Among Aniels

by Quinn Blackbird

  Holding the weighty vase in her shivering hands, she turns to me and Koal. His back faces her, and his look of disgust still clings to my face.

  It’s time.

  Olivia is giving me a chance to flee. She is risking the wrath of a Daemon to help me—and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

  But I don’t have seconds to spare on dwelling.

  In one blink, she’s standing there with the vase, and in the next, she’s bringing it down on Koal’s head.

  I roll out of the way a second before it hits him, and glittering chunks of pulverised crystal rain down on the carpet. I shove up to my feet, made easier without a dress to trip over, and I scramble for the door. As I bolt to the staircase, I snatch the bag with both hands, hug it to me, and rush down the staircase.

  Before I reach the lobby, I hear a vicious roar, reserved only for wild beasts, and ice-cold fear erupts in my chest. I don’t stop. I don’t falter or hesitate. I’m out the door before Koal has a moment to run after me, and I dive into the nearest carriage.

  “GO!” I scream, loud and panicked enough that the carriage driver doesn't fight me.

  I fish around my bag for coin. Through the little gap-window, I shove a handful of coin at the driver. As he barrels down the street, joining the mass of other midday-carriages and traffic, he snatches the coin from me.

  “Take a turn,” I shout at him.

  I twist around in my seat to peer out the rear curtains.

  Koal is standing in the middle of the street, just out the front of my house. His black eyes are so livid that they gleam from afar, swallowing up the entire street. But his stare swerves from carriage to carriage, and I quickly yank the curtains back into place. He knows I’m on the street, but not where I am. That’ll change in a heartbeat.

  Daemons are excellent trackers. That is a part of what they are.

  So I maybe have minutes to reach Silver before Koal finds me.

  I lean forward in my seat, my chest heaving from fright, and call out to the driver, “Take me to the Lost Square.”

  With the amount of bronze coin I shoved at him, he doesn’t fight me on it. He whips the reigns down on the horses, and we take off faster down the winding streets of the Textile District.

  I can only hope Silver waits for me.

  9.

  When the carriage slows to a stop by the fountain in the Lost Square, I barrel out of the door in a hurry, and drag my bulky black bag with me. The driver spares me no mind before he’s turning around and heading back to the heart of the Capital.

  I sling the bag-strap over my chest, then march down the nearest lane as fast as the remedy pulsing through me will allow. I’m not headed to the opium den, like I should be. My mind is on the stolen jewels in my bag, monies that I need to haggle from Margot at the pawnshop. If I’m going to survive this journey, I need more remedy—more than I’ve ever bought before—and I need more coin than I have to purchase it.

  But, as I’m walking down the windy lane, an undesirable spots me from the shadows of a narrow alley. An undesirable can be anything from a Walker of the Night, a Street Lady, or an Opium Lover. Anyone you don’t want approaching you on the streets of the Capital. Especially in this end of the city.

  I pause as the lanky man slips out of the shadows. His blood-shot brown eyes find me and he takes staggering steps closer.

  My hand shoots into the pocket of my breeches. The cool touch of the knife’s handle caresses my skin, and I grip it so tightly that I can feel my knuckles whiten.

  “Miss Keela?” The man croons my name as though he knows me.

  I study his unshaven face, the skin that sags beneath his blackened eyes, and how his out-dated, over-worn suit hangs off him at least three sizes too big. Definitely an Opium Lover.

  “Who’s asking?” I bite back and raise my chin.

  I slide out the knife from my pocket. Never used my weapons before, but looks like today is one of firsts.

  “Master Silver,” he says, his voice as oily as his slicked-back hair. “He is waitin’ for you, miss.”

  I eye him darkly. “And he sent you to come find me?”

  Living by the seaside, I’m familiar with the pungent stench of seafood. And so, I know when something smells fishy.

  Or perhaps—a big maybe—I’m just on edge from the horrid day I’m having and the all-too-many surprises of this week. I wouldn’t go as far to say that trust is not in my nature, but I know when and where to be wary. Opium Lovers are up there with aniels on the Approach-With-Caution scale. Then again, aren’t I on my way to meet up with an aniel? And not just any aniel, one that’s older than the Capital itself, more dangerous than a pit-full of sea-vipers, and one who wants something from me that could very well be my own free will.

