Clockwork Thief Box Set

by Katherine Bogle

  Narra smiled. “Trust me. I won’t.”

  Avalon nodded, and sat back in her chair.

  Narra couldn’t tell if the pirate believed her or not, but she would do everything in her power to complete the Daughters’ mission, save the Thieves and Avalon’s sister. She wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t . Too much was at stake.

  T he floorboards outside Narra’s room creaked, ripping her from sleep. She sat up quickly, a dagger from her nightstand already in hand. Her breaths came quickly as she scanned her bedroom. The light was dim, only a soft red glow coming from her curtains. It had to be midday by now.

  Though the creak didn’t echo again, Narra’s stomach turned with unease. She hadn’t imagined it, of that she was certain. Someone was inside her apartment. Again.

  She sighed. She really had to look into getting a new place.

  Narra shifted as lightly as she could, slipping off the far side of the bed, which squeaked beneath her weight. She winced, the sound like a gunshot in the silence. She cursed herself for not being quieter, but sleep clung to her consciousness. She hadn’t gotten as much sleep as she needed.

  Once she was on the floor, she bunched her night shift in one hand, yanking it up away from her feet. Her heart pounded as she circled the bed to the door. She stopped to press her ear against it, but heard nothing beyond the thick slab of wood.

  Taking a deep breath, Narra gripped the doorknob and readied herself. It was now or never. She wrenched the door open, brandishing her dagger, ready to maim whoever was on the other side.

  “Good morning,” Ria said.

  Narra inhaled sharply, and quickly lowered her weapon. “Ria!” she growled. “Would you stop sneaking in here, please!”

  Her racing heart slowed as Ria chuckled. The assassin leaned against the wall next to her father’s door, a smirk curling her thick lips.

  “You’re jumpy today,” Ria said.

  Narra narrowed her eyes. “Being a criminal will do that to you,” she spat.

  Ria shook her head before her gaze slid down to Narra’s attire. “Would you like a moment?”

  Narra glanced down at her shift, a nearly transparent white. Her cheeks heated, and she nodded before she spun abruptly and marched back into her room. With the door firmly shut behind her, she quickly yanked off her shift and pulled on her leather pants, cotton button down and multitude of belts and weapons.

  Once she was dressed, and had run a brush through her hair, she opened the door again. Ria stood in the same spot, a smirk still on her face.

  “What do you want?” Narra snapped.

  “So touchy this early.” Ria chuckled darkly. “I’ll get right to the point then. We had several contacts tear apart the Kolarova family estate in West Port, and they found nothing.”

  Narra’s heart dropped. “What?”

  Ria’s smile faltered. “I don’t know who told you it was there, but it wasn’t. Every safe, every back room, was searched thoroughly.”

  Narra’s fists balled, and she bit her lip to hold back a scream of anger. If she couldn’t get the evidence she needed from the Kolarova family home, then the only copy she knew of was with Marina—and getting to Marina would not be easy.

  “I’m sorry, Narra,” Ria said. The honestly in her voice surprised Narra.

  “It’s not your fault.” Narra sighed .

  Ria shrugged. “That’s not the only news I’ve come to deliver.”

  Narra raised an eyebrow. Her entire body chilled, suddenly wary. “What else have you come to say?”

  “Ashra has chosen your first mission. She’d have you kill the High Priest of the Church of Srah.”

  Narra’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  Ria frowned. “One does not question our goddess.”

  Narra narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t about to take that as an answer.

  Ria sighed in defeat. “The priest dared to suggest that Ashra isn’t real, that Srah is the one true god, and Ashra is simply a myth made up by people who don’t believe Srah has a swift hammer of justice.”

  Well that she hadn’t expected. From what Narra knew of religion, Srah’s followers generally believed in both a sunshine eternity after death alongside Srah, as well as a gruesome underworld commanded by Lady Death. This priest was only tempting fate by claiming one god was more real than the other.

  Narra shook her head. “Fine.”

