The darkest glass, p.44
The Darkest Glass, page 44
“Take it.”
Every fiber of him seized with relish.
Consume her.
Devour her.
Take her power.
Take it all.
His fangs unsheathed in one second and sunk into her throat the next. But if she winced when the duskborn blood rushed into her, Nathaniel didn’t hear it. Blood sweeter and richer than any wine he’d ever tasted slid down his throat. A rapturous warmth coursed through his body like a pulsing desert heat. Gravity held no law over him. He was lighter than air, untethered to time or space.
The darkness took him first. He wasn’t certain when his body hit the floor, but the pain came much, much later. Seconds, minutes, hours, he couldn’t say when. The sensation of frostbite started in his throat first then spread out across his skin like a contagion, biting and merciless. Needles pressed into his arms, legs, and face, slowly converging into his pores and piercing his muscles, releasing the festering darkness beneath.
He finally understood. She was releasing him. The crackling flames, the red rabbit and the ebony clock ticking, ticking, ticking melded together. He couldn’t stop it, but he tried, oh he tried.
A dream was unfolding before him, living and breathing, unlike anything he’d ever seen.
The blood, his mind screamed at him from far, far away. Poison … bird of poison … ancient thing …
Nathaniel seized on a sudden moment of clarity. Water bubbled in his mouth. No, not water. Foam. Red swirling in the white. He tasted the iron in it spewing over his dribbling lips.
Panic choked him. His body shook uncontrollably, but just as quickly the warmth returned. Beyond his syrupy gaze the dream bloomed once more. His mind took him away from the black room and his frost-bitten body and foam-soaked mouth.
The White Raven picked up the red rabbit mask Nathaniel had dropped. Once she refastened it, she kneeled beside him.
“Do you see now?” asked the White Raven. “You’re not fit to be a vessel for my heart, little dreamer. Not as you are now. But we are nothing if not creatures of change, aren’t we?”
She stepped over his convulsing body and shut the door behind her. The hands of the ebony clock continued their steady march forward, ticking away each second of Nathaniel’s descent into blissful madness. When the White Raven’s blood finally released him, the clock face disappeared. In its place was a large violet eye staring down at him.
Still in a dream, Nathaniel reminded himself with all the clarity he could muster. He struggled to sit up right, hindered further by an unrelenting headache and vicious nausea.
Then a voice, splendid and terrible, spoke with the gentleness of a mother from somewhere behind him.
“Fear not, little rabbit, for I have a new deal for you.” Moxra’s voice contorted until only the sharpest edges of her words remained. “It’s time to clip those raven’s wings.”
48
Tobias
“Ibelieved that brief, timeless dream during my girlhood was just the imaginative folly of a child. But after years of travel, I'm certain people have carried memories of those fantastical revels here to our world. I’ve seen variations of the same dances in ballrooms across all the major cities—Lordhaven, Fiore, Amani, Svaberg, and Kolbua. It can’t be a coincidence. Dolly Theall wasn't lying.” – Anonymous citizen, Street Watch box testimonial, City Watch Records Department, Lordhaven, Halcyon
The opulence of Chersey Hall loomed before Tobias, brilliant and otherworldly.
He had told Tavia to watch over Jóhann and buy him some time with Ezra. The plan from there was simple: find the book for Nathaniel, drop it off at the designated meet with Anders, sell off his tailored suit, board a train to Denby to gather Lucy and use the money from his suit to escape together to Bronwen.
No more gangs, no more blood, no more monsters.
He double checked the lockpicks in his fitted jacket pocket—tailored suits truly were a gift from the saints, damn that pompous duskborn—and headed up the stairs to the party.
Nathaniel had said he was looking for a book with a sun and moon emblazoned on its cover in Hoyt’s personal collection. Anders had elaborated further on their carriage ride to Chersey Hall:
“The book will be in a locked glass case in the junior library. When you enter the manor, go up the stairs and follow the main hall to the end. Discretion will be an utmost priority should you hope to succeed.”