  “He sent lookouts,” the Opium Lover tells me. He leans to the side, as if just about ready to fall over and plunge deep into an opium-slumber. “Said you are late.”

  “Fine.” I sniff. “Say I do take you at your word. What does he want lookouts for?”

  “For you, miss. And for—” His voice drops into the whispers of a sea-breeze. “—the Daemons.” He stumbles closer to me. “I’m to take you to Master Silver now.”

  I throw a look at my bag. Not the wisest thing to trust an undesirable with the mass amounts of jewels in there. Or with my life.

  “I can make my own way to the den, thank you,” I say and make to move around him.

  He steps in front of me. “Miss, he is not at Oskar’s anymore.”

  I blink at him. “Well, where else would he be?”

  “By the tunnels.”

  I arch my brows.

  The Capital is built on underground flood tunnels. It’s where many of the undesirables live, and the homeless people of the city, too. And there are few entrances to the tunnels, other than grates that line the pavements in the nicer areas of the Capital.

  I should whip my knife out at the Opium Lover, I should kick him down in his weak state and make a run for it. But the underground tunnels does sound ... right. Using them would make it harder for Koal to track me in the city, and now that I think about it, he’s probably already hot on my tail.

  I don’t have long. Maybe not enough time to pawn my jewels. I’ll have to find another way to make coin from them before the trip.

  And, since I’m well over an hour late, it would make sense that Silver has chosen to wait for me in the tunnels. Because if Koal found out that he was helping me, even an ancient aniel would stand no chance against a furious Daemon. He must protect himself too.

  “Fine.” I throw caution—and all self-preservation—to the wind.

  Maybe my biggest mistake yet, but I can either chase Silver to the den, find that he’s gone and the undesirable is telling the truth, and that gives Koal enough time to catch up with me. Or, I can follow the undesirable now, and hope that he leads me to my only hope of surviving these next few hours.

  “Take me to him.” I tighten the strap over my chest, as if to secure it from the Opium Lover’s sticky fingers, but he doesn't so much as throw my bag a glance. He must be getting paid in opium for this favour. Or perhaps he’s one of those forever indebted to the aniels of the Lost Square.

  He starts to lead the way, but my boots are stuck to the cobblestone. “Wait,” I call out. Almost-empty phials flash in my mind. “I need to get my remedies first.”

  “No time.” He turns to look over his shoulder at me. “Master Silver said to tell you, Daemons are in the Shadow Quarter and, where we are going, you won’t need your tonics.”

  Doubt niggles at the back of my mind.

  Even in the Wild Woods, the most magickal place in the world, I can’t imagine never needing my remedies. They are what keeps me alive, stops the seizures from killing me. Changing my setting shouldn’t change that need.

  Still, what would this undesirable be doing knowing about my travels and my remedies? He must have been sent by Silver. He knows too much.

  So, I shadow him—keeping a
safe distance—through the winding lanes and streets of the Lost Square. We walk under the beating sun for what feels like hours, but I know from the sun-position must only be some twenty minutes. Still, it’s enough to have beads of sweat roll down my back and hot, wet patches blossom under my armpits. I constantly braid my fingers through my hair, unfastening the knots that the humid heat ties there. And though there is plenty of fresh remedy running through my veins, I start to tire, fast.

  When I’m practically staggering behind the undesirable, he cuts into a dark alleyway and, at the mouth of the lane, looks back at me.

  “Just down this way, miss,” he tells me.

  Trickles of ice start to spread through me. Against my instincts, I follow him into the alley. I keep the knife firm in my clammy hand.

  My steps grow smaller and slower the farther into the alley we go. But the undesirable walks with staggering purpose, his steps hurried as though he will find a whole tub of his poison at the end of the line.

  But at the end of the line—there is only a simple door. And it is silver, gleaming even in the shadows of the darkness.

