Chapter 25

Fog and the clobbering noise of a fleet of horses filled the barren streets on the way to the First Sector. Every edge exposed to the chilly morning became slick from the icy vapor hanging heavy in the air, the dampness that seemed to pierce deepest and to the bone. Nico's arms wrapped around my waist, holding me steady as we led the way through the obscure morning, the visibility only clear enough to see to the next streetlamp.

Echoes of gunfire replaced the quiet. Lights flickered behind curtains, the sound waking people in their bedrooms, and I noticed the canvas covering the windows sway, allowing those inside to peek at us as we passed.

"People will worry now," Nico muttered in my ear. "Hells, if this is anything like I'm anticipating, we won't be able to keep the Row out of the fight any longer."

"One thing at a time, Nico. The Watch brought this to our streets, but this is our territory. This is our home, and we'll make sure all who live here never have to wake to gunshots ever again."

The false hand over my stomach pressed me back into his chest. "Spoken like a true Attano," he whispered roughly in my ear.

I scoffed. "I'm sure I'm missing a few choice words for that to be true."

"Hey, Adler," he called to the rider to the right of us. "What shall we tell the watchmen bastards when we see them?"

"Fuck off!" A chorus of voices answered with him.

Despite the fear coiling in my stomach, I laughed. "My point made."

The break in our melancholy march didn't last long as the scent of gunfire permeated the air.

We neared the First Sector.

Smoke mixed with the mist to conceal the source of the noises we heard throughout the city. The silence between gunshots was filled with screams of suffering and the crash of metal and glass as stray bullets hit buildings. Nico motioned for us to dismount and continue on foot when we were a few blocks from the sector.

"You can't see a damn thing," one man commented. Light from the streetlamps only reached so far, swallowed by the mist hovering over the cobblestones and wetting every step toward the warehouses. We passed the Meat Market, the open marketplace dark and quiet without its usual traffic.

"Who goes there?" a voice called from inside the gates in front of the market.

"Attano Benders," Nico answered.

A curse of relief preceded the appearance of several wearhs, who had watched from the entrance. "We've been stationed here in case the watchmen bring a squad to hit the markets. They've been hitting Sabina where it hurts. She thought they might come here next."

"How many?"

He sucked a cheek in thought before replying. "At least three squads, if the number of attacks means anything. They hit two warehouses and the tannery. Just storage and stock for now. It's hard to tell in the fog, but each group appears to be at least twenty in number."

Nico nodded, checking the chamber of his gun. "And the bleeders? Didn't think a few watchmen could overwhelm a group of natural hunters."

"These men are a different breed," he mumbled, as if hiding his words from the men behind him. "They have power their predecessors never practiced on us before. You'll see when you get in there, Bender. Do not underestimate what they can do."

"We know exactly what they're capable of." I spoke with the experience to match my confidence. "Where is Sabina? Nico and I can head to her first to see if she needs assistance."

"You can try," he answered, looking me up and down curiously. "Her manor is on the river, just behind the warehouses. Most of our wearhs took off to guard the road leading to her place."

Nico nodded to his cousins, who split the remaining men into factions and sped off toward the remaining warehouses. "Have they tried to contact you? Any terms or negotiations?"

The bleeder shook his head wearily. "Not that I'm aware of. We woke up to gunfire and strange magic rolling through the earth. Most of us with wearh senses could feel a strange sensation in the air. A scent we didn't recognize."

"Sulfur?" I asked. When the bleeder nodded, I looked at Nico. "Arcane magic, like the kind they used in the tower."

He sighed, his breath a ghostly white cloud from his lips. "We carve our way to Sabina's. Her warehouses have taken hits, but we need the Madame more than her stocks. Bring the chest."

Two of the hired benders went back to the carriage and pulled something out of the back. A rectangular chest with large locks over the opening. Whatever was inside it being apparently cumbersome from the way it took two men to carry it behind the group.

"Stay close, Milla." Nico positioned himself on my left side, opposite my shooting hand. But I had no plans to separate from him when my power was fully available. Even now, I felt it buzz inside my bones, aching to be released. Like it was angry to have been silenced it for so long and was now waiting for the opportunity to snap its vengeful bite.

