He held his breath, studying me. He exhaled. “He never told me he was a Saldana.”
I lowered my knife. I’d done it! I’d found my uncle. “I need to speak with him urgently.”
He shook his head. “No. He doesn’t see anyone.”
I pointed my dagger at him, staring him in his eyes. They were dark, and he had surprisingly long lashes. “I could make you tell me.”
He shrugged and raised his arms. “Then what are you waiting for, Clipper Girl?”
I slid my right foot forward, weapons held before me. “Have it your way.”
I dashed at him. His eyes narrowed before he dodged away. I swiped with my left knife. My shoulder erupted in pain, and a few stitches popped. The copper scent of blood seeped into the night air. I hissed, missing my strike.
He pushed himself off the wall and twisted closer to the canal, facing me. He held his own knife in his left hand now, a monstrous cutter almost eighteen inches long and slightly curved. Where in the hells had he hidden such a large weapon?
Blood soaked through my leathers, and he glanced at my shoulder. Concern flashed in his eyes. “You’re hurt.”
I used his distraction to strike at his ribs. “Worry about yourself!”
He glared and hooked my ankle with his foot, a move I knew only too well. A wolfish grin spread across his face.
“Wait!” I shouted.
He yanked and I fell, plunging into the dark waves of the canal.
fifteen
THE WATER WAS FREEZING FROM SPRING RUNOFF, AND it saturated my clothes. My cloak and boots weighed me down. I struggled, kicking against the fabric as I reached for the surface.
I broke through and took a deep breath. I grabbed the edge of the canal and searched the alley, but Alessio had fled. He seemed to enjoy starting things, but never stuck around to see them through.
“Typical.” I pulled myself from the canal, grimacing at the muck now coating my leathers. I squeezed my hair to prevent it from dripping into my eyes any further.
Damn him. Damn everything in this whole damned city. This whole country!
I’d been on my own for days now and nothing had gone right.
My shoulder bled. I pinched my eyes shut and took a few deep breaths. My chest felt tight against my leathers. My eyes stung. Don’t think about it, Lea. Don’t think about anything. Just get to your safe house, get clean and dry. Things will look better.
On the way back home I scoured the street where I’d confronted Alessio. Casings from the smoke bombs he’d somehow managed to use against me littered the cobblestones. I picked one up and sniffed. It smelled strange, a chemical I didn’t recognize. The casing was surprisingly brittle, and it crumbled between my fingers with barely any pressure. How did he stop them from breaking in his pouch? And how had he thrown them without me seeing him do so?
I remembered the flash, too, at the very beginning. I’d never seen smoke bombs put off any light before.
Mysteries. He had cloaked himself in mysteries. I would have to keep my eyes wide open when I dealt with him again.
At my safe house, I removed the boards blocking the window and climbed in tugging the boards back into place. I dripped filthy, smelly canal water across the dusty floor. At a stack of old crates I slipped off my wet leathers and cloak. I yanked my mask from my face. It stared at me with Rafeo’s tiger stripes. I set it gently on the ground.
My shoulder burned with fresh pain. Where some of the stitches had popped, my flesh looked red and inflamed, though any bleeding had slowed to a trickle. Removing the bandages, I prodded the wound gently and was rewarded with a pinch of pain. Wonderful.
I hung my bandages up to dry and returned to my monastery robe before collapsing onto my saddle-blanket bed.
I’d only had a single lead, and it turned out to be nothing. Well, not nothing. A false clipper with a crooked smile. But not my uncle, whom I still needed to find.
I rolled onto my side, the heavy key around my neck resting against my chin. This wasn’t working—what had made me think it would be easy to find someone who’d remained hidden for decades? I couldn’t do anything right, starting with keeping my Family safe or trusting someone I’d believed I loved to not murder my Family while we slept.
Thinking about Val made my chest tighten, my skin flush. I shouldn’t have spared a single thought for him. His Family killed my Family. He should be dead to me.
But maybe he didn’t have anything to do with it. Yes, he’d lifted my key, but maybe he wasn’t even there.
He had to have known. He could’ve stopped it, or at least made an effort.
He could’ve warned me.
I probably wouldn’t ever be sure.
I rubbed my face with the palm of my hand, my calluses dragging against my skin.