Clockwork Thief Box Set

by Katherine Bogle

  She approached the still form. His arm was lying across his face, and one leg was propped up. The fire roared next to him, casting sickly shadows across his bronze skin .

  This was it. For Ashra .

  Narra crept to the other side of the sofa, sneaking up behind his head. Flipping her dagger to wield the blade facing away from herself, she recalled what Ria had insisted the method of her kill be.

  She took a deep breath and grabbed the man’s hair. He yelped and startled awake before trying to sit up. But Narra held strong. She slipped her blade around his throat.

  “Ashra says hello,” Narra whispered in his ear.

  The man trembled. “Wha —”

  Before he could finish, Narra sliced her blade clean across his throat. Blood sprayed from the wound, covering his chest, stomach and neck in thick red liquid. He gurgled and struggled, clutching his hands to his throat to hold in his blood.

  Narra released his hair and stepped back. He only writhed for a moment before his body stilled, and his limbs fell slack, one arm hanging off the edge of the sofa.

  Her heart raced as she counted the seconds—just to be sure he was dead. When he didn’t move for a solid minute, Narra breathed easier. Her next step was to mark the body as her kill. She didn’t like the thought of it, but Ria had insisted.

  Narra was the first of Ashra’s Daughters to have a name: Death’s Hand. She’d earned the title by killing soldiers and leaving behind her note. Only now Ria wanted her to use the name as a way to brand her victims.

  She shook her head, remembering exactly what Ria told her to do. Placing her hand palm down on the man’s chest, she winced at the slick feel beneath her hand. She splayed her fingers and very carefully brought her dagger down, drawing an outline of her hand on the man’s skin. Blood surged to the surface of the cut, not quite as fast as it would have come if he were alive. Narra watched the lines gush slowly, her breath caught in her throat.

  By the time she was finished, her hand was covered in blood. She leaned away, wiping her blade on the rag stuck in the back pocket of her pants. She took a deep breath to still her racing heart, then returned her dagger to her hip. At least the worst part was over .

  But her job wasn’t done quite yet.

  Recalling the next steps, Narra scanned the room quickly to find the perfect canvas for her message—Ashra’s message.

  There. The wall beside the kitchen entrance was clear of all but a painting. Narra took it down quickly, setting it gently against the wall so it didn’t crash to the floor. She wasn’t sure who else might reside in this building, but she didn’t want to find out.

  Returning to the priest’s body, Narra wrinkled her nose. Copper filled the air and wormed its way up her nostrils. She steadied her breathing before placing her hands near his throat, soaking her fingers and palms in his lifeblood.

  Her stomach rolled, and she quickly looked away from the open, startled eyes of the priest. What a surprise it must have been.

  Narra circled the couch to the bare wall. She had to make a few trips to get enough blood, but once she was done writing her message, she stepped back to assess her work.

  ASHRA IS REAL.

  It’s what Ria told her to write, in the exact way she told her to write it. Narra inspected each letter, the marks of her fingers clearly drawn through the blood. It brought her back to her declaration of loyalty in the cathedral. That had certainly been a message in itself, but this was different.

  When the Patrolmen, or church folk, found this message, there would be no doubt in their minds that Lady Death was watching, and she was not happy.

  With a job well done, Narra turned to the window she’d come from and startled when she realized a figure waited on the fire escape.

  Ria crouched just beyond the glass. She whistled low, then grinned. “You do good work, Narra.”

  Narra shook her head. She had to find out how Ria kept sneaking up on her. The only one who’d been able to do so in the past was Erik, and she still always found him out before he got too close. Ria was like a shadow at night. She didn’t make a sound and blended in seamlessly .

  Ria stepped inside the kitchen, and came to inspect her message before giving a swift nod. “Excellent. Now, come with me.”

  Narra’s eyebrows furrowed. “Where?”

  Ria stopped mid-step on her way through the kitchen door. She turned to Narra. “There’s no time for your questions tonight, Narra. We must hurry while the blood is still fresh.”

