The Shadow Thieves

by Alexandra Ott

  “No,” Beck says. “We wouldn’t be safe in a Guild hideout.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His cryptic hints are getting both alarming and annoying.

  “I spent the day searching your neighborhood for a decent hideout that the Guild wouldn’t know about,” he continues, ignoring my question. “I saw the steeple from the street and decided to check it out.”

  Something rustles, and a spark of fire bursts into life. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust—and my heart to stop racing, what with the sudden appearance of fire and all—but now I can see a lot better. Beck lifts the lantern by the handle, the flickering ball of flames dancing within it. Flames that are emitting green sparks.

  Contrary to what most people seem to believe, I don’t routinely go around setting things on fire. But even with my lack of knowledge about how flames work, I do know that they’re not normally green.

  I sigh. “What did you just do?”

  “Enchanted matches,” he explains. “They light more easily, that’s all. The green’s just a weird side effect.”

  “Guild perk?” I ask quietly.

  The flickering lantern provides enough light for me to see his face, so I can tell he at least looks a little ashamed. “Yeah, something like that.”

  He holds the lantern up and ushers me across the threshold, giving me a real look at the chapel for the first time. I don’t know what I expected, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by this room. It looks like . . . well, like a church. There’s a little raised altar in the back, and two neat columns of pews lead from it to the doorway, forming an aisle down the center. A few runes are carved into the walls as well as appearing on the stained-glass windows, but otherwise it’s fairly free of decoration. In true Ruhian style, they even built a little fireplace, tucked into a recessed corner beside the altar. You’d never see that in Azeland. Otherwise it’s exactly like any other chapel I’ve ever been in.

  Yet at the same time, it’s nothing like that at all. Because this chapel looks like it was abandoned and left to rot for a million years. What must be several inches of dust coat the floor, as well as every other surface. The wooden pews are gray with it and cracking in places. It’s eerie, and yet . . . strangely beautiful.

  I step farther into the room, my footsteps echoing against the dirty stone, and Beck follows. The air is cold and stale and thick with dust, making it hard to breathe. The ceiling curves above our heads, its arches a deep blue that’s speckled with white in places where the paint has faded or chipped away. A small loft is tucked above the doorway, just wide enough for another row of pews. Probably for a choir or something.

  Beck walks down the aisle, gazing around with a critical eye. “It’s not exactly the most secure hideout ever,” he says, almost as if he’s apologizing about it. “No way to keep other intruders out.” He gestures toward the door. I’m tempted to roll my eyes at him again. This isn’t the Thieves Guild, for God’s sake. He can’t expect a magical lock on every door.

  A little white statue of a saint—whoever the chapel is dedicated to, I’m sure—is perched on a ledge at the back of the altar. I step closer, curious.

  It’s Saint Harona.

  I back quickly away. Saint Harona, the patron of families and children, also known as my least favorite saint. The one who never seemed to acknowledge my prayers at all . . . until recently, I suppose. Still, I avoid the statue area altogether. The way she’s staring and smiling is creeping me out.

  The flickering green light of Beck’s lantern dances across the pew beside me. Lying there is a little blue booklet—probably a hymnal. Which is kind of stunning. It’s so expensive to print hymnbooks that only high churches usually have them—and if they do, they don’t just leave them lying around to collect dust.

  What happened here? Did everyone in the world forget about this place? Did everyone die off in a plague or something so suddenly that they didn’t have time to collect their books? Was there something so terrible about it that they just decided to leave the chapel behind, hymns and all?

  I shiver again, walking quickly back up the aisle.

  “I don’t like that the steeple is visible from the street either,” Beck says, continuing his list of the chapel’s shortcomings. “But it should work. It’s secluded, it’s dry, and I don’t think anybody in the Guild knows it’s here. It’ll be fine.”

  “Fine for what? What are we doing here, Beck?”

  He looks me right in the eyes. “I came to warn you. I think someone wants to kill your brother.”

  Chapter Five

  I gape at Beck, refusing to believe what he just said.

  “Maybe we should sit down for this.” He moves to sit on the altar step, and I plop down across from him on a pew, raising a poof of dust into the air that stings my eyes. He turns the lantern’s handle around and around, sending shadows dancing wildly across his face. He doesn’t look at me.

  “Explain,” I say when I can find my voice.

  “I’m trying to figure out how,” he says quietly.

  The silence stretches, forcing me to remember the last time I saw him. Climbing out the window of the Atherton mansion, the stolen necklace clenched in his fist. On his way to the carriage that would take him to the Guild. The carriage that was supposed to take me, too. The carriage that was supposed to save me.

  Is he remembering that night too? Does he regret it?

  I should probably resent him for everything that’s happened. For leaving me there, for leaving a girl to die, for not going to prison like I did. But everything is all jumbled up. Beck left me behind . . . and then used his Guild money to save my life. I had to go to prison, but that was my choice. And at the end of it all I managed to find my brother, which wouldn’t have happened if Beck hadn’t brought me to the Guild in the first place. I don’t know how to even begin sorting this out. Which is why I’ve tried to avoid thinking about him at all, up until tonight.

