“We just met,” Scythe said, forcing her hands to relax.
“I’ve known Dagger for a while. And, yes, I only met you officially yesterday, but I’ve heard much about you. Mostly from Dagger, actually. You two make beauty out of the grotesque. That dining chair is the perfect example.”
The rage melted away. Axe looked embarrassed at his confession but held strong to it. If she and Dagger managed to take Skiachora, they were guaranteed at least one ally.
Maybe he could help. He knew every inch of the library, he must have read almost every text. She wanted to run the idea by Dagger, but he was indisposed for three nights.
“Axe, can I trust you?” she asked.
“I’ve already entrusted you with enough information to lead to my own death,” he said. “Yes, you can trust me.”
“Dagger and I are going to take Skiachora from Maniodes,” she confided quickly.
Axe opened his mouth to reply, but no words escaped at first. Finally, he said, “You’re trying to kill a god?”
“Kill, banish, capture, anything to take him out of power.”
“You know how ridiculous that sounds, don’t you?” he scoffed.
“You’ve seen how Maniodes runs the place. You know how he treats us, all of us. I don’t think he even knows how the sentries work,” she defended.
Scythe thought of the two who took Dagger away. They had waited until he was ready.
Axe cupped a hand around the back of his neck and looked away, thinking.
“You told me about your daughter, and you came here to tell me what Maniodes said. If he knew you were here for that reason, we’d both be in danger.”
“I won’t be your spy,” he said. “I came to help a friend. That was all.”
“I appreciate that, and I’m not asking you to spy,” Scythe said softly.
Axe waited with a dubious look for her to continue.
“Maniodes was created by his shield; he’s tied to it. I have been researching to see if there is a way to use it against him.”
“That’s why you were in the library,” Axe said, stunned. “Reading the old myths and trying to find a way to destroy it.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Scythe waited for him to gather his thoughts. Axe sat again and gazed at the dining chair of ribs.
“You want me to research for you,” he said.
“Well, not for me, exactly. I’ll be there to help, but you must know that library perfectly. Do you know anything that could narrow down the search?” Scythe asked.
“Maybe, I…” he was still trying to absorb the initial shock.
Scythe sat beside him. “Axe, listen.”
He turned to her. His gaze was different now, like he was seeing her in a different light.
“If you don’t want to help, I won’t hold it against you. You have seen how he treats his people. And I’d like to confide one more thing.”
“What?” He sighed at the burden.
“If Dagger or I disobey him again, Nyx wants all of us disbanded.”
“All of the Incruentus Ferrum?” he asked, stunned.
“Yes.”
Axe stood again in his agitation, “Why?!”
“Because, apparently, we’re all too hard to control,” Scythe explained.
“Isn’t this proving his point then?” Axe stated. “You want to overthrow a god.”
“So you’re fine with living under his shadow and sneaking behind his back?” Scythe said. “You’ve seen how easily he dismissed us. If he’s willing to take out all of the Ferrum now, because Nyx wanted him to, then he will be willing in the future. Maybe he’ll grow bored of us after we’ve served his purpose. You can’t even let him know you don’t want to kill anymore. He’ll just force you to go grey because you’re useless to him. Axe, you came here to warn me about him. What if you didn’t have to sneak around your leaders and could talk to them as an equal?”
“So you and Dagger would take that role?” he said. “I’d put my neck on the line to put you in power?”
“If you help us, you can stay a Ferrum and visit your daughter. We could think of a new position for you. One where you’re not obliged to take a life again.”
He was considering the idea.
“If I agree, you’ll let me see my little girl?” he asked.
“If she can keep a secret, you can even reveal yourself to her. How old is she again?”
“She’s five,” he admitted.
“Maybe wait until she’s older to tell her, but you can visit.”
Axe nodded. No toddler would be able to keep quiet about papa coming back from the dead.
“I’ll help you,” Axe agreed, “but not while he’s in there.”
“I had to leave the first time he came in too. How often does he visit the library?” she asked.
Axe thought for a second. “Three, maybe four times a week. Never on a Friday, though.”
“Alright, we’ll focus our search on the days he’s not present then. Once Dagger is free, he can join us. Are you able to take books out of the library?” Scythe asked.
“I can take one or two to my chambers, but he doesn’t want them leaving Skiachora.”
“Maybe we could stash some important ones in my cave there. He never bothered to visit that place, so I don’t think he knows where it is,” Scythe contemplated.
“That could work.” Axe took a seat again. “I think the sentries could help us too. You’re right about them; I don’t think they’re as dumb as they seem.”
“Maybe they could spy on him for us,” Scythe suggested.
“Perhaps, but we should hold off on approaching them until we’re sure.”
“Yes. Do you think Maniodes is still in the library? I’d love to get some work done rather than sit around.”
“You should stay here, I think. I’ll go and see what I can find in the old poets, but you should lay low for a few days.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “And you’ll stay quiet about what you’re searching for?”
“Of course. If he found out, I’d never see my daughter again.”
Scythe might not have felt a father’s love herself, but she saw it in Axe’s eyes.
