by May Peterson
Using me to get him through it. The confession split me down the middle, washed me in heated waves of feeling. Pain, sorrow, betrayal. Because I had thought, even if I hadn’t wanted to admit it, that he would be my friend too. And he would last. We might eventually get out of here. Did I really think, if Beniro was resurrected, that he’d ask me to join him?
Either way, now it was much clearer. He hadn’t counted on surviving. This was his last choice because if his life was already sinking, he may as well roll the dice. Try for a new life for Beniro. Maybe for both of them, if whatever powers Kaiwan represented were merciful. I would be left as alone and forgotten as I always was.
But he had come home with me. Let me hold him. Because he couldn’t bear being alone anymore.
Empathy won against betrayal. Pain leaked through my insides, forced me to take my next step.
I stood up, wings swung wide. Tears were forming behind my eyes. “Well. Use me, then, Hei. It’s better than...”
Being nothing. Than being dead and forced to be aware of it. He watched me, brow crinkled. If his worst confession was that he’d let himself get too close to me when reason cast that choice into doubt, then he was still far more innocent than I was.
“The trouble is I don’t think I can be used for anything. I hoped you’d stay. I know what it’s like for a friend to be a rare, precious thing. But I already proved I’m not much of a match for Umber. I gave him a promise, sincere or not, and soon he’s going to want to collect. I need to be more than just a friend.”
His attention had become complex, clouded, and his frown was thoughtful. “You don’t have to have utility to me, Ari. You’re not a weapon.” He took a step nearer, and I surprised myself by flinching. His gaze softened, but he didn’t back away. “And we’re not powerless. Let’s give him his little meeting. I’m as ready as I need to be. He can think this is all on his terms.”
My mouth was dry. “So...when? How?”
Hei shrugged, and the grin that burgeoned on his face just then gleamed with possibilities. “As soon as possible. We don’t even need to make special demands of him. Just tell him I’m eager to hear his offer.”
Questions gathered in my throat. But only one seemed to really matter, in the shadows of Kaiwan’s conditions, of Hei’s inexplicable confidence. A question I was so afraid to ask, I swallowed it as he tightened his arms around me.
What purpose did he still need to accomplish before returning to Kaiwan—and what did deceiving Umber have to do with it?
Chapter Seven
Lord Umber practically purred when I told him that Hei had agreed.
He paced in front of the windows in his perch, moonlight glossing his feathers. “Mmm. You of all people certainly have no lack of means of persuasion.”
Kadzuhikhan was not with us now. I stood in the center of the chamber; when he held audiences here, in this tower with its downward view of the night-streets, I often had to fight the impulse to bow. And noticed how different his perches were from my own home. Windows gaped like mouths, the walls bare, nothing to ornament the room except its emptiness. No doubt he had luxurious chambers elsewhere that ached with opulence. Now, only two inert servants accented his presence. Their hollow eyes occasionally turned to me, emotionlessly. Vague mirrors of what had been done to me.
“I suppose not.” I swallowed. “You need only tell me what the next step is.”
His gaze fell upon me directly, for what may have been the first time this visit. The unnatural light in it was playful. “I imagine you will deem this time to demand your reward.”
My wings flexed in a shrug. “No. I am immortal, after all. Makes it easier to be patient.”
A syrupy grin spread like a pool over his face. “Indeed. Well said.” The light gathered an edge, as if he were honing it. “Did you discover his purpose for yourself, then? No doubt your curiosity demanded it.”
I paused. It was hard to decide whether it would be better for him to think me lying, or telling the truth and simply unaware. “He’s been tight-lipped, but it wasn’t hard to see that he seems to be investigating something.”
Umber’s brow quirked. Maybe he was disappointed.
The desire to bow at his feet was being tempered with something. Dispassion didn’t seem the right word—he still frightened me. But standing here before him in his bare, vicious glory, I kept thinking of how different it felt to look on him than it did for Kaiwan. The witch lived in a hole in a mountain, presumably alone, and seemed uninterested in presenting a threat. Umber delighted in dominance, and yet he seemed so much smaller than her. Smaller than the shadow cast by Hei’s lonely search.
He produced a slip of paper and dropped it in my hands. “There; you will bring him to this location.”
An address was written on it. Specifics here were often difficult to convey that way, since so many locations were oriented vertically. Or their environs were decayed by time and lack of proper care, overdrawing maps with lines only the familiar could follow. But this spot would be easy to find. “And then?”
“See to it that you come alone—only you and him. It will make little difference to my convenience whether you obey. Consider this another test of how compliant you are willing to be.” The pressure of his attention—no doubt plumbing for a reaction—felt like a physical weight. But I was proud of how little I moved. “There he will be admitted inside. You will remain outside until you are given leave to collect him. If you wish to depart from the premises as you wait, well. You should be easy to find. Simply know that you are not to enter the building”
I nodded mechanically. “Anything else?”
A moment passed in which he appeared to be considering. Then his wings opened, shadowing the sneer he turned on me. “One thing. I suppose you may have found Tamueji’s story rather daunting.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t move a centimeter. But the words punctured my heart, forced it to a labored beat. And he’d be able to hear it.
