A curvaceous barmaid with wild curls of brown hair walks over to us. Her lips are painted the color of copper, and her luminous hazel eyes are heavily circled with Cinderstone powder. She’s wearing a typical folk dress, like mine, although she fills hers out a lot better than I do—something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Elijah, given the way his eyes keep drifting down.
“What’s my name, merchant?” she says in a thick Thracian accent.
Elijah spots the wooden tariff board by the stairwell. “The Olive Branch,” he says, translating the Thracian name.
The barmaid beams and pours two shots of spiced Shine, then places them in front of us. He picks up the glass of amber liquid. “To Nick and Juno.”
I hesitate, then raise mine. “Nick and Juno.”
We knock back our drinks in one go. I gasp as the choking heat scorches down my throat. The taste is unpleasant, but the effect is immediate. Already I feel more relaxed. It’s nice. It’s been such a horrible couple of days; I want to forget everything for a few hours.
Elijah turns to the barmaid. “Do you know where we can find La Luna Estrella?”
“No, sweetie,” she replies. “But why don’t you stay here and have another drink?”
“Another time.” Elijah winks at her, then takes my hand and leads me out of the tavern.
She swears at us as we leave—this is not how the game is meant to be played.
We head into the next tavern a few doors down. This one’s the Yellow Duck. Another dead end. We hurry to the tavern on the next street, then on to another, and another. We visit over twenty bars in the space of three hours, only allowing ourselves to have a drink at every fifth stop, but even so, I’m feeling a little lightheaded. It’s nice.
I hook my arm through Elijah’s as we wander down the bustling street. No one pays us much attention; Thrace is a city of strangers. I’m surprised there are so many people out after dark, but I guess without any Darklings in the city, there’s no reason for a curfew like we had in Black City.
We enter Thyme Plaza, which is smaller than Spice Square. In the middle of the plaza is an ornate marble fountain, topped with a statue of two lovers entwined in an embrace. A flock of pigeons nest at its base. They scatter into the sky as we pass by.
“Argh! Get them away from me,” Elijah says, swatting at the birds.
I don’t mean to laugh, but I can’t keep the sound from escaping my lips.
“It’s not funny,” he says huffily.
“I’m sorry,” I reply, plucking a gray feather out of his hair. “But honestly, what’s so frightening about a bird? They’re cute.”
“No they’re not! They have these horrible, beady little eyes and disgusting clawed feet.” He shudders, and I burst out into a fit of giggles again. “That does it,” he says, grabbing me.
He tickles me until I can barely breathe.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I gasp.
He grins, releasing me. “There must be something you’re frightened of.”
“Yeah, Wraths,” I say, my voice cracking.
Elijah pulls me toward him, and I lay my head against his broad chest. “I’ll take care of you, Natalie. You don’t have to go through this alone,” he murmurs.
His arms briefly tighten around me, and then he lets me go. I’m surprised at how quickly my heart is beating.
“Let’s check out this tavern,” I say, indicating a building with a blue door.
We go inside. This time the barmaid is a blonde, with pale green eyes. Excitement briefly bubbles up in me, thinking it could be Esme, but then I remember she’s in a wheelchair and would be in her late forties or fifties by now, and this woman is in her thirties. The barmaid walks over to us, and her smile falters. For a second I’m worried she’s recognized us, despite our hooded capes. But then her smile returns.
“What’s my name, merchant?” she asks.
Elijah glances at the tariff board. “The Pink Apple.”
We’re rewarded with two more free shots of spiced Shine.
“We’re looking for a tavern called La Luna Estrella. Have you heard of it?” Elijah asks her.
She shakes her head. Even if she did know the place, I doubt she’d tell us.
“Enjoy your drink,” she says, giving Elijah a flirtatious wink, which he returns. For some idiotic reason, I feel jealous.
Elijah sits down and knocks back his drink.
“Shouldn’t we go to the next place?” I say.
“You look tired,” Elijah says.
