Page 10 of Reaper’s Curse

Twelve hours ago, the Killian had deposited me in a room of wonders with his parting words: “Don’t give in. Insist the lowly male allow you use of this space.”

That had been last night.

And by “lowly male,” I assumed the Killian meant Aoes. The room was, after all, located directly beneath the pub and loaded with spy equipment focused on various locations within the establishment. Something a smuggler would, no doubt, find handy.

I had no proof Aoes was a smuggler, but all indications pointed to probable.

Upon discovering no surveillance in the individual rooms of the second floor, I released a tight breath. Of course, that didn’t mean something was to be found elsewhere in the building.

If I discovered Aoes had been listening in on all the conversations I’d had with Aldine and Raven, I might find a way to reap the pub manager early.

In addition to the ability to eavesdrop on most happenings in the building above, the surrounding vault offered just about anything one might need. A small kitchen claimed a corner of the main room. Nearby, attached to the wall and anchored with a pulley system, was a bunk that I could swing down for use or shove flat against the side when I desired the open space.

And a no-frills water closet was located in the far back corner. With running water! Unlike the shared water closet on the second level.

The room also offered a sofa and chairs for relaxing…waiting…and a table at which to pore over documents and plan my next move…or enjoy a meal. Not that I had enjoyed any of my meals since arriving in the citadel. Each had been a nutritional requirement more than anything.

I deposited Raven’s confiscated reaper’s handbook on the table face down and dragged my fingers across the back cover. Then I pocketed the crow caller and small notebook.

In the outer hall (or entryway) was the door through which I’d come—the one leading in or out of the underground tunnels. A second door on the opposite side of the space opened to the back exterior of the building. Set between those two points of entry, a small prison cell…or, more likely…a drunkard’s tank.

Within the drunkard’s tank, decades-old stains that I, with my heightened senses, easily identified as blood. Neither human nor fae. Who or what had occupied the cell so many years ago? I could picture my torturer entombed here, subjected to some of my creative questioning.

Maybe, if luck favored me, I would get such an opportunity.

Taking a seat on the edge of the sofa, I pressed the heels of my palms to my temples and rubbed and rolled my hands back along the sides of my skull. I’d chosen the sofa over the bunk for my bed the night prior, and despite the perceived safety of the location, my sleep had been sporadic, the continued pounding of my head and the occasional separation of colors in my vision an issue.

Not to mention the escalated concerns and horrors of my team’s current state left me restless.

A team that was now only two members strong—myself and Raven, with Aldine having transitioned. And Raven, I reminded myself, was at the palace. A place where I was not the least bit welcomed.

None of my restlessness had anything to do with my own recent hellish experiences.

The sounds of morning prep in the pub above traveled to me by way of the built-in surveillance. A collection of sound tubes to various parts of the building. Each with their own control, allowing me to open some and close others, while leaving more cranked only halfway, limiting the intonation.

After a full investigation, I had determined that the system was primitive, and any rattle or babble would carry both ways. With that knowledge at the forefront of my mind, I kept every action I made quiet as a peaceful death.

Aoes had yet to visit the chamber, and from the information I had gathered the night prior, after the guards departed with Raven’s belongings, both Aoes and Earl were under the impression I had left for places elsewhere.

Won’t Aoes be surprised when he discovers the truth.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

With the many secrets I suspected the pub manager held, Aoes wasn’t likely going to relish the idea of me having procured the room housing all the spy equipment as my new guest lodging. But the Killian told me to insist on staying, and that was exactly what I planned to do.

“Aoes!” a woman’s singsong voice echoed through the sound tube located nearest the pub’s front entry. “Aoes. Is Raven here?”

In a flash, I jerked to a stand and stalked to the lineup of spy glasses. It took me four tries to blink the colors from my vision and then find the spyglass angled with the best view.

Who was this lady, and how did she know Raven?

Aoes appeared from a room down the back hall. Most likely his personal accommodations. At least, that was what I had determined on my second night under the pub’s roof.

“Hey, Camilla!” Aoes threw his arms around the woman and gave her a tight squeeze.

Two little girls entered the establishment behind her. Twins, if I was seeing correctly. And one of them looked oddly familiar. Although I was uncertain if that sense of familiarity was based on the last few days of dark and disjointed memories or born from a fever dream.

One child appeared to be afflicted and clutched a set of crinkled parchment sheets to her chest. The other healthier sister guided her into the room with a strong handhold. Even with the one child’s affliction, both girls resembled the woman, Camilla: warm skin tone and long dark locks. Their mother, I presumed.