“But allow me to reassure you,” he said. “What you have left behind is far more than some long-dead family. I quite savored your memories, in fact.” He leaned in, predatory, smile gleaming. “It is a pity you can’t ever truly get them back. But if you’re a very good boy, I’ll have to tell you all about them someday.”
Don’t break eye contact. Don’t show a reaction. But my eyes flicked to the floor, unable to bear the sight of him. I didn’t ask how he knew. Explanations abounded for that.
Instead, I bowed, finally. Deeply, arching my wings. And my face hidden, I swore in the pit of my heart.
Hei wouldn’t be his next victim. My afterlife was worth little to me now.
I would give it up, if I had to.
* * *
“This is the place?” Hei shaded his eyes, scanned the building.
“It is.” He was holding my hand. Without releasing him, I checked the note again. This was a quiet region of the city, and not actually in the night-streets. Slightly surprising, for Umber. But the threat of sunlight during the day would no doubt ward off at least some intruders.
The spot appeared to be nothing more than a derelict warehouse. Walls high and plain, flat roof, crust of stone and rust and frost marring its surface. Massive windows lined the perimeter, with doors of varying sizes dotting the side that faced us. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have suspected this area was chosen because it would make a serviceable viewing place. Bird-souls perched on the windowsills could watch whatever fascinating exchanges were planned for the inside—and the berth of the windows also meant that participants would have to be wary of sunrise.
I squeezed Hei’s hand. That Tamueji might have betrayed me, been manipulating me, I’d already ruled out. She hadn’t given me misdirecting information on either count, nor had she tried to influence my actions. And she’d been right about Kaiwan. Besides—a web of eager accomplices was a far cry from Umber’s style. If I knew a
nything about him, it was that he liked being the only hand holding cards. He wanted to humiliate Tamueji as much as he did me.
But that added twists to a deeper knot of fear. He also didn’t need me to bring Hei into his talons. Extracting knowledge would be as easy as kidnapping him and drinking his blood. And his feigned transparency about creating hoops for me to jump through clarified nothing. I had no faith in his pledge to play by even his own rules.
Everyone who served him was a dupe. Including me. I just couldn’t see through the mist enough to tell when the trap would spring.
Hei withdrew, breaking contact, and rubbed his arms. “He told you to stay outside? Not sure what difference it will make.” He looked directly into my eyes. “I’m going in, then.”
It was faint, but an air of excitement almost seemed to rise from him, like lightly scented vapor. When I didn’t respond, he turned and made for the small door at the west edge.
I restrained myself for possibly two seconds. Then, “Wait. Hei.”
He stopped, turned with an eyebrow raised.
I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Maybe...just don’t do it. Don’t bother. There’s no sense of trying to make sense of the riddles. Maybe you should go. Whatever it is you still have to do, that should be your priority. Not this. Then you can go straight back to Kaiwan.”
I wanted to go on. To plead for him not to even return to her. Not to risk what was left of his heart, his life. He may also not really have anything left to go back to. But he wasn’t trapped here.
Emotion softened the corners of Hei’s eyes, furrowed his brow. He simply looked at me for what felt like a long time. “Ari. Trust me. I am well on my way to my task being complete.”
Again, the urge to ask what it was. But the purpose itself seemed to shine in my imagination, casting such a brilliance that every greedy eye spied it, sensed the tender passions within. It hurt enough for Hei to know it. “Umber also has at least an idea of what you’re doing. Don’t give him time. Don’t give him anything. I...” It was a struggle to draw breath. “I want to be able to help you somehow.”
The feelings swimming in his gaze were gelling into misery, but a brave, hot grin offset it. “I want you to listen to me.” He leaned so close that he could whisper, soft as a breath. “I understand. Great evil has been done here. It stains the entire city. And w—” He paused. “I have been denied for too long. Nothing will stop me now.”
As he spoke, the same diamond-hardness that had pervaded Kaiwan shone through his face. For a moment he became like stone, an avatar of the mountain carved into my absent memories. And the hardness was sharpened by an edge of rage. A plummeting sensation wracked me. Hei’s smile faded, replaced by an expression that could have been the face of the tundra. And the gleam of his eyes was cold.
I almost stepped back. “I don’t want to stop you. But—”
It was pointless; I had no way to ground or defend my vague fears. Hei held me in the grip of that violently unmoving stare. “I know what’s been done to you, Ari. And you might be made to prevent me. I say this as reassurance—not even you can.” His breath against my face seemed to burn. “You will be spared that guilt. In this, at least, you cannot be turned against me.”
He sounded like he was talking about a story that I was expected to know, but had never read. Did he mean by Umber’s plot? Had I made a mistake in trusting him? I saw it now, as fierce as a renegade sun—I’d wanted Hei to guide me through my mist, smooth out a path for me to be someone new. But the fog was swirling over him, reducing him to another face in the maze. I was abruptly dwarfed by his comparative years of experience, of simply being. The depth of his story, the meaning behind his cryptic words, seemed raveled up in the difference between my two years of memory—and his entire life’s worth. I was overwhelmed by the sense of how much I was missing behind his words.
