No Earthly Treason (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 2)

by Genevra Black

  “I know Khenbu. Sort of.” She paused. “I know someone who knows someone who couriered for him. He’s a fuglfolken, so he’s really finicky and doesn’t like letting people near his treasures. So even getting in is gonna be a hard sell.”

  Great. On top of not knowing what the hell a fuglfolken was, she might not even get to meet him in the first place—but if she had a chance to unlock her powers without a trainer or Astrid’s “help,” she had to try anyway. At least she had something that might entice him, and it was from the private collection of a lesser Norn. That was probably more than most people could say.

  She ran a hand through her hair and glanced down the street, starting to feel a little exposed standing in the doorway. “Thanks for the heads up. I guess I should get going.”

  “Hey, hold up,” Sissel said, holding her hands out like she might need to stop Edie bodily, even though neither of them had moved an inch. “I can go with you!”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  Edie expected her to be offended, but the teen looked less indignant and more genuinely confused. “Why not?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Fifteen?”

  Wow. Younger than she’d expected, even. “Well, uh, not to be ageist or anything, but I’m not sure this particular … journey, I guess, is suitable for a teenager. Honestly, I’m not sure being a courier at all is suitable for a teenager,” she added.

  Sissel laughed, her face lighting up. “Okay, Dad. Real talk, though, I can get you in. So let’s go!”

  Narrowing her eyes, Edie asked, “How?”

  “I just can. Okay? I can’t guarantee he’ll tip you well, but I can at least get his guards to listen.”

  Edie was about to reply, but something caught her eye. Across the street, a group of people rounded the corner—four men packed tightly around one taller woman in the middle, all clad in suspenders, flannels, and lensless glasses. Hipsters, which checked out, considering the bougie location, but….

  There was something not quite right about the way they were observing their surroundings, like snakes slithering through tall grass. Not one of them seemed to have a cell phone, and they weren’t talking to each other.

  These days, a lot of Watchers looked much different from the usual black-and-silver clad New Gloaming. Instead, they dressed in whatever would let them blend in: suits, sportswear, leathers. Edie had seen some dressed as businessmen, construction workers, cops. If you knew what to look for, you could pick them out.

  “Come here.” Edie grabbed Sissel’s upper arm and began pulling her down the street.

  The teen resisted, digging her heels into the pavement, but Edie’s weightlifting had paid off and she was able to power through. “What the hell is going on?”

  “We should get inside before they see us,” Edie replied shortly, tossing her head in the direction of the group.

  Sissel followed Edie’s motion, expression twisting, but said nothing. They turned a corner and scurried into the nearest storefront, a cafe and bookshop. It was small but well-lit, and as they entered, the smells of vanilla and paperbacks washed over them. Somewhere nearby, an espresso machine ticked and hissed. Edie immediately felt more at ease. They had avoided being spotted, and everyone here seemed to be minding their own business.

  Sissel shook her off and took a step away, frowning. “Why did we run from them? Are you allergic to craft beer or something?”

  Edie made her way past the cafe area and disappeared into the stacks, and thankfully—after lingering in front of the pastry display counter for a moment—Sissel followed. As the teen approached, she put one hand in front of the book spines Edie was examining, wordlessly demanding an answer.

  “They were Gloaming,” Edie said. “New Gloaming. You know, the people who’ve been roving around and starting riots?”

  Sissel’s brown eyes widened in realization. “Oh, word? Those buttholes have been making running a lot rougher lately. By the time I figure out who they are, they’re already harassing me.”

  “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

  Sissel snorted. “Nah. I have my ways.”

  Edie was curious as to what exactly those ways were. With a raised brow, she realized that although Sissel had confessed to couriering for magical people, she’d never mentioned if she was magical herself. “Inuusuttoq is a cool last name. Where are you from?” she asked, hoping to get some answers herself.

  The teen’s posture shifted—only slightly, but Edie noticed. She stood a little straighter, seemed a little guarded. “My family’s Kalaallit Inuit. That’s West Greenland. Except I was born in Ottawa.”