I swallowed down the swarm in my chest and followed Nico into the mist.

The ground shookfrom the sounds of shots and falling brick as bullets exploded against the buildings. Nico shoved me behind a wall of crates, motioning for the men to scatter and lie low to avoid the crossfire.

"I'm going to scout out their numbers. Luther," he called behind him, "toss me some silvers."

Luther reached in the chest they'd pried open and did as he was told, throwing Nico a handful of metallic orbs.

"Bombs?" I asked.

He nodded quickly. "Freshly made from the steelworks. I'll be right back. You won't even know I'm gone."

I reached for him to avoid getting caught in the time suspension of his remnant, but my fingers caught air. One moment he was in front of me, the next he wasn't.

It wasn't right.

If he had scouted successfully and returned, he'd have restarted the time and it would have been as he said, like he'd never even left. But looking around, Nico was nowhere to be found; instead, he was still somewhere inside the mist that was concealing the sounds of close-range fighting.

"Luther!"

"Shit," he said, realizing the same.

My hands shook around my gun. "Gideon, can you blow away some of this fog?" He could bend the air, a bender ability commonly found in their family. It was some of the only coverage we had, but every second I couldn't see Nico sent my heart racing a beat faster.

Without question, he did as I asked, stirring a great breeze from the west. Salt and the metallic sting marking spilled blood carried on the icy wind from the river. Gideon was careful to only reveal sections at a time, like pulling back a blanket to reveal patches of ruined stock and destroyed commodities. The two warehouses near the river were in such a way to aid in the transportation via the Ada, but the Society must have destroyed the loading docks.

They tore everything apart that belonged to Sabina.

Three bleeders were pinned against a half-standing brick wall, metal rods shoved through their chests. Dark stains bled into bowls beneath their hanging feet, collecting the blood dripping down their laced boots.

"Seven hells." My voice faltered.

Without thinking, I ran to the bodies of two men and a female wearh that had been left stuck, suspended on the remains of the warehouse. Luther caught me before I could get to them.

"Milla, they aren't getting any deader. We got to clear out the rest of the Society so we can deal with them properly," he spoke in my ear.

"Let go of me!" I snapped, though not for the reason he probably assumed. My hands were already black, somehow my gun was still intact in my shooting hand. But one slip could destroy the man behind me. Could take out the entire sector. The remnant in my bones was stronger than ever, fueled by rest, food, and the need to binge on the power I'd kept starved.

Thankfully, he conceded without a word, releasing me just as a concession of bombs went off just ahead, trembling the earth. Luther beckoned to follow him, and I ran with my back arched low to the ground, sneaking past the four-story warehouse until we reached the next block.

There, in the cross section of the three depots, was the source of the sounds haunting the rest of the Row. Bleeders ducked behind overturned carriages, waiting to use their teeth and talons and supernatural speed once the officers on the riverside of the battlefield reloaded.

A hiss prompted our attention, just to the right of where we crouched. A bleeder glared up at us, baring her blood-covered teeth, blood that once belonged to the Society member lying dead beneath her. His head fell to the side, revealing teeth marks where the woman fed from him.

She gave us a once-over then fled.

I grimaced at the drained man. "Do they really have to do that?"

"It gives their remnant a boost," he explained. "Feeding off a body, even in just small amounts, can give them energy for hours. Though it's unpleasant for the rest of us."

I agreed, quietly taking in a detail of the guard I hadn't noticed at first, distracted by his throat. Written across his skin where the gaps in his uniform provided a glimpse were arcane symbols. Like the ones Delilah wrote on me. They flickered a milky blue glow until fading into plain black lines.

Approaching his body wearily in the alley, I pulled up his sleeve, avoiding the gloves that were oddly bloody at the fingertips. He wore the same armor the watchman donned in the tower, and I recalled easily how the laced leather burned.

The symbols differed from the ones Delilah branded on me. I pulled up my sleeve, comparing the barely there scar that blended with the paleness of my forearm. But the slight ridges marring the soft skin were enough to prove our marks were different. The ones on this man were of a different purpose.

"Milla!" Luther whisper-shouted. "They have Nico."