“Oh, thanks,” I mumble.
“You know what I meant. We can pick up our search at first light.”
“Are you sure? I can carry on for a few more hours . . . ,” I say unconvincingly. I’m exhausted.
He gives me a crooked smile, pulling back a stool for me.
I sit down. “Okay, just one drink, then we’ll go back to Madame Clara’s.”
One soon turns into two, then three, then four, and I’ve soon lost track of the time, but it’s hard to care as the drinks keep flowing. I don’t even recall us ordering them, let alone paying for them, but the barmaid seems happy to keep topping off our glasses. Elijah keeps me entertained, telling me funny stories about his fishing trips in Viridis and about his three brothers.
“So let me get this straight,” I say. “Acelot is your oldest brother?”
He nods. “He’s a decent guy. I’ve always liked him. Then there’s Donatien, who’s a real mommy’s boy, and finally there’s Marcel, my youngest brother. He is a total ass.”
“How come none of them are here, helping you find your mother?” I ask. “Aren’t they worried about her too?”
“No, but she’s not their mom. Acelot, Donatien and Marcel are my half brothers,” Elijah explains, knocking back his drink. He slams his glass on the counter. “Our relationship is complicated.”
“I get it,” I say. “My mother cheated on my father, and Polly is . . . was . . . my half sister.”
He gives me a sad smile.
The barmaid tops off our glasses again. She nervously glances over our shoulders toward the door, so I turn around a little too fast, wondering what she’s looking at, and nearly fall off my stool. I laugh as Elijah catches me.
“Okay, pretty girl. Time to take you home,” he says.
“Just one more drink?” I say.
“No, we’ve both had enough.”
I pout, and he grins.
“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” he says.
“I don’t care,” I say. “You only live once, right?”
I reach out for my drink. My hand pauses by the glass. The honey-colored liquid is vibrating. My head snaps up, suddenly very sober. I’ve seen this happen once before and know what it means. I strain my ears. Beneath the din of music and chatter of merchants is the unmistakable hum of Destroyer Ships.
“We need to get out of here,” I say, pushing back my stool.
We race outside and instantly stop dead. Overhead, the stars are blocked out by the outline of five Destroyer Ships hovering over the city. But that’s not what’s caused the blood in my veins to freeze. Parked in Thyme Square is a Transporter. The hatch door opens, and Garrick and the pink-haired Lupine, Sasha, step out, their steel-capped boots clunking against the stone. How did they know we were here? The barmaid! She must’ve tipped the Sentry off. That’s why she kept plying us with drinks—she was keeping us there until they turned up.
Garrick pulls up the collar of his gray coat and sniffs the air. His head turns in our direction, his silver eyes glinting in the dark.
“Run!” I say to Elijah.
We race down a busy side alley and push through the crowd of people, bumping against their shoulders as we weave between them at top speed. The world is a blaze of color and glimmering lights, and my ears ring with the hum of music and Destroyer
Ships. Everything feels hazy, like I’m in a dream, but I know it’s just a side effect of alcohol and adrenaline.
A man bumps into me and my hood falls down, but I don’t have time to put it back up as Elijah drags me onward. More people spill out of the taverns into the street as word gets around that the Destroyer Ships are in the city. Thankfully, they’re all looking up at the sky rather than at the two of us rushing past them.
I risk a look over my shoulder. Garrick and Sasha are at the end of the street, scanning the sea of faces for us. They both stand almost two feet taller than everyone else, so they can easily see over the crowd. Sasha spots me.
“There!” she says.
They roughly shove some men out of their way as they race toward us.
People drag their eyes from the sky and, seeing the Lupines bounding toward them, hastily get out of their way. Garrick and Sasha pick up speed, closing the gap. They’re going to catch us!
