cat’s back. The beast screamed as I drove my blades into the back of its neck and dragged them across its spine. Another thump, this one from below. Black Knife plunged his sword into the cat’s throat, and the tip of the blade pierced the back of its neck, shining wet with blood.
The creature shuddered as Black Knife withdrew his sword, and I yanked out my blades. As the wraith cat fell to the street with a heavy thud, I hopped to safety.
The neighborhood remained utterly silent as the dying beast lay between Black Knife and me.
His sword point rested on the ground. His breath came in hard gasps. “Thank you.”
“For what you did in Greenstone. For saving the boy.”
He wiped his bloodied sword on the cat’s fur before sheathing it, but when he started around the beast, I took a step backward and he stopped.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“No one.” I glanced between the black-clad boy and the shallowly breathing cat. It groaned and gurgled, and the stench of blood and wraith flooded the street. I swallowed until the urge to gag passed.
“Your group is called the Ospreys, right? What does that mean?”
“It’s just a name.”
“You’ll admit to that name, but you won’t tell me yours?” He tilted his head. “I suppose you’d just give me a false name.”
He was definitely right about that.
“I like the way you fight.”
Was that a compliment?
“It’s very efficient. Who taught you?”
“Your grandmother.” Patrick Lien had taught us, as well as men he’d brought back from Aecor. Those men hadn’t known my identity—it was too much of a risk—but they’d been well-compensated.
“That seems unlikely. My grandmother preferred sewing to fighting.” He stepped closer, all stealth and dancer’s grace. His hands stayed at his sides, not touching weapons, and if his wrist hurt from the fight, he didn’t show it.
My daggers were still clutched at my sides, the hilts digging into my skin. “Why were you following me?”
“Because you’re a criminal. I’m trying to figure out what you’re up to.”
“It’s not really your job, is it? The city has police.”
He shifted his weight and shrugged. “They underperform. They work hard, but it’s not enough. There are still thieves everywhere.” His tone was pointed. “Clearly.”
“If I were a thief, I’d steal only what I needed.”
“Like paper?”
Chills ran through me. Not even Black Knife was crazy enough to search all the warehouses in the vicinity of our previous encounter and find one misplaced crate with a loose lid.
I eyed his black shirt, trousers, and knee-high boots. His sword. His mask. Well. Maybe he was crazy enough.
“Are you going to tie me up and leave me outside a police station?”
“Eventually. Once I know what I need to know.” He looked at the wraith beast. Soon the neighborhood would realize it was safe. People would come out to look at the defeated animal. “Better go.”
I started to back away, still keeping Black Knife in my sight.
Between us, the wraith beast gurgled one last time and died. White mist spewed from the body, a viscous miasma that filled the street.
I coughed and gagged and dropped to the ground. Tendrils of mist swirled around me, suffocating me, drowning me. Darkness shoved at the edge of my vision.
Then it was gone. Dispersed, I guessed.
I was flat on my back, and a shadow leaned over me, touching the pulse at my throat.
Black Knife.
I kicked, but he pressed one palm to my sternum, then twisted and caught my ankle. “I was just checking to make sure you’re alive.” His grip loosened a fraction. “I’m going to back away.”
When I didn’t move, he released me and took several long strides.
“I’m fine.” I grabbed my daggers and scrambled to my feet. “What was that?”
“They release wraith when they die.” Black Knife gave a deep nod, almost a bow, and sidestepped into a shadow. Metal skidded on the cobblestones—his crossbow, perhaps—and then there was only silence.
I peered into the darkness for a moment longer, but caught no movement, no sounds. Either he’d slipped away or he was waiting for me to leave first.
As much as I hated turning my back on a boy with a crossbow, I had to get back to Skyvale Palace. I couldn’t let Melanie return before me.
I spun and ran down the street, keeping to the darkness where I could. I climbed up buildings and used the roofs to get around more quickly, being sure to stop and check for pursuit often. It was bad enough Black Knife had followed me tonight. He couldn’t know where I was staying or the truth of my mission.
By the time I reached my room in the palace, my whole body shook with adrenaline and exhaustion. My daggers clattered to my bedroom floor as I shut the balcony door behind me and then stood listening for Melanie’s presence. Straining to hear her voice, her breathing, the soft way she snored when she slept.
I shouldn’t have worried about returning before her. When the window finally opened and she crept inside, dawn was just touching the sky.