A carriage rumbled along the cobblestones, slowing to a stop. “That will be my ride.”
“Have fun, Lucena. Don’t drink too much wine.” Riselda patted her hand. “You do look beautiful. Very much like your mother.”
Lux’s eyes blinked much too frequent behind her mask. “Thank you, Riselda.”
She climbed the steps and opened the door, Riselda’s sing-song voice trailing after her, “Secrets, my dear. He adores secrets.”
Lux adjusted the blacksilk of her gown again. It was long and flowing, tight through the plunging neckline and across the waist. It had been her mother’s dress, and with a bit of tweaking, it fit every inch of her. She would have purchased more appropriate shoes, but sneaking about a den of predators required comfortable, trustworthy footwear.
Lux tucked her sturdy boots beneath her dress with a swish of dark skirts.
Her wings were delicate things, black feathers draped artfully down her back rather than spread wide. Shaw could sit beside her if he chose. Not that he would. No, never.
The carriage slowed. She adjusted her mask.
The door swung open with a click. At first, she could see nothing in the waning light as cool mist rolled through the opening, swirling about her knees. But as it settled, Lux caught a glimpse of black boots, a black coat, and a skeletal mask that caused her to bite back a scream as she pressed herself further against the seat.
Shaw’s laugh filled the carriage with a warmth that sent the mist skittering away, returning to the night air. “Did I frighten you?” He swung in with ease, settling across from her.
Lux couldn’t stop staring at the white mask, edged in silver, appearing so real it may as well have been made of— “Is thatbone?”
Her hand quickly dropped to her lap at the smirk of his lips beneath it. “Too morbid?” He studied her then, their bodies jostling as the carriage ambled forward once more. In the dimness of the small space between them, his eyes appeared black as midnight. “You have feathers on your mask.”
“And on my wings.” At his continued scrutiny, she added, “A crow.”
His head tilted, his lips unmoving, until at last, “I like it.” She laughed, and it coaxed a ghost of a smile to his mouth. “What?”
“It nearly sounded genuine is all. What are you? The dead?”
His grin turned wicked. “Death, itself. I feel the mayor needs a reminder he cannot cheat the beast forever.”
She scoffed. “Probably not the best choice for stealth and secrecy, however.”
“You underestimate me, love.”
Lux rolled her eyes, parting the curtains to stare out into the deepening shadows. Several heartbeats of silence passed, marred only by the crunch of carriage wheels.
“How did you find the journal?”
Her gaze swung back to his dark one. “Terrifying. I read it through. It certainly sounds as though he discovered how to harvest lifeblood. And offered it up to his family. Though I wonder how he’s gotten away with it. Even more I wonder how he’s gone about choosing his victims over the years.”
“Well, if I were him, I would choose people I wished to be rid of. People unable to fight back. I’m sure there are many in the Dark that fit the description, and it isn’t as if the Shield mind doing the work.”
“I’m not sure those of the Light are much safer any longer.” At his questioning stare, she recounted her encounter with the old shopkeeper. “They mentioned the prison, though I’ve not a clue where that might be.”
Lux couldn’t see much at all within the darkening space any longer, save for a glimmer of stark white now and then as the carriage ambled over loose stone, rocking their bodies. She shivered.
“I’m surprised you could have slept at all in that house. What with their screams.”
“What are you talking about?” Spiders, real or imagined, skittered up her arms.
The skeletal mask shone, sudden and clear in the moonlight, and Lux nearly believed Death did hover beneath, watchful and biding. “Under our illustrious mayor’s home lies the most uninhabitable prison you could imagine. A sentence to it may not need be for life, but it will claim it regardless. This is where the mayor harvests his precious lifeblood. I’m sure of it.”
Lux allowed the horror to cascade over her. “How do you know this?”
“My father. Resisting the Shield has only one consequence, and when I failed to save him from that cell, when I discovered his death not many days ago, something in me broke.” Lux twitched away the outlandish urge to reach for him. “There are so many innocents buried within those walls, begging for light, for life—for death. I killed an abuser that night. On his way to the tavern after beating his wife to unconsciousness, I stabbed him in the back and slit his throat. It was easy. Too easy. The dagger passed through like melted butter.” She scrunched her eyes closed, but the images rose vivid anyway. “If the Shield won’t defend Ghadra’s people, if the mayor only selfishly seeks that which will make him immortal, who am I to do nothing?” The carriage slowed, and streetlamps peered through the curtains. Lux gazed at Shaw, forearms resting on his thighs, head hung low. “It should have been me in there, you know.”
Pebbles crunched as the wheels stopped. “Why?”
