I turn around and crouch so that nothing pokes above the roof’s ledge. My lungs work overtime.
“Smoke?”
I can’t answer.
Kalyan leans close. “Who is it?”
I look into his sincere eyes. “Beckman.”
After I let the truth into the air I whip around because I have to make sure. Maybe he’s just passing by. This doesn’t mean he’s a part of the Vencrin. He’s too good. He’s not a junkie and not once has he lamented about money issues. Maybe he has nothing to do with destroying everything I stand for.
One extra glance and I know it’s Beckman. I’d spot one of the tallest and most solidly built men in existence. But I don’t want to see him here. Anywhere but here. My knuckles ache from clenching them against the roof’s edge.Keep walking. Go home to your girls.
He doesn’t. Upon nearing the warehouse we’ve been watching for days, the one I saw Nightcaster himself slip into yesterday, Beckman slides under a curtain and vanishes. Something in me hollows out.
“I’m sorry,” Kalyan whispers.
The termfriendis used loosely to craft allies.My father’s words ring in my ears. I guess that’s what Beckman and I had done. To Beckman I was nothing more than a young cage caster in over her head. That night with Rakesh, the upper deck, the shame and terror—all meaningless to him. Still, I thought we were friends. Wrong. Always wrong. I can’t seem to learn mylesson.
But it’s more than that if I really comb through my feelings. Beckman isn’t just a friend but also the wizard connected to the worst, most terrifying moment of my life. And he saved me from it. How could someone like that be working for the Vencrin?
“Can I never trust anyone?” I look over at Kalyan and he appears as devastated as I am. “What?”
He stares at the alleyway. “I should tell you something,” he finally voices.
“Did you suspect him?”
“No, I—” Kalyan’s eyes widen at something over my shoulder. “He’s out.”
I whip my head around so fast my neck spasms. But I ignore the pain because Beckman is walking again. He stops at the corner, wads up something in his hands, and discards it in a bin.
“Do you see that?” I ask, finely tuned to each movement, each step. Then he’s disappeared into the shadows.
“At least he’s not a litterer.” Kalyan rises to his feet slowly. “I’m going to check it out.”
I grab his wrist. He stares at me until I let go. “Be careful.”
Then he says the words I crave more than anything right now. “I trust you. Rings?”
“Rings,” I affirm.
I watch Kalyan land in a cloak of black magic, grab the item, and then, just as fast, ascend to our hiding spot.
“What was it?”
Kalyan holds out a sheet of parchment. “We’re famous.”
I seize the thin paper. It takes a second to process the image is of us, or at least our vigilante personae. A drawing with no detail, just red magic swarming a female face. They’ve made my features more triangular and feminine than they actually are. Which must mean that no one knows much about me besides the fact that I’m Erif Touched and female. Guess my unoriginal name has done me some good. Gives nothing but the obvious away.
Kalyan’s silhouette, right beside mine, is even more obscure. The cloud of white smoke has confused the illustrator to the point where Kalyan’s brown skin could be misconstrued as three shades paler than it is, as if he were an Agsa native. My black illusion spell has turned out better than I could have ever imagined, for the both of us.
Atop, an inscription readsnight and the red woman. It seems Kalyan has finally been saddled with his own unoriginal moniker. But why did Beckman have this? And why did he throw it away?
“What are you thinking?” Kalyan asks.
“Wondering why you got first billing,” I joke, lying because the hurt is too much to handle.
He smiles that smile of his. “It’s obviously catchier that way.”