Tobias parsed Anders’s unspoken warning: No one will be coming for you.
That was fine. Tobias would get in and get out. Anders would pick up the book that evening and all would be settled. He’d leave Lordhaven behind once and for all. The city had taken enough from him and his sister. No more.
Soon, Lucy. Wait for me.
As he stepped onto the landing, he glanced over his shoulder to take in the gardens one last time. He had seen his share of impressive manors while catching rats in the Garden District, but nothing compared to the shining jewel that was the main Hoyt residence.
Nicknamed “the Pink Garden” during the summer months, it was divided into several small areas partitioned off by cleverly shaped box hedges and stone walls. Each area was themed, and various flowers and sculpted shrubbery were brought in from all over the world to fulfil the vision of Myra Hoyt. Pink rose bushes blossomed at the feet of shrubbery elephants; swan shrubs swam in a lake of pink peonies; pink lilies graced the wings of hummingbird shrubs locked beak to beak.
While staring at the Pink Garden’s splendors, he suddenly realized he knew nothing of true wealth. This was not the kind one accumulated in a lifetime. Nor was it born solely from the twin pillars of hard work and uplifting others praised by Ascendism. This was rooted deep beneath the earth where only darkness and rot resided.
This was untouchable. This was terrifying.
Tobias hurried inside. Months of prowling the North Rim made him nimble on his feet and easy to lose in a crowd. But as he made his way to the middle stairwell, his eyes hungrily drank in the sights. The decadent spread of roasted meats and vegetables, towers of sugary pastries, and bowls spilling over with fresh cut fruits.
Masked waitstaff floated through the crowd like golden phantoms, filling glasses to the brim with wines they could never afford to taste themselves.
For the briefest moment, Tobias flirted with the idea of succumbing to the lure of the Summerillia. No one knew him here and what’s more, no one would care to. Lordhaven’s gossip mill ran thick in the summer season. He would merely be a gnat beneath their masked noses.
When will you ever pass through these doors again?
The thought was both chilling and inviting. Nathaniel had granted him access to see the world from the highest reaches of Lordhaven.
And the view was bloody damn marvelous.
“Excuse me, young man. Do you—?”
“Sorry, I’m in search of my brother,” Tobias blurted. “Please excuse me.” He slipped beside a couple and made haste to the stairwell. He could hear the man’s voice call out behind him, but he didn’t dare stop for the world.
Dammit, Tobias chided himself. This is a bloody job. Get in, get out.
He couldn’t risk being seen, noticed or saints forbid, caught. He had to be a ghost. No one was coming for him. Saints, no one even knew where he was or who he was with. When had the lies piled so high?
It wasn’t Jóhann’s fault but shifting the blame made Tobias feel better. It started with him after all, hadn’t it? Him and his pitiful face and heroic ambitions.
What a damn waste.
The upstairs hall was quiet, but not without guests. Lovers tucked away in corners exchanged low, sultry whispers. A group of men lowered their voices when Tobias passed them, their sharpened gazes following him like spotlights until he was out of ear shot.
More noises were heard behind closed doors, some jovial and others not. But Tobias only had eyes for the last door at the end of the hall. He glanced over his shoulder as he slipped a pin from his jacket. Anyone who bothered to look his way would assume he already had a key, maybe even tasked by Albert Hoyt himself to fetch something for his guests to fawn and coo over.
As he assumed, the door was locked but easily gave way with a few practiced twists of the pin. Tobias slipped into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. The library itself was dark and smelled of must and cedar.
Not wanting to risk a light being seen from the incoming guests or footmen below, he used the moonlight to peruse the room. Glass cases were nestled between the shelves and in a couple of the corners: a gilded knife inlaid with precious jewels; a stone carved with strange, rudimentary symbols; a petrified wooden hand; a pearlescent scale perfectly in balance. All collector oddities bought with stories of grandeur woven into the price, Tobias was sure.