A tavern door swings open, and a group of drunken merchants stumble out into the street, blocking their path. The Lupines slam into the men. They all fall over into a tangled heap on the ground, all shouting and swearing at each other. Garrick yells something, but I don’t hear it as Elijah yanks my arm and leads me down a back alley. The passageway is dark and quiet. Crates are stacked up against the buildings, and trash cans overflow with garbage. He releases my hand and nimbly leaps up the crates onto the tavern’s circular roof. I scramble onto the crates, and he hauls me up to the roof. My foot skids on the slippery solar tiles, and Elijah grabs me just as Garrick and Sasha enter the alleyway.
I clamp my hands over my mouth, trying to disguise my ragged breathing. The Lupines wander down the alley, their noses in the air. They’re trying to smell us, but they seem to be having trouble picking up our scent over the reek of garbage.
The solar panel under my foot starts to crack.
Panic pulses through me. If it breaks, I’ll fall.
The Lupines walk to the end of the alley, then turn back in our direction. The solar tile fractures a little more, and my foot slips an inch. My heart leaps into my throat. Garrick and Sasha are below us. Garrick peers through the window of the tavern, checking to see if we’re inside.
“They’re not here,” he growls.
“Fragg,” Sasha mutters. “Let’s check the other alley.”
They leave the passageway and are soon swallowed up by the crowds on the main street.
I release my hands from my mouth and exhale. My whole body is shaking.
Elijah helps me up, and we quickly climb over the rooftop just as the digital screens across the city blink on. Purian Rose’s face appears on the monitors.
The city falls silent.
“Citizens of Thrace, by now you will have noticed my Destroyer Ships above your city,” he says. This is all starting to sound scarily familiar. “It has come to our attention that the Dacian residents of your city recently voted against Rose’s Law. In accordance with the new addendum to the law, this now classifies them as race traitors, and they have been marked for segregation.”
Elijah gives me a worried look.
“You have precisely seventy-two hours to hand over all your Dacians to my men, or you will be severely punished,” Purian Rose says. “If you have any doubt about my sincerity, I have left a message for you in Spice Square. Good evening.”
The image cuts to a live feed from Spice Square. Kneeling in the center of the plaza are six Pilgrims, all wearing the white robes of the Purity faith. They recite from the Book of Creation as several Sentry guards—Sebastian included—walk around them, splashing gasoline over the Pilgrims’ clothes. “What’s going on?” I say, dread slowly creeping through me. “They’re Pilgrims, not Dacians. What could they have possibly done wrong?”
“Nothing,” Elijah says darkly. “That’s the point. If Purian Rose can do this to his most devoted followers, imagine what he’ll do to the people of Thrace if they disobey him and don’t turn over the Dacians?”
The guards move away, and Sebastian picks up a flaming torch and tosses it at the Pilgrims. They’re instantly engulfed in flames, but not one of them screams—only words of praise for Purian Rose fly from their lips.
Rose is sending us a message, all right: if this is what he’ll do to his most devout followers, imagine what he’ll do to the people of Thrace if they disobey him.
29.
ASH
THE HOUSE is in an uproar around me as Lucas and the children run about, gathering their clothes and toys in readiness to escape. I help Giselle drag a bookshelf in front of the door while Madame Clara bolts the window shutters. We saw Purian Rose’s message thirty minutes ago, and already a few men have gathered outside the house, trying to break in. I don’t think they know I’m here; otherwise there would be a full-on lynch mob.
I snatch a look at the grandfather clock. It’s past eleven o’clock. “Did Natalie give you any indication when she’d be back?” I ask Giselle.
She shakes her head as she drags a few chairs in front of the bookcase to create a blockade.
I touch a hand to my chest and feel the steady thrum of my heart under my fingertips. Natalie is alive. That much I know. If she weren’t, my heart would’ve stopped beating. As soon as Madame Clara’s kids are safe, I’m going to find Natalie. Then . . . I don’t know what. One thing at a time.
There’s another loud thud against the front door.
“Go to hell!” Giselle screams at the men on the other side. “They’re just kids!”
