My shadows drift upward. They're wrapping Benedikt's body in the good sheets—the ones with barely any paint stains that Olivia brought from her apartment. "Everyone deserves dignity," she'd said. He's the eighth. Tomás is next. Someone will have to tell his four-year-old daughter.
Corven spits. Misses. Blood and saliva land on his ruined leg.
"Still feeling defiant?" I manifest a shadow blade, thin as paper. "Good."
"Fuck yourself."
"Creative." The blade slides under his fingernail. Wet sound of separation. He screams. "Let's try again. Who funded your suicide mission?"
"Already told you. Guild initiative."
"Your equipment was too good for standard guild funding." I remove the nail entirely. Pop. "Those water crystals? Expensive. Imported. Someone wanted my attention."
He's hyperventilating. Helps with pain. Olivia would know why—something medical about oxygen. She'd explain it while making him tea.
The thought makes my shadows twitch toward the ceiling. She's rolled over, taking my pillow, one arm hanging off the shadow furniture. Her breathing catches. Bad dreams.
"Focus." Another nail. Another scream. "Who. Funded. You."
"The—the light freaks. The Radiant fucks. They paid us to test if you'd gone soft."
The Luminary's people. Too pure to get their own hands bloody.
"And?"
"And what?" He's crying. Snot mixing with blood.
"What did you report back?"
"That you're fucked. You've got a healer. Unregistered. Light magic." Wet laugh. "They think she's corrupted. Healing shadow users is against their god."
My shadows surge. Temperature drops.
Eleanor Voss. Two years back. The Luminary's people got her for "purification" after she healed the wrong person. Whenwe found her, she'd been burned from the inside out. Light magic turned against her until it consumed everything. Cooked meat and sanctified oils. Her fingers had clawed at her own chest trying to dig out the light. They'd carved prayers into her skin while she burned.
"They think healing is corruption?"
"Healing you is. Shadow and light aren't supposed to mix." Babbling now. "They're planning something. The Luminary wants her. Says she needs purifying."
"How many survived?"
"Fifteen? Sixteen? Regrouping at Dock Street warehouse."
"Security?"
"Two door guards. Maybe another inside. We weren't—"
Shadow blade takes his throat. Quick. More mercy than deserved, but I'm already planning. Fifteen Tide Runners who saw Olivia's magic. Who could tell the Radiant Court.
None of them see sunrise.
Joss waits upstairs. Always waiting.
"Productive?" She's cleaning her nails with a knife.
"Radiant Court funded them."
"Interesting." Not surprised. "And the healer?"
