“Sorry, that’s my fault,” I mutter, the illustration of coy innocence. “I was distracted by Boris’ stories of dining from goblets in the castle. I think we might’ve missed a turn or two.”
When Gregor aims his hateful glare over his shoulder it strikes the babbling idiot beside me, but the effect is all but void.
Boris waves, fending himself from the anger that might otherwise snuff his good mood. “Ah, give us a break. Will you? We’ve been at it for weeks. What’s a quick detour, especially when we’re enjoying such lovely company?” The way he turns to look at me, heavy-lidded and eyes aglow, makes the pigeon blood in my stomach curdle. “I never did catch your name, by the way, dove?”
Gregor rolls his eyes and I panic, spluttering the first name that comes to mind.
“Agnes. I’m called Agnes.” When my rushed response seems to cause him some distrust, I add hastily, “I can’t remember the last time I gave someone my name. Like I said, I usually travel alone. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually…spoken to anyone.” The lies become easier the more I suffuse them with the truth. Just as my dear friend Rowland taught me, all those years ago. “Let alone, heard lavish stories about how the other half lives. I guess it pays to know the king.”
If you’re into being associated with bloodthirsty monsters who singlehandedly killed mankind and set about a new era of terror.
“No apologies necessary, Agnes,” Boris chirps, the crags of his face lighting up in a horrific way. “We’ll keep you company as long as you’d like.”
I’m thankful when Gregor jerks around, snuffing out the light and casting Boris back into gloomy shadow. The noctis don’t deserve to feel things like excitement and elation. Anger, disappointment, and hunger are all his expression should ever know.
“Perhaps it’s time you shut up and let the woman think,” the large noctis roars. “I don’t want to spend half the day walking in circles, listening to you two prattle on, just so you can get your cock wet by evening.”
We both stiffen, but I’m sure it’s for different reasons.
The chastisement has the desired effect though. Boris, with his hands crammed into his pockets, doesn’t utter another word, or crack another smile for the remainder of our walk through the city. It’s a good thing too because my mind needs a break. My stamina for social interactions is almost nonexistent, let alone ones that involve pretending to cozy-up next to the monsters I despise. Every word I’ve uttered, every smile or laugh I’ve feigned, has tasted like a betrayal. Every time I’ve had to pretend that I was interested in another one of Boris’ kill stories, a pool of poison has sunk into my belly until my well became nothing but lies and death.
I shudder to think what would happen if someone from the commune saw me walking around with not one, but two noctis. What they’d think. What they’d do.
“How much farther?” Gregor asks, pulling me back to the present, back to the dismal streets that feel far more welcoming than the place I’d been in my head.
Shaking the useless worries out of my mind, I point ahead. “Just around the corner. Take a left here.”
He takes the turn, his disgruntled nature softening at the prospect of our arrival.
When he sees the compound, he stops mid-stride.
It’s not that it’s so obvious to the naked eye. There aren’t any signs readingFresh Meat! Come Eat Your Humans Here!or pikes displaying the rotten heads of noctis and ghouls alike. At first glance, it’s hardly discernable from any other street in Gravenburg. Some buildings are seemingly unscathed by the horrors that laid roots in this city, their shutters intact, and not a single weed breaking through the foundation. Then there are others that are in complete disarray. Eschewed doors hanging off their hinges. The collapsed buildings, the rubble, the dust.
But the one quality that the rubble possesses on this street that most others lack is tidiness.
The stones that crumbled from the walls when the demons plowed through the town have been stacked to one side of the road. The carts of discarded goods that didn’t even have value in the aftermath like handcrafted jewelry, corsets, and pipes, have all been swept into a pile. If either of the noctis with me were to peer into the windows on this block, they’d find that the buildings are almost entirely free of dust and cobwebs. That’s because they’re put to use, on occasion, when the town runs out of room beyond the wall. The homes and shops out here have become temporary storing units, or prison cells for noctis and ghouls they’ve kept alive long enough to torture for information, or for science.
Having anticipated Gregor’s keen eye to cause him to stop abruptly, I’m not the one to run straight into him.
“I don’t get it,” Boris says once he’s had a chance to stagger back into place beside his partner. “What do you see? What are we looking at here?”
Gregor takes it in for a moment longer, a deep breath the only thing to puncture the silence as we anticipate his answer. “It’s…clean.”
Boris scratches the thin, wiry hair atop his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. Not pristine by any standards, but it is clean, isn’t it?” He leans forward, addressing me on the other side. “This is where you found them? Where they killed those ghouls?”
Fortunately, our ruse is over. Now that they’re both in the line of sight, I don’t have to put up with this game any longer. And when the corners of my lips twitch, I don’t stop them from curving into the vile, satisfied smile I’ve been looking forward to since we left the rooftop.
“No. No ghouls died here,” I say, voice laced with deadly intent. “But this is whereyoudie.”
Before his expression can even wilt with realization, an iron bolt—no doubt fletched by Elison Wade, the best fletcher around and the only one that I’ll ever do business with—pierces Boris right through the eye socket. His undamaged eye blinks in time with his sputtering lips, but it’s only a matter of seconds before he collapses, utterly boneless.
Another shot fires, but it’s slower than the first. Perhaps a grave mistake on their end. Or on mine.
The first bolt acts as a warning bell, giving Gregor just enough of a heads-up that when the second quarrel comes flying a split second later, he’s already spun out of its trajectory. The noctis is smarter than he looks, and it’s my fault for not giving him credit for that sooner.
He dodges the deadly blow and charges toward me.
“Fuck me—” The words I mutter are ripped from my lungs in a whoosh of air as the mountain of a man slams into me. My head cracks against the brick wall, a burst of white blinding my eyes.