  Narra wiggled her fingers, realizing she still had the priest’s wet blood stuck to her skin. She instinctively reached for the rag in her pocket.

  “No ,” Ria commanded. “Leave it. Now come.”

  The Daughter left no room for argument.

  Narra ground her teeth. She didn’t like going anywhere with Ria at the last second. Though she’d already warned Avalon that Srah only knew what might happen to her, it didn’t seem like enough. What if Ria had only done all of this to make her kill the priest? She could be walking into a trap.

  Ria climbed out the window, and Narra was forced to follow. Her heart raced as their boots clanged down the escape ladder until they landed on the alley floor.

  “Follow me,” Ria said. She took off running, and Narra had to race to keep up.

  They crossed Rova City at breakneck speed until Narra’s back was slick with sweat, and the blood on her hands had nearly dried. She breathed heavily, sucking in air like a starving man eating food for the first time in days.

  When they finally arrived outside a home near East Gardens, Narra grew wary, slowing to a stop in the shadows of a great oak tree.

  Ria skidded to a stop when she realized Narra wasn’t following. “Come on. Quickly.”

  “Where are we going?” Narra asked defiantly.

  Ria bared her teeth. “I told you not to ask questions tonight.”

  “Where are we going ?” Narra insisted.

  “The cellar for the ritual,” Ria snapped. “Stop again, and you might not make it in time. ”

  Narra scanned Ria’s angry expression for signs of deception, but she found none. She nodded curtly, and Ria continued up the street.

  A few minutes later, they slipped into the backyard of a two-story cobblestone and wood home. It reminded her of Asher’s, but in the place of the trellis and vines, was a cellar door.

  Ria wasted no time in gripping the handles and throwing it open.

  Narra gasped as the smell of copper hit her full force. She doubled over, trying desperately to breathe in fresh air.

  Ria sighed in exasperation and grabbed Narra’s arm, yanking her down the cellar steps before Narra could protest.

  When they reached the cellar floor, the door above slammed shut. Mist curled around her feet, and darkness writhed in every corner, just as it had the last time Narra had come to the cellar.

  Narra’s heart raced as she scanned the room. Though the mist and shadows were the same, at the center was a black tub almost the size of a coffin. It was on top of a pedestal only a few steps off the ground. Black and red candles occupied the steps, casting sickly purple light on the base of the metal tub.

  A dozen figures in black cloaks with their hoods drawn up circled the tub. Their hands were clasped in front of them, level with their stomachs. Red beads with a black crescent moon at the end of the long chain dangled from the confines of their sleeves. Smoke twisted around their cloaks, teasing the fabric.

  “It’s time,” Ria said.

  The bodies surged forward, blocking off Narra’s exit and circling her.

  “Wait,” Narra said, panic clenching her heart. “What’s going on?”

  “The ritual,” a female voice said quietly, as if that explained everything.

  A dozen hands were on her, removing her belts, weapons, and cloak. Narra’s cheeks heated, and she tried to grab one of her holsters. She didn’t like being weaponless. It left her feeling vulnerable.

  “Stay still while they disrobe you,” Ria commanded.
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  Narra gritted her teeth. She wanted to bite back a retort, but then her shirt was being yanked over her head, and her leather pants were torn down her thighs.

  “Hey!” Narra snapped.

  Then she was torn off her feet, and then lifted from the ground by her armpits. Her boots, socks, and pants were tossed into a heap on the floor.

  Left entirely naked in front of these strangers, Narra crossed her arms in an attempt to cover herself. Her cheeks heated. Even if they were just women, she didn’t like being nude in front of them. She hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since she was a child.

  “Sit,” one of the Daughters said. The seat of a chair bumped into the back of her knees hard enough to make her collapse onto it.

  Narra’s heart pounded in her ears as she tried to think of some sort of protest, some sort of way out of this. She didn’t like what they were doing so far, and was sure she wouldn’t like the rest of it.

  Why had she agreed to this? Why join the Daughters?

