“We didn’t have to risk it that much, though. Axe was right; we should have waited for a proper moment. Maniodes leaves the castle on a weekly basis. We should have waited until then.”
“There’s no point on dwelling on ‘what-ifs.’ Nothing bad happened,” she said.
“This time,” he said. “We may not be so lucky next time. Luck is always bound to run out.”
“But it didn’t, and Pitch is fine,” she said.
“That’s not the point, Scythe. I know Pitch is fine, and he got spooked. That makes sense. I put him in a position that could get him killed. That didn’t happen this time, but if this coup doesn’t succeed, then he’ll be killed along with us. He’s caught between two gods and us. He’s pretending to be on Maniodes’s side, while doing some kind of bidding for Nyx, while also taking down the god with us! I’m not surprised the kid is terrified, juggling all of that.”
Dagger had to pause after saying most of that in one breath.
“I know you didn’t want to put him in danger,” Scythe agreed. The relief that she understood soothed his nerves, but not completely.
Scythe took his hand again and squeezed it. “You want to wake the guests downstairs and play with them a little?”
The laughter surprised him; it felt good. “Not now. I think sleep will do us all some good.”
“Really?” Scythe asked, surprised. “Usually cutting into something cheers you up. Oh well, it has been a long day.”
She kissed his cheek. “I’m off then, too. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Dagger just smiled and watched her make for the door. The grin faltered, though, at the thought of what he’d just declined. Cutting into people did calm him down. Their screams were like music most of the time. He had even bonded with Scythe over that kind of slaughter. Why had he declined her invitation?
He wasn’t in the mood. It was a small thing, and it had been a long night, but this had never happened before.
He recalled Basil Paavo’s house then, and Marella. Ever since their deaths, things had been different. He couldn’t even kill Basil; he had wanted to, but couldn’t.
“Scythe, wait,” he called, turning to her.
She was about to close the door behind her but stopped, looking back at him. One brow was arched, silently asking what he wanted.
“I think there’s something wrong with us,” he said.
“What?” she asked, looking dumbfounded.
“I mean all of us. All of the Incruentus Ferrum.” Dagger buried his hand in his hair, trying to think of the words. “Something makes us more violent.”
“What are you talking about?” Scythe asked, stepping closer.
“Before you died, you told me your life was hard,” Dagger said. “Your family struggled for coin, and your father was abusive, but as for violence that was about it, right? I mean you never sought out people to hurt.”
“The streets were never easy. You had to be violent just to stay alive, especially as a woman growing up.” Her voice was growing harder and defensive.
“But you never murdered anyone for fun, right?”
“Well, no.”
“And I didn’t, either,” Dagger continued, the dots quickly connecting in his mind. “I was just a normal man in Kaliasma, studying history. I never wanted to rip into people’s organs or stick knives in their throats.”
“What are you getting at, Dagger?” Scythe asked, growing frustrated.
“We weren’t violent before. I think Maniodes does something to us when he picks us. I don’t know why or have proof of anything. Think of Axe too,” he insisted. “You said you talked when you met, and he admitted that after the job with the little girl, he didn’t want to kill anymore. It was that way for me in the Paavos’s house.”
Scythe’s eyes lit up then in understanding.
“Pitch said something about bloodlust after my job with the woman in the hovel,” she said. “He asked how I was feeling after killing her.”
“Did you feel anything different?” he asked.
“Well…no, not after, but the woman was basically me when I was alive. Or at least who I might have ended up as.” Scythe crossed her arms, and she looked away.
The initial enthusiasm he felt at the possible discovery faded. Scythe was looking very uncomfortable.
“I think,” Dagger said lightly, “that job was meant to make you aware of the new violence, or bloodlust, or whatever we call it. That woman was you, and I was related to the Paavo family in a way. Not literally, of course, but I was part of a family affected by needless murder.”
