The uniform they provided fit poorly. Lucette’s was atrocious. Her pants must have belonged to a baby giant. Mine was made of scratchy wool that chafed at my neck and wrists. I walked down the hall, tying my wild hair into a braid, muttering under my breath about the absence of basic necessities in this glorified prison.
A toothbrush. One fucking toothbrush. That’s all I’m asking for.
I should have grabbed mine last night when we’d gone to the apartment. Should have known we wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon.
My thoughts drifted back to the Magistrate and then the locator spell. I hadn’t had to cut it off myself, the magic had truly failed on its own. Probably because I’d had minimal training with that particular spell. Gran taught me the theory once, but any practical application was another matter entirely. Still,something had felt wrong when I cast it, like I was trying to pour water uphill. Whether that was inexperience or something else, I couldn’t be sure.
Approaching my door, I stopped short.
A note was pinned to the frame, precise handwriting on expensive paper.
Training. East tower. Seven bells. Do not be late. Tell the others.
-W
I memorized the words in seconds, then stepped into my room and closed the door behind me. My fingers found the familiar heat that lived in my bones, and I let the smallest trace of fire dance between them—not water magic, but my true nature. Touching fire magic felt like coming home and shouting in a silent room at the same time.
The paper curled and blackened, turning to ash.
I moved to the window, which opened exactly three inches thanks to whatever wards kept us contained, and scattered the evidence into the morning air. Let the hunter wonder why I never showed.
A shadow blocked the weak sunlight. Silas squeezed through with surprising determination. He could have just made himself smaller, but I guess he was as defiant as I was these days. He’d been gone all night, which wasn’t like him. Sometimes I dismissed him for privacy, but I hadn’t neededthatin far too long.
I didn’t have to speak to him to know where he’d been. His feathers carried the scent of the Crook and a tinge of the Tangles. He’d been searching for Vitoria, scouring the city with the same desperate need that kept me awake at night.
I was so grateful. If he could find her, we could keep her as far from this hunt as possible.
“Any luck?” I whispered, knowing he couldn’t answer but needing to ask anyway.
He turned his back to me, tail lashing once with clear irritation as he landed on the bed with a thump.
“Yeah. Me neither.”
There was a knock at the door, then it opened before I could give permission. Only one person had that particular brand of confidence. His eyes swept the room, mouth in a thin line before I shook my head. “Silentii.”
The faint orb enclosed us in a private circle, shimmering to life, barely sealing before he spoke. “Giving up our apartment last night was smart. You’ve won the Venatori over with that move, other than the Ripper, but what’s your plan from here?” He paced, working it out in his mind as he stepped through the trace of water below us from the spell I’d cast. “Pip Willowbend can’t be our only hope.”
I lifted a brow. “I’m open to other ideas here, Cal. Unless you know more about Vitoria’s midnight caller than I do, this is our only avenue. I mean, I have a theory, but it’s based on very little.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Whoever summoned her had money. Real money. For one, I’m pretty sure private sprite networking doesn’t come cheap. Elite messengers charge what most people make in a year just for discretion.”
“She never struggled with rent,” Calder agreed, stopping his pacing. “Always paid her third on time. Sometimes early. Sometimes more than what we needed.”
“Exactly. So either this person was employing her for midnight naked rendezvous, which is what I’d always assumed, or...” I trailed off, considering.
“Or paying her to stay hidden and available,” Calder finished. “Keep her off the streets, out of sight.”
“Would make sense. An unregistered fire witch is valuable. Dangerous, but valuable.” I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. “It could have been anything. Private assassination work. Consulting for someone who couldn’t risk being seen publicly with a witch.”
Calder’s expression darkened. “A secret lover with a reputation to protect is a sound theory.”
I hadn’t wanted to voice that possibility, but it had crossed my mind more than once. “She never mentioned anyone. Never came home smelling of cologne or carrying gifts.”
“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening.” He resumed pacing. “Rich enough to afford Crimson, apparently a very well-compensated sprite. Powerful enough to keep him quiet. Maybe connected enough to know she’s being hunted and helping her hide.”
“Government?” I suggested quietly.
