False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2

by Vanessa Nelson

  “I did,” her mother agreed. “At least I thought I did. I thought you were kind and honourable.”

  Thea’s brows lifted as she saw Reardon flinch. It was a tiny movement, so small she would have missed it if she had not been keeping such close watch on him. Her mother’s words had struck home, sure and true.

  The silence stretched for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  “You are in an apothecary’s shop,” Thea said, fighting to keep her voice even. “What can we do for you?”

  “I make it my business to visit apothecaries. I came to find Elise,” Reardon said, some of his stiffness vanishing. “Not that it is any of your business.”

  Thea’s breath stuck in her throat. Elise was the name her mother had carried. When Theo had been alive. Before they had fled from another Citadel and halfway across the world. And Reardon had been looking for her.

  “Well, you found me,” her mother snapped. “Although I have not used that name for years.”

  “No. You ran and hid very effectively,” Reardon said, his lip curling.

  “Perhaps you should have taken the hint and not looked for me?” her mother suggested.

  “I want an explanation,” he said.

  “I don’t owe you anything. You left without a backward glance. Not one single message. Not one single response. Nothing. For years.” Her mother’s face was flushed, and her hands were curled into fists on the countertop.

  “I sent messages. I received none,” Reardon said, still stiff.

  “Oh, really? How many? How hard did you try? I sent letters and verbal messages. Well over a dozen.”

  “I did not receive any.”

  “Wait a moment,” Thea said, waving a hand in the air to break the glare between her parents. “What? Let me understand this. Reardon sent messages and you didn’t get them. And, mama, you sent messages and Reardon didn’t get them. What? How is that possible?”

  “Mama?” Reardon asked, colour fading, then rising again. “This is your daughter?” he asked Thea’s mother, voice sharp and bitter. “Judging by her age, you seem to have forgotten me quite quickly.”

  “Now you are insulting,” Thea said, as her mother drew in a furious breath. “How dare you?”

  “But-” Reardon stared at Thea. She saw the moment the realisation hit home. “You are my daughter.”

  “Yes. She is,” her mother said.

  “But-” Reardon seemed lost for words.

  “If it helps, I don’t think of you as my father,” Thea said. There was a well of hurt in her chest. She had never imagined that this would be easy. But it somehow hurt more than she had imagined possible.

  She had hoped for something quite different, she realised. Some warmth. Some welcoming. Even knowing what the Ageless were like. Even though she had told herself she expected nothing.

  She had been lying to herself all along. She wanted more. Not this freezing anger from Reardon, or the jagged edges stabbing into her chest.

  “A Watch Officer. Not a warrior,” Reardon said, staring at Thea.

  “No. I want no part of the Archon’s army,” Thea said, face tight.

  “You should have told me,” Reardon said, turning to Thea’s mother.

  “I tried to tell you. At least a dozen times,” her mother answered, voice sharp. “Apparently you didn’t get a single one of my messages.”

  “No.” Reardon seemed lost for words.

  For a moment, Thea felt sympathy for him. She had grown up knowing who she was, and what Reardon was to her. He seemed to have spent the last few decades convinced that her mother had left him without a backward glance. It must be an adjustment.

  “I always thought I would have a son,” he said.

  Her sympathy vanished.

  Her mother’s indrawn breath was loud in the quiet shop.

  “You have no idea what you are talking about,” Thea said, her voice quiet and trembling. “How dare you just walk into my mother’s shop after all these years and expect answers? You have no idea what she has endured.”

  “What we have endured,” her mother corrected, taking hold of Thea’s hand. She was crying. “There was a son, too. Twins.”

  Reardon’s mouth opened but no sound came out. Thea could see the question on his face.

  “He died. When we were nine. He was killed. No doubt you would have preferred he had lived,” Thea said, hurt sharp and fresh in her chest. A son. He had wanted a son. Of course he had. Doubtless his ideal son would have been a warrior, like him. And probably Ageless, too. Unlike her, wingless and merely Ageless-born.

