‘We have to get closer,’ urged Serena.
‘Are you crazy?’
‘We need to go that way to get out right? And they’ve got Enfield—they might be on our side.’
‘They are not on our side.’ Gallows examined the surroundings, hoping to spot an exit they’d somehow missed—maybe a maintenance shaft they could crawl through. But his eyes found nothing—just the straight, shadowed path to the door beyond—obstructed by nine men and Enfield.
This was turning out to be a really lousy day.
More so, when the barrel of the gun pressed against his neck.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zoven laughed like a rabid hyena. It made Veronica flinch.
He’d chosen Pierro’s suite for the meeting with the Hunter, and it carried the giant’s scents—old leather, bitter coffee and dirty socks.
It was rare for Zoven to step out from the basement, but even he saw the need to be visible during a crisis. He’d washed and put fresh clothes on today—a narrow-cut three-piece suit—cobalt blue, like the colour he made Veronica wear. It was a suit for business, though he hadn’t stepped foot outside the guild house. Did he know something would happen tonight? Is that why he declined the Musicians’ Guild’s invitation?
Veronica had taken a hot shower, drank half a bottle of Phadrosi absinthe and changed her clothes, but the noises and the odours from the opera house attack didn’t leave her. The images of the black-clad soldiers were imprinted in her mind—those shadows with featureless, black faces…
‘It ain’t right,’ announced the Hunter whom Zoven had summoned. She was a fierce woman with a shaved head adorned with scars—and she did not look pleased when Zoven laughed at her protests. ‘I know Ty Gallows,’ the Hunter continued, ‘and this don’t sound like him.’ She folded her bare, veined arms. Not many people argued with Zoven and looked confident about it.
Zoven’s smooth, thin fingers drummed the desk he sat behind. His hands didn’t seem a part of him—they belonged to someone gentle. ‘Drina, Drina!’ he chorused. ‘Were you hit on the head, uh? Forget where your loyalties lie?’
Drina stiffened. ‘Hunters fightin’ Hunters does no-one good. Ain’t right.’
Zoven punched the desk. ‘You don’t get to choose what’s right or wrong. You got your orders, Drina. Get to it—or I’ll call in my debts in other ways.’
Veronica had no idea what arrangement Zoven had with this woman, and she didn’t care to ask.
Outside, an Information Tower whined with some warning or another. Drina angled her head, her blue doll’s eyes focused on Farro. ‘Your orders, Zoven? Or do they come from higher?’
Veronica muscles tightened—Drina’s words would not go unpunished. For a moment, Veronica was sure Zoven would leap across the room and pummel Drina black and blue.
Instead, an easy smile played on his lips. ‘That’s why you would never last here, uh? No idea what a man wants—no idea when to shut up.’
Drina’s chin inched up. ‘Da,’ she said. She turned and marched to the door, the hatchet on her belt swinging as she turned. ‘Remember,’ she called back, ‘the thief who takes an aeron is hanged—the thief who takes a thousand is praised.’
Zoven’s face screwed. ‘Veronica, see our guest out.’
Veronica marched down the cascading stairwell alongside Drina. Guards roamed the corridors, fingers twitching at the weapons hanging from their belts.
Veronica had never seen the place on lockdown like this. Zoven claimed it was for safety—so why did it feel more like a prison than ever?
She stepped closer to Drina and kept her voice low. ‘Don’t turn,’ she told the Hunter. ‘We’re being watched. Listen to me—your instincts are right: I don’t believe Tyson Gallows is guilty of what he’s accused. Please, don’t harm him.’
‘If he don’t put up a fight then I won’t have to,’ spoke Drina, the Tarevian in her voice emerging like a discordant note within a harmony.
‘Please.’
Still marching, Drina faced Veronica and arched an eyebrow. ‘Guess he’s a big tipper.’
Veronica scowled. ‘I said don’t turn. Look—Zoven has Pierro out there with enough ignium charges to level the Church of Feria. If he gets to Ty first…’
Drina groaned. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but it’d be a fool who got her hopes up—I am not a willing svinya whose curiosity takes her into the slaughterhouse. I’ll give Gallows the chance to come in quietly or hand the girl over—but if I have to choose between survival and throwing him to the wolves, then tomorrow you will grieve.’
Dirt flew into Gallows’ face as he hit the floor.
‘Me old mate, Mister Guillotine!’ called Pierro. ‘What’s your sorry arse doing down here?’
