Our eyes meet and the color drains from his face. I know what hesees in the wasteland of my eyes, and it’s not pretty. Slowly, Gaius releases me, shoves his hand into his cloak, and pulls out a gold coin.
I pluck it from his palm. “I’ll see you next week.” If he’s not dead by then.
With coin in hand, I tug my cloak around my shoulders and head out into the frigid night.
The moon hangs pregnant in the sky above my head, barely piercing a dense shroud of fog. This part of the city isn’t theworst… but it’s close. Fog’s Edge was originally named for the heavy mist that clings to the streets here, wrapping everything in a damp cloud. But centuries ago, a magistrate drunkenly referred to the district as the thorn in his side. The name stuck.
I hurry down cobblestoned streets, each worn by time and thousands of booted feet. I’d memorized the bewildering maze of alleys and shortcuts before I was old enough to know my own name. I know which brothels the sigil-crowned like to slip into through discreet entrances. I know which taverns cater to vampires with darker interests. And I know which streets I wouldn’t dare walk down without risking a slit throat.
Laughter cuts through the night, sudden and sharp. Near a crumbling fountain at the end of the street, a group of youths heckle one another, the glowing sigils on their brows bathing their faces in light.
I turn right, keeping my strides measured, unhurried, my head lifted high. Two city wardens cross the street, their leather boots thudding heavily with each step. The moonlight glints off darkened steel helmets, the city’s insignia stamped into the steel.
The wardens’ leather breastplates have been embossed with the same emblem, as have the hilts of their short swords. Midnight blue cloaks announce their presence in any crowd, while the plume of dark horsehair extending from the tops of their helmets is more than a little ridiculous.
I’m not foolish enough to draw their attention. The wardens aren’t strolling through the Thorn because they’re here toprotectus. They’re not here to investigate the recent murders or ensure business owners can work without fear of extortion schemes and shakedowns. Most of the time,they’rethe ones lining their pockets with coercion and intimidation.
Pressing myself into the wall, I wait them out.
Within moments they’re gone, and I’m on my way again. A scufflesounds to my left, and I cut my eyes to the alley. Two men and a woman stand crowded together, most of their bodies hidden within the shadows. The woman lets out a low moan, her cheeks tightening as she sucks on one of the men’s fingers. Her veins glow faintly through her skin, like a highlighted map, the luminescence morbidly beautiful.
Glister. It’s a short-lived high, but a popular one in the Thorn. The woman’s eyes roll, mouth parted in bliss. The man pulls his finger free and smiles as she slumps against the stone wall. His gaze shoots to me and he presses his finger into the powder cupped in his hand. With a grin, he lifts that finger and beckons for me to join him, the glister glowing like a star.
“Want a taste, beautiful?”
The empty euphoria stamped on the woman’s face is all too familiar, and bile burns up my throat. Turning, I continue walking down the block, ignoring the low, taunting laugh behind me.
As usual, Perrin’s apothecary is open. And as usual, it’s hot and humid, despite the chill of the air outside. I step inside, untie my cloak, and nod a greeting at the older woman standing by the counter, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.
When Perrin finishes measuring out a handful of sleeping berries for her, she turns to go, and I step up to the counter.
“I need a lung tonic,” I say.
He grimaces, displaying crooked yellow teeth. “Can’t. Someone came in and bought the last three this morning.”
My gut twists. Thatsomeonemust be truly desperate if they’re buying so many tonics at once. But I can’t find it in me to care about their misfortune. I’ve got more than enough of my own.
“When will you get more?”
“Next delivery isn’t for three more days.”
I can feel the blood draining from my face. Perrin leans against the counter between us and sighs, the lines of his craggy face softening.
“Try Golinth. He’ll charge ten percent more, but he gets deliveries three times a week from his supplier. He’ll have it in stock.”
“Thanks.”
Except Golinth doesn’t have it in stock.
And neither does the next apothecary, five blocks west.
Panic beats at me. Someone has been buying up the exact lung tonics my brother needs.
All of them.
I would’ve heard if the Thorn was facing a sudden outbreak of lung disease. So who is taking all the tonics? And why?
By the time I make my way home, the sun is creeping above the city to the east, the Thorn slowly coming to life around me.
