Chapter 7
It had taken them an hour to explore the city using the address Maniodes provided. The reception area was impossible to mistake once they found it. They managed to sneak in using alleyways and servants’ passages. Scythe relished in the secrecy provided by being an Incruentus Ferrum. They weren’t invisible, but the living naturally disregarded and ignored them. This occurrence never had an official name, but Scythe always regarded it as the “shadow trick.” She’d even heard some of the other Ferrum using the title she had coined.
Dagger and Scythe strode into the courtyard without worry of being stopped. They stuck to the shadows, scouting out the gardens, and found several useful nooks for hiding places.
The gardens of the wedding reception were decorated beautifully to human standards. Banners hung on the columns, showing the crests of the two families. The biggest banner hung over the bride and groom, showing the combination of the two sigils. Streamers were woven between low tree branches and the beams of the gazebos where the tables were placed. Lanterns lit the area, along with the light of the crescent moon. The colors alone were striking enough to almost hurt Scythe’s eyes. The reds, blues, yellows, greens, and purples were a stark contrast to the grey dust from their own estate. Scythe wasn’t entirely sure if she liked the difference. The color brought life, but it looked so gaudy when overdone.
Before the guests arrived, Dagger and Scythe changed into their formal attire. She had to use a broom closet, but Scythe had chosen a simple dress she could easily get in and out of. It was a simple long piece of black satin with a red sash to tie off the waist. Taking her scythe back from leaning it on the wall, she shortened it. It didn’t take any effort; all she had to do was think of the weapon shrinking. The staff of the scythe shortened and thinned in her hands. The blade kept its crescent shape, but it shrank in proportion to the handle. Maniodes might be a thorn in her side, but he had granted her this trick after fifty years of service. Scythe maneuvered the sash to hold the small version of her weapon onto her back. She was glad she didn’t have to conceal it; with their power to go unnoticed, no one would see it until she wanted them to.
Guests were beginning to pour into the garden behind the bride and groom. The air was filled with shouting, laughter, and overall joy as they took their seats. Scythe spotted Dagger in the shadow of a pillar. He was dressed well in the vest and grey tunic. His belt of knives was not quite concealed by his long cloak. His hair was brushed and hung to his jaw, accenting it well. He was watching the crowd with a hunter’s eye.
He turned to her when she approached. The hunter instantly changed to a gentleman.
“You look beautiful,” he said, then looked away as if surprising himself.
“You look handsome in that vest as well,” Scythe grinned as she stood next to him.
He surveyed the crowd again. Scythe turned to them too. The feast had begun with piles of pork, steak, and vegetables dipped in a thousand sauces. This couple was certainly wealthy to afford all of this extravagance.
The couple in question sat at the center of the head table. The bride was a young brunette girl whose smile took over half of her face. She wore the customary light-blue dress, and her hair had small flowers of the same shade woven into the curls. The groom didn’t look as excited. He was calm in his formal doublet, but most of the jubilance seemed to pass around him. Scythe wondered how much of his stolen money financed this glorious wedding and if his business partners were here.
“Who did you have in mind?” Dagger asked, getting right to business.
“We’re only allowed two, so we should make it count,” she speculated.
Before Dagger could say anything else, Scythe scurried to the nearest table. No one noticed her as she plucked a goblet filled with red wine from between a fat nobleman and a lad who could have been his son. She swiped another from the end of the table. She giggled at their confusion over the missing drinks.
Scythe joined Dagger again and handed him one of the goblets.
“Usually, the man gets the woman drinks,” he said.
“Does he? Why? Oh, doesn’t matter. I’ve never been to anything this fancy.”
“Even with one hundred years of mischief under your belt?” He sipped the wine.
“I usually avoid crowds. Have you been to a wedding like this?”
“A couple, but nothing this big. I—” he cut himself off, nearly choking.
He stared into the crowd, looking dumbfounded and confused.
“Dagger?”
“Hold on.” He handed her the goblet hastily and walked off.
Scythe watched him stay at the edge of the gathering, weaving between the servants. He kept watching a spot that looked to be at the other side of the garden, but it was too difficult to tell with all of the people. He kept moving to get a better view, then froze to stare. There was a good distance between them, but Scythe could see the sadness in his expression.
He stood there for several moments, watching someone. Eventually, he bowed his head and trudged back to Scythe. At a closer look, the shame was unmistakable. Dagger took his goblet and leaned back against the pillar away from the crowd. He upended the goblet, draining it in one swallow. It was a habit, just like eating—alcohol couldn’t affect them anymore.
“Dagger, what is it?” Scythe touched his arm.
He didn’t answer right away, but eventually replied. “Far end of the garden, second table from the right. There’s a black-haired woman.”
Scythe looked where he indicated and saw whom he meant instantly. She was a tall woman, bordering on middle age. Her dark hair was tied back with several braids and hung down the back of her yellow dress.
“A previous lover of yours? We could kill her if you want.”
“No!”
He rounded on her, and she took a step back, all sense of concern gone. He’d never been mad at her before, and she hated that she’d retreated. For a brief moment, her father stood before her. His eyes were on fire with anger, but she wouldn’t let him frighten her.