  She couldn’t exactly disagree with Ria. If she did, she’d be in for a fight to the death. Even if she did happen to outfight an assassin, the Daughters were helping her cause. Every day, unrest grew in Rova. Without the Daughters aid, she’d have to resume killing by herself—all while having a giant target on her back.

  “That’s my sister.” Ria grinned.

  Narra resisted rolling her eyes. “I’ll do as you say, but I need the attacks to continue. More severely, if possible. I need more pressure put on the lower class so they’ll revolt.”

  Ria dipped her chin in understanding. “All right. Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Well then, let me tell you how Ashra would like you to kill the priest.”

  Narra flew over the rooftops of Rova City, her blood pounding in her veins with the sheer adrenaline of her flight. Her grappling hook sunk into the chimney of a tall apartment building before she threw herself off the ledge. She hit the retract button and was torn through the air. Her hair danced like a hurricane along her spine before she touched down on the steeple of the building.

  She took deep breaths to slow her breathing. Across the street was Srah’s Cathedral, the largest church in Rova City. It was the same place Emperor Malek’s funeral had taken place—even after she’d defiled it with her claim to Ashra.

  As her heartbeat slowed, Narra took in the street. The sun had recently set. This late in the year, night came far earlier, which worked in her favor.

  Narra watched as the last few citizens milling across the street entered through the temple doors, which shut softly behind them. Mass was about to begin—the last mass the High Priest would ever deliver.

  Wielding her grappling hook once more, Narra shot it across the street at the highest steeple of the great cathedral. Once it locked in, she took one last look at the empty street before leaping from the lip of the roof.

  Once her feet were firmly back on solid ground, Narra reeled in her hook and returned the device to her belt. She snuck along the edge of the roof, slipping around gargoyles until she reached the highest stained glass windows, the only ones that opened.

  She crouched beside it and gently jimmied the lock until it clicked. She smiled at her success and cracked the window to reveal the lit cathedral inside.

  Candles lay across every surface, warming the air brushing her face, and dousing the entire hall in golden light. Rows upon rows of Rovan citizens occupied the pews, far more than she ever imagined listening to this crap. The High Priest stood behind a podium nestled in front of an alter. His hands were raised in some sort of prayer, and the mass of citizens repeated his words.

  Narra raised an eyebrow. They looked more like a cult to her than simple worshippers of the Sun God. Each wore a plain white cloak, which she hadn’t seen anyone enter with. The women wore white veils, and the men kept the hoods of their cloaks up.

  Though the men and women present were certainly strange to look at, she couldn’t help staring at the High Priest, whose white robes were trimmed in gold and sapphire. He had a massive sun pendant on his chest, and a golden chain glinted from beneath the neck of his robe.

  She tuned out everything they were saying, focusing instead on her target. He wasn’t the tallest of men, and he had a clear beer belly, hugged by the unflattering form of his robes. His cheeks were thick and red, and his head was missing all but a wisp of graying hair. Though she couldn’t see the color of his eyes at this distance, she had a feeling his were dark and beady, like a rat’s.

  Narra sat back on the clay tiles of the roof, watching and waiting as the High Priest gave his sermon, and t
he citizens of Rova occasionally echoed him. When it had been over half an hour, and it was clear mass was coming to an end, the priest clutched the bowl of pigs blood on the altar. He said a prayer before dipping his fingers in it and running them over his closed eyes and down his cheeks, giving him the appearance of bloody scars on each side of his face.

  He turned to the crowd, and beckoned them to join him.

  Narra’s confusion only grew as the men and women surged to their feet, happy to rush into line for the priest to mark each of their foreheads with a spot of blood.

  She shivered as a cold breeze licked the base of her neck. It was all so strange. So… creepy.

  Once every man, woman, and child was marked by what they claimed was the blood of Srah, they returned to their seats. Golden plates were passed out to accept donations, and almost everyone gave what they could, even if it was only a copper rovin coin or two.

