The shouts of energetic conversation, bartered deals, and thinly veiled threats assaulted Lux’s ears. The Light Marketwas in full swing, the city’s square luring the townsfolk until it seemed fit to burst. Rich perfumes and food smells vied for dominance among open storefronts and cafes; meanwhile, even richer bodies parted with their coins as easily as if they were nothing more than muddy creek pebbles. Lux curled her lip, allowing her hair to fall forward as an impenetrable, black shield against the outside world. How she loathed crowds. The incessant chatter, unidentifiable smells, and the never-ending curiosity directed toward an unfortunate girl like her.
She’d perfected invisibility. Oftentimes, she could slip throughout the town entirely unseen, utilizing Ghadra’s engulfing shadows to her advantage. She’d realized, quite young, that such a skill was not only desired but necessary.
Here, when you’re not understood, you are feared. And when you’re feared, you are scorned.
Not that Lux was complaining…but sometimes it did get rather old.
Considering its seclusion, the town was expansive. True, many still didn’t know who or what she was based on appearance alone, but those who did would either bless or curse the ground she walked upon. Her inability to bring all back from death, regardless of time passed and required payment, only added fuel to the already-smoldering fire of their beliefs in what she was. And what she was capable of.
She doesn’t speak, they say. She doesn’t sleep, they say. Why does she only wear black? Why is her hair unnaturally long? Why does she stand, still as a statue, upon the bridge at twilight?
Didn’t you know? She murdered her parents.
“Morning, lovely!”
A hand shot toward her, and Lux dodged it in a fluid motion. Like moving through a wisp of smoke and shadow, the man was left dumbfounded and confused as to where the easy armfulhad disappeared to. Lux shook her head with a small smile and continued down the dank alley she’d slipped within.
Puddles of day-old rainwater splashed over ankle boots, sloshing up black hose. Appropriate dress called for long skirts and blouses. Lux didn’t have a care for appropriate.
Long skirts dirtied easily. Long skirts required hemming over and over. Long skirts made it difficult to run.
Lux brushed the few stray drops that clung to her billowing, knee-length skirt before they could be swallowed into the fabric. With her lace blouse buttoned at her throat, cinched tightly beneath a corset, hose and boots, at least one rumor contained some merit: she did possess a fondness for the color black.
Though the brick-and-mortar buildings leaned toward her, shadowing her path and confining the smells of mildew and spoiled food beneath their looming presence, Lux couldn’t bring herself to mind. Even as there were many hiding places for thieves and other miscreants, the real threats were masquerading as honest men and women in fine clothing and fake smiles. At least those she encountered in these alleyways didn’t possess the time-consuming luxury of ulterior motives.
Aside fromthem.
The Shield. Ghadra’s guards. Obeying all orders without question, they were ruthless lackeys who didn’t require direct bidding from the mayor to take matters into their own hands. The townsfolk were spoon-fed promises of protection, ashieldagainst the overrun mess that was the rest of the world, but she’d heard rumblings ever since she’d been cast out onto her own two feet that they did a better job at keeping peopleinthan out.
Lux skipped over to another alley as two of the uniformed men tackled a figure she could hardly see. A long blade clattered to the ground amidst the scuffle before a knock to the head dropped the victim to his knees.Foolish of him to put himself in their path. She frowned and pushed it from her mind before shecould think of helping him. She could hold her own for a short time if needed, but it certainly wasn’t worth bringing their wrath upon herself. The ability to administer a well-placed kick to the ankles had always come second nature to her, helped by the fact she was already quite close to the ground. Any other claim to skill had been harvested from spying on groups of children play-fighting in company she hadn’t been welcomed in.
No matter. She’d always learned best on her own.
Lux swiveled toward the abrupt arrival of hissed conversations, blood-sworn contracts, and open threats caressing her ears, any thoughts of the Shield vanishing on the choking breeze. The Dark Market. Exiting the alley, she surveyed the square and discovered it bleak—as always. Sagging roofs, hanging hinges, crumbled brick, rust, and termite-infested wood. Even the few struggling rays of sunlight skipped over the cobblestones here, seeking a more worthy venue. Muted grey clouds hung low in their stead. They pushed into every space that wasn’t already filled with acrid smoke.
Lux sidled up to the first dilapidated booth, careful not to spend any more time than necessary in her perusal. It never served to appear eager when studying the Dark Market’s wares. She dropped her shoulders.
She’d stumbled upon this place by accident as a child. Five years old and chasing Ghadra’s mangiest, yellow cat, she’d abandoned the Light Market and her parents’ sides in her quick pursuit. She never forgot the smells: toxic metals and burning hair. She’d breathed in deep as eyes widened with unrelenting awe. Aside from a few side-long glances, people had paid her little mind, too busy furtively going about their indelicate business to dismantle the puzzle of a child in their midst.
That was when she’d first seen it.
Lifeblood.
Like purest starlight, it had twinkled at her from the deep corner of a worn and blackened booth. And, as any curious child would, she’d stretched out her fingers.
“Lookie here! If it isn’t Ghadra’s little death-chaser.”
The memory fled.
Lux tracked the voice to the side of a rickety table filled with tins of teeth. Smudged and messily written, the identification cards slapped on them were difficult to read:Dog. Cat. Horse. Wolf. Howler.Lux picked up the howler canine, pressing it between her fingers. “This is fake, Finias.”
He actually possessed the gall to appear affronted. With a swipe of his hairy hand, he snatched the tooth from her fingers. “No, it isn’t!”
She rolled her eyes, picking up another. With a little added effort, she crushed it in her palm. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to grind a real howler tooth?” His eyes betrayed that, indeed, he did not. “Where are they? I know you have them.”
Finias’s stare narrowed a fraction, the conman within warring with his conscience. He growled, defeated. “Fine.” Bending at the knees, he fished beneath the table, bringing forth a worn black box. “It’s all I got. I swear.”
Four.Four?“This is all? When will you get more?” This wouldn’t be enough to last the month. And at the extent the mayor’s family imbibed in their clandestine activities…