“Obviously, she bothered you in the past somehow. What’s wrong with a little revenge?”
“That woman is not to be harmed, and this whole event will be kept quiet. We’ll pick our two, hide the bodies, then leave,” Dagger demanded.
“You do not get to give me orders,” Scythe countered.
“Consider it a stern request then.”
Scythe’s hands balled into fists at Dagger’s anger. “And if I don’t follow your request? Just because some broad here you knew—”
“She will not be touched!”
Dagger stalked forward, emphasizing his point. Scythe reached behind her and gripped her weapon. She swung it around to rest the blade against his throat. Dagger glared at her over the curved steel. Scythe extended the handle, gaining more distance from him. She matched his gaze, refusing to feel small.
“If you hurt her, I’ll go straight to Maniodes,” he threatened, his voice more than harsh.
“Then I’ll tell him about your experiments in the basement,” she threatened back.
“Then we both go grey.”
She noted Dagger’s hand then. It had moved closer to his belt of knives. She had distance on him and strength with her weapon, but he had speed. She had seen him strike down a bird in flight with a precise throw.
The look in his eyes told her he wasn’t lying. He was willing to let his consciousness be stripped away for that woman.
“Why?” she demanded.
“She’s important to me, and I’d rather she be left out of this life.”
“Why is she important?” Jealously played on across her skin. She pushed it back before it could take over, but she couldn’t deny it was there, like a clinging insect. It had been a long time since she felt anything like this, if ever.
“I’d rather not say. Maniodes said it was safer for her and myself. You don’t have to be so hostile. You’ve kept quiet about your previous life so far.”
“Only about my
death. Nothing of importance happened before that anyway.”
“This is the same,” he admitted. “Will you please lower your blade?”
The flame of his temper had faded, but she fell her walls creep back up. He had turned on her quick enough. He might do it again.
“You stay away from me tonight,” she said, shortening the weapon. She lowered it away from his throat but still held it toward him.
“Alright, but you’ll leave that woman alone,” Dagger stated.
“Fine.”
“And you’ll hide the body of your victim? I don’t want this night ruined for her.”
Since that woman was having so much fucking fun, Scythe wasn’t allowed to.
“We have to get on Maniodes’s good side again anyway. He wanted us to be discreet.”
Dagger was right on that account. She wanted to punch him.
“Fine,” she said again, turning on her heel.
“Pick a low-key victim!” he called to her back as she stalked off. “Scythe!”
“Fine!” She nearly chucked her scythe at him.
She left him standing by the pillar. She found a table that had been mostly abandoned except for scraps of chicken and dirty plates. She wove her weapon onto her back again and sat at the bench.
Sitting with her back to the table, Scythe scanned the crowd for anyone who suited her fancy. She felt violent tonight. Dagger was right about Maniodes wanting them to be discreet, so she forced herself to sit and control the urges to set the banners on fire.
She held the anger in this time, but she couldn’t quite figure out why it was there in the first place. For nearly a century she relished in her freedom to hurt whomever she wanted. Now Dagger was reining that in for that woman. She wanted to kill her out of spite, but the jealousy before crept back. She beat it down, though not before she realized it was because Dagger was protecting that woman.
Scythe looked toward the pretty bride and groom. They were chatting happily together. She imagined blood blooming over the bride’s pale-blue gown. One quick swipe of her scythe, and the bride’s head would roll. She would hide the body, just like Dagger asked, but the bride would not go unnoticed.
As the night carried on and everyone grew more intoxicated, they’d hardly notice she was missing, though. Scythe could use the groom, too. She could knock him unconscious and hide him somewhere. The crowd would just assume they had left to consummate their marriage. The bride wouldn’t be found until much later. Maybe even several days later, if Scythe picked a good spot to stash her. She could even frame the groom.
She thought about how to lure the bride away. Scythe’s sight drifted to the center of the gardens. Almost everyone was dancing around each other; several just bumbled around. Everyone was having fun while she was stuck on the sides.
The woman in the yellow dress drifted by in the dance with dark hair flowing behind her. Scythe tracked her movements. The woman wasn’t as intoxicated, but her face was flushed, and she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Scythe honestly considered killing her out of spite and stashing the body where even the dogs couldn’t find her for months. As the woman turned, holding the side of her dress, Scythe caught sight of her eyes. They were black and glistened in the firelight. She had a strong jaw too. Her face was almost square, but still pretty.
The realization of who she must be struck Scythe instantly. The woman was older, but she had the same features as Dagger. She was his sister. The woman was technically her own sister-in-law.
The confusion in her gut surprised her, as much as the jealousy had. Why had she assumed the woman was an ex-lover? She didn’t have anything to be jealous of in the first place. She and Dagger may have an odd friendship, but she had no hold over him, regardless of the forced marriage. That’s probably what confused things; the marriage.
His defensiveness made sense, if that was the case. Their resemblance was hard to ignore once noticed. Scythe had to be sure, though. Staying at the table for now, she surveyed the crowd for Dagger.