‘Answer him,’ spat the scrawny, roach-faced kid who had blindsided Gallows. He held Gallows’ shortsword in one hand and brandished a revolver in the other.
‘You were at the concert,’ said Gallows, fresh pain in his chest. Just beyond Pierro, the iron door Enoch had mentioned glowered. ‘You saw what went down. Just looking for a way home, same as you.’
Pierro howled with laughter. ‘You reckon I was born yesterday? Oh-ho, you’re a funny ’un you are, little man. I can see why V’s fond o’ ya.’
Every time Pierro flashed the couple of teeth in his mouth, Gallows wanted to shove ’em down his throat. The hilt of the B-knife pressed against his back—but one move to unsheathe it and he’d take a bullet and a mouthful of steel. ‘Is she okay? V, did she make it out?’
‘O’ course she did, she got me looking out for her!’
If it could even be possible, Gallows relaxed. ‘Thank the Gods.’
‘Thank the Pierro,’ the giant corrected.
Serena fell to her knees beside Gallows. ‘What about her?’ Roach-Face motioned to Serena. As he spoke, he swung the barrel of his revolver with one hand, no doubt trying to look threatening. It worked.
‘Oh aye, who’s this then, mate? V never told me you liked ’em young.’
‘Piss on you,’ said Gallows.
‘I’m no-one,’ Serena said, eyeing the Junior Councillor. ‘Just a kid.’
Pierro’s gaze flitted between her and Enfield, one eyebrow arched, the cogs in his stupid-looking head whirring away. ‘Oh-ho, what have I stumbled on here?’ The other men formed a ring around Gallows, Serena and Enfield. A couple of them carried guns, others showed off their blades. ‘C’mon! If someone don’t start talkin’, I’ll start pulling eyelids.’
The friendly voice made Pierro’s threats all the more chilling.
‘Why don’t you start?’ asked Gallows. ‘What interest does Farro Zoven have in blowing the shit out of these tunnels?’
‘Funny you should ask, bein’ a Hunter and all. We’re doing your job: Flushing the filth away.’
Enfield made a move, but one of Pierro’s men rocketed a knee into his jaw with an audible crack. The rag in his mouth didn’t mute his scream.
‘Careful, Percy, careful! Won’t do much talking with a broke jaw, now, will he?’ Pierro stared into Enfield’s eyes and patted at the stump wrapped in bloody bandages. ‘Mind you, reckon there’s more chance o’ him starting a round of applause than sharing anything useful.’ He pulled the gag from Enfield’s mouth. The Councillor hawked and dragged breath through clenched teeth. ‘How about it? Any reason why I shouldn’t pick the rest o’ yer limbs off?’
Enfield’s paper-white skin glistened with sweat. He cast his narrow eyes towards Serena. ‘I’ll talk. But only if you promise me two things.’
‘I’m nothin’ if not generous.’
‘That you kill me.’
What?
Pierro’s face screwed up as though performing complex mental arithmetic. ‘Reckon I can swing that. And?’
The Junior Councillor’s voice tremored when he spoke next, but whether from fear or anger, Gallows didn’t know. ‘Don’t let that thing touch me.’
Pierro eyed Serena again. ‘Randal, tie her up.’
> ‘Screw you,’ said Serena as Roach-Face grabbed her arm.
‘Hey! Hey!’ Gallows shot to his feet, greeted by the barrel of Roach-Face’s gun.
‘Now now!’ yelled Pierro. ‘It’s either tie her up here, Hunter, or take her to the Guildhouse and tie her down. Hold your tongue.’ With a nod from Pierro, Roach-Face bound Serena’s wrists and ankles with rope from a rucksack. ‘Actually, Randal, best do the same to the Hunter as well.’
Randal forced Gallows’ hands behind his back and tied them, the rough fibres of the rope sanding his wrists.
Thankfully, he was too stupid or too blind to notice the knife under his shirt.
Even though she’d been bound, Enfield still looked at Serena with stark terror.
‘Speak,’ Pierro said.
‘To be honest, I don’t have much to tell.’ Enfield spat blood as he spoke. ‘I… I got cut off during the attack on the opera house. I-I-’
‘He’s lying,’ said Gallows. ‘He orchestrated the attack, Lenis Cronin was down here looking for him. Guess that ain’t news to you guys.’
Enfield’s eyes closed.