  “Thea! That was uncalled for.”

  “Was it, really, mama?” Thea asked, turning to her mother. She had tears on her face. She had vivid memories of the dark-haired boy with a cheeky grin. She missed him every day.

  Falling falling falling. Her brother’s body too still so far below. Getting closer and closer.

  “I am sorry,” Reardon said, his voice harsh.

  Thea blinked. He had surprised her.

  He looked shaken, somehow smaller than he had when she had walked into the shop, the Ageless aspect stripped away, leaving a seemingly human man, who had just learned a series of shocking pieces of news.

  “And now you know,” her mother said. She still did not sound herself. “You have the answers you came for.”

  “No. Not nearly,” Reardon said. “Who killed my son? How did he die?”

  Thea’s chest bloomed with hurt again. She did not know why she was surprised, or disappointed. More interested in the dead than the living. A son.

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious about your daughter?” her mother asked, voice sharp. “She is a remarkable young woman. You should be proud of her.”

  Reardon stared blankly at her mother, and then Thea. “She seems competent,” he said at length. His voice was flat. Disinterested. Thea blinked, trying to clear the sting out of her eyes.

  “Get out of my shop,” her mother said, getting to her feet.

  “What?” The Ageless blinked at her.

  “Get out. You have your answers. Now, leave. And don’t come back. We’re done with you,” her mother said.

  “You owe me-”

  “Nothing. Precisely nothing,” her mother said, anger heating her voice. “Almost thirty years without a word. You don’t have any right to demand answers. Or expect to get them. Get out.”

  Reardon did not move, his face hardening.

  “You are outside the Citadel,” Thea said, her voice soft, the loudest sound she could manage. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “My mother has asked you to leave. If you do not, I can summon the Watch.”

  It was a hollow threat. Any Watchmen who answered her summons would simply stare at the Ageless and do nothing. But there would be witnesses. And Thea suspected that the Ageless warrior would not want witnesses.

  Reardon turned his gaze to her, still with that stiff expression. He held her eyes for a moment. She could not read whatever was behind his eyes. Could not tell what he was thinking. Was not sure she wanted to know.

  After a long moment, when Thea began to wonder, with a sick feeling, whether she really would need to call the Watch, he turned on his heel and left without a word.

  The sound of the bell over the door was loud in the silence.

  ~

  The sound of the bell had faded from Thea’s ears, but she could feel the echoes of it running through her. He had wanted a son. Of course he had.

  Competent.

  It should not hurt so much. She had managed perfectly well until this day without a father. Her mother was more than enough. And she had grown up with the knowledge, threaded into every part of her, that her mother loved both her children. There was no choosing. There never had been, and never would have been.

  Her mother’s arms crept around her waist and Thea realised she had been standing, staring at the door, for too long. Ignoring her mother.

  “I’m sorry,” Thea said, voice hoarse.

  “No. Do not be so
rry. I am sorry. I never expected him to find us. Not really.”

  Thea hugged her mother back, and felt the fine trembling that was running through her. Through both of them. Both shaken, in different ways and for different reasons.

  Her mother let her go and settled back on her stool, brushing tears from her eyes.

  “I am sorry for what he said.”

  “Don’t be,” Thea said, echoing her mother, a half-laugh breaking in her voice. “You are not responsible for him.”

  Her mother’s mouth lifted in what looked like a genuine smile. She was about to say something when the door behind Thea opened.

  “Good morning.”

  A familiar, and welcome, voice.

  Thea turned to find Dina standing in the doorway, a bundle of papers under one arm.

  “Good morning, Dina. It’s lovely to see you.”

  “And you, Caroline. Am I interrupting?” Dina asked, eyes travelling between Thea and her mother.

  “No. Not at all. We just had a difficult customer. Thea was helping me deal with it. Do, come in. Thea said you wanted to speak to me about a plant?” her mother said, getting up off her stool and going to the cabinet where she had locked the grass away.

