“If he cannot root them out, no one can,” said Corvin, and he lifted his gaze to the carved ceiling. “His brilliance is made for this sort of thing.”
“How so?” Lux couldn’t hide her real interest over the matter. The feeling she experienced around the collector made her want to know everything about the man lest she be on the receiving end of his “gift”.
Corvin’s attention returned to her. “He can track anything. A natural scent, a perfume. Even blood.”
…Cecily.
Lux could hardly focus with her chest’s palpitations. Devil take her, she’d promised the girl freedom and had sent her out alone. Cecily could have no idea there was a bloodhound masking as a man inside the manor’s walls. “Beastly,” she muttered, horrified at her mind’s conjured images of Silas skulking through Ravenwood. “But he’s taken the evening off, I assume?
“He has,” agreed Corvin. “He’s earned it after these relentless few days. For instance, he tracked three scents only this morning. At the cliffsides. And then again, in the cove. PoorHildred was found drowned there. We entombed her over first Invocation.”
Lux’s blood chilled fully now, every hair on her body standing on end. But Corvin didn’t look at her any longer. He looked at Mistress Farrentail, a pout on her pursed lips. “Oh no! An attendant?”
He nodded. “An awful accident. The staff here have always felt like family to me. We take care of one another in Mothlock. The cliffs are dangerous, but Hildred wasn’t new to them. I can’t begin to fathom what happened.”
Lux could hardly think with her heart thundering.If he knows it was me…
“So much loss these days.” Mistress Farrentail shook her head full of feathers. “But I almost forgot: Mr. Swallowpeak wished for a word.” When Corvin hesitated, she said, “I’ll take care of the girl.”
His lips quirked. “See that you do.” His glance shifted to Lux. “No need to speak to anyone else. I won’t be long.” Then he weaved through the crowd.
“So rich. So disgustingly wealthy. If we were to bleed them, would their blood be made of diamonds?”
Lux recoiled at the voice, her eyes darting to an alcove where she found clawed fingers gripping either side of an urn, eyes glowing over the lip.
“Draw the dagger. Let’s see. Let’s see. Let’s—”
“I told you not to follow the zealots, you ridiculous girl.”
Gone was Mistress Farrentail’s sugary voice, and in its stead was a demanding tone, sharply underscored with disappointment. It was a tone she recognized. The Dark Market’s claw vendor and her poisoned apples surfaced in Lux’s head. Her lips parted in irritation before she hissed back, “And yetyoudid. You told me you didn’t know what lifeblood was,and now I know you’re a cheat and a liar. You’ve drunk it, haven’t you?”
Unlike the older woman’s, Lux’s voice was all fury. People were almost always a disappointment to her; she didn’t need it to seep into her words.
“Sure, I lied about not knowing what it was, but you couldn’t expect me to admit something so volatile in Loxlen. Not to a perfect stranger.” Her crooked fingers snatched at Lux’s waist, dragging her close. “Why’d you do it then?”
“What? Follow them? Why would I tell you?”
“Because.Because this is so much bigger than you, and you did not listen, and now I know what you are, and I am quite literallyshakingin myshoesthat you’re about to do something foolish.”
Lux extracted those gnarled fingers from her gown and smoothed the wrinkled fabric. “Don’t preach at me, vendor. I’ve not done anything.”Yet.
Mistress Farrentail’s eyes abruptly squinted as though she’d heard the word Lux hadn’t said aloud. Then she stood on the tips of her toes and peered not into Lux’s eyes, but to either side.
“What are you—”
“You didn’t wear it! No wonder. It’s no wonder! This is the problem with the younger generations: You must spell everything out for them and even then they usually do the opposite out of spite.” Mistress Farrentail plucked a familiar yellow feather from her head with hardly a thought. Blood dripped from its end. “You’ve beenduped.” Then she grabbed hold of Lux’s wrist, warm and strong, and plunged the end into her scalp.
“Devil’s tits!”
“Language!” The vendor thwacked her arm before releasing her, and Lux raised that same arm to press the throbbing point of her scalp. Her fingers brushed along the small featherembedded there. “Don’t rip it out,” the older woman warned. “You need it. You should have had it from the beginning.”
But Lux was hardly listening. Because in the back of her head, where a lurking shadow had lingered, was nothing now but her own secrets and buried thoughts.Where are you?she thought toward her broken brilliance. Her nightmare. The decaying monster masquerading as her and driving her to the brink of insanity. She peered into the surrounding alcoves and found nothing.
“Welcome tomysociety, girl.” The vendor’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The minions of Mothlock have been terrifying the towns for over a century. It’s time we put a stop to them.”
“We? Me and you?”
“Look for the feathers.”