Then I did take a step back. Hei tried to take hold of my hand again, but I let it slip limply away. I couldn’t count on being able to see anybody, not even Hei, for what they were. This world was too dense with shadows, for all my supernatural sight.
His biting demeanor softened then, the tenderness of flesh returning to his features. “I don’t mean to frighten you. But please. Trust me. Just for this, for now. Here.” He fished in a pocket, and produced the medallion he’d shown me from his childhood. His fingers grabbed my hand, opened it, pressed the wood to my palm. “I want you to hold on to this.”
My throat felt frozen. “Why?”
A smile graced his lips, but it, too, seemed chilled, darkened. “Because I’ll be coming back for it. It’s a promise.”
I almost demanded—why did he care, when he had Beniro? Even if Kaiwan never granted him his miracle, he had Beniro’s memory. What was I? How dare he treat me like he would remember me as well, like I was more than a guiding hand in the dark, when he was only going to leave me for someone who was real?
A tear caught light on his cheek. He chewed his lip, quietly, the threat and austerity draining from him. He pulled a slim bottle from his jacket, swiftly drank the contents. With the empty bottle pressed to his brow, as if praying over it, he bowed—and dropped the bottle to the ground.
Before he turned, he touched me once more. “You have already helped me more than you know.” Fingers probed across my arm, shoulder, gently gracing my chin with contact. The feel of his fingertips was rough, callused, and warm. “I will have my revenge.”
A harsh, almost sinister quality marred his face. This was new. It was neither the precious frailty he’d shown—in my bed, in my arms—nor the serene optimism. It rose up like an omen, coating him in a sheath of merciless silver. The warmth of his hand fell away. And he marched toward the door.
I watched him go, the line of his shoulder tense enough that he seemed he might break. Shatter into illusions, another empty relic of a once-full memory. Revenge. Who was he? All of my suspicions, Tamueji’s warnings, Umber’s riddles, turned in on themselves. I had taken the wrong path. I must have. And the air of a nightmare was thickening around me, rendering the place Hei had touched me as frigid as ice.
I leaned down, picked up the bottle. Mere glass, and a sniff revealed that its contents had only been water. But a faint hum of energy emanated from its hollowness, a bite similar to the pendant he wore.
Hei knocked, but the door did not open immediately. Instead, the air by Hei opened as if sliced apart, darkness seeping out rather than blood. It solidified into a broad figure, strong, vaguely feline—Kadzuhikhan. He leered down at Hei, reaching behind him to unlatch the door.
Lightray dangled at his side. The sight sent a chill through me. Umber hadn’t said anything about Kadzuhikhan being involved, but that may mean nothing. He was the crow-soul’s favorite errand boy. I gripped Hei’s medallion in my fist.
Kadzuhikhan looked up, saw me, and waved with a predatory grin. “Good work, kid. For once.” He eyed Hei. “And the piece of ass crosses my path again.”
“Enough.” Scorn gave Hei’s voice the force of a whip. “I’ve waited too long, Kadzuhikhan. You know what you owe me.”
I couldn’t seem to get enough air. Owe—?
“Aye.” Kadzuhikhan swept open an arm. “Let’s get down to business, then.”
The door slammed shut behind them.
* * *
I was drowning in unreality. Not a sound emerged from the building, but the silence seemed to be roaring in my ears. It was as if I’d woken up, and the bare facts of my life had been rearranged.
It wouldn’t take a gift of perception to see that Hei had hidden much from me—about his identity, his goals. But I had no context in which to give that fact meaning. It could be as simple as the way an adult would lie to a child to comfort them, the gaps in my experience too vast to allow me to follow Hei’s path.
Revenge. Against whom? If I’d known him somehow before I’d died, and I owed him some debt, surely he w
ouldn’t need Umber to collect it. He could have poisoned me with silver-water in my sleep.
Kadzuhikhan was the only person who I knew had hurt Hei. But the way they’d spoken suggested a deeper scar than an encounter like that could explain. Was he using me, as he’d said, but to get to Kadzuhikhan? Then why take me to Kaiwan? Why tell me about Beniro?
Breaking Umber’s rules about not entering worried me if only because it smelled like bait, a way to use Hei once again to bring me to heel. And even for all Hei’s strange anger and strength, he couldn’t stand up to even one moon-soul in combat. I could go, track down Tamueji, place some bribes, ask the questions I’d wanted to leave alone.
But there was no way in hell I was leaving now.
A few wing strokes brought me close enough to clutch the wall and peer in the windows. Many of them were cracked and broken, but I’d have to choose one that wouldn’t put me in too easy a line of sight. Darkness alone wouldn’t shield me from Kadzuhikhan, but if I were quiet enough, he may be too distracted to notice me.
Gem-glow painted the interior of the building with warm and cool colors, dust-flecked beams falling into the center of the room. And it was essentially one massive room, like a space that’d once been used to store crates. A railed upper layer lined the walls, but from my vantage, a great empty floor seemed the building’s main feature. Containers that appeared to be overturned crates and metal fixtures spotted the corners, murky water catching the light with menace.