  “Yes,” Dina said, eyes lighting with enthusiasm.

  “I will leave you to it,” Thea said, the bubble of laughter from earlier resurfacing for a moment. Dina’s single-minded determination and curiosity would keep her mother distracted and busy for a long time.

  “Stay safe,” her mother said.

  Thea glanced back as the shop door closed behind her to see Dina pulling up another stool to settle by her mother’s workbench, the pair of them focused on the papers that Dina had brought. It looked like they would be there for a while.

  And Thea was late. For the first time in her career.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Running all the way to the captain’s station would have drawn too much attention, so she kept herself to a purposeful, brisk walk, arriving at the station to find Niath, Sam, and the horses outside.

  It had been difficult to drag her mind away from the scene in her mother’s shop, and focus on the tasks for the day, and she had resorted to making a mental list and going over it again and again on the way. She had faith that Sutter would have already found the four men from the market. The ones who called themselves the Hand. And Watchman Hobbs’ nephew would doubtless also have tracked down the tagged metal worker who had run away from the forge.

  So she was expecting to spend much of the day questioning belligerent and uncooperative men. With her temper raised after Reardon’s disdain, she almost felt sorry for the people she would be questioning. Almost.

  Her plans for the day were swept aside the moment she saw Ware and Sutter.

  They were standing at the front desk, talking to a female Watch Officer that Thea had not seen before, all of them with the air of exchanging unpleasant and unwelcome news.

  “Good morning, sirs,” Thea said. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She hoped that they would not ask for an explanation. She had no better excuse than the one her mother had given to Dina. And a moment’s thought would remind everyone around her that her mother was more than capable of dealing with difficult customers on her own.

  Niath had come into the building with her. With the other three, and Watchman Hobbs behind the front desk, the entrance of the building was too crowded for Thea’s liking.

  “My office. Now,” Ware said, turning and leading the way.

  “You must be Thea March,” the other woman said. She was perhaps up to a decade older than Thea, at least half a head shorter and more delicately made. But she carried herself with quiet confidence. “I’m Fliss Hobbs. Yes, another one. Algar is my uncle.”

  “You don’t look much alike,” Thea said, without thinking, as she began to climb the stairs.

  Watch Officer Hobbs snorted with laughter, reminding Thea forcibly of Dina. “No, thank goodness for that. Can you imagine carrying that nose around? My father is Algar’s brother. Luckily, I take after my mother’s side of the family,” Fliss confided cheerfully.

  Fliss sobered as soon as they reached the captain’s office, relaxing into a similar posture to Niath. Thea had to bite her lip against an inappropriate smile as she realised that she, Niath and Fliss were standing in the same way.

  “Fliss, why don’t you tell Thea and the mage what you were telling us,” Ware suggested. He had not taken a seat, instead standing beside his desk, resting his shoulders on the wall. He looked worn out, and Thea wondered if he had managed any sleep overnight.

  “Sir. I was called out by the night shift to a body early this morning. Foam at the mouth. Physician Pallas confirms that it’s something you’ve seen before. And when I spoke to the man’s neighbours, they said it’s the third death like that this week,” Fliss said. All humour was gone from her face and voice. “The physician suggested I ask the neighbours whether any of them had taken bliss.” She glanced around the room and Thea could see the answer on her face already. “It took some persuading, but they did admit it in the end.”

  “All of the dead had taken bliss?” Thea asked, just to be sure.

  “All of them. The neighbours wouldn’t tell me where they got it from. All the neighbours are denying having anything to do with bliss.” By the tightening of Fliss’ mouth, she had not believed them. “I’ve told them not to touch the stuff, and to bring anything they might have to Brightfield House.”

  “Good,” Ware said. “Iason got me out of bed as soon as he heard about the other victims. Sutter, tell Thea the rest.”

