He made himself keep walking, every step revealing more ruin. The glass counter was gone, reduced to rubble and gleaming shards. The curtains that shielded Fran’s bedroom from the rest of the shop were burned away. Smoke poured from inside her room.
Nate choked on the smell of it and stepped through the doorway, his shoes crunching on broken jars. He wiped the rain out of his eyes and yelped when Reed grabbed him and yanked him back.
“Nate!”
“What—”
A wooden staff crashed against the broken plaster in front of Nate. In the dim light and the smoke, Nate struggled to identify his attacker.
“Alden.” His throat tightened.
Alden stood in the charred room in a torn, bloodied robe, swaying like a ghost in the blackened shell of his shop. His hair was singed at the tips, curled to wisps of ashy-white. A split lip and cut eyebrow bled like a red curtain down his cheek. He pushed his tangled hair out of his face.
“Oh.” He dropped the wooden staff, and it clattered to the floor. His bare feet left a trail of blood. “It’s raining.”
“Alden.” Nate approached slowly, the way hungry kids stalked sludge-rats. Alden tensed up when his darting gaze found Reed. “It’s me.”
“They took everything.” Alden shivered. “I couldn’t stop them.”
“Alden, where is your grandmother?” Nate asked. He didn’t want to hear the answer. “Where’s Fran?”
“She went to sleep.” As Alden spoke, tears ran down his face. “They were at the door. I made her tea. She didn’t know, Natey. I didn’t hurt her. I swear I didn’t hurt her.”
Nate reached Alden and took his hand, grasping it tightly. Alden’s fingers were thinner than he remembered. His knuckles bled, bruise and ragged.
Nate tried not to imagine him fighting—or what he’d had to fight off. “I know.”
Alden’s wavering gaze shifted from Nate’s hand to his face. He blinked as if he’d only now seen him. “Hello, little dove,” he said. “Did they fix you up?”
“Yeah.” Nate’s voice broke. “I’m better now.”
“Everything’s gone.” Alden held one arm across his middle, and his hand trembled violently. “It hurts. And I don’t have anything left to make it stop.”
Nate touched Alden’s face carefully, wiping blood away with his sleeve. “What happened?”
“They came for my things.” Alden glanced at Reed, wary in a way Nate had never seen him, not in the worst of his throes of want, not ever. “But Grandmother didn’t see,” he whispered to Nate. “She didn’t see any of that.”
“Good,” Nate said helplessly, fixing Alden’s robe where it had slipped from his shoulder. “That’s good, Alden.”
“She wanted her bones to go to sea, Natey, but I couldn’t get her out fast enough. The fire wouldn’t stop.”
Nate didn’t know what to say.
“No matter. Everything’s gone now.” Alden pulled his hand out of Nate’s and fidgeted with the ruined ends of his hair. “Why are you here? I don’t have anything. The Diffuser’s gone too. They took it.”
Nate’s throat went sour. The Breakers might not be able to mass-produce chem, but they still had a way to abuse GEMs. “How did they get into the safe?” he asked, sharp with anger.
Reed nudged him with his shoe. Nate realized too late that Reed didn’t want him to ask—didn’t want to know.
“I was persuaded to open it,” Alden said, shoulders moving in a shrug that became a shudder and ran down the length of him. “I asked why you’re here,” he said, recovering with an agitated breath.
“I thought you were dead.” Nate cringed, not sure if this was any better. “They told me your shop burned.”
“The rumors are true.” Alden’s breath huffed. “It must be the talk of the Withers. Wherever will the lost find salvation now?”
Nate’s chest ached. Alden’s broken empire only mattered to those who couldn’t afford the Breakers’ superior chem. He’d been losing his grip on the fiends of the Withers all along.
“Come with us,” Reed said. “Pixel’s with the girls. She’ll want to see you. We’ll take you to the Servants to get mended.”