He stepped back and sat heavily on the end of the bed. He couldn’t help but wonder if his father had been murdered by a Ferrum. There was no way of knowing unless he asked Maniodes, and he didn’t entirely want to know the answer. If it was the case, then Maniodes was manipulating his subjects well before they died.
Scythe’s bare foot appeared in his line of vision. He had just been staring at the floor as he thought. Looking up, he saw her hard red eyes had softened a small bit. She sat next to him on the bed.
“I think you’re right,” she said, “but only that he added something. He mistreats us and orders us around like the sentries, but I still chose this path. I decided to kill my parents; he didn’t force me to. He didn’t even mention them. I wanted them dead.”
“And I wanted to burn that village with you,” Dagger said, “but I don’t think we would have if we weren’t Ferrum.”
“We’d be dead if we weren’t. We wouldn’t have even known each other. You were born decades after me. I hate Maniodes, but I’m not blaming him for how I am. I wouldn’t be who I am without him.”
“It sounds like you’re defending him,” Dagger said, surprised.
“I—” She sighed. “I’m not, but I made the choices that led me here, not Maniodes manipulating me from the shadows.”
“Maybe you’re right in that case,” Dagger said, “but he still did something to us afterward. I’d like to know what.”
“So would I,” Scythe admitted, “but it won’t change who I am.”
“I don’t want you to change.”
Moving slowly, Dagger placed his hand over Scythe’s. She looked down at their hands. He thought she would pull away, but she didn’t. It almost looked like she was mourning something.
She did look up at him, but she only said, “Goodnight, Dagger.”
He didn’t move his hand as he replied in a dry voice. “Goodnight.”
She stood and left the room.
Chapter 37
Nukternios was in three days, and all invitations had been sent long ago. Anticipation ran through Scythe like liquid fire at the thought of it, as she went to check the captive woman’s wounds. She’d been to several balls her undead lifetime but had never hosted one before. She had even discovered a solution to the music, and was excited for everyone to arrive and see it. All of the food was gathered and stored, along with the wine. All they had to do was finish the decorations, and the cemetery nearby provided plenty of material for that.
All of the Incruentus Ferrum sent back letters of thanks, stating they would be glad to attend. Even Maniodes and Nyx sent messages announcing they would be attending.
The last letter to arrive was from Phaos. It came tied to the talon of a majestic brown hawk while they were preparing decorations and discussing food ideas. It thanked them for the invitation, and Phaos said he was actually glad Nyx could have a proper celebration. He declined the invitation, though, because he always went to the citywide party in Stymphalia with his children. The letter ended with Phaos wishing them well and the hope that he hadn’t insulted them.
Scythe wrote back a quick reply saying they weren’t insulted and understood perfectly. Stymphalia was one of the first civilizations Phaos’s precious humans had created, so it held a soft spot for him.
Truth be told, Dagger wondered aloud if it was because Phaos never seemed to approve of the Incruentus Ferrum. Their job was to mistreat his
humans, even though it had been his brother’s idea. At least this way, they only had to hide their secret motive from two gods rather than three.
They had sent Pitch back to Skiachora yesterday, and the kid reassured Dagger he would be fine. He put on a brave face, and Scythe trusted him to get along normally. He had been working with Maniodes for decades, after all. More than anything, she appreciated him for trying to use that experience to relieve Dagger.
They hadn’t heard from Chip. Dagger didn’t want to send a message back to Pitch either. If Maniodes knew they were asking about a seemingly random sentry, he might suspect something. If he had Chip, he would know they were all involved.
“Are you letting us go?” the woman broke Scythe out of her worried thoughts of Chip bringing her back to the servants room turned prison cell.
The woman’s fever had broken, and the stump of her arm had scabbed over nicely. Scythe still kept her tied to the bed as she changed the bandages.
“No,” Scythe replied.
There had been a few rare occasions when she’d had a conversation with a victim. Most of the time they just screamed, cursed, or cried. Scythe would laugh, relishing in their torment. Once they started talking rationally, that sapped some of the fun out of it.