He pressed on. Maybe Anders had gotten it wrong and the book was amongst the hundreds that lined the shelves? He prayed to all above and below it wasn’t. The longer he was in Hoyt’s library, the less chance he had of making it out of Chersey Hall at all.
As he approached the nearest shelf, a momentary groan froze him in place. It was soft, almost a trick of the mind, but Tobias’s instincts knew better. He slowly peered over his shoulder, a deer alert to footsteps.
There, hidden by the darkness, was a small alcove tucked away beyond his line of sight. Someone, a woman, began breathing heavy.
“Collin, we should return soon …”
“Should we?” Collin teased. “I quite like it here instead.”
In clear view of the lovers was another glass case. In the center, nestled between an intricately carved wooden stake and a golden fox figure was a mauve book with a golden sun and silver moon on its cover. Collin and his date hadn’t noticed Tobias’s presence yet, but they surely would if he went for the book.
Nathaniel’s steely calm voice echoed in his head. “I will sell you and your sister’s whereabouts to the highest bidder.”
Going to Nathaniel empty handed wasn’t an option. Tobias crept toward the case. The knife in his pocket reminded him there was always a way out worse come to worse, but perhaps if he bluffed his way through ...
The moment he turned the corner, he and the woman locked eyes. She was slow to realize his presence at first, but within seconds realization dawned across her heart shaped face.
“Oh, saints!” she shrieked, pushing Collin off her and pulling up her cotton underdress. Both of their masks were discarded on the floor.
Collin shot to his feet first. He was of average build and height with sandy brown sideburns and a strong chin. The same strong jaw possessed by Albert Hoyt in the few portraits Tobias had seen on his way to the library.
“Collin … Hoyt?”
“Yes, and who in the seven hells are you?”
Saints dammit all.
“I-I apologize, sir, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Tobias nudged closer to the case. “Your father requested I fetch a certain piece from his collection. A few of his guests were rather keen to see it.”
“Is that right?” Collin stepped closer, an ugly sneer on his face. “So why didn’t you announce yourself then at the start?”
“Collin, don’t be a brute. Just let him be on his way.”
But Collin ignored her. His eyes gleamed with smug delight. Tobias gritted his teeth. He was nearly upon the case and yet it might as well have been across the room.
“I think we have ourselves a dirty little peeper.” He barked a mirthless laugh, his face contouring with amused cruelty. “Father not paying you enough to catch a show in the Rim then? Pity. Let’s say I ask him for a raise for you, hmm?”
Dammit dammit dammit.
Tobias couldn’t stall any longer. Collin wasn’t going to let him off easy. Bringing up his father meant Tobias would be found out for a thief and a Market Streeter in front of nearly every highborn in Lordhaven. Even on the slim chance he made it out alive, either Nathaniel or Marcellus would end him themselves.
Dammit!
Collin was nearly on him now. Tobias let him take another step and then his fist locked with Collin’s nose. He stumbled back and wailed in pain over the woman’s scream. Tobias ignored them both and drove his elbow through the glass and snatched the book.
As he spun around to flee, a strange, gossamer haze hung over the door.
What in the seven hells?
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Collin roared. Blood ran down his chin and stained his shirt.
On instinct, Tobias regained his composure and rushed forward, but when he reached for the door handle his fingers found no purchase. The handle was gone. His momentum carried him through the door just as Collin grabbed the back of his jacket collar.
The pair stumbled and landed on the ground with a heavy thud. Tobias was flung to the side, falling hard on his shoulder. He winced but quickly righted himself while Collin staggered on his hands and knees to do the same.
“W-What the—?”
Nightingales fluttered overhead, jumping from one tree branch to another. A brilliant golden pink sky stretched high above them. The air was pleasantly warm, but not overbearingly so, and reminded Tobias of those late summer afternoons in his childhood when he’d lie down in the fluffy grass of a nearby field to nap until his mum called him for supper.
Collin looked back at Tobias and pointed to the sky.
“You’re seeing this too, right?”
