There was no way of knowing if the building was being watched. The Guardians, the Watch, someone from one of the Families, or even one of Akosh’s followers might be lurking in the shadows. It was possible that any one of them could be following her. Munroe realised it was a little paranoid, but she needed to stay invisible until she found Akosh.
Part of her realised that if she hadn’t been working alone this would have been a lot easier. She could have posted several lookouts to warn her if she was being followed, or if anyone was showing too much interest in the building. With a team behind her she could have just walked up to the back door and picked the lock. Instead she’d spent the first hour taking a strangled route across the city to lose any watchers and the next hour dressed in black crawling across rooftops.
After securing her rope in two places she slowly eased herself down the sloping roof on her stomach. The window was latched on the inside but with a quick flick and twist with a narrow metal file it sprang open. Munroe eased open the window and slid into the room.
She lay there for a while in the dark, listening while she kept her breathing shallow. The apartment was silent and still. Taking a small risk she embraced the Source and waited to see if that disturbed anyone nearby. As her senses were enhanced the black shadows became brown and then grey smoky outlines that revealed objects in the room.
She was lying on the floor in the kitchen between two tall rows of cupboards. Something grainy was digging into the bare flesh of her back where her shirt had lifted up. After sitting up slowly she inspected the floor and realised she’d been lying in a small pile of spilled rice. To her left she could see a silent procession of tiny black ants going in and out of a food cupboard. Leaving them to their midnight robbery she scuttled across the floor, trying to be as stealthy as them.
Through the open doorway she spied the main room and an array of furniture. It was empty of people and in total darkness but her enhanced vision allowed her to move through the room without walking into anything. The door on the far side was closed and, putting an ear against the wood, she could hear someone inside the bedroom. Their breathing was deep and even, suggesting they were asleep, which actually disappointed her a little.
Munroe eased open the door and peered inside. To her surprise she found Guardian Fray sitting up in bed, staring at her with a sword resting across his bare chest. Even though it had been almost ten years since they’d seen one another it only took him a few seconds to recognise her.
“Munroe?” he said with a hint of uncertainty. He knew all about her past and was probably wondering why she’d broken into his home in the middle of the night dressed all in black. Maybe he thought she was an assassin and had come to kill him.
“I’m just here to talk,” she offered, stepping back from the door to show she wasn’t armed.
“Then why break in? Why didn’t you come to see me at Unity Hall?”
Munroe sighed. “Lots of reasons. It’s a long story.” She didn’t want to tell him. She wasn’t even sure if she could say it out loud, but he needed to know some of it otherwise he wouldn’t help her. “I’ll wait for you out here,” she said, gesturing at the main room.
She sat down at his table with her back against the wall, giving her an ideal view of the whole apartment. A few minutes later he emerged, dressed in a loose pair of trousers and a long shirt that was half open. Fray confidently moved about his apartment without any light, suggesting he’d been living here for a while, but when he reached for his flint and tinder she cleared her throat.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want anyone to know I’m here.”
Fray sat down at the table but she noticed he rested a sword against his chair. Channelling a trickle of power from the Source into the palm of her hand, Munroe summoned a small mage light. The pale blue globe provided enough illumination for them to see each other clearly, but she didn’t think it would show through the curtains.
For a while neither of them said anything and just looked at each other. She wondered what Fray saw when he stared at her. Could he see the rage and the agony roiling inside her? Had it marked her physically in some way? Or was there a more subtle tell behind her eyes?
After a little while Munroe picked out a few details she’d initially missed. Fray was leaner than she remembered. Much of the fat of youth had been leached away from his face and it was now weather-beaten from years spent working outdoors. But then he’d been a Guardian for years now, walking the streets and solving crimes in Perizzi. There was also a touch of white in his hair over the ears and in his beard. It was behind his eyes where she saw the biggest change. He regarded her with caution and some suspicion. The city, the people that he dealt with every day in his difficult job, plus the sword at his elbow, spoke of lessons learned the hard way.
“I’m not here for you. I just want to talk,” she said again, trying to reassure him. Fray gestured for her to continue, but she noticed he didn’t relax.
“Then talk.”
“Have you heard about what happened at the Red Tower?” she asked.
“I have,” said Fray, and for a second she saw a familiar rage behind his eyes before he got it under control. He’d been a regular visitor to the school. After almost a decade the Grey Council were still no closer to unravelling his rare Talent. It gave him a unique edge that other Guardians lacked, but only a few people knew that he had any magic. It was safer that way, now more than ever, when anyone connected to magic had been vilified. In return for letting them study his ability the Grey Council had been teaching him about magic and the Source. “Did many survive?” he asked.
Munroe felt as if something had grabbed her heart and started squeezing. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth to answer him but no words emerged. When his hand closed over hers she jumped back in surprise, her chair hitting the wall. Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking, but slowly she realised there was no immediate danger. Taking a few deep breaths she sat down again and he gave her time to regain her composure. When she felt calm enough to talk Munroe tried to keep her voice even but it still wavered from time to time as the wound was still raw.