  “Where are we?” I ask in a whisper.

  The undesirable knocks thrice on the door, his pacing spread out into something that makes me think it’s a code. And, in seconds, the door whips open.

  Fox stands in the doorway.

  10.

  My heart hammers louder than the waves beating on rocks.

  Fox’s emerald eyes gleam as they land on me, and a wicked smile takes her toothy mouth.

  It’s a trick. I’ve been set-up.

  And I’ve lost so much valuable time that, any moment now, Koal could barrel out of the shadows and strike me down.

  I shudder and take a step back.

  “Oh, come now, little mortal,” Fox laughs, and it sounds like wind chimes at night. “I have not yet come to collect.” She steps aside and gestures me in. “Silver awaits you—rather impatiently, I might add, so one should make haste.”

  The oily man slips past Fox, almost cowering, and disappears inside.

  “He is in the basement,” Fox adds as though this will settle my fraught nerves. It doesn’t. I step back once more and clutch the knife in my trembling hand.

  Fox rolls her eyes and, with a flick of her hand, the knife flies out of my grip and lands on the grimy ground.

  I choke on a startled breath.

  “Do not test me, mortal. You might be claimed—for now—but my patience is wearing thin.”

  Claimed? Does she mean Koal—or worse, does she mean Silver?

  I don’t want to be claimed, not by anyone. I just want my own peaceful life away from the likes of Daemons and wicked aniels.

  Fox sighs an elegant huffy-noise and pushes from the doorway. She stalks towards me and, in two strides, she snatches up my arm with a vice-like grip and hauls me through the door. She slams it shut so hard that the wall shudders.

  Once the door is shut, I’m suddenly all too aware of the strong scent inside. Smells like sweet promises, poisonous lips, and bitter ends. I can sniff out traces of caramel sticks and spilled ink amongst the aroma.

  My eyes adjust quickly to the inside.

  With two blinks, I recognise that I’m ... I’m in a home. A townhouse, it seems, with all the staircases and doors leading off from the lobby. And whoever it belongs to is wealthy—so wealthy that I must wonder why bother living in the Lost Square, when the West Side would be so much more appealing?

  But then, I see the portraits on the wall. Clean of dust, polished silver frames, and I recognise the faces. Princess Monster. Prince Poison. And Silver. One portrait with all three of them—and it strikes me that this is Silver’s home.

  Don’t know why I’m so surprised, really. Did I truly expect him to live forever in some brothel or opium den, surrounded by filth and waste?

  Fox sighs a gentle song of a sound and takes my arm. She drags me through the lobby to an ordinary wood door tucked underneath the staircase. As she whips it open, a rickety set of stairs is revealed.

  She guides me down them at a pace slow enough for me.

  “My maker would love to meet you some day,” she tells me, and her tone is too conversational for my liking. She’s an aniel. A first one of a Third God. She should be all cloaks and daggers and cruelty, but she speaks to me as though we are long-time friends. “It isn’t very often that a vilas catches the attention of an aniel like Silver,” she adds. “Not to mention becoming the mate of a Daemon. You are interesting...” She pauses, then adds, “for a mortal, that is.”

  I side-glance at her. “Does Princess Monster normally take an interest in vilas?”

  Fox’s beautiful sharp features pinch into a scowl. “My mother has a soft spot for them. She once loved one, when she thought herself to be mortal. Time may have passed, but she cannot seem to let go of what once was.”

  There is so much there I want to unpack, a thousand questions building up inside of me, but we reach the bottom of the staircase, and I find myself stepping into the dusky darkness of a basement.

  Silver sits on a dusty chair against the wall. A black leather satchel lies flat on his lap, and the strap crosses his chest.

  Beside him, a dark murky door stands rotting. A door to the underground tunnels.

  Fox smiles too pleasantly at me, and it seizes my spine with a sickly feeling, then she sweeps away back up the stairs and closes the door. The basement darkens just that bit more.

  Silver pushes up from the chair. The satchel slips to his hip.

