I would never call Devilry my pet out loud, but during those first few weeks, I feel a little like a man who has adopted a highly intelligent, occasionally vicious, rather feral cat whose favorite spot is my bed and who enjoys licking and being licked.
When she gets anxious about Candle and the Javelins, she prowls the room or ventures onto the tiny balcony to watch the life of the city pass by in the streets below. But she doesn’t suggest an excursion to the Hearth, nor does she make any move to visit Candle. Though she’s fully healed in body, her soul has suffered a wound I can’t repair. Her spirit is injured, and her motivation is gone.
I don’t press the issue of the Javelins or Candle. Instead I focus on learning all the things about Devilry that I didn’t discover during our time in the fortress. Like the fact that she enjoys the strong Icilian tea from the East Market, and she prefers gold-spiced rum to other types of alcohol. She has a passion for fish, especially fresh salmon, but when she’s at her lowest, the only thing that comforts her is a dish of tender chicken and rice drenched with broth.
She’s allergic to milk-flowers, but scarlet winter roses make her eyes shine. She doesn’t like snuggling when we’re going to sleep, but in the deepest part of the night, she’ll crawl over to me and fling her limbs across mine. When I wake up with her arm draped on my face, or her leg arched over my hip, I feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in Belgate.
One evening, three weeks after our return from Annordun, she’s standing on the balcony, wrapped in one of my blankets, looking like a goddamn queen with those blood-red streaks in her black hair. The winter sun was warmer than usual this afternoon and it’s sinking in a storm of golden glory behind the rooftops.
Quietly I take out my book, the one in which I jot down ideas for chemical compounds or sketch out plans for the jobs I intend to pull. Devilry’s healing was expensive, and I’ve also been secretly paying Witch to look after Candle. Both circumstances have depleted my savings. If Devilry and I are going to continue living in Belgate or earn enough money to go elsewhere, I’ll need to return to my usual thieving ways.
While I won’t openly suggest that Devilry accompany me, I won’t hide my intentions from her, either. Watching me plan a theft might be enough to lift her out of the darkness that’s been dragging her down.
Especially if I’m doing a terrible job with the plans.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I spread out the map of Constable Tremlin’s house. It’s a larger dwelling than someone in his position should be able to afford, which isn’t necessarily surprising, because I’ve heard rumors that he takes bribes from hessen lords. And I know for a fact that some of those lords employ girls as young as fourteen to service the patrons in their drug dens. Which makes Tremlin exactly the kind of person that Devilry would love to go after.
Cobble, the healer of questionable talent who repaired my first stab wound from Devilry, is also one of the few informants I have in Belgate. He’s the one who told me about young girls being forced into sexual slavery for the hessen rings, and he would know, since he’s often called in to heal them up after they’ve been mistreated. He says most of the hessen lords receive their drugs and slaves from Valigrad, a port city that’s a few days away by carriage. Cobble believes that Constable Tremlin is so deeply involved in the trade that he sometimes holds money for the hessen lords, which he pays out to the wagoneers on delivery days.
If I gather a little more information and time this heist correctly, I can access Constable Tremlin’s personal vault on a day when he’s holding the hessen lords’ funds along with his own stockpile of ill-gotten wealth.
I rustle the map loudly, then rip out a page of my notebook and start making notes, delineating an entry and exit strategy. I’m well aware that the scheme I’m concocting would never work, but it’s not for implementation—it’s bait for my Devil-cat.
Devilry glances over her shoulder, irritation written across her face. “Why are you making so much noise?”
“Just planning something. Never you mind. Enjoy the sunset.”
She resumes watching the sky, while I count in my head.One, two, three—
She spins back around. “What exactly are you planning?”
“Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
“Is it a job?”
“Nothing you should concern yourself with, love. You need rest, not stress.”
Devilry turns back to the window with a flounce of her blanket. But a moment later she scoots a few steps closer to me, standing by my shoulder while I continue marking the map.
When she leans down, I conceal a triumphant grin.
“You’ll get caught if you go in that way,” she comments.
“Hm?”
“The side door. It’s right on a busy street. You shouldn’t enter there. You need to climb to the second-floor balcony and—”
“Sweetheart, I appreciate your interest, but I’ve got this handled,” I tell her.
“Clearly you don’t.” She seats herself beside me and peers at the map. “I’ve cased this house before. It’s a tricky one because of all the foot traffic in the area, right here, and also here. There’s no way you can pull this off alone, Ravager. It’s at least a two-person job.”
“I’ll find someone. I found Slaughter, Grisly, and Needle, didn’t I? There are more evil bastards where they came from.”
When she doesn’t reply, I glance up. She’s looking straight at me with blended humor and annoyance in her eyes.
“I know what you’re doing,” she says softly. “It’s sweet.”
“You’re too fucking clever, love.”