  Mass ended not long after, and the priest returned the golden bowl to the altar. He said goodnight to the parishioners as they left, then assembled the golden plates of coins, dropping the earnings into a small brown box.

  Each parishioner had hung up their white cloaks on a myriad of hooks next to the large doors. By the time everyone had emptied, only the High Priest was left with a few young men and women in white robes similar to his, but not quite as decadent.

  The boys and girls went about cleaning up the pews and taking away the bowl of blood, while the priest retired through a backdoor with the box of coins.

  Narra stood. It was nearly time. She rushed across the roof, slipping to a ledge along the second floor where she could hide in the shadows. Narra peered through the stained glass as the priest entered a study with bookshelves covering each wall. The shelves were stuffed to the brim with spines in every color.

  The priest closed the door behind him and shuffled over to his desk. He sat with a large grin on his face, and opened the box of coins meant for the church’s upkeep and to help the homeless.

  His dark eyes flashed with greed. Now that she was closer, she could confirm his small eyes were as beady as she’d suspected. He leered at the mass of coins inside the box. There had to be a hundred coins inside: a mix of gold, silver, and copper. He palmed the coins, letting them slip through his fingers back into the box.

  His shoulders shook with a chuckle. Though she could scarcely hear it through the window, his expression and mannerisms told her he was laughing.

  Narra’s stomach turned and nausea crept up her throat. Even if she didn’t completely understand their religion, she knew that money was meant to help the church and those less fortunate. Was this man about to steal the money for himself?

  The priest continued to palm the coins until a knock came at the door.

  He schooled his expression quickly.

  “Come in,” he said, closing the lid of the box, and drawing up a book from his desk instead. He pretended to peruse it when a young man ducked his head in.

  “Sir, your visitor has arrived. I sent her back to your rooms across the street,” the boy said .

  “Thank you, Jonathan.” The priest smiled. “That’ll be all for tonight.”

  The boy nodded and excused himself, closing the door behind him with a click.

  Narra raised an eyebrow. Who was the priest seeing at this hour?

  The priest waited a moment, probably to make sure the boy was gone, before he set the book aside and opened the box again to inspect the coins. His eyes grew wide with his lust for riches, and he quickly pocketed a dozen gold coins before closing the box. He placed it inside a locked drawer on the left side of his desk, then stood and left the room.

  So, the priest was a thief. Narra sighed and shook her head. Those people deserved better.

  Stretching her limbs, Narra followed, circling the cathedral windows to find the priest leaving through a back door. Huddled in a dark cloak, he shuffled across the street to a large three-story building constructed of the same smooth stone the cathedral was made of. It had a sign out front claiming it was the Church of Srah’s rectory. She assumed that meant it was where the church folk, who had no real means of income, lived.

  Narra went after him, landing on the fire escape along the side of the building just in time to see the priest come through the front door of his apartment.

  She crouched in the shadows, peering around the edge of the curved window and the curtain inside to see what the priest was doing.

  Narra started when she realized he wasn’t alone. A woman with long brown curls, and curves any woman would envy, sat in a leather chair with nothing but a silk shift to cover herself.

  Emperor’s ancestors . This was the priest’s visitor. A prostitute.

  It was well known that priests were supposed to be chaste and never wed. They were married to Srah in an unbreakable union of spirit. This defied many of the priest’s religious beliefs. Then again, she’d just witnessed him stealing from his own parishioners.

  The priest beamed when his gaze fell upon the woman. She grinned back and rose on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. Then they were kissing, and Narra leaned away, pressing her back to the cold stone of the building.

  If this is what the priest was like—a thief, a scoundrel, and a hypocrite—she didn’t mind killing him. But she wasn’t about to watch him bed someone either.

  H eat scorched Narra’s cheeks as she continued to crouch on the fire escape. It had been nearly an hour, and her legs had gone numb. The woman was loud , and the priest seemed to enjoy it. It turned her stomach and filled her with unease. Even if she was about to kill the man, this was a private event she should not be listening to. But she couldn’t exactly go off for an hour either. What if the priest left again?

