He was by my side in a flash, leaning close to get a glimpse in the mirror. “No way,” he breathed.
The lines weren’t just random. Malachi had been trying to get his message across, even through the magic that muddled his words and actions. Reversed in the mirror, the space between the lines reflected the image of a storefront, the lettering above the entrance distorted, but barely legible.
My breath caught in my throat. I must have been mistaken.
“What is it?” Cirian asked, moving to my side as his brow twisted with concern.
I gestured to the mirror. “It’s the café where I used to work. Down on the Mortal Row.”
Before I could speak further, Malachi was there between us, pointing wildly at the reflection in the mirror, then turning those intelligent eyes on us both.
“What’s so important about this place?” Cirian asked.
“Was this where Malachi found the Coverts before he was addled? Did they meet at the café?”
Cirian shook his head. “No, they were under a bakery, if I remember correctly.”
“Maybe this is where they plan to meet next. You said that the Converts never meet in the same place twice, yes?”
“The cat has caught!” Malachi chimed in.
“I think he agrees,” I said, looking back at Cirian. “What do you say? Should we pay this place a visit?—”
Malachi latched onto my arm, pulling me to him with surprising strength.
“Bunny falls down and down, but there is no light beneath. Mouse knows the play. Mouse knows the play, and bunny wins the day.”
Cirian placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, his grip on me loosening slightly. “Peace, friend. We’ll find a way to help you. I promise.”
“Mouse knows the play,” Malachi said again, his voice breaking. His eyes watered as he stared, unblinking. His arms trembled as he clung to me. “Mouse.Knows.”
“I think… I think he wants to come with us,” I said to Cirian.
Malachi released me, his feet stamping on the ground in quick succession.
Cirian frowned. “You can’t be serious. He hardly escaped with his life, and you want to take him back there?”
“He knows who did this to him, Cirian. If he can identify them, it makes our job that much easier. And who’s to say this individual isn’t the one we’re looking for to begin with? Surely someone wielding magic strong enough to do this to a man couldalso hold the answers we need. And I know the space. There was a basement underneath the café where we’d store dry goods. It was large enough to hold at least a few dozen people. Maybe more.”
Cirian exhaled. “Sancha isn’t going to like this.”
“It’ll be our little secret then. Isn’t that right, Malachi?”
“The crow eats shit!”
Cirian snorted a laugh. “At least we’ll be entertained before we die.”
“Then it’s settled. We go tonight.”
“Tonight? It’s already almost midnight.”
“If you have better places to be, Cirian, by all means. Malachi and I will make do without you.”
Cirian leveled his gaze at me. “You heard the Cardinal. Where you go, I go.”
“Then it’s settled. Malachi, fetch your coat. We’re going out.”
The Mortal Cup café sat across the quiet street, the large windowfront dark, much like the surrounding buildings. Midnight had come and gone as Cirian peered down at the silver watch he palmed, sucking on his bottom lip.