  But now he’s in front of me, and I have to decide whether or not to be happy he’s here.

  Which is impossible to do when I’m simultaneously freaking out about Ronan being in some kind of danger. “Just tell me whatever it is you have to tell me already.”

  “Okay. I just . . . I’m just trying to figure out how to begin.”

  “You know what I always say. Begin at the beginning.”

  If he recognizes the reference to one of our previous conversations, he doesn’t show it. “It’s not that simple.”

  I lean back against the pew, its coldness seeping into my spine. “How did you even find me?”

  “Your brother’s name and address were in your file. At the courthouse.”

  “How’d you read my file?”

  His lips quirk up at the corners, a movement so familiar, my heart does this little extra thump in response. “I stole it, Alli.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Finally he turns to look at me. Greenish-orange light flickers against his cheek. “I didn’t actually know which courthouse your records would be in, so I searched all of them. Only took five tries before I found the right one, luckily.”

  “Lucky,” I repeat. “Wait—how’d you even know about my brother?”

  “I didn’t. I just figured that wherever you were sent, somebody would’ve made a record of it somewhere. I searched a bunch of files until I found your name. And then it said you’d been released to your brother, and it listed his name and address. After that, you weren’t hard to find.”

  “Oh.”

  He pauses. Although he’s looking in my direction, he can’t quite meet my eyes. “Did you . . . did you know you had a brother?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t know where he was, or anything about him. I was only three when I went to the orphanage, so for a while I didn’t even remember his name.”

  He pauses, looking down at the lantern in his hands. “What’s he like? Do you like him?”

  “I guess so. I mean, he’s nice. He’s been really nice to me so far, actually. But I
don’t think he really wants me to be here. And I kind of messed everything up already.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Turns out I’m not so great at this whole normal-life thing.”

  Beck laughs. “You knew that already, Allicat. You ran away from how many adoptive families before you left the orphanage?”

  “Ha-ha. Thanks for reminding me.” But I smile. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about the whole Ronan thing. Someone who already knows me and everything I’ve been through.

  I’d never admit it to him out loud, but I missed Beck.

  “So how did you find him?” he asks. “Your brother, I mean.”

  “Well . . .” I pause. “Turns out the judge knew him. He saw my last name and asked if we were related, and then I remembered . . .”

  It doesn’t take Beck long to pick up on the crucial information in that story. “How did the judge know him?”

  I take a breath, not knowing what Beck’s reaction will be. “He works at the courthouse sometimes. He’s apprenticed to a lawyer.”

  Beck’s eyes widen. “Are you kidding me?”

  “He can’t know that I talked to you, or that you’re in the city at all. He might . . .”

  “He’ll turn me in?”

  I hesitate. “I think he would. I never told anyone about the Guild, or who you really were—”

  “Yeah, I know. I saw what you told the judge in your file. Nice cover story.”

  “Yeah, well, they still know you were with me, and they know what you look like, because the Athertons told them. If my brother sees you, he’ll know who you are. And he . . .”

  “Is a lawyer,” Beck finishes. “So he’d uphold the law. Turn me in.”

  “He’d try to do the right thing,” I say. “And even if he didn’t . . .” I have to get this over with. I say it in a rush, the words jumbling together. “Hisgirlfriend’saprotector.”

  “What?”

  “His girlfriend. She lives in the apartment next door to us. And she’s a protector.”

  “Well,” Beck says slowly. “That complicates things.”

  “Complicates what? What did you mean about someone wanting to kill him?”

  He hesitates. “I’m not sure I know where to begin.”

  I groan. “You said that already.”

  He ignores me. “Something bad is happening in the Guild.”

  “Way to be specific.”

  He sighs. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “At first it was just . . . whispers. Rumors. I didn’t believe them. But some people were saying . . . Well, some people have been complaining about Kerick—you remember, the king of the Guild?—for a long time. Questioning his leadership. It all goes back to when he first took the throne. Kerick had a sister who also wanted to rule, and some people supported her instead of him. His sister left the Guild eventually, and everyone accepted Kerick as king, but some of her supporters weren’t happy about it. And it didn’t help that Kerick’s pretty young for a king—some of the older Guild members have always been reluctant to accept him.

  “Only now it’s become something else. People have been criticizing the king more and more, and doing it more in the open. And then rumors started going around that there’s this new group within the Guild—conspirators who want to remove the king. People are calling them the Shadow Guild.”

  “That doesn’t sound pleasant. But what does any of this Guild stuff have to do with Ronan?”

  “I’m getting there. Okay, so at first I didn’t think much of these rumors, like I said. But then I was assigned to work a heist, with this guy called Keene. I didn’t know him very well, but he always seemed pretty shady to me.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Really, Beck, a shady Guild member? Who would’ve thought?”

  “You know what I mean. There was something about him I didn’t trust. But I never really knew the guy, so when I was partnered with him, I didn’t object. At first everything went well—we did the heist, stole the money, and got out fine. But then, when we were supposed to meet up with the carriage that would take us back to the Guild, Keene led us in a different direction. He had the money, so I didn’t have much choice but to follow him.