Chapter 23
She hardly slept that day after seeing Axe back through the tree. Eventually, she fell into a restless doze that she wanted to continue as the sun set, but Dagger wouldn’t leave her thoughts. He was bound up in chains while she lay comfortable in bed. She got up, not bothering to set the sheets right, and went to the balcony with some tea.
There hadn’t been many dried leaves stored. She wanted to get more, but she had torn up the garden in a rage last night. She resolved to spend the night cleaning it out to see what she could salvage.
While working outside, she realized there was no chive plant. She had told Dagger she couldn’t remember anything from her past life, but that wasn’t the whole truth. She had blocked out most of it, but sometimes memories would leak through like pus from a wound.
There had been a tiny patch of chives growing beside her family’s doorstep. Mother took care of it as a hobby. There was never enough to sell, but now and then what food they could afford was seasoned well. Scythe saw a woman with her own red hair in mind, kneeling by the little plant, brushing off dust from the leaves. It was a strong image, closer to a hallucination, but Scythe couldn’t see the woman’s face, even though she knew it was her mother.
Kneeling in the dirt, hands full of dead plants, Scythe felt nothing. This woman had been mother in name only. She’d probably given that tiny herb more love then her own daughter.
Dagger loved his mother, even missed her, regardless of the fact that she killed him. Scythe wished she couldn’t understand that love, but she did, the same way she recognized a father’s love in Axe last night. She had seen it and grown up with it, just not from her own family. She couldn’t force up any specific memories, but she knew there had been a family next to hers. They had been just as poor, but they got along better. Scythe w
ould watch them through the windows.
Scythe pushed the thoughts away. There was no need for them. She wasn’t going to plant chives; there was no need. She and Dagger didn’t have to eat anyway, so why season the food?
The faceless woman grew into her thoughts again. Scythe stabbed the spade into the earth, forcing her back down.
The sight of the bat was a relief. It hovered around the main door, looking for a way in until Scythe approached. It landed in her hands, allowing her to untie the parchment. It gave a welcoming screech and let Scythe scratch behind its ears before flying off.
The note from Maniodes was simple. A single woman’s name with an address in the Low End of Kaliasma.
It ended with a warning though, saying, “I am tired of giving you chances, Scythe. I’ve been sticking up for all of you, and that alone should demand respect. If you can’t keep your bloodlust in check, then you will leave me no choice.”
This had to be the job Axe warned her about. She was curious to see how it put her in her place.
Scythe cleaned out the garden and packed quickly. She was tempted to use a tree as a shortcut through Skiachora but didn’t know of any dead trees near Kaliasma. She thought about asking Pitch, but she didn’t want to risk running into Maniodes. So, she walked.
She let her mind wander to try to relax. Dagger in his chains would surface in her thoughts most often. Now and then, the faceless woman would appear, and Scythe would have to beat her back again.
She walked through the night and well into the morning. She avoided the main road that she used with Dagger before. She cut through the forest heading straight for the city and made good time. She spent the rest of the day in the crypts below the city. The walk and her thoughts had exhausted her.
As the moon rose, Scythe followed the directions on the parchment and found the house. It was more of a hovel than a proper house. The room she needed was part of a larger complex but belowground. There were stairs cut into the stone leading down to the door.
Her target was inside alone. Scythe saw her through the single window next to the door. All Scythe could see of her was her skinny form lying on a bed with one arm outside of the blankets. That arm was battered purple and yellow.
Scythe felt bile rise in her throat. If she had eaten anything, it would have ended up on the cobblestones. She had seen that pattern of bruises enough times on her own body.
Her fingers were stiff, but Scythe forced herself to open the door to the little room. It wasn’t locked. There was a small oven in the corner next to a rickety table. Shelves lined the walls with regular home equipment, but that was all. A single candle, stuck to a narrow end table beside the sleeping woman, provided the only light. The woman didn’t stir until Scythe closed the door loud enough to break the shadow spell.
Apparently, the woman hadn’t been sleeping. She had been crying. She sat up in bed, swinging her legs over the side. The thin, white slip barely covered anything on her. The same bruises patterned her legs, more so on her thighs. Her brown hair hung around her face like a veil. She wasn’t afraid.
“Who are you?” she asked confused. Her voice was kind but cracked.
“My name is Scythe,” she answered truthfully.
“Did my husband send you?” Her hands clenched at her slip, trembling.
“No.”
She calmed. “Are you here to rob us?”
“No.”
“So why?” she asked, surprisingly calm.
“I have to kill you.” There was no point in lying.
“You have to?”
“I don’t want to,” Scythe admitted. To her shock, she really didn’t.
The woman grew quiet as if considering the idea. She still wasn’t afraid; she just looked tired.
Scythe sat beside her, causing the bed to creak violently. Her weapon was small, and she gripped it in her lap. The woman glanced at it, curious.
“What’s your name?” Scythe asked. The name had been on the note, but she wanted to hear it from the woman herself.
“Astraea.”
“I can make it quick,” Scythe said. “You won’t even feel it.”