  Her breathing hitched. The Thieves. Without them, she was nothing. Narra’s fists balled in her lap. That’s right, if she didn’t go along with whatever this insane ritual was, she might never get her family back. She had to do this for them.

  Someone pulled her long hair from her shoulders, and quickly braided it down her spine, all the while whispering some kind of prayer.

  Narra’s eyebrows furrowed as she tried to catch the words the women were whispering, but they were too quiet.

  “Stand,” the woman who’d forced her onto the chair said.

  Narra obeyed before they decided to yank her to her feet.

  The woman stood in front of her. Narra couldn’t see her face with the hood of her cloak up. It shadowed all but the very end of her chin. “Give me your hands.”

  Narra raised them, palms up.

  “With this blood, commanded to be spilled by our Mother, our Goddess, we invite this woman to be reborn as the spawn of Lady Death,” the woman recited. The others mumbled something under their breaths, and Narra assumed it was the same thing .

  Then, the woman took one of Narra’s hands and led her over to the tub. She stepped up five stairs to reach the top. She glanced down at the hem of the woman’s cloak. It brushed the candle flames, but didn’t catch fire.

  “Get in,” she said.

  Narra looked into the shadow where her face should be, then down into the tub. She started as she stared into a vat of blood.

  “What is that?” Narra said, her voice barely above a whisper. Fear clutched her, and cold slithered across her skin. She looked at her shoulder to find the mist curling around her. Like a physical thing, it gently urged her toward the tub.

  “No questions,” Ria said somewhere in the back.

  Narra swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. This was madness. She wasn’t getting into a tub of blood . This was dark magic. Black magic. Old and deadly. Forbidden to all.

  When Narra didn’t comply, the mist wrapped around her arms and yanked her forward. Her thigh banged against the tub, and she winced. It seems even the magical mist wasn’t giving her a choice.

  “All right,” she said. Her voice was far calmer than she felt. Inside she was a writhing hurricane of confusion.

  The woman waited silently as Narra eyed the pool for a moment longer before raising her leg and dipping her toe in.

  She pulled back immediately, startled to find it warm, instead of cold like she’d been expecting. If it was warm, it was fresh. Or had it been heated by the candles? Her stomach roiled either way, threatening to make her puke into the pool.

  “Continue, my Daughter,” a woman’s voice whispered.

  Narra shuddered. She’d recognize Lady Death’s echoing voice anywhere.

  Clenching her stomach, Narra forced herself to step into the tub. Her skin crawled as the slick substance covered her leg all the way to her knee. This couldn’t be sanitary. Couldn’t be healthy.

  Narra brought her other leg in next, and then gripped the edges of the cold metal tub before lowering herself into the liquid very slowly .

  When warm blood covered up to her shoulders, she trembled from head to toe. Her skin prickled with goosebumps, and her heart raced faster than it ever had before.

  The woman who’d led her up to the tub took a step down, then pushed her hood back and raised her arms to the cellar ceiling, almost the exact same way the High Priest had done during his sermon. She began chanting in some foreign language Narra didn’t recognize.

  Narra shivered as the warmth encasing her began to heat up. Her eyelids fluttered to hold back unshed tears.

  Shadows writhed outside the tub, and the mist rose with it, curling around the lip of the tub before rising up in a slow forming wave to hover over her. It rose so high that Narra had to lean her head back to see the top of it.

  Her fingers clenched around the edge of the tub. What was that?

  When the woman finished her chant, she looked down at Narra. Her eyes glowed faintly red. She reminded Narra of Marina, with a heart-shaped face and thick brown curls, but this Daughter was far older, with sharper cheekbones and a harsh downward curve to her lips.

  “Narra Rheka, you are one of the few welcomed by the goddess to become one of her children. Do you swear to do whatever it is Ashra asks of you, without question?”

  Narra nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak.

  The shadow above her pulsed after her nod, and Narra nearly leapt out of her skin.

  “Do you swear to kill, or be killed, in the defense of our great queen?” the priestess continued.