‘As it happens,’ said Pierro, ‘I did already know that. Oh-ho, Junior Councillor! When this reprobate can outsmart you, you know you’re in deep shit.’
Enfield flinched. ‘You’re working with Confessor Cronin?’
‘O’course! Start tellin’ me why this little lass has you pissin’ your breeks.’
‘It calls itself Serena. She’s demon-kin, a Siren, an uncontrollable weapon-’
A couple of voices laughed at that, but not Pierro. He turned to Serena and said, ‘Serena, eh? You’re the one ol’ Farro was asking yer captain about.’
‘What?’ Serena struggled to her feet, wavering to the side. ‘You’ve seen Fitz? Where is he?’
‘See, now, I reckon it’s plain that I’m the one asking questions.’
‘Tell me!’
‘Lass, you got fire and you got fight and you got weird green hair, all of which tickles my truncheon—but if you don’t sit down and shut up, I’ll start carving you up. And the Hunter.’ Pierro glared at Gallows. ‘Fancy me a pinky.’
Gallows didn’t sweat the posturing but Serena trembled and dropped to one knee. Good. Do whatever it takes to stay safe.
‘So tell me, girl,’ the big man continued. ‘You some kind o’ witch?’
Serena couldn’t look up from the ground. ‘I… I don’t know.’
‘Don’t listen to it!’ Enfield cried. ‘It speaks lies as easy as a person breathes.’
‘Something you got in common,’ said Gallows.
‘You’re right scared of her!’ Pierro announced. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t Sirens drown sailors or some bull?’
‘They, they step into men’s heads, control their actions, turn men into puppets… It needs to die!’
‘Does it work on women?’
‘It… What?’
‘You keep saying “men”—can they control women?’
‘Pierro, you ain’t taking this nugget seriously, are you?’ laughed the one called Percy, a rosy-cheeked kid with two chins and matted blonde hair.
Pierro waved a hand to silence him.
‘Y-yes,’ Enfield answered. ‘It works on women.’
‘How do you know? You seen it happen?’
‘We all did,’ said Gallows. ‘Tiera Martelo.’
Enfield shook his head. ‘That was different. She was manipulated via synthetic means.’
‘You drugged her. Made her kill the Prime Councillor. You spineless son of a bitch. You go after her because you’re shitting yourself at the thought of something getting inside your head, yet you got no problem doing it to someone else. I hope you rot in every conceivable hell, your worthless piece of sh- ’
Pierro waved a paw. ‘Oi, I’m conducting this interrogation.’ And then he said, ‘Good point though—did you drug the Phadrosi?’
A whisper of a breeze played in the cavern.
‘Yes,’ said Enfield.
‘Bastard!’ Serena yelled.
‘Keep it quiet!’
Pierro growled at the Junior Councillor. ‘You ain’t giving orders! Why’d you wanna kill ol’ Pyron Thackeray?’
Enfield’s lips curled. His face transformed in that moment. Maybe it was the gravity of the situation, maybe something else, but he shed his awkward, bumbling naiveté. ‘Fools. None of you know. The plan was in place long before I knew the Herald of Death was still in the city!’
‘The what?’ asked Serena.
‘You. You are a weapon. You are the Herald of Death.’ He swung his gaze to Pierro. ‘If you have any sense, you’ll put her down like the mongrel she is.’
‘Whoa, hold up,’ said Gallows. ‘What plan was in place? Thackeray’s? Son of a bitch, I knew it. He staged the whole thing, didn’t he?’
‘Yes—his body double was put in place to lure me into his trap. I knew of it of course, but my objective was in the grasp of my hand. I thought it worth the risk.’
Gallows spat on the ground. ‘He had a body double at the Remembrance too?’
‘That was real,’ Enfield said. ‘The culmination of Pyron’s plan to lead this decrepit nation into war. He insisted his wound be real—albeit delivered by a low-velocity round and buffed by body armour. A watchman by the name of Marrius Kyatis was supposed to pull the trigger, under the influence of Captain Vaughan’s drug. He was to be killed as soon as he completed his mission. Pyron is desperate to pass his bills to legally produce weapons of mass destruction and rally other nations to his cause. That’s why so many foreign ambassadors were at the Remembrance.’
‘And if a corrupt copper took a shot at him,’ Gallows began, ‘the whole kingdom wouldn’t hesitate to give him what he wanted.’