“Aye …”
“What in the saints did you do, peever? Where’s the bloody damn moon?” Collin closed the gap between them in an instant. He grabbed Tobias by the shirt and pulled him close enough to smell the wine on his breath.
“I didn’t do anything!” Tobias yelled. “I swear it!”
Something shifted behind Collin’s eyes and his expression grew dark.
“You’re a fateshifter, aren’t you? Huh, demon scum? Think this is some sort of joke then? Think yourself clever? Do you?”
A melodic voice cut across the clearing. “Oh, I wouldn’t provoke that one if I were you, sir.”
Tobias and Collin both turned to see a short, pudgy man in tradesmen’s garb and boots leaning against a nearby tree. He was on the younger side of middle age, with bright green eyes and a short, dark red beard framing a rosy-cheeked face. Several silver rings lined his fingers.
“Who are you?” Collin spat. “And where are we?”
The man made no move to answer Collin’s questions. He continued to watch them with the languid ease of a cat observing mice scuffle.
When his emerald gaze shifted to Tobias, a strange unease crept over the Market Streeter. The same gossamer filaments he had seen over the doorway danced in the man’s eyes at just the right turn of the light. But when Tobias blinked, the feeling—and the filaments—were gone.
The man smiled, revealing a row of tiny sharp teeth.
“You took a nasty stumble there, boyo,” he said, nodding at Collin. “Let me take you back to the party.”
Collin glared at Tobias before tossing him back to the ground and stalking off to the man’s side. “Take me to my father at once. I’m in need of a word with him about who he employs.”
Tobias grabbed the book beside him. When he got to his feet, the short, pudgy man was gone.
In his place was a lithe figure close to seven feet tall. The stranger’s dark red hair fell in short waves around his pointed ears and silver circlet. His once plain rings were now adorned with polished gemstones in an assortment of colors. Gone also was his tradesmen’s outfit. In its place were billowing silver and black robes that perfectly complimented his smoky, alabaster hue impossible for any human to achieve. A hue made only more jarring by the red rose bursting from the cavity where his right eye should’ve been, its thorny vine growing from behind his ear, snaking down his throat and disappearing into the skin of his partially exposed chest.
Whether because he was drunk or upset, Collin didn’t seem to notice the stranger’s transformation. But when Tobias blinked, the stranger had returned to his short tradesmen appearance.
The tradesmen grinned and held a finger to his lips.
Tobias grabbed the book and ran the other way. And there, saints be, was the same gossamer door. He ran through with all the might his legs could muster and nearly collided with the bookshelf upon his re-entry. He jerked to the side at the last moment and managed to bump his uninjured shoulder against the bookstacks instead.
His heart pulsed in his ears as several books toppled to the ground. There wasn’t enough air to fill his lungs no matter how many gulps he took.
When he finally managed the courage to look back, half expecting constables to burst into the room, the library door stood closed, normal and wooden. No gossamer. No strange light. No indication it had been anything other than a normal door at all.
Collin.
He had left him with … that … Tobias shook his head, reeling from those tiny sharp teeth and emerald eyed stare.
He gripped the side of the book. It hadn’t been damaged in his scuffle with Collin, but there were faint traces of dirt on its front cover. The book had been outside. He’d been outside. He’d fallen in the dirt and stood beneath a twilit sky. But how? He was on the second floor of Chersey Hall and it was well into the night.
The woman and her mask were gone, but Collin’s mask was on the ground. Which meant Collin was still there, in that other place.
Tobias rushed to the window. The moon hung full in the sky. He nearly sighed with relief until he looked down. The front drive was free of carriages. But that was impossible. It had been clogged at least three miles deep when he had arrived not even an hour before. He looked over at the clock mounted on the wall opposite and his heart sank.
Two hours had passed since he ran into Collin and his date.
Two hours had gone by without a trace.
A noise brought him reeling back to his senses. Standing in the alcove Collin and the woman had been moments before was the red-haired tradesmen. Tobias reeled back, pressing himself against the library’s window.