  “We went to this abandoned warehouse, and there were a couple of other Guild members there, guys I didn’t know. And that’s when Keene told me he’s one of the Shadows. These guys have been skimming money off the top for months, funding their movement instead of handing it all over to the Guild. And all in an attempt to stage a coup and overthrow the king.”

  “And by ‘overthrow’ they mean ‘assassinate’?”

  “Yes.”

  I shiver. For a second, it feels almost like a game—Beck whispering scary stories in the dark. But his scary stories are real.

  “Wait a minute,” I say. “They just told you all of this? They admitted it?”

  He nods. “They were trying to recruit me. That’s how they’ve been increasing their numbers—speaking to people in small groups, getting them on their side. I don’t even know how many Guild members are part of this by now.”

  “But why did they approach you? Was it coincidence, because you were paired with Keene? Or did they think you’d be a good recruit or something?”

  Beck exhales slowly. “I think they thought I’d be open to what they were saying, because I have friends who are part of it too.”

  The chills race up my spine and across my neck. “Which friends?”

  He still can’t meet my eyes. “Like I said, I don’t know everyone who’s in it.”

  “But who do you know?”

  “Mead.”

  I gasp. “You’re kidding.” Koby Mead is a lot of things, but a shady cloak-and-dagger conspirator isn’t one of them.

  “I confronted him about it, and we had a fight. Mead doesn’t really care about who leads the Guild, but he’s trying to play both sides. Get in good with the Shadows just in case they’re actually successful.”

  “Okay, that sounds like Mead,” I admit. He’s not the type to back only one horse in any given race. And he certainly wouldn’t let pesky things like morals get in the way. “So, okay, the Shadows tried to recruit you because you’re friends with Mead. No offense, Beck, but I’m missing the part where this involves me or my brother.”

  Beck sighs. “Patience. I’m getting there. Okay, so, the Shadows approach me about joining them, and you can probably guess what I said.”

  “Um, no?” I say. But for the smallest of seconds, I’m not actually sure. Beck has lived in the Guild for too long. He’s the boy who saved my life, but he’s also the boy who left me behind—and left an innocent girl to die.

  “Of course,” he says, and I exhale. “For one thing, Kerick has been nothing but kind to me. When my mom got sick, he was always understanding, and when she died, he didn’t kick me out like most people would’ve. I mean—you’ve met him. You know what he’s like.”

  I nod. When Beck brought me to the Guild, the king was willing to let me, the stray orphan picked up off the streets, earn a place in the Guild. And he also tried to warn me away, because he knew what the cost would be. As far as terrifying and mysterious leaders of legendary bands of thieves go, Kerick doesn’t seem so bad.

  “And secondly,” Beck continues, “even if they do have legitimate grievances, I don’t like their methods. Skimming money off, recruiting people in secret, plotting murder . . .”

  “That does sound questionable.”

  “So, basically, I told them I wasn’t interested in joining. And they didn’t take it well.”

  “No . . . ,” I say slowly. I’m starting to see where he’s going with this. “I don’t suppose they would.”

  Beck pauses. He sets the lantern down between us, its flames casting only half of him in light. “They murdered Durban.”

  “Murdered?” I repeat, as if it’s a foreign word. I know Guild life is dangerous, but I always thought the threats were external—something that hap
pened on a job. I’ve never heard of Guild members killing one another. And especially not Durban, the king’s icy and terrifying right-hand man. My head spins. “But isn’t that risky? I mean, that’s like announcing to the entire Guild that they’re real.”

  “Exactly,” he says. “Everyone knows they exist now, but not who they are or how to stop them.”

  “Except you,” I say. “You know who they are. Some of them, anyway.”

  There’s a sinking feeling in my chest, like I’ve swallowed a lead weight. This story can’t end well.

  “Yeah,” he says, “except me. They’re not giving me a choice anymore, Alli. My time is up.”

  “Meaning . . .”

  “Meaning either I join them now, or I end up like Durban.”

  “So you’re telling me you’re joining the Shadows?”

  “Not exactly.” He smiles grimly. “I couldn’t bring myself to join them. So I went to the king and told him everything I knew.”

  “Saints, Beck, that could’ve gotten you killed.”

  He shakes his head. “I was careful. No one knows I did it. And the king and I came up with a plan.”

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this plan?”

  “He already knew a lot about the Shadows, of course,” Beck continues.

  “Hard not to know, considering they murdered his steward.”

  “Right. But he needs more information in order to stop them. He needs to find out more about their members, how they operate, how they’re recruiting people. Most importantly, he needs to know who their leaders are.”

  I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I really wish I didn’t.

  “To get that kind of information, he needs somebody on the inside. Someone he can trust.”

  I close my eyes. “Please tell me you did not agree to do what I think you agreed to do.”

  His voice is quiet but no less determined than it always is when he has a plan. “I’m going to infiltrate the Shadows and spy on them for the king.”

  I open my eyes. “That is the worst possible idea I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard a lot of bad ideas from you, Beck.”