I climb out of the cart with a swift, indignant leap. I’ve been kicked out of their club. When I lean closer to the fabric of the cart to eavesdrop, I hear nothing. It must be charmed to be soundproof.
Does Chimal think I’m being uncooperative? I’m not thrilled by the idea of kidnapping anyone, regardless of what they may or may not have done. Do I need to make a decision now? Gomorrah is swiftly approaching Gentoa and, after that, Sapris, where the wedding will take place. A quick decision is needed, but I don’t feel ready to decide. I wish I could speak with Luca first. I haven’t told him everything Villiam has shared with me, but I have a feeling he already knows. With all the prettyworkers he’s spoken to, he probably knows more about Gomorrah than I do, even though he’s only lived here for a year.
After a few more minutes of waiting, Villiam steps outside to join me. I help him onto the ground, and he balances himself with his crutch. We remain still as Gomorrah drifts around us.
“I will get straight to the point,” he says, resigned. “Chimal doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t think your heart is in this. I have worked with Chimal for over seven years, and if he doesn’t sense complete and utter loyalty, he won’t work with you.”
“Of course my heart is in this. The Alliance may have murdered two members of my family. What more does he want from me? Should I kneel? I don’t need to agree with him to know we are on the same side.” I curl my hands into fists. I’m completely and utterly loyal to Gomorrah, but not to him. We only met a few minutes ago; he hasn’t earned my trust yet.
“He wants you to speak to Hawk.”
“He seems unwilling to compromise.” The salty winds from the nearby coast blow my hair against my face, and I hold it back and wrap my cloak tighter around myself to keep warm.
“As do you.”
“Surrendering is not the same as compromise.”
“Chimal is the man planning the details of this mission. He won’t include you in his plans if he doesn’t trust you. He’s the captain of the guard—he is essential to this. He’s been essential to Gomorrah for years.”
I hear the words he has left unspoken. That I’m inessential to the protection of the Festival. The thought of this stings more than a little.
“Then I will help the effort in some other way,” I say at last.
“There are no other illusion-workers in Gomorrah.”
“I thought you said the Downhill was our arsenal, and I thought I was a future proprietor. Not Gomorrah’s finest weapon.”
“Your skills are necessary. Do you think I would ask this of you if they weren’t? I’ve already had the argument with Chimal that you’re having with me now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you brought me here for this? I thought I was getting a tour.”
“I didn’t know he wanted to use Hawk until just now. He’s only mentioned you in passing before this.”
“I don’t want Chimal to use anyone. Not me and certainly not anyone else in my family.” I turn to leave. I have other things to do today, like finding Jiafu to return the extra coins and meeting with Luca to interview another suspect. I don’t want to stay here long enough for Chimal and Villiam to convince me. Not before I have time to think everything over, and maybe talk to Luca.
If Chimal is so essential, he can push Villiam home.
“You have a day to think about this,” my father says from behind me. “If you want, we can all talk to Hawk together.”
I ignore his comment as I walk away. No one is talking to Hawk; I don’t want her to know we even had this conversation. If I decide to help them, that’s one thing, but I won’t allow them to put any more of my family in harm’s way—not even for justice.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The overcast sky obscures the few stars visible through Gomorrah’s smoke, so the only light in the Downhill comes from the green-fire torches, flickering from the heavy coastal winds. Several of the torches have blown out. Everything is green and dark and hushed, and, despite becoming accustomed to the Downhill after visiting it so much with Luca, I’m acutely aware of how little I know about these neighborhoods of Gomorrah, which are not nearly as nice as Chimal’s. The person who lives in the tent beside me could be a killer. Or a shadow-worker could be skulking about between caravans, waiting for an opportunity to grasp my shadow in the green light, like I’m a rabbit walking into a snare. Villiam said that I would have nothing to worry about, as the future proprietor, but I don’t believe him. I don’t feel like a proprietor. I feel very much like a girl, far too young to make the decisions ahead of me.
Jiafu isn’t in his caravan, even though it’s only five o’clock and he rarely rises before eight. I wait for him, my right hand in my pocket, gripping a concealed knife. My illusion-work prevents me from being noticed, but, today, even being invisible doesn’t seem like enough to keep me calm.
Jiafu returns forty minutes later, whistling, and I lessen my illusion-work as he reaches his cart. “Holy shit,” he curses, when I appear out of nowhere. “’Rina, what the hell were you thinking? You look like a monster in that mask.”
I lift a hand to my violet mask, which doesn’t pair well with the green lighting. I’m going to assume that’s what he meant and not that I appear to be a monster.
I throw him his coin purse with the fifteen gold coins from the other one added to it. “I don’t know if you were lying, but I’d still like to work with you, if you don’t mind.”
“You have a lot of balls calling me a liar,” he says. “And you have even more balls to be coming back here after the other day.”
“I thought we were cousins.”
“Fuck you, princess.” He spits on my shoes. “You’re lucky I haven’t sent someone to beat your freak ass.”
“Don’t be like that. We work well together.”
“Yeah, like a lion and a gazelle. And you keep forgetting that I’m the lion. And that you need to watch your back.”
I smirk. “You didn’t seem much like a lion the other day. Bet they heard you screaming all across the Downhill.”
“You want to say that again, freak?” He pulls a knife out of his pocket. I’m fairly certain that Jiafu is an empty threat. He wouldn’t hurt Gomorrah’s princess. He’s not that reckless.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stick around to find out if I’m wrong. So much for repairing our business relationship.
“Careful,” I whisper. “How do you know I’m actually standing here? This could be an illusion. I could be behind you right now, and I could gut you through your back.”
And I do just that—without the gutting part. The image of me stays put in front of him, while the actual me, unnoticeable, tiptoes away into the darkness.
“This isn’t you, bitch. You’re not breathing or moving,” I hear Jiafu say from behind me.
“Go to hell,” I say. It’s a sound illusion. Jiafu hears it to his right, and he whips around, his knife out. But there’s no one there. I’m gone, running through the moving Downhill to Luca’s caravan.