  Narra gulped. She didn’t like the sounds of that. “Y-yes.”

  Again, the shadow pulsed. It continued to writhe, taking some sort of form Narra couldn’t yet distinguish.

  “Do you swear never to take a man to your bed, or into your heart, and instead dedicate yourself fully to the goddess?”

  Narra’s eyebrows furrowed. She hadn’t realized that was part of the deal. So, she’d never be able to sleep with anyone, or love anyone in that way, ever? Her heart clenched. She wasn’t sure she could promise that.

  “Narra,” the woman warned.

  With no other choice, Narra nodded. “Yes.”

  The woman smiled and motioned at the shadow looming above Narra. “Look upon your goddess.”

  Narra looked up at the shadow, tilting her head back until her hair touched the blood in the tub. She shivered at the feel of it on her scalp, then gasped as her eyes landed upon Ashra herself, skin black as the shadows consuming her, and eyes bluer than the darkest depths of the ocean.

  A wicked smile curved Ashra’s full lips. “Welcome home, Daughter.”

  Narra blinked rapidly, trying to dispel whatever vision this was. She hadn’t been fully certain her last visit to the cellar hadn’t been caused by the drug, but now she knew.

  Ashra was very, very real.

  Shadows twisted around the goddess’ shoulders, still a black-clouded mass everywhere but her face and hair. Arms emerged from the cloud, long fingers reaching for Narra.

  The thief sat stunned as the soft tips of Ashra’s fingers brushed her cheeks. They felt colder than ice. The Death God inclined her head, amusement clear on her face.

  “Do not fear Mother,” she whispered. Her words echoed in the cellar.

  Narra’s lips parted to say she wasn’t scared. But it was a lie, and she couldn’t get the words out anyway. She was terrified . Everything she knew about gods and magic was wrong.

  Ashra gave her a knowing look before dipping her head towards Narra. Instinctively, Narra leaned back, sinking into the bloody pool, but Ashra continued forward until her lips pressed against Narra’s.

  She was pushed back, submerged in the tub of blood as something inside of her stretched and pulled, yanked out by Lady Death. Narra’s heart pounded, and cold danced across her skin, centered firmly around the ice against her lips .

  Her body stilled involuntarily, frozen inside the pool of blood. Her mind flew i
n every direction. Disgusted by the blood. Afraid of what this ritual was doing to her.

  Then, something sparked inside her, a feeling of heat creeping through the deepest recesses of her mind. Then, everything fell away, and Narra lost consciousness.

  N arra shivered and her teeth chattered as she made her way out of East Gardens towards the Criminal District. Her mind swam and her heart raced. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to hold onto consciousness. No matter how much she rubbed her arms, or how fast she walked, she couldn’t seem to get this cold in her bones.

  She tightened her cloak around herself, but it did nothing.

  After she’d been submerged in blood and kissed by Ashra, she’d woken up sometime later to find herself alone in the cellar, no mist, no writhing darkness. She was clothed already, and lay curled up on a cot with a lantern sitting next to her. A set of red beads with a silver moon on the end was wrapped around the handle of the lantern. She’d taken them, assuming they were for her, and left the cellar as fast as she could.

  She hadn’t made it far before she realized how exhausted she was, and then the cold set in, making her tremble all over. Even her breath barely fogged the air.

  Whatever Lady Death and those witches had done to her, she didn’t like it. She felt wrong. Sick. Like something unfamiliar was inside of her. Something dark, that slithered just beneath the surface .

  Narra sighed and shook her head, trying to dispel her disturbing thoughts. She was tempted to take to the rooftops, to escape the long trek home, but with her hands shaking so much, she didn’t trust herself to hold onto her grappling hook. One mistake could leave her dead on a cobblestone street somewhere.

  Needing something to distract herself, Narra stopped by a newsstand near a trolley stop. A streetlight illuminated the chipped green paint of the metal box meant to keep the papers out of the weather. Tomorrow’s issue was already out, and from the headline, it was going to be a doozy.