Ramaro lifted an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
Marc tapped the side of his left eye. “I can feel it in here.”
“And that’s as empty as my stomach’s going to be. . .” Ramaro muttered.
The ground beneath our feet began to rise, and with every step, the fog lifted a little more until we could see a hundred feet ahead of us. The mossy stones gave way to a thin strip of breach grass, and that was soon joined by bushes and trees. The trees formed a small grove that surrounded a dirt path. The wilderness was a brief hedge to the metropolis on the other side, as the grove gave way to houses and cobblestone streets.
One of those streets stretched out before us, a thoroughfare of smoothed stones sandwiched between two rows of tall, elegant houses. These homes were quite different from the quaint residences of Rynek. All were two floors, and some even featured three. Many had balconies that looked out on the narrow road and their small front gardens. Pillars, fountains, and statues adorned the yards. Not a chicken was to be found.
The homes were marvelous creations of stone and wood, crafted by skilled hands and formed into elegant mansions. Tall, wide windows stared down at us with panes lifted in disgust. Silk curtains mostly hid the shining pianos and horsehair furniture. Keyholes peeked into foyers with huge rugs and tapestries.
And there I walked along the street, gaping at the majesty of the fine homes. “The whole city doesn’t look like this, does it?”
“Does any city have one look?” Ramaro pointed out as he lifted his snout to the houses. “These are some of the best houses in the city. The gilded blood in those veins runs deeper than the deepest seas.”
“Gilded blood?” I repeated
“They’re said to have gold running through them instead of blood,” he explained as his tongue flicked out at their homes. “A fool of their number even tried to put gold in his veins with a spell.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was said to have turned into gold, and the family put him out in the garden as a statue.”
My face fell. “That’s terrible.”
“Don’t feel too sorry for the family. I’m sure they use him as collateral whenever they need it.”
Marc’s sharp voice interrupted us. “Lower your voices, or have you two forgotten that we’re not welcome here?”
I sheepishly smiled at him and made sure to speak in a whisper. “Sorry. I’m still not used to being a fugitive.”
He grinned at me. “You’re one of the most beautiful fugitives I’ve ever beheld.”
Ramaro rolled his eyes. “Can you stop with the flattery for one moment and tell us how you want to get to that crazy old fool’s house? There are a million paths we could take from here.”
Marc’s eyes twinkled as he examined the road ahead of us. “But only a few will get us there safely.”
“That’s why you need to keep your head on your shoulders and not in your pants!” the agama snapped.
“I might be able to do both,” Marc countered with his sly grin. “After all, I am. . .” His voice died away, as did his good humor.
My pulse quickened at the sudden silence among us. “What is it? What’s-” Marc wrapped his hand around mine and used the other one to press a finger to his lips. He pointed at the way ahead of us.
I looked at where he indicated and beheld a faint white mist. The wall of fog rolled lazily down the street toward us. “More fog? What’s wrong with that?”
Ramaro’s tail whipped back and forth. “It’s coming from the wrong direction, that’s what. The ocean’s behind us.”
Marc drew me close against his side and wrapped his arm around my waist. “Stay close.”
My heart pounded in my chest as the fog drifted across the cobblestones, swallowing the houses and street like a slow catastrophe. The chill air reached us, and I couldn’t help but shiver against such a fog. It didn’t help that my clothes were still as damp as the ocean itself. The whole world seemed to fall into a blind silence. I couldn’t even see Marc through the mist.
But I could feel a gloved hand that grabbed mine and tried to wrench me away from him.
I let out a blood-curdling scream as those fresh and mysterious covered hands pawed at my fingers before releasing me. A faint light emanated from their chest, and it only seemed to grow brighter and brighter the longer I looked at it.
Marc yanked me to his other side and swung his back in the direction of my attacker. A bright glow burst out from beneath his eye patch and illuminated the area, and also the wing that had slipped out of his back. The leathery appendage blew away some of the fog and revealed a dark figure racing up the street. Whoever they were, they were covered in a black overcoat, light dress shoes, and a broad-brimmed hat that concealed most of their short black hair. The person scurried up the road like an animal trying to keep low in high grass, but paused on the edge of disappearing and twisted around to face us.
My heart dropped into my stomach when I beheld a grotesque black mask. The features were those of a grinning gargoyle with small horns atop its brow. The sockets were deep enough to cast shadows, creating a cavernous hole where the eyes should have been.
