We traveled from the southwestern dumping grounds north, parallel with the huge wall of the city, making sure to avoid any Bronzes and tower-guards at the wall.
Dimmon knew Nuhav better than anyone, Baylen said, and despite his large size, he could snake, dip, and bob through alleys and hidden passes better than most.
It was because of people like this, people like Jeffrith and Dimmon and the Diplomats, that people likemewere taught to fear the alleyways this far south. You never knew when a dagger-wielding thief or vagrant was hiding in one, ready to cut you up and snatch your purse.
And now I was comminglingwiththe cutters and purse-snatchers. It filled me with a dour, guilty feeling to see what I had become.
I didn’t keep my knife drawn. Baylen told me not to use it unless I absolutely had to. So far, I’d seen no reason. This early in the morning, hardly anyone walked the streets—only the drunkards, night-maids, and undesirables. And us.
The Diplomats took the mission in force, with no less than thirty of us. We ran to keep pace with Dimmon, who seemed to careen and veer through alleys and around corners and buildings like he was trailing a scent. My legs churned and grew tired after the first hour of searching aimlessly for a shadow in the night.
Baylen told me, “We’ll need this number if we do run across the bloodsucker. They’re strong bastards, y’know.”
“So I’ve heard.” A thought came to me then—one that should have startled me but for some reason didn’t. If anything, it made me calmer. “Do you think we’re going to die, Baylen?”
“Eventually, ‘less the bloodies get hold and thrall you first,” he said with a grim smile at the corner of his mouth. “Buttonight? Fuck no. I won’t let ‘em get you, Seph.”
His reassurance warmed my bones. Slightly. I wasn’t sure what a thirteen-year-old boy could do against an ancient monster built from darkness and terror.
Hopefully thirty of us would be enough.
Part of me hoped we would never find the vampire. I knew it would only lead to death and sorrow. Layson was already gone. What hope was there ofsavinghim?
I realized, in that moment, with that thought . . . Dimmon wasn’t sending us on a rescue or recovery mission. He wasn’t trying tosaveLayson, he was trying toavengehim.
The warmth that had filled me with Baylen’s words quickly chilled when I recognized we were a feral gang of children being led by a madman on a hopeless quest.
My palms grew slick as I kept running, trying to turn my spinning mind off.
“There!” came a cracking voice to my right, on the far side of the street we ran down. “Shadow!” Jeffrith pointed off into the distance and Dimmon wheeled around, his longer legs carrying him quickly to the alley.
I didn’t see anything—until I came to the alley about four rows back from the others. There were so many of us bunched together it was hard to push through them.
Baylen said, “Stay near me, don’t worry ‘bout the others.”
I did. At the far side of the alley was a hunched form in the darkness—black against the purple night.
At the sound of our army of footsteps, the shadow looked over with red eyes gleaming and took off around the corner, vanishing around the side with a cloak fluttering behind him.
“After him!” Dimmon yelled.
We rounded the alley mouth and sprinted down the road to a town square, not unlike the one housing the bazaar in the Temple district, though smaller. Rows of shuttered shopslined the circular road, with alleys shooting off in six different directions.
“Split up! Find him and corner him. Shout when you’ve got eyes on him.” Dimmon gave the order and the mass of Diplomats split up into smaller groups.
Baylen and I charged left, along with two other kids I didn’t know.This is a horrible idea,I thought.If we have strength in numbers, why would we split up?
Dimmon was no leader. He was a cutthroat desperate to show his strength to his people—his sycophants. He wanted to appear cunning and savvy, when I could tell he was a fool.
Baylen and I came to the front of another corridor, which frustratingly split off into three more, deeper into an alleyway. We slowed our run to a crawl, padding silently down the labyrinthine passage.
Baylen drew his dagger, so I pulled mine from the belt-loop of my tunic. My friend and the two others glanced right down one of the narrow paths. Silence fell over the tight space, coaxing my heartbeat to thud loudly in my ears.
As they moved ahead, I looked left down one of the passages—
And froze.
A figure stood in the darkness, uncloaked, with a bald head and red eyes, slowly backpedaling deeper into the gloom.