  “I thought I detected an accent, eh?” Edie teased.

  Sissel rolled her eyes. “Oof, I’m hysterical. Don’t unleash another one of those knee-slappers on me or I’ll perish on the spot.”

  “Okay, okay. Do your parents know you’re doing this?”

  Sissel turned her head, gazing longingly toward the pastry display. Then she looked back at Edie. “My dad doesn’t like it very much, but he’s busy all the time. He’s a professor at U Anster.” She paused. “My mom’s been missing since I was little.”

  “Oh.” Edie tried not to grimace, but Sissel seemed to notice her falter.

  “I figured if I was going to find any information on where my mom went and why, it would be doing this kind of job.” Sissel shrugged. “And it kind of worked, I guess. I know pretty much everyone around here, or I know someone who knows them. Except none of them have ever heard of Kass Inuusuttoq before.”

  “She just disappeared one day?”

  She nodded. “Dad told the human police and everything, but … you know, human police. They never found her.”

  Edie considered. Then, after a moment, she motioned for Sissel to follow her, stepping up to the pastry counter. She paid for two eclairs, and they took a seat near the back of the cafe area, avoiding both of the big windows. The teenager was already mostly done with hers by the time Edie came back with napkins and a couple ice teas.

  “Are you and your dad human?” Edie asked as she sat down, unscrewing the cap of her tea.

  “Yeah, why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering what I’m getting myself into.”

  Sissel laughed, her eyes sparkling. “My mom was, too, but she was mad weird. She was an ice mage, and she could do crazy stuff with her mind, like hear what living creatures were thinking or make them do stuff. She and my dad met when he was researching Greenlandic legends.” She took a long sip of tea, shrugging. “My mom never tried to hide magic or whatever from me. She didn’t want me growing up all confused.”

  Edie felt a pang of jealousy. If only her father had extended her the same courtesy. “My father died when I was 13, so I know how you feel, a little bit.”

  “That sucks.” Sissel pursed her lips. “I’ve heard about him. I’ve heard most things.”

  “Lucky you. I only just found out I was a hellerune a couple months ago. I didn’t even know any of this stuff existed.”

  “That’s nuts.” The teen raised a skeptical brow, brushing some hair behind one ear. “How did you not notice?”

  “My magic wasn’t activated, I guess. No one knew about it—or no one could find me, anyway—so no one bothered me.”

  “What about your mom?”

  Edie looked away. “We don’t talk much. I have no idea how much she knew or didn’t know.”

  “No wonder you’re so weird,” Sissel said, tearing the remaining half of her eclair into smaller halves. “Your parents were wack.”

  The statement was so unexpected that Edie wasn’t even offended. In fact, she laughed out loud. “You’re not wrong.”

  They talked for a little longer, chatting about their living situations. Edie told her about Mercy, Cal, Fisk, and Satara; she summed up meeting Astrid and their first adventures at her behest. She also mentioned Zaedicus’s party, and filled Sissel in—the “tea,” as Sissel called it—on what was going on with the New Glo
aming, and about Sárr.

  Sissel told her about herself, too. She lived with her dad and a fat tabby named Shorts in a cozy apartment near the University of Anster, where Professor Inuusuttoq kept long hours. She did her schoolwork in the mornings and couriered in the afternoon, then spent evenings cooking or watching movies with her dad. It sounded like a pretty peaceful existence, and it warmed Edie’s heart to hear it. This was the kind of person she was trying to protect. This was why, Reach or no Reach, she had to fight against the New Gloaming.

  Eventually, Edie finished her eclair, and Sissel looked over her shoulder, peering out one of the shop’s windows. “You think the evil hipsters are gone now?”

  Edie turned in her seat and said, “No, this neighborhood is still gentrified to hell.”

  That drew a laugh from Sissel. “Wow, woketh. I meant the murderous ones.”

  “Probably.”