“Where will we go?” I say to Madame Clara as I pile more chairs in front of the door.
“The Rainbow Forest on the outskirts of the city,” she replies. “We can take refuge with Neptune.”
“Who’s Neptune?” I ask.
“The leader of our people,” Giselle replies. “He’s got a commune up in the forest. They keep moving around, so it’s hard for people to track them down unless you know what to look for.”
It sounds like our best shot at getting the kids to safety. I check the clock again. Where are you, Natalie? I rush over to the window and pull the curtain aside. On the digital screen on the street opposite us, the countdown clock has already started ticking down: 71:28:14, 71:28:13, 71:28:12 . . .
I drop the curtain as a platoon of Sentry guards marches down the street. They’ve been arriving in their Transporters for the past thirty minutes, setting up roadblocks to stop people from escaping. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here.
There’s a sudden thud on the roof, quickly followed by a second thump.
I bound up the stairs, Giselle following, and race into my bedroom. Standing on the balcony are Natalie and Elijah. Relief crashes over me as I yank open the doors and pull Natalie into my arms. She’s clearly exhausted, barely able to catch her breath. She smells of Shine, and so does Elijah—I can smell him from here. So that’s what they’ve been doing? If it were any other time, I’d be furious at Natalie for being so thoughtless, but I’m so glad she’s safe, it’s hard to be mad. I hold her tight.
Elijah flops down on the mattress and runs a hand over his face. “That was close.”
“What happened?” Giselle says.
“Garrick and Sasha,” Natalie replies. “But we managed to lose them. I’m sorry, Ash. Sebastian will know we’re here now.”
“Well, you and me,” Elijah corrects her. “They think Ash is dead, remember?”
There’s more banging on the front door, downstairs.
“It’s okay. We need to go,” I say. “We’re heading into the forest.”
Natalie struggles to her feet. “Okay. Let’s go.”
I collect my duffel bag while Natalie stuffs a few dresses into her bag. When we get downstairs, Madame Clara is already waiting for us in the hallway with Lucas and the other kids. They all look terrified.
There’s a series of loud thumps as the m
en outside hammer against the door. The wooden frame starts to splinter.
“Come out here, you Dacian scum!” one of the men shouts from the other side.
The door begins to buckle. They’ll be inside at any minute.
“How are we going to get away?” Natalie asks.
“Through the service tunnels,” Madame Clara says.
She ushers us all into the kitchen and shoves the heavy oak table to one side. Underneath is an oval rug. Giselle kicks it to one side, exposing a wooden trapdoor. She lifts the lid to reveal a flight of rickety steps, which leads into a dark basement.
Giselle picks up the lantern from the countertop and then helps the blind old lady down the stairs. The children go next, followed by Natalie and Elijah. I drag the kitchen table back into its original position, then duck under the table and climb through the trapdoor, shutting it behind me. The basement is musty and is stacked with crates and forgotten furniture. Elijah helps Giselle lift a few crates of spiced Shine to one side, revealing an old metal door. It creaks as she pulls it open, causing flakes of rust to fall to the floor. On the other side of the door is a redbrick tunnel, about seven feet high and four feet wide. It leads into a black abyss.
She enters the tunnel, followed by Lucas and the other children.
Madame Clara grips the strap of my bag for guidance as the rest of us head into the tunnel after them. Just before Elijah slams the metal door behind us, I hear the front door burst open upstairs.
The passageway is pitch-black, except for the light coming from Giselle’s lantern. The air around us is damp and cool, and the ground is covered in dirty rainwater, which has seeped through the crumbling mortar. The children all link hands as they follow Giselle. Madame Clara walks behind me, while Natalie and Elijah bring up the rear.
For over a mile, we walk in complete silence, other than the sound of our feet splashing through the puddles in a rhythmic beat. I listen out for other footsteps, but no one appears to be following us. That doesn’t mean we’re safe, though. Who knows what else is down here? I think about the Wrath Hounds and shudder.
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