Page 99 of Fallacies

There is a hopeful glint in his eyes. Hope had lost its shine when I met him, but now it’s brighter than it’s ever been. Jude used to look at me that way too—like I had the answers even when it felt like I didn’t. It’s a facade, hope. It isn’t tangible or real.

But I’ll gladly be hope. I’ll be whatever it takes for these people whom my mother loved so much. These people who I have found home in when I thought I’d never find such a thing. For my friends. For Callan.

As I step into the shimmering gold, I carve the sweet memory of Pirn into my soul, burying it so deep that not even Callan can take it from me.

24

The Hound

Ididn’t get much sleep. I never do. I doubt I ever will again.

The sliver of sunlight bleeding through the crack in the curtain beams straight into my eyes, forcing me out of the bed I tossed and turned in. It takes minutes to gather my things, and by the time that beam of light has moved across the unmade bed, I’m dressed and ready at the door.

Wrapping the tattered green fabric around my neck, I step out into the hall and make my way to the lobby.

Elspeth’s shift has ended, and a thin, squirrelly boy has taken her place. I can’t tell if it’s me or the coffee he’s finishing off that’s making him fidget like that, but my appearance is far more acceptable now. Honestly, it’s a real shame Elspeth isn’t here to see it.

“Good morning, sir,” the boy rushes out, far too cheery for whatever time it is. “Checking out?”

I nod, adjusting the bag on my shoulder to slide the key across the counter.

“Just one night?” he asks, scribbling something down in the guest book, and when I don’t reply, he looks up at me. “Are you just passing through?”

“Yup.”

He perks up at my response, and I instantly regret giving him one. “Oh! Where to next?”

None of your fucking business.

“Wherever the wind takes me,” I tell him, pulling the tattered fabric up and around my nose. The scent overwhelms me, as faded as it is, just as taunting as it was yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that…

“Well,” he grins, clapping his hands together, “hopefully the wind brings you back to Roara!”

I snort, taking a peek at his name tag. “Oh, you don’t want me here, Dylan. Trust me.”

Dylan’s face falls, and…yup. There it is. Pungent as ever. A healthy dose of fear.

Dipping my chin, I turn towards the door, and crisp morning air jolts my immortal bones awake as soon as I step outside.

Magic stirs within me, a sad measly fraction of what I’d been forged with. After fifty years without it, I should be grateful for any at all, but it only serves as a reminder of what I don’t have. Of what Alaric is still keeping from me.

Rolling out my shoulders, I crack the stiffness out of my spine and run my hand across a row of motorbikes parked out front.

It isn’t in my nature to steal, but I don’t have time to hike across this continent, and I’m certainly not going to exert what little is left of my magic to Snare through Griseo.

My hand stops on a black leather seat. It’s cold, likely having sat outside for a day or two. I bend at the waist, observing the silver frame and thick tires. Good enough, I decide.

It takes me all of five minutes to get it started, the low purr of the engine vibrating the seat beneath me. Taking a quick inventory of my surroundings, I sit back and close my eyes, inhaling deeply. I focus on her scent, studying every note of it, then I remove the fabric.

And wait.

I breathe in the wind, taking note of what lingers in the breeze. Cinnamon, freshly baked bread, damp stone, rotted wood, and⁠—

My eyes burst open.

It’s subtle and very faded, but it’s a match.

I knew there was a reason I picked this port city over the others. The girl might not be here, but a trace of her is. Like maybe she’s been here at some point? And if that’s the case, then someone here knows where she went.