Dark Heart of Magic (Black Blade #2)

I also grabbed a long, sapphire-blue trench coat from where it was hanging on one of the knobs on the four-poster bed. The spidersilk coat had belonged to my mom, along with the ironmesh gloves sticking out of one of the pockets. Despite its rich, vibrant color, the coat would also help me blend into the shadows, since spidersilk had the unusual property of melting into the landscape around it—sort of like the way people walked straight into spider webs without even realizing they were there.

I stuck my hands into the coat pockets, making sure I had the rest of my usual supplies, which included dark chocolate bars, several quarters, and a couple of locks of my own black hair tied up with different colored ribbons. Just in case I ran into some monsters and had to pay a toll or two. It would be rather humiliating to make it in and out of the Draconi compound undetected, only to get eaten by a copper crusher or some other creature on the way home.

When I was fully attired for the night, I opened one of the doors, stepped out onto the balcony, and looked out over the stone wall. It was after eight now, and the long summer day was finally dimming to a twilight dusk that would soon give way to full night. Down in the valley far, far below, the neon lights of the Midway formed a solid circle, with the shopping squares branching off in all directions, like the carts on a Ferris wheel. The lights flared, flickered, and flashed in every color of the rainbow, gleaming like a carpet of electrified jewels that had been scattered in the middle of the dark, rugged mountains.

I pulled on my ironmesh gloves, then took hold of the drainpipe attached to one side of the balcony. The drainpipe was part of the stone of the mansion, so I didn’t have to worry about it coming loose from the wall, unlike the tournament rope ladder. So I stepped out into the open air and let myself free-fall, enjoying the rush of the wind against my body. Sure, I could have used the stairs that snaked from one level of the mansion to the other, but this was faster—and way more fun. It was so much fun that I laughed, although the wind tore the soft, happy sound away from my lips and sent it spinning up into the humid night air.

Just before I hit the ground, I tightened my grip on the drainpipe, causing a bit of smoke to waft up from my gloves. Ironmesh was another special metal, one that was thin, flexible, and protective all at the same time. If I’d tried to free-fall down the drainpipe with my bare hands, I would have burned and bloodied my palms, at the very least, or laid them open to the bone, at the very worst. But the inherent grip in the ironmesh would help me climb up or slide down practically any surface, including this glass-smooth stone.

Once my sneakers touched the ground, I slid into the nearest shadow and dropped into a crouch, studying the landscape. Most everyone was still in the dining hall, but a few guards patrolled the grounds, like always. But I’d spent the last four years being as invisible as possible, so it was easy for me to wait until the guards’ backs were turned, sprint across the lawn, and disappear into the surrounding trees.

I moved deeper and deeper into the woods, following a faint trail that led to a clearing ringed by a wrought iron fence. Blocks of black marble had been set into the grass, marking the spot as the Sinclair Family cemetery—the place where the Sinclairs themselves were buried, along with all the people who’d loyally served the Family.

Including my mom.

I crouched down and plucked a small blue forget-me-not from a patch of them growing wild in the clearing. Then I got to my feet and opened the gate, wincing at the faint creak, before walking to her tombstone at the back of the cemetery. Serena Sterling flowed across the marker, while her symbol, the Sterling Family symbol—that five-pointed star—was carved into the top of the black stone.

I stared at her tombstone, all the usual emotions squeezing my heart: guilt, grief, loss, longing, anger. But no matter what I felt, no matter how much I still missed my mom, the world kept right on turning, the way it always did, the way it always would. Birds chirped, bees buzzed, rockmunks scuttled through the underbrush. So I drew in a breath, then let it out, pushing away my turbulent feelings even as the air seeped out of my lungs.

I stayed by her grave for several minutes, soaking up the peace and quiet, especially after all the conversations and questions in the dining hall. I’d been on my own for so long that I was still adjusting to living in the mansion and being around so many people all the time. Whenever I needed a breather from the Family, I’d slip out of the mansion and come here, since no one seemed to visit the cemetery but Claudia and me.