‘A blank cheque providing him with the means to root out the cancer in your city. Pyron Thackeray would be seen as the only man who could save you all. Support for Alspeth tal Simara would crumble. Parasites, each and every one of you.’
‘So why make a Raincatcher do it?’ asked Pierro. ‘Seems a watchman would be a better fit.’
‘Fortunate timing—for me. When Vaughan reached out to tell me Captain Fitzwilliam was meeting the animal Zoven, I had the prancing clown instruct his crew to use the substance on Tiera. We had her rendezvous with a Val Candrian weapons dealer named Eun-til Ra.’
‘Will one of you morons tell me what happened to Fitz?’ She tried to hide it, but fear laced Serena’s voice.
‘He’s dead!’ Pierro waved his arms. ‘There? You happy? Now hold your tongue or Percy here will keep it as a trophy. Enfield, continue.’
Serena dropped to the floor again, too beaten to cry or scream.
‘I had Tiera take Kyatis’ place,’ Enfield stated, ‘so the entire Watch would be out looking for her crew, and therefore-’
‘Find me,’ interrupted Serena.
‘So the watchmen in the tower,’ Gallows began, ‘they expected to see one of their own?’
‘Kyatis witnessed first-hand what Pyron’s plans were. He needed him gone.’
‘Gods damn it.’ Gallows shook his head. ‘The Watch is corrupt—Thackeray just needed to show everyone.’
‘He set off the bombs at the Remembrance?’ asked Serena. ‘He’s the terrorist?’
‘Pyron Thackeray is a great many things,’ said Enfield.
‘The mind control drug,’ started Gallows. ‘Vaughan makes it?’
Enfield nodded. ‘With materials Farro Zoven smuggles in via train and airship. A talented chemist, so I’m told. Even if he is a pervert in the eyes of the Gods.’
Pierro shrugged. ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of man-lovin’, we all been there.’
Enfield spat. ‘I hope you all burn.’
Pierro yawned. ‘How’s it work then, this mind-control? Not the drugs; how does she do it?’
Enfield didn’t answer.
Pierro’s laughter thundered. ‘You mean to say you’ve been runnin’ around after her, pissin’ your br
eeks and you ain’t got a clue what she can do? Your bosses ain’t got much faith in you, eh, not trusting you wi’ something like that! You’re dumber than a stoneroach.’
‘Some say it’s with her touch.’ The words scraped from Enfield’s mouth. ‘Others say it’s her song, her eyes, her words-’
‘Bite your tongue off and swallow it,’ said Serena.
Enfield’s eyes wrenched open.
‘Guess it ain’t words, then.’ Serena sounded disappointed.
‘Oh-ho, I like her!’ laughed Pierro. ‘Now, before I kill you, Junior Councillor Enfield, sir… Who in all the hells do you work for?’
The bastard smirked. ‘I am an instrument of the Great-’
‘The Idari,’ sighed Gallows. ‘Spare us the speech.’
‘The Idari, eh?’ Pierro’s bottom lip poked out, weighing the revelation. ‘I was gonna kill you quick, but…’
‘I care not for what you do to my mortal body, Dalthean cur. Your threats are as inconsequential as a feather floating on the breeze.’
‘A poet as well? Now I’m definitely gonna take my time.’
Fear crossed Enfield’s face then, but Gallows was all out of sympathy. ‘Why did the Schiehallion launch a strike against the opera house?’
Enfield spat blood onto the ground. ‘I was going up against the Herald of Death; my surviving was far from guaranteed. Had I perished, I instructed troops to raid the opera house and accomplish what I could not. I gave strict orders for the airship to raze the building to the ground in the event I did not get out alive—which I surely would have, had your partner not intervened.’
At least Lockwood didn’t sell us out. ‘I’m just sorry he didn’t go for your jugular.’
‘How-’ Serena started. Everyone looked to her—hands tightened around sword hilts, and more than one man took a step back. ‘I’ve been in this city since the Night of Amberfire. How did you know it was me? Why come after me now?’
‘I have people everywhere,’ Enfield said. ‘And I’ve been biding my time, waiting for you to surface. You were a well-kept secret, girl. We didn’t know who the weapon was, if it took the form of boy or girl, what robes of skin it wrapped itself within—all we knew was that it had not yet reached adulthood. I believed I would never track it down. All we knew is that it escaped our grasp in the Sanctecano Isles. Your people kept moving you, popping up all over. We’ve been hunting you since before you were born.
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