She spotted him chatting with a young blond and blue-haired girl who couldn’t stop giggling. She kept touching Dagger’s arm, and he wasn’t pulling away. Logic stated he was just hunting; he had picked an easy victim.
Anger welled up again and nearly boiled over. The girl wouldn’t stop touching his arm, and he was letting her. She knew flirtation was the easiest way to make people drop their guard. She’d probably use it herself tonight, just to get it over with. She wondered how Dagger would react at seeing her flirt with another man. She wasn’t used to this new emotion. She hated it.
As she watched, Dagger leaned down and whispered into the girl’s ear. Her grin turned mischievous, and she nodded. He took her hand and led her from the crowd.
Scythe practically sprang from the bench, seizing her chance. She had tracked the woman in the yellow dress again and found her standing with a group of other ladies, talking.
“Excuse me?” No one had noticed her approach, and several of them jumped.
The woman turned from a tall, dark-skinned woman to Scythe, surprised that she was the one being spoken to. Scythe buried her anger for the moment and applied her mask of innocence.
“Yes?” The woman’s eyes darted from Scythe’s dress to her red eyes.
Scythe knew she was an odd sight to a proper lady, maybe even offensive. No one wore black to a wedding, apparently. She didn’t care.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Scythe said, “but you look a bit like someone I met a few years back, I was wondering if you were related.”
“Do you know his name?” The woman was cautious, but willing to help. She probably felt safe with the large crowd surrounding them.
“He never told me at the time, unfortunately. I’m Skie,” she lied.
“I’m Karteria. What did this man look like?”
Karteria was growing stiff and a little nervous.
“He must have been in his twenties back then. His hair was black and hung to his shoulders. His eyes were dark, like yours, and he had a square jaw. I know it’s a shot in the dark.”
Karteria’s arms rose as she hugged herself. The joy was dead alright; she was outright depressed.
“That man sounds like he could be my brother,” she said. “He passed away almost ten years ago now.”
Scythe slid her expression from innocent curiosity to sadness and understanding. She let the moment hang in silence.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“It’s alright, you didn’t know,” Karteria said.
“May I ask how he passed?” Scythe asked.
“It was an accident, nothing more.”
Karteria turned and left. She kept her head down as she made for an alcove alone. Apparently, she was still bothered by her brother’s death even after a decade.
Scythe was about to leave, rather satisfied, when one of the other women stopped her.
“Wait.”
Scythe turned to the dark-skinned woman.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
“Not from this city, no,” Scythe replied, playing into her lie. “I’m a relative of the groom. Why do you ask?”
“I’m just surprised you haven’t heard of Karteria’s brother’s death. Almost everyone in this city knows.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Their mother hasn’t been well for years. She’s prone to bouts of hallucinations, claiming demons are everywhere. She killed her own son during an episode. The only reason she wasn’t arrested is because of her illness. She believes her son is still alive,” the woman shared openly, the alcohol making her chatty.
By the gods, no wonder Dagger wanted to keep that quiet. “Thank you,” Scythe said and left the group before they could say anything else.
Another rare emotion grew in the back of her throat: guilt. One hundred years of being a guiltless killer, and she’d had no problems. Now he was making her feel new things she wasn’t used too. She wanted to be mad at him. If he’d explai
ned the situation more clearly, she wouldn’t have cornered his sister like that. But whatever explanation he could have given would have raised more questions. Questions he probably didn’t want to answer.
He had left her alone in regard to her own past life, and she had dug her way into his.
Three young men sat at her table now. The stench of ale wafted from them like a cape in the wind. Scythe wasn’t in the mood to kill anyone now; she wanted to get it over with. Maybe the murder would help her think.
They hadn’t noticed her until she set a hand on the thigh of the young man next to her. She smiled sweetly at him. He stared down his blade of a nose, stunned. He had been bragging about a horse race, but now he was silent. Her hand was very high on his leg.
“You want to escape for a little while?” she asked slowly.
He swallowed, clearly taken aback by this woman’s forward approach. Excitement lit in his eyes. He nodded, still unable to speak.
Scythe stood and took his hand. She wondered if Dagger was watching now. She hoped he wasn’t. She had done enough for one night; she just wanted the night to end.
She led him to the broom closet where she’d stashed her pack. He was already groping at her as she closed the door.
Scythe didn’t bother with any foreplay. He was kissing her neck as she gripped her weapon and shoved him off. Before he could protest, Scythe swung and dug the blade into his skull. He hit the wall with a satisfying thud. Using the momentum of his fall, she wrenched the weapon free from the bone. Glad that the job was finally done.
Scythe picked up her pack and left, closing the door behind her. She left the wedding and snuck out of the city. She figured when Dagger wondered where she had gone, he would probably check the graveyard.
There were still several hours of moonlight left. The graveyard was blessedly empty, and the mausoleum still stood open. Scythe climbed onto the base of a tall statue to wait for Dagger. The stonework depicted a girl holding a long bone with the empty hand extended in welcome. The statue of Nyx stood almost seven feet high. She wondered if the living knew the goddess of death chose to look like a child.
Dagger and Scythe Page 4
