Page 34 of The City Of Fractured Memory

“You ready?” he asks.

“Almost,” I reply brightly, reaching for my gloves. “Just let me–”

“I’m coming too,” Stryx’s voice cuts across the room behind me, full of newfound determination. She appears from the corner where she’s been curled in my armchair with her arms crossed and jaw set, her tattoos glowing faintly with renewed magic.

Xavier’s face sours instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Stryx shoots back. “If this brothel is tied to those tattoos, then it could tie to the murders. You might need me, especially if you need a distraction.”

Whilst I’m actually in agreement with Xavier on this occasion, I can’t help the urge to gang up on him.

I smother a grin. “She has a point, Xavier.”

He drags a hand down his face. “Do either of you understand what we’re walking into? Aethermere at night is one thing. A brothel tied to possible ritual killings is another.”

“All the more reason to have another pair of eyes,” Stryx says, stepping closer, chin lifted. “And mine happen to be sharper than most. Anyway, it’s not the first time we’ve been to Aethermere at night, we can handle ourselves.”

Xavier narrows his eyes, looking from her to me and back again, as though hoping one of us will back down.

Like that will happen.

If Stryx feels comfortable leaving the apartment then I’m not going to cage her in anymore, no matter how anxious it makes me. So I simply raise my brows at him, daring him to argue further.

Finally, he groans and throws up his hands in defeat. “Fine. Both of you win. But if her illusion falters, it’s on your heads.”

I smirk, pulling my gloves tight and raising my hood. “Good. Glad we’ve settled that.”

Stryx’s grin mirrors mine and for a fleeting moment, I feel lighter, like we are three reckless conspirators rather than people walking into something potentially dark and dangerous. Luckily Stryx managed to restore some of her magic while I was visiting the morgue with Xavier this morning, so I have no doubt she will be fine.

We start to head out the door but Xavier holds a hand out, stopping us. I turn to glare at him, but his sheepish expression as he locks eyes with Stryx catches me off guard. Xavier is many things, but shy is not one of them. At least, not until now. I watch with intrigue as he retrieves a small package from his pocket and hands it to her.

“I—I thought you might like it,” he mumbles, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Stryx and I share a curious look before she opens the package and gasps in delight at a dark blue mushroom within. She runs back into the apartment to place it in her little shrine before skipping back and planting a kiss on Xavier’s cheek.

“It’s very pretty, thank you,” she whispers, her eyes wide as she bites her lip.

He nods, his cheeks reddening. I give him a pointed look and he rolls his eyes, his embarrassment quickly fading.

“For the record, I still think this is a terrible idea,” he mutters grumpily, but he steps aside to let us through, his lips twitching as he tries to smother his grin.

“Most of the best ones are,” I tease, brushing past him.

He mutters something under his breath about the Gods saving him from stubborn women before following close on our heels. My steps feel less weighted, relief flooding through me that not only are Xavier and Stryx getting along, but that we finally have a strong lead to follow.

Carriages rattle past as we come to a halt outside a building that barely seems to belong in the same world as the quiet, shadowed streets around it. Lanterns of red glass burn above the door, casting the entrance in a sultry glow. Perfumed smoke drifts from the latticed windows above, clinging to the night air with an almost cloying sweetness.

I tilt my head back to take it in; the velvet drapes spilling from the balconies, the painted faces peering from behind beaded curtains, and the faint sound of a lute winding its way through the night. It is decadent, yes, but beneath the gilt and glamour, I catch the faintest hint of rot.

Stryx wrinkles her nose. “Smells like someone drowned in perfume.”

“Not the worst thing that’s happened inside,” Xavier murmurs, his tone clipped. He glances at the painted sigils carved discreetly into the doorframe—wards for secrecy, silence and for pleasure. His jaw tightens.

I lean in close, my lips twitching. “Funny how you noticed those right away.”

He shoots me a look sharp enough to cut glass. “We’re detectives. I’m detecting.”

I stifle a laugh, and Stryx gives him a sly grin like she’s in on the joke. Xavier rolls his eyes skyward, muttering something more about the Gods abandoning him. But before we can enter, a hunched-over man almost staggers into us, and Xavier pulls me and Stryx back protectively.