I slipped along the river, wrinkling my nose against the pungent odor of fish. It was hard to believe no one had come to steal a few meals, given the dozen barrels ready to be transported into the building.
One look into the barrels told me why. Brown-striped bass and red-bellied sunfish lay dead, but where the fins had been, now were hands. Tiny and brown, with webbed fingers. Their dead-eyed stares were strange, too. They looked human. Some had lips.
Bile raced up the back of my throat, and I turned away.
I had brought this here. My magic. My wraith boy.
Wary, I crept into the building, hands on my daggers. Heavy, wet darkness wrapped around me like a cloak, and I paused to let my eyes adjust.
A feral cat yowled. A deeper growl followed, coming from somewhere behind crates of packaged fish, which rose along the walls. The damp storage area and the crash of the river rushing at my back absorbed the sound.
I checked behind every crate and barrel, but found no sign of Ospreys. The small office had been raided for its supplies.
In the distance, the clock tower struck twenty-three. I needed to get back soon. Thanks to the additional patrols, I’d have to give myself plenty of time to sneak back through Hawksbill. Rushing had gotten me caught before.
Halfway out the door, I stopped. A creamy white paper fluttered in a draft, caught against the wall. Even dirt streaked and crumpled, it was easy to see the paper was too fine for a fishery.
I smothered a laugh as I rescued the palace stationery from the wall. The list was in Melanie’s handwriting, as familiar to me as her face and voice.
Locations, numbers: I knew this list. These were the resistance groups in Aecor, the list we’d copied during our infiltration of Skyvale Palace, though in a different order than the one I recalled.
“Oh, Melanie.” I folded the paper and tucked it into a pocket. “You are so clever.”
I could almost hear her reply: “Say it again.”
Melanie hadn’t turned. She hadn’t. Patrick must have wanted to move on as soon as she’d returned, so she’d left something she knew I’d be sure to spot.
Outside, I started for Hawksbill, but a scream downriver cut the silence.
My heart thundered as I hurtled myself toward the shrieks and adults’ shouts for the girl to move away from the water. Someone called for the police to help.
I sprinted along the riverside, the churning waters inky at my right. In the high moonlight, spray glittered as a creature lurched from the depths. It was all sinuous scales and snapping jaws, some terrible fusion between lizard and snake, and as big as a hunting hound. Enormous fangs dripped black fluid as it plodded toward a group of six or seven people, including the girl who stood just ahead of the others. Carefully, she backed away, one long slow step at a time. The whites of her eyes shone wide.
“Come on,” urged the adults. “Just a little farther.”
The girl whimpered, making the wraith beast leap forward—
“Hey!” I jumped out from the shadow of a melting wall, sword sliding out of its sheath without a sound.
The wraith beast whipped around in a flurry of claws and fangs and scales, wraith-white eyes trained on me. The girl spun and ran for her family; they caught her with reaching arms and dragged her from the beast’s sight.
It slithered toward me, four stubby legs pumping to keep up with the rest of its body. Wraith had not been kind to this creature.
My sword shone between the beast and me, an unfamiliar stretch of steel. I’d wielded swords before, but not this one, and never one so fine. The hilt fit my hand perfectly, though; like the rest of my gear, it had been made to suit me.
I held my ground until the beast reached me, and then sliced my blade through the air. The creature leapt back, a tangle of long body and tail, but righted itself quickly. The milky eyes fell back on me as it came around to my left side. I brought my sword inward, but the blade connected with a fang and slid down the length with a shing. The black liquid dripped from the tip of the fang, catching on the edge of my blade. Metal sizzled as the venom dribbled down the steel.
Swearing, I thrust my sword at the creature, catching its nostril. It shrieked and pulled back, almost as though reconsidering its chosen prey.
“You ruined my new sword,” I grumbled, turning slightly to dip the sizzling metal into the dark river to neutralize the venom.
The snake-lizard hissed and struck; I barely had time to lift my sword in defense as the fangs crashed toward me. Water droplets glittered as the blade arced through the air and caught the creature’s mouth, cutting a long gash across its face. The creature made a sound between a scream and hiss before it whipped around me, toward the water.
I couldn’t let it escape. It would just find someone else to attack, and I could only imagine the kind of damage it would do if left unchecked.