“Is my husband dead?” she asked, sounding tired.
“He’s in the cellar, alive.”
“Thank the gods,” she sighed.
“Don’t.” Scythe stopped with a bandage in hand and stared at the woman. “They’re the ones who send us after you.”
The woman flinched but couldn’t cower properly. Fear was back but to Scythe’s surprise, the woman asked softly, “What are you?”
“You and your husband might be alive now, but my husband and I are not.”
Scythe finished up and left the woman there. She hated when her victims became rational people.
She meant to find Dagger to discuss what their next move should be. They knew what Maniodes’s lover looked like. Now they just had to find her.
She crossed the archway from the corridor to the main entrance, planning to head upstairs. Lately, Dagger had been working on his bedchamber.
Scythe didn’t have to go that far. Dagger was in the main entrance, beaming at an unexpected guest. Chip stood next to him with a parchment.
“Chip!” Scythe hurried over to join them, interrupting their conversation. “How did you escape?”
“He waited until Maniodes fell asleep, then crept down the passage,” Dagger replied for him.
Chip nodded and indicated to the parchment he held. It said basically the same thing.
“Do you think he suspected anything?” Dagger asked Chip.
Chip shook his head.
“Good,” Dagger breathed.
“See? Everything was fine,” Scythe said.
“This time,” he replied. He turned back to Chip. “So why come here? Is something wrong?”
Chip laid the parchment on a side table and wrote.
“I wanted to let you know I was okay. Also wondering what we should do next?”
Charcoal stained his pale finger bones after writing.
“We need to find the woman. That’s what’s next,” Scythe said.
“Yes, and tomorrow is when Maniodes is leaving Skiachora again,” Dagger said, thinking. “We’ll have to follow him. There’s no other way of seeing where he goes.”
Scythe was all for risk and excitement, but given the recent scare, it sounded too rushed. Chip’s charcoal-stained bones caught her eye again. The idea that struck then was perfect.
“Wait, what if we don’t have to follow him personally?” Scythe asked.
“What do you mean? How can we not follow him?”
“Chip can stash a tiny bone in Maniodes’s clothes, then track it.”
Dagger’s eyes lit up. “That’s perfect. Chip, would you mind if we borrowed one?” He blinked then continued with, “I just realized how bizarre it is to ask you for a body part.”
Chip opened his jaw as if to laugh. He even leaned his head back a bit for the imitation. Scythe wondered who Chip was in his lifetime. He was certainly a loyal friend in death.
Chip plucked off the tip of his pinky finger and handed it to Dagger. He turned back to his parchment and wrote. “Hide it carefully. He may be able to trace it back to me.”
“Chip, if this puts you in danger, we can find a different way,” Scythe said, concerned.
“We could follow him ourselves,” Dagger suggested. “My friend, Cross, is an amazing tracker. She could help us in this.”
Dagger tried to hand the piece back, but Chip closed Dagger’s hand around it. Chip then made a staying motion indicating that he could keep it.
“You’re sure?” Dagger pressed.
Chip wrote again then showed them.
“It’s the best way of finding him when he opens a passage out of Skiachora.”
“He has a point,” Scythe said. “The stairways to the surface can open anywhere. We just need to think of a place.”
Dagger sighed but held the bone closer.
Chip nodded in consent again.
Dagger strode through Maniodes’s castle. He and Chip used the dead tree to go back to Skiachora. Now he held Chip’s finger bone safely inside his cloak pocket.
Chip had to leave to fulfill his post when they reached the dead lands. He informed Dagger that Shorty had seen Pitch in Maniodes’s office, writing a letter that Maniodes was dictating.
Dagger went up to the office but didn’t enter. He heard Maniodes talking on the other side of the door. Shorty stood guard and nodded in acknowledgment.
Dagger tucked himself into the servant’s corridor to wait for Pitch. It was perfect to see anyone leaving the office without being seen. He pulled a knife from his belt and settled in for the wait, twirling the blade through his fingers.