  She had to complete her mission, or else risk the wrath of the Daughters.

  Narra ground her teeth. She didn’t like being stuck like this, forced to do something she didn’t want to do.

  A throaty moan drifted through the glass, and Narra groaned. She placed her palms over her ears and tried to focus on her mission.

  Once the prostitute was gone, Narra would wait for the priest to relax, let his guard down, and then she’d kill him. She’d have to jimmy the lock on the window to slip inside if she didn’t want to use the door.

  Narra glanced down at the rusted lock at the base of the window. She had a feeling the window would be a screecher. Great.

  Another moan came from inside, and Narra sighed. Her breath fogged the chill night air. She froze as a thought occurred to her. If she waited for the prostitute to leave, she risked the priest hearing her fiddle with the lock. If she did it now, the woman’s insane moans would most likely cover the sound.

  At least this turn of events was good for something.

  A smile quirked her lips as she eased herself down onto her knees next to the window. She took a quick glance inside. She couldn’t see either of them from her position, but she could make out the edge of a bed in the next room as it rocked back and forth.

  With an indignant snort, Narra withdrew her lock picks. Making quick work of the old lock, she waited until a particularly loud groan to flick the tumblers. A loud click made her freeze, but the moans continued unperturbed.

  It seemed the priest’s own vices would be the end of him.

  Narra opened the window slightly to test its creak. The wood squeaked slightly, but didn’t make too much noise otherwise. Thankful, Narra returned her lock picks to her pouch.

  A few minutes later, a final scream of pleasure seemed to signal the end of things. She heard shuffling inside, a few quiet words exchanged, the rattling of coins, and then footsteps. She plastered herself to the wall of the building and waited. With the window slightly ajar, she could make out their movements easier, but that also meant they might be able to hear hers.

  They exchanged goodbyes near the exit, and then the door opened and closed softly. Once the priest threw the lock, he shuffled loudly to the living room where he threw himself down on a plush upholster
ed sofa.

  Narra glanced through the kitchen window. He was far enough away that she could slip in now and he might not take notice, but she had to be patient. Since he’d just slept with a woman, he should be tired, and might even fall asleep. That’d make her job far easier.

  Waiting in the shadows of the fire escape, Narra inspected the decadent interior. It was far lovelier than she’d expect of a poor man. Priests, even the High Priest, were supposed to take a vow of poverty, but the gold statue on the mantle and dark wood furnishings certainly didn’t indicate any signs of low income.

  Narra shook her head. At least the Daughters had given her a target she wouldn’t mind ending. He seemed to be a despicable man, and far less innocent than some of those she’d killed recently.

  When soft snores finally interrupted the quiet left by the prostitute’s exit, Narra took it as a sign the man had fallen asleep. It was time for her mission to commence.

  Taking a deep breath, Narra gently eased the window up. It squeaked slightly, and the wood groaned in protest. Narra winced, but kept at it until she’d created enough space for her to climb through.

  Once she did, she waited and listened for movement, but the snoring continued.

  Narra slipped inside, her heart pounding erratically. She withdrew a dagger. The metal gleamed under the lantern light hanging from the kitchen ceiling. She eased around the corner and peeked into the living room on the other side of the wall.

  The priest lay nearly naked, only cotton boxers covering his lower half. Her nostrils flared in disgust at his stained underwear and protruding belly. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making any noise, and walked around a dining table with a white tablecloth and silver candelabras.

  The living room was sparse, with only a sofa, chair, and fireplace. It was small, befitting his station in life, even if the furnishing had to cost hundreds of gold coins.

  Narra flipped her dagger, her heart racing with anticipation. When had she started to anticipate the kill? Before, it had been out of simple necessity, but this man was someone she disliked. Even if she’d only watched him for a couple of hours, she could safely say he was the type of man who deserved whatever fate the gods saw fit. And since Ashra was her god, she’d deliver Lady Death’s justice.