  “Sir.” Sutter was as neatly dressed as ever, but there were shadows under his eyes. “We’ve found another five reports of deaths in similar circumstances across the city. None were reported to Physician Pallas or Examiner Soter.”

  Thea could not imagine that had made either the physician or examiner happy.

  She only realised she had spoken the thought aloud when Sutter’s mouth twitched.

  “It did not. I don’t think anyone is going to forget Dina’s temper in a hurry,” Sutter said, shaking his head slightly. “I think my ears are still ringing.”

  “So we have nine people dead?” Thea said, rubbing her forehead. “That we know of so far.”

  “That’s right,” Sutter agreed.

  “Which suggests that Edmund Anderson was not targeted in particular. He was just unlucky to have bought the tainted bliss.” It explained at least one mystery. One question to tick off her list. Although it added another set of questions. Not least, why anyone would make a narcotic that killed its consumers.

  “And he was lucky enough to have a neighbour that cared enough to alert the Watch,” Niath added, voice soft.

  Genric Smith. Who had been holding something back when he had spoken with them.

  “Do we know who supplies bliss across the city?” Thea asked.

  “There are only a few people. It’s tricky to make,” Ware said, voice heavy. “Has a tendency to blow up when it’s being brewed.”

  “I’ve got men out looking for the suppliers now,” Sutter said, perhaps anticipating Thea’s next question. “But I don’t think it will be one of them.”

  “No,” Ware agreed.

  They had spoken about this already, Thea realised. It was the same logic that she had thought of earlier. People who consumed bliss were often addicted to it. And therefore regular, paying customers. It made no sense for a supplier to kill their clients.

  “They might know if anyone else has started selling?” Thea suggested. By the expressions on Ware and Sutter’s faces, they had already thought of that, too. Of course they had. Ware, Sutter and Fliss had far more experience of investigations than she had. And she had been late to the discussion. Her face warmed. “What do you need from me, sirs?” she asked.

  “Iason suggested that you might have news,” Ware said, his voice still heavy. “Something about the men you saw in the markets? No, Fliss, stay. You might have seen them, too.” />
  “Alright.” The Watch Officer had moved, looking as if she was heading for the door. She resumed her standing posture and lifted an eyebrow at Thea. “A new gang?”

  “Possibly,” Thea said. “I’ve seen them twice. Senior Sergeant Sutter has some sketches of them. Four men.”

  Sutter produced his notebook and showed the images that Niath had provided to Fliss.

  “Oh, yes. Them.” Fliss’ voice was flat, displeased. “They turned up about a month or so ago. Really not long. They seem to have terrified the stall holders at the market in Northcroft. And that’s not easy to do. The older one, the leader, seems to be called Jirkar. And the youngest one, the hot head that runs his mouth, is Linus. I don’t know the names of the other two. The others don’t speak much.”

  “I’ve seen them at Brightfield and Wheatcroft markets as well,” Thea said. “The names are a help, thank you. Do you know anything more about them? Where they are from?”

  “No.” Fliss shook her head.

  “Quite a few of the Watchmen and women I spoke to recognise them as well,” Sutter added, putting his notebook away. “But they didn’t have any names, or where they might come from.”

  “What have you learned?” Ware asked Thea.

  “They call themselves the Hand, apparently,” Thea began, and updated Ware, Sutter and Fliss on the ancient Hand of the goddess.

  Ware was looking even more worn out by the time Thea finished.

  “As if dead bodies piling up wasn’t enough. We have idiots looking to challenge the Ageless,” he said, and muttered a curse.

  “We already had idiots looking to challenge the Ageless, sir,” Thea said. “The ones forging the Archon’s coins.”

  “That’s true. Do we think these are the same idiots? Or are we unlucky enough to have two separate groups of stupid people in the city?” the captain asked. His tone suggested that he was not really expecting an answer.

  “I don’t know,” Thea said honestly. “But I’d like to see if I can find these men again. The leader, Jirkar, pointed the mage and me to Meadowcroft market. Where the archivist killed the stall holder.”