  “Good.” She leaned forward and planted her hands on the table in front of her. “So, do you want my help getting to Khenbu or not?”

  Edie hesitated, reaching into her bag to touch the bundle there. “I don’t know….”

  “Do you even know where you’re going?”

  “She gave me an address, but I don’t know the building.”

  Edie took the little piece of paper from her bag and handed it to Sissel, who glanced at it for only a second before standing up.

  “I do. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ah … so that’s where she is.”

  Zaedicus raised his eyes from his scrying basin, letting Holloway’s image fade away in the flickering candlelight. For the first time in months, a genuine smile spread across his face.

  Scarlet’s pet breathstealer had visited the hellerune’s apartment earlier that day, but there had been no answer at the door, no signs of the zombie. The Watchers had not caught a glimpse of Holloway’s friends in that neighborhood for days. But she couldn’t hide from a Gloaming Lord.

  When the high-wight looked up, his gaze met Scarlet’s cold eyes, staring into him from across the tall stone bowl.

  She quirked a brow. “She’s quite bold. Or stupid. I thought she would hide away with her friends.”

  A certain warmth touched him, one he couldn’t quite describe. Something adjacent to anger. Despite Scarlet being a lowly human-wight, he kept her close. The memory leech’s infuriating beauty and strange nature had enticed him against all odds. Where he had kept her at arm’s length before, now, with every interaction, he toed the line. Desire burned in him, and her refusal to lie with him—either out of spite or because she wasn’t picking up on his cues—only made him burn hotter and deeper.

  He reached across the basin and closed his hand around hers for a moment, resisting the urge to jerk her closer.

  She allowed it for a moment, then shook him off and turned away, brushing back one heavy curtain to reveal the closet’s door. “Has the master spoken to you yet?”

  Zaedicus clenched his teeth. The Wounded was at the forefront of Scarlet’s thoughts more often than not. Sárr had appointed her as the leader of the Watchers, and she seemed to think only of her duty. She was good, and she knew how to incite chaos and sow fear, but she largely ignored Zaedicus unless they were talking business.

  The high-wight found it difficult not to succumb to jealousy. In the past, impulsive wrath had gotten him exiled from his homeworld, and after that, his first coven. He would not be thrown out again. As he reminded himself frequently now, he was the Gloaming Lord and should be tending to his duties, not focusing on the maddening presence of some vampire.

  “The Wounded Lord has not spoken to me directly, but he has sent word. We proceed as planned.”

  “Brilliant.” She looked at him over one shoulder covered just-so with a lace shawl. “And the Auroran?”

  “Complying, as always.”

  She took a breath. “Good. Between us and the traitor, the Reach can’t hope to hide for long. We’ll root them out.”

  Scarlet left the closet, and Zaedicus followed her into the VIP room slowly, sinking into his favorite wingback chair. He glanced around for a thrall, then gestured for him to bring something to drink.

  Scarlet perched on a nearby couch. “I’ll have my Watchers spread out immediately.”

  Ah, she may have ensnared him, but there were still things he knew that she did not. Zaedicus smirked. “Tell the Watchers to do what they will with the civilians, but let Edith Holloway go about her business for now. I have something in mind.”

  The vampire raised her fine black brows, expression stunned. As she twisted her plump mouth, he could almost taste her anger. She was offended. “What? What is it you’re keeping from me this time?”

  He kept his gaze trained on her even as his thrall returned and set a tray between them. Her anger, and the fact that she couldn’t possibly take it out on him, were intoxicating. “Holloway isn’t the problem here. When it comes to her, the Wounded can’t see the forest for the trees, as it were; he chases her like a dog with a bone. I am focusing my power on the Reach. A calculated strike at the head of the beast is all we need to dissolve it completely.”

  The thrall handed Zaedicus his drink. When he offered Scarlet one next, she hissed and stood, launching it out of his hand with a firm smack. The thrall scurried away without a word to clean up the mess.

  All the sparkle was gone from Scarlet’s black eyes. “You didn’t bother to inform me of this?”

