“Why do you slit their eyes?”
Shaw blinked. “What?”
The wind whipped harder. Lux fisted her hands only to release them. Shaw dropped his own to his sides.
He stepped back. And she watched on as he filled with shadow.
“Whydo youslittheir eyes?”
“So you’ve taken your discovery and formed an entirely new opinion of me, have you?”
“A question for a question.” The chasm inside her widened, cold and dark and gaping. “I never want to see you again.”
He actually laughed, low and severe, and the sound felt every bit like the blades to her heart. Though it was stifled quickly when her boot connected with his hip, sending him staggering.
“What the hell!” He gripped the offended area, righting himself.
“I haven’t trusted a single soul in this town for nine years.” She used his shock against him and kicked the ankle directly beneath his injured hip, hobbling him. “You power-mad, conniving—”
He growled before he lunged. She was fast, but his legs were longer. When he snagged her wrist and pulled her bruised back against his chest, securing her hands in his own, an animalistic rage clawed through her skin.
She hissed, “I trusted you. I trusted you in everything you have ever told me. But it was all a lie.” She could feel his breathagainst her neck, bending low to reply, to calm her. “Including that I am no monster.”
She knew she couldn’t bear to hear his voice.
Lux flung her head back, reveling in the satisfactory shout from behind her. Shaw’s arms went slack to attend to his injury, and she sprinted for the door. Flinging it wide, she dove within the welcoming darkness, shutting out the insidious warmth trailing in her wake. Forever.
Chapter twenty-nine
Lux perched upon astool, enveloped by the night. A sliver of moonlight attempted to penetrate the small window of her workroom, only to be cut short by the vining plants as they slumbered.
She rested her back against the far wall, studying the faint glimmers of her short life’s work, the outline ofThe Risen, resting closed before them, and the rolling vial of lifeblood between her fingers. Over and over, the silver liquid turned, shimmering across her hands.
Her theories did the same within her mind.
The mayor clearly was harvesting lifeblood, that much was certain. And Ghadra’s poor continued to die from some unknown, incurable plague. That was also certain.
What remained less so, however, was whether the two were connected. How much lifeblood did one family need?
And where, for goodness sake, was Riselda?
She wasn’t particularly worried for her aunt’s safety even with the Shield’s murder beneath her feet. Rather, she itched with interest over what slew of excuses the mayor had offered up for his minions’ behavior, and what promises he had made in exchange for secrecy.
Perhaps she waited for nothing. He was clearly untouchable. More likely, he would laugh in Riselda’s face, deny all, and see her through the doors.
A sudden shadow obscured the window, casting Lux in one in turn. On instinct, she hid the lifeblood within the pocket of her skirt, but the figure moved on, simply passing through. Though in the dead of night, that wasn’t reassuring either. Nothing good happened at this hour.
A scuffle outside sent her standing. Grunting and groans and finally a shout that was abruptly cut off, and Lux found herself kneeling on the counter as vines sighed in irritation at being awakened. She squinted through the clouded glass.
A blurred outline of a body lay draped partway across the street as another knelt beside it. A thief. The figure hurried through pockets, nimble fingers disappearing within his coat with possessions never meant to be his. With a darting glance about darkened windows, he swept away.
Lux watched on for a moment longer, but when the body didn’t move, she landed back on her feet. She walked across her workroom, toward the door.
There absolutely wouldnotbe another body decaying on her doorstep.
Mellow night air brushed across her skin as Lux stepped through the doorway and rounded the corner. Without the hazy glass to mar her view, the distinct form of a man greeted her, his head lolled to one side as if in sleep.
Surely he must be dead. She stepped to his side, avoiding the trickling stream of thick liquid following the grooves of stonebeneath it. Not a man, in fact, but a boy—much too young to be out at this hour. Several years younger than herself, his face appeared almost angelic, as if he rested contentedly, his mind filled with pleasant dreams.