“All of the students survived, but many lives were lost buying them time to escape. My son, my mother and my husband, Choss, are gone.”
She looked up in time to see the horror sweep across Fray’s face. He’d not been a large part of her old life, but towards the end he’d known her and Choss. Together, the three of them had freed the city of Perizzi of an inhuman terror she still barely understood.
“Oh Munroe,” he whispered, reaching for her hand again and then stopping halfway across the table. She grabbed hold of him, squeezing his hand tight to stop herself drifting away on memories again. She needed to stay in the present with him. She needed to do something to stop the pain.
“I need a favour.”
“Anything. Name it,” he said without hesitation which made her smile. It was good to see his years as a Guardian had not stripped him of compassion.
“I need to speak to them,” she said, fishing out a piece of cloth, an ivory comb and a small wooden horse from her pocket. The cloth was part of a shirt Choss had left at the cabin. The comb was her mother’s and the horse one of Sam’s favourite toys. It was fairly crude, and only vaguely resembled a horse, but Choss had been so proud of his handiwork. Sam had loved it because he’d seen it taking shape over the course of several weeks.
Munroe squeezed Fray’s hand and he winced but didn’t complain. It was so hard to focus. She just wanted to lie down and wallow in her memories. To live with them in the past for ever. A warm bath, a razor, a bottle of whisky. She’d considered it many times over the last few weeks. But not yet. She needed to know they were at peace. She needed to find the one responsible and snap her neck. Then she could rest.
“Can you do it? Can you summon them?” she asked.
Fray’s unique Talent was that he could summon and talk to
spirits of the dead.
No one really knew what happened after you died. There were a dozen religions and hundreds of stories, but all of it came down to belief. Spirits were something else entirely.
She’d once heard Fray explain it to the Grey Council during one of his visits. Some mediums claimed to be able to talk to anyone who had died in all of history. Fray made no such claims and thought most mediums were frauds as not every person became a spirit.
A spirit that stayed behind was a piece of the person they had been in life. They were always tethered to items and those they had known in life. Usually they only stayed for a short time before fading away and moving on to whatever came next. And there was always a reason for them to linger. A sudden and unexpected death could cause it, but often that wasn’t enough. A strong will in life wasn’t always enough. It was often about unfinished business. A task, or a message that bound them to this realm of flesh until the message was delivered. After that there was no need to hold on so tightly and they moved on.
“I’ve never tried it with someone I knew well in life,” said Fray, but she thought he was lying. His father had died many years ago, and more recently his mentor, Byrne, had been killed in unusual circumstances. If Munroe had his power it would’ve been one of the first things she’d tried.
“I need to speak to them,” she said, sliding the items across the table. She released Fray’s other hand and saw the red marks she’d left on his skin but he didn’t notice. His gaze had turned inwards as he stared at the piece of cloth, the comb and the toy. One of his hands hovered over the items but then he pulled back.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “If I do this, then you need to understand it won’t be them. Not really. It’s just a shadow that’s been left behind.”
“I need to see them.”
Fray said nothing for a while and just studied her. She met his gaze hoping he could see her resolve and that she’d buried her fear. There was nothing more she wanted in the world than to see her family one last time. However, the thought of it also terrified her worse than anything in the world. What if they blamed her? What if their spirits showed the wounds of their death? What if Sam cried and called out for her? What if they weren’t at peace?
“I need to see them,” she said, more to herself than Fray, but he took it as her final decision. He picked up the piece of Choss’s shirt and wrapped it around the comb and Sam’s toy, while she braced herself for the worst.
Even though Munroe knew the theory she couldn’t follow what Fray was doing. She sensed him opening himself to the Source, but not in a way she recognised. Like flexing a muscle a Talent came instinctively and without thought. One moment his eyes were green and the next they were the colour of old pennies.
Fray gripped the cloth tightly in one hand while he stared past her, through the wall, at something beyond the city. His brow furrowed and he made a small beckoning gesture with his free hand, perhaps inviting the spirit to visit them. Her heart was racing again, her palms sweaty and she forced herself to breathe steadily. Tears ran down her face but she couldn’t stop them.
His frown deepened and Fray held the material tightly in both hands. As he focused Munroe sensed a wave of energy passing through her. She could feel him drawing more heavily from the Source as well. With a gasp he released the cloth and sat back, his eyes quickly changing colour back to normal.
“What happened?”
“There’s nothing there,” said Fray, breathing hard from his efforts. “I can’t find them.”
“What does that mean?” asked Munroe.
“Are you sure …?” said Fray, trailing off before starting again. “Are you sure they’re gone?”
She’d heard the stories about a group of people chasing Choss and her son to the pier. She’d seen the blood. “I’m sure.”
“Then their spirits haven’t lingered.”
“What are you saying?” asked Munroe. She knew what it meant but didn’t accept it. They were gone. Truly gone. “How can that be?” she asked, but Fray had no answers. Why hadn’t they stayed? How could Choss not have any unfinished business with her? And Sam was only a small boy. He still had his whole life in front of him. Her mother had made peace with her death, so part of Munroe could understand her absence, but not the others. Why had they left her alone?