After an hour, the office door opened. Maniodes left the room and strode down the stairs, trailing Shorty behind him. Pitch was nowhere to be seen.
Dagger stowed the knife away and crept from the servant’s passage. A hand stayed close to the knives, and he watched the stairs. He tried the door, which only rattled in its hinges. He cursed silently, not wanting to wait for Pitch to emerge, if he was even still inside.
He thought of Scythe and what she would do. She’d try to pick the lock and sneak inside, but he’d left the picks at home.
He gave a silent prayer to Nyx for her son not to come back and knocked. There was silence at first, followed by footsteps growing closer. Dagger stepped into the shadows as the door opened.
Pitch stood on the threshold, confused, allowing Dagger a sigh of relief.
“Pitch,” he said, leaving the shadow.
“Hey, Dagger.” Pitch beamed at the surprise.
“Hey, I’ve got another mission for you,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“What?” The fear of almost being found out had completely left Pitch.
Dagger took Chip’s bone from his pocket and handed it to the boy. “Hide this in Maniodes’s pocket or boot. Somewhere he can’t find it.”
“Is it a bone?” Pitch asked confused. “What would this do?”
“It’s part of Chip’s finger. He’ll be able to track it where ever Maniodes goes.”
“That’s perfect,” Pitch said, excited again. “I know just where to put it too. He always has me polish his travel boots the night before he leaves.”
“That’s good, but make sure it’s nowhere he can feel. If he thinks there’s a rock in his boot, he’ll find it.”
“There are some straps on the outside,” Pitch explained.
“Okay, good. I’m counting on you, little man.” Dagger flashed a grin. “I have to go. I can’t let him see me here. It may raise questions.”
“Right, right. Bye, Dagger.”
Pitch closed the door as Dagger descended the stairs again. His nerves jumped at every corner. He kept expecting Maniodes to appear with a knowing look. He had to get back home and wait for Chip
to report back.
Having Pitch plant the bone left a bitter taste in his mouth. If all of this played out and he and Scythe became the leaders, he’d never put Pitch in this position again. He would never be involved in anything dangerous for Dagger’s sake again.
He had to relax. All this time spent on the coup and festival planning was getting to him. He strode back into their estate to look for Scythe. He hoped she was up for some fun with their guests. The armless woman was healthy again; they could poke into her more. He wasn’t overly fond of the idea at the moment given the bloodlust realization, but Scythe would enjoy it.
The first room he checked was the parlor. Scythe was inside, but all hope of relaxation disappeared. Nyx sat on the couch next to Scythe. His hand twitched to his belt. Not that a knife would do him any good against death herself.
“Dagger, good.” Nyx stood as he entered.
He saw Scythe sigh in relief as Nyx turned her back to her. He had no idea how long Scythe had been forced to stall Nyx.
Dagger gained his composure and knelt to one knee. “Did you need me, Your Grace?”
“Yes,” Nyx said. “I need your help. You may stand.”
He did. “Help with what?”
“Your mother is dying, but she refuses to let go of life until she sees her son again.”
Ice locked in his chest. Scythe’s eyes widened at the news and turned to Dagger, concerned. Apparently, Nyx hadn’t told her.
He couldn’t breathe. After a moment, he found he could force himself, but it didn’t do any good. He knew his mother would die, sooner rather than later in her condition. He remembered she would go days without eating, convinced someone had poisoned her food.
A pressure filled his hand. He flinched away from it, looking up from the floor, knife in hand now. Scythe stood next to him. Concern and kindness filled her eyes. She didn’t even glance at the knife he had drawn. He put the knife back and put a hand around her waist.
Scythe stayed quiet. Nothing she could have said would have helped anyway, but he was glad she was there.
It took a while longer to regain his composure, but when he did he asked Nyx, “What can I do?”
Dagger and Scythe Page 23