“Make it obvious,” Astraea said. “I’d rather not die, but I can’t stay here, and I can’t leave. I don’t want him thinking I escaped through suicide out of spite either. I want him mad. I want him mad at someone he can never find.” Life lit in her eyes: life and anger. “If he thinks it was suicide then he’s just mad at me for a short time. If it wasn’t me, and he can’t find who did it, then he’s mad forever. I hope it haunts him.”
Astrara’s need for even a small revenge was contagious. The bile left Scythe’s throat, and she loosened her grip on her weapon. Maniodes couldn’t have known of Astraea’s ideals.
“I can do that,” Scythe agreed.
“Thank you,” Astraea took Scythe’s hand and squeezed it. She looked to their hands, confused and distracted. “You’re cold.”
“It’s a small side effect of being dead.” She hadn’t mean to say that. Why did she admit that?
Astraea met her eye again. “What are you? Will I be like you when I die?”
Scythe didn’t want to tell her about the depressing grey husk she would become.
“You can if you’re chosen,” she said.
“What do you do? Just kill random people?”
“Maniodes sends us after targets, yes.”
Astraea’s eyes widened at the god’s name.
“You’re a goddess then?” she asked in a whisper.
“No, I’m his servant,” Scythe clarified, hating the words.
“That’s fascinating. I don’t think I could do that,” Astraea said. “Kill people.”
“You won’t have to.” Scythe squeezed her hand.
“I don’t have to do anything anymore, I suppose,” Astraea said. “You’ll make it quick?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.” She surprised herself again by how truthful that was.
“Don’t apologize,” Astraea smiled. “Can I stand while you do it? I’d rather die on my feet.”
“Of course.” Scythe helped her stand, cringing as Astraea’s knees popped. She couldn’t be more than thirty, but she moved as if she was eighty.
Astraea stood with her head high, her body painted in her husband’s ‘love.’
“Thank you, Scythe,” she said sweetly.
Chapter 24
“Anything special to report?” Maniodes asked from his throne.
“No, my lord, the job went as planned,” Scythe said, standing below him. “You would know. I’m sure Nyx was there.”
Maniodes drummed his fingers on the arm of the black stone. “You would do well to watch your tongue.”
Scythe kept her gaze down and her mouth shut. She wanted to snap, but the practice was doing her some good.
“Did anyone see you?” he asked.
“The victim did. I revealed myself to her, but we were alone. We talked.” Scythe shrugged. She didn’t bother mentioning how she stayed to watch Astraea’s portly husband return home. His scream was music as she watched him stumble back out of the room, vomiting.
“About what?” That had caught his attention.
“She had questions about what I am. She also wanted her husband to know it was murder, which is why I made a show of it, taking her head off but leaving it in that hovel. I had planned to cut her wrists and make it look like a suicide.”
“She was willing?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Much like yourself back then,” he commented.
“Not in the way you assume,” she countered, meeting his eye. “Neither of us wanted death, but it was the only escape.”
Maniodes nodded but didn’t understand. “Do you think she’d make a good Incruentus Ferrum?”
“No,” Scythe said truthfully. “She was too kindhearted.”
“Mm.” Maniodes ran the side of his finger across his lips as if in thought, but Scythe knew he didn’t care.
“I�
��ve been thinking about Dagger,” he said, rolling his fingers together. “How he pleaded to me to spare you, and the look in your eyes when I was about to take his borrowed life. It was quite touching, but I was surprised. I didn’t know an arranged marriage would actually grow into anything. You should be grateful; few are so lucky.”
He stood. “We’re done here. I let you get away with a lot, Scythe, especially with how you speak to me. Nonetheless you will not disrespect me or Nyx, understand?”
It was like he was scolding a child for speaking its mind. She wanted to point out that she meant no disrespect to Nyx. She visibly swallowed her pride.
“Yes, my lord,” she said but didn’t apologize.
“Tread carefully, Scythe. I really don’t want to lose either of you.”
You have an odd way of showing that, she thought, gripping her large scythe harder.
Scythe left the throne room, feeling Maniodes’s cold eyes on her back. She kept hold of her weapon, the weight of it providing some comfort. At the main entrance, her anger hadn’t cooled and she nearly used the weapon.
“Hey, Scythe?”
The little voice made her spin and raise the weapon instinctively. Pitch stood behind her, looking apprehensive at the raised scythe but not backing away. Scythe lowered it and forced a breath.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I was wondering how you were feeling?” he asked, looking away then: embarrassed.
Scythe could only watch the boy, confused for a moment. He had been dead for about twenty years, twice as long as Dagger, but she hardly knew him. They hadn’t spoken much until Dagger came into their lives. She couldn’t understand why the kid would come to her now.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He paused and stared back at her, annoyed now. “Dagger’s been taken away, and I thought you’d be stressed lately. Sorry if I’m showing too much compassion.”
Dagger actually had brought them together. Scythe hadn’t seen that coming. The kid was worried about him and just wanted to talk.
“He’s being let out today,” Scythe said, trying to mend the annoyance. “You should come over to visit him.”
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