  He’s dressed differently from this morning. Bathed, clean, and fresh. But he is dressed for travel. A black silk vest clings tightly to a white shirt with a stiff collar, and his ink-black breeches are tucked into knee-high riding boots.

  “You are late.” His glowering moonlight eyes pierce through me like blades of steel. “Quite late, Kee.”

  “He was there,” I utter, my breath a hushed whisper in the wide, spanning basement. I hear my voice echo back to me. “Koal. He attacked me, tried to bite me, but my sister—”

  Silver’s eyes flash dangerously. He takes a sudden stride towards me. “Tried?” His voice is a hiss of venom. He snatches up my wrist in his tight, gloved grip. “Did he bite you, Kee?”

  I shake my head. “No—He stopped because ... I had a seizure, and my sister came to help me. She’s the reason I’m here. She attacked him to let me run.”

  “But he will be hunting you as we stand here and waste time,” Silver speaks as though talking to himself. His head turns down and he looks at the rotting floorboards, his eyes gleaming as though, behind them, his mind churns faster than any mortal’s can.

  Then, he swerves his bright stare back to me. His grip on my wrist tightens painfully, and I bite back a wince.

  Before I can reach for his gloved fingers to peel them away from me, I blink and—in that fleeting moment—Silver has pulled a sharp dagger from somewhere, and he holds it up in the dim light. It gleams as dangerously as his eyes.

  “What are you—arghh!”

  I’m cut off as he suddenly swipes the razor-sharp blade down my forearm. Blood spills freely and splashes on the floor at our boots. I twist my wrist in his grip and try to pull, but his hold is unmovable, unforgiving.

  “A blood bond,” he mutters and, then, slices a long gash down his wrist. He releases me for a beat before he slams our cuts together and, with a ferocious stare, pins me in place.

  “Keela,” he starts, and I’m distantly surprised he knows my real name since he never seems to speak it. “I offer you a blood bond, a bargain between souls, one eternal, the other mortal. I will aide you in your quest to sever the bond between yourself and Koal, the Daemon, and in return, you will aide me with what I desire most.”

  I blink. “What do you desire—”

  “Shhh,” he hisses venomously. “This is the only bargain I offer you,” he goes on. “Do you accept?”

  For a strangled heartbeat, I simply stare at him; the severity of his sharp featur
es, his cutting jawline, the high cheekbones he wears that I’m certain were crafted from blades.

  He gives me no chance to barter on the details of the bargain. And really, I know I’m not in a position to argue. It’s this or nothing.

  Mutely, I nod.

  “You must accept.”

  My voice is a reluctant whisper; “I accept.”

  A sudden hot sensation spreads in my arm. It’s like a red-hot poker being pressed against my burning flesh, but without the agony. I suck in a breath as I watch my cut glow, as though a dozen little lights are pressed against the flesh. Silver’s cut gleams along with mine and, for a long dizzying moment, we stay connected.

  Then, Silver steps back and takes his arm with him. His gash knits together within moments.

  I look at my own. It’s not healing and, after a few heartbeats, I realise it won’t heal the way his did, because he is an aniel and I am a sickly mortal.

  Silver pockets the blade then whips out a silk handkerchief from his breeches pocket. He tosses it at me. I bind it around my forearm, stopping the bleeding. But I’ve already lost so much—too much for the likes of myself—that I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded.

  I watch as Silver turns on the rickety door beside the chair. He inserts an old rusty key into the hole and turns it. It clinks loud enough to rattle the whole basement.

  The blood stains on the floor turn a murky brown colour, a copper-stained crimson, and it brings my remedies to mind.

  “Why don’t I need my remedy?” I ask him. “I don’t have much left—not enough to last me the journey.”

  Silver pulls open the door with a harsh tug, and it shudders up the spine of the townhouse. “I will be your remedy.”

  My brows knit with confusion. But before I get the chance to ask what he means, another shudder seizes the townhouse, and it’s so violent that the ground rattles. I hold my arms out to steady myself.

  Silver looks over his shoulder and his eyes flash like shooting stars. He looks up at the door above the staircase, then throws his severe stare down at me.