Without really thinking about what she was doing Munroe gathered up the belongings and walked back to the kitchen. She snuffed out the mage light and embraced the Source, using her enhanced senses to navigate around the apartment.
“Wait. Don’t go. Stay and talk,” said Fray, but she ignored him and reached out of the window for her rope.
“Tell no one I’ve been here. It’s not safe,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Fray. She should have just left without stopping, for in that final look she saw his anguish. His pain was a fraction of her own but it was enough to make her sob. Choking it down she scrambled out of the window and across the roof as hot tears ran down her cheeks.
The next morning, a short time after dawn, Munroe was watching a different quiet street in another part of the city. She waited until the old Drassi Swordsmaster had left the building and disappeared around the corner before approaching the front door. Moving slowly, but making no attempt to be stealthy, she opened the door and entered the building.
The dance studio was empty at this hour, making it easy to search the building quickly. In a small room at the back she found the wooden floor had been covered with thin padded mats which its sole occupant was gathering up and stacking in one corner.
“Did you forget something?” asked Tammy, without looking around.
“Not really,” said Munroe. Tammy dropped the mats and spun around in surprise, reaching for her sword until she saw who it was. Munroe felt a small pang of satisfaction at having caught the Guardian unawares. It was only fair after she’d sneaked up on Munroe a few times.
“You could have visited me at Unity Hall. So why are you here?” asked the big Guardian.
“Because I have a proposition for you, and the fewer people who know about it, the better.”
“I’m listening,” said Tammy, before going back to stacking up the mats.
“Balfruss told me you’re going after Akosh and her network. But I also know there are some things you can’t do. That’s why you let me question Grell.”
Tammy paused in what she was doing and Munroe could guess what she was thinking. That letting her question a suspect had been a mistake. But she wasn’t responsible for his death. If she hadn’t pressed him for an answer they wouldn’t have Akosh’s name. Her actions had also forced Guardian Brook to reveal her true loyalty. On balance Munroe thought the good outweighed the bad.
“It was a mistake,” said Tammy.
“Perhaps,” conceded Munroe but she would not be deterred. “But I’m not a Guardian and I’m better suited to direct action. Give me a name and a target. I’ll find them and bring them back to you for questioning. You know I can do that. Let me help you destroy Akosh’s network.”
Tammy finished stacking the mats and then sat down on top, wiping a towel over her bare arms and face. “I’m tempted. I really am, but I also heard what happened to your family.”
“Then you understand that I won’t give up. That nothing will stop me.”
“The problem is, I also saw what happened to Grell,” said Tammy, taking off her vest and pulling on a clean shirt.
“I don’t understand,” said Munroe.
“The coroner showed me his body. Brook’s stab wound was what killed Grell, but he also had a lot of other injuries. Bruises, broken ribs, burns on his leg.”
“So what?” said Munroe, refusing to apologise. “He would have lived.”
“I’m not saying what you did was wrong. I needed information and I knew what could happen when I sent you in there.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Tammy pulled on her Guardian jacket and stood up. “You are.” The famous uniform had never been a
problem before but now it had become a barrier between them. “Grell wasn’t a threat to you, but he managed to get under your skin, didn’t he?”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“No, you didn’t, but that was before someone murdered your family.”
“Be very careful,” said Munroe, feeling her temper flare.
“Grell was an idiot. What happens if I send you after someone much smarter? How long will it take them to bait you?”
The pulsing of the Source at the edge of Munroe’s perception was getting louder. It was making it difficult to hear what was being said. “I can handle it,” she said through gritted teeth.
“What if they tell you the person you’re going after was there at the Red Tower that day? What if they saw your family die?” whispered Tammy. “What if they were responsible?”
Flames erupted along both of Munroe’s arms, engulfing her in blue fire. It wreathed her head and shoulders like a crown, dancing around her features without burning her hair or clothes. She was aware of the heat but it didn’t touch her. More of it spread out across her body, running down her arms to pool in the palms of her upraised hands until it spilled over to the ground like water. The fire sizzled as it struck the wooden floor, instantly turning it black and then it began to smoulder and burn.
Tammy grabbed one of the mats and tried to smother the fire before it spread. Smoke rose from the burning floor and Munroe squeezed her eyes shut, closing herself off from everything in the world. With a huge wrench of effort she swallowed her anger and cut herself off from the Source. The flames across her body faded and then vanished, leaving only a few patches of fire that Tammy quickly dealt with. They opened the windows and when the smoke had cleared Munroe saw two large charred circles on the floor.
“You’re too close to this,” said Tammy, once she’d finished coughing. “That burning rage you’re carrying inside will eat away at you. It also makes you vulnerable.”
“Are you going to help me or not?” she asked and Tammy just shook her head. Whatever burgeoning friendship had been growing between them died in that instant. She wasn’t even Tammy any more. There was only the mantle of the Khevassar. “I’ll do it by myself,” said Munroe.
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