“Then how am I supposed to pay for men?”
“I don’t know. You pay them,” I say. “I definitely don’t have any money at the moment. I may be able to get you some later but no more than ten gold pieces.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
He narrows his eyes. “What do you need bodyguards for?”
“Because someone has been killing my illusions. Two are already dead,” I say.
“I heard. How do you kill illusions?”
I glance at Luca. Should we be telling Jiafu this much? I wish Luca would take over—he always chooses his words better than I do. But he only nods for me to continue. “We’re not sure,” I say, “but we’re starting to suspect that it’s the same way you could kill anyone else.”
“I can’t get any men so soon. It’s already so early. I can give you some starting tomorrow...for the ten pieces.”
“I need them today.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
When I sleep, the illusions will be vulnerable. But it’s only for one day. I don’t have to sleep. Tomorrow, I can get the guard. I’ll stay up all day and keep them locked away, protected, in my head. I know this plan is working under the assumption that the killer is operating with the pattern of one illusion per city—when that may not be the case—but if there’s any chance my family is in danger, I need to protect them.
“Thanks, anyway. Sorry to bother you.”
“Don’t tell anyone about Zhihao,” he says and then jabs his finger into Luca’s chest. “Not a word.”
We climb down from the caravan into the darkness of the Downhill. There are three hours left until sunrise, which gives me just enough time to gather up the illusions, explain what’s happening and brace myself for staying up all night.
“So your plan is to keep yourself awake all day, alone in your tent?” Luca asks.
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous. You could easily fall asleep,” he says. “I’ll stay up with you.”
“At my tent?”
“That’s where the illusions are, is it not?” He bites his lip and digs his walking stick into the dirt. “Besides, I know you have questions to ask me. I can see it all over your face.”
“I’m wearing a mask.”
“Yet Istillfind you rather easy to read.”
I consider this. Idohave questions to ask Luca, about his life before Gomorrah and why Nicoleta thinks he’s dangerous. Not to mention continuing our conversation from earlier. We’ve moved rather quickly from Luca needing time to him staying with me, alone, all day.
Regardless of how awkward that might become, the idea of staying up all morning in our tent by myself, waiting for the killer to pay a visit, sounds terrifying. Even if Luca is a better target than a swordsman, just having another person there will reassure me.
“Thank you,” I say. “You don’t mind skipping sleep this morning?”
He shrugs. “I’m not from Gomorrah. I’m still somewhat accustomed to staying awake while there’s sunlight.”
The walk to my tent is quiet, and my head swarms with dozens of different thoughts and emotions. Making the illusions disappear requires me to tell them that I think they’re in danger. That Blister was definitely murdered.
Then I can’t help but imagine what follows, after Luca and I are alone. I think back to his words earlier, that he wants things with me he never thought he would want. I want to be patient. I want to give him the time he needs. But our entire conversation was so vague, and I’d still like some more concrete answers. I’d like to know if he thinks of me the way I think of him, even if that means telling me with words rather than showing me through action.
When we reach my tent, everyone is home except Venera, who Hawk said dressed for a good time and left three hours ago. Usually she returns home by sunrise.
The rest of us gather together in the tent, including Luca, who sits off to the side, stiff with all the eyes on him. With his expensive clothes and pale features, he looks like an audience member we’ve allowed backstage.