  “You were doing just fine with your little riots.”

  “I was ignorant!” She stomped over to him, and he felt his blood—such as it was—begin to heat. “You wanted to keep me in the dark so that you could get all the credit for whatever brilliant turn of fate you’ve come up with. You’re desperate for the master’s approval now.”

  “Ha!”

  She pointed at him. “Do you want a repeat of last time? It was because you kept your ingenious plan from me that I ended up dumping the zombie when I was done collecting its memories. How was I to know you wanted to keep him to lure the hellerune? Your clumsy fault—and I was punished for it!”

  Zaedicus set his drink aside and stood up. He towered over her, but he certainly didn’t feel very big. “Am I obligated to tell every detail of my plans to nonessentials?”

  Scarlet set her jaw, fingers twitching almost imperceptibly. He could tell that she wanted to lash out, but even she knew there were limits to her torment. He’d see her killed, and he’d deal with whatever punishment the Wounded Lord dealt later.

  Instead, she simply slapped her hands onto his shoulders and forced him to sit again. Bent over him, her hair snaking over her shoulders, her breath in his face, she whispered, “You are pathetic.”

  Fury mixed with arousal, sending chills shooting through his limbs. He could almost feel his dead heart shudder to life. He clutched the arms of his chair and fixed her with a silent glare as she backed up and left the VIP room.

  Gods, he despised her. So much it burned.

  At least he could take comfort in the fact that, if everything went to plan, the Reach would crumble.

  It was almost rush hour by the time Edie and Sissel reached the Financial District in downtown, and Edie was starting to wish she’d eaten something more than an eclair in the past 24 hours.

  The teenager led her out of the subway and down Foundation Street, pointing at a tall building a few blocks down and to the left. “Khenbu lives up top.”

  More rich people to deal with? Edie was starting to feel out of her league. But she supposed it made sense for a collector to be rich. How else would he afford all his cool stuff? “I’ve had my fill of penthouses for a lifetime.”

  “It’s a condo, technically,” Sissel corrected her. “And, you know, fuglfolk. So he likes high places.”

  Edie slowed a bit. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to ask you what a foogle … volk … what that is.”

  “Fugl means bird, so….”

  “He’s a bird person?”

  The teenager no
dded. “Hence the collecting and urge to be up high.”

  They hurried to the door of the building and passed the doorman without incident. Edie had to admit she was eager to see what a bird person actually looked like. She was so wrapped up in imagining it that she barely registered the apartment lobby, which was set up like a museum with expensive-looking modern art and paintings carefully placed around a spacious white room. She followed Sissel past a desk, toward the chrome doors of an elevator.

  “Hey!”

  The voice cut through her reverie, and both she and Sissel turned to look at the person who’d stopped them.

  A lady with glasses and a blond bob had risen from her seat behind the front desk and was walking after them now, black heels clicking on the tile. “Where are you going?”

  Edie started to stick her hands in her pockets, and the woman came to an immediate halt, staring at her. It was then that Edie noticed the woman had a gun holstered at her hip.

  She opted to keep her hands at her sides instead. “We’re visiting a friend, uh, Mister Khenbu.”

  Sissel nodded. “Which apartment is his?”

  The woman frowned, eyes narrowing. “You won’t be able to use that elevator without an ID. Myself or the resident will have to let you in. Anyway, Mr. Khenbu isn’t staying here anymore.”

  Sissel pulled a face and glanced from the woman to Edie, then back. “We’re couriers. A friend of mine dropped something at this address just last week.”

  The woman had already turned slightly and was motioning for them to step back in front of the front desk. “You can leave your package here, and I’ll make sure it gets to him.”

  Edie closed her jacket tighter. “No, we have to give it to him in person.”

  A look of annoyance crossed the woman’s features. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, as he no longer lives here. But I have a forwarding address, and I’ll make sure he gets the package.” She patted an empty space on her desk expectantly.

  Edie looked at Sissel with growing panic, unsure of what to do.