A watchman hadNico at gunpoint in the center of the road feeding the warehouses. He was surrounded, at the end of too many barrels, though not a flinch of fear showed on his face. I was unnerved enough for both of us.

"Why isn't he doing anything?" Luther murmured. The fighting ceased, clear the Society had the leverage they needed to prevent further retaliation from the Blood remnants. Nico was still as stone, molded from the steel funding his empire. He fisted one hand, his false one hanging limp.

"He can't," I whispered.

It hit me then, why the dead man had the blood of a bleeder staining his fingers. He'd used them to draw.

I looked behind us, scanning the area of where he was attacked. My search caught on a symbol glowing faintly across the red brick of the warehouse building. The rune was unfamiliar—a different kind of spell. A quick assessment of the street confirmed the other warehouses were similarly marked. They'd formed a barrier around the place—which meant Nico was under the effects of some kind of arcane science.

"Do you remember the barrier from the tower?" I asked him. "I think this is something similar. Look at the wall."

Luther followed the finger I used to point at the symbol, and his eyes widened. "We need to destroy it." He darted to the image, trying to rub away the bloody rune. He cursed when it barely smudged the image. "The blood has already stained the brick. Can you use your..."

"No, absolutely not."

He crossed the alley to crouch beside me once more. "Camilla, this is important. If they've shut off the magic somehow, we'll never stand a chance at pushing them out of the Row."

He spoke as if I didn't already know the stakes, like I didn't want to help. "Luther, you don't understand. The fog is too thick. I can barely see where my fire would spread and there's too many people around—"

Luther was shaking his head. "Don't lie to me, boss. I've seen you wield your remnant. You did it once, you can do it again."

"That was one time," I hissed. Hells, everyone had so much faith in me, but they didn't know the truth. Luther, of all descendants, should have known the tricks Delilah played on her subjects.

My blood boiled despite my heart's reluctance. The war inside me nearly tore me apart until I finally snapped. "I killed people in Hightower, Luther. You saw a glimpse of control, but it's never been so... so..."

"Predictable?" he asked.

I nodded, losing the rest of my words.

He glanced toward the end of the alley, where gunfire and shouting filled the street. "Grief, fear, regret, those memories that resurface every day, they are not something you'll ever be able to control. But that wall you keep putting up to protect yourself from experiencing them isn't keeping anything out, Camilla. It's just holding all those painful feelings inside."

He grabbed my hands. "I know what Delilah was like, boss. She dug you a hole so dark and deep and without a single foothold to climb yourself out. But your family is here to pull you out, no matter how many times you fall back in. You just got to reach out, alright? You can do this."

A warm tear rolled down my cheek, and I shook my head to clear the rest brimming in my eyes. "Alright, fine. Just stay back, please. Just in case."

"On it, Milla. I'm going to put eyes on Nico."

He disappeared down the way we came, assumingly to find another side street that fed into the center. My remnant rose and fell like waves lapping at a cliffside, slamming hard into my conscious one moment before retreating in the next. I stepped away from the edge of the building, letting it smooth out again, though the tide of power in my veins surged high and remained steady.

Tentatively, I placed my inky hands against the wall. Luther's words eased some of the reluctance holding me back. Whatever it took to get Nico out of the line of the Society's guns, I'd risk exposing myself, what I held down, and hope to hell it wouldn't backfire.

A disorienting quake rolled through the alley and more bombs exploded on the edges of the street. Silver smoke billowed and filled the air with a noxious smell. The coordination of the sudden, jarring shake and the smother of smoke over every sense, I lost focus on the control of my remnant as it slipped into the brick unsolicited.

Dark flames flashed from my hands spread in every direction, eating away the surface of the wall as it devoured the symbol and consumed everything around it, pulsing, cresting from fear. The smoke combined with the fog blocked out the sight of anything further than an arm's reach away, concealing my fire.

I shoved myself off the crumbling wall, swallowing smoke as I took a breath and inhaled the fumes of chemical vapors filling the air. The warehouse groaned amid the sound of gunfire and shouts. The crack of brick, splitting glass, and snap of wood framing sent me stumbling back.

A patch of wall visible in the streetlight, fighting to filter through the smoke, was obliterated into blinding dust. The roof caved in and sent a blast of air through the missing part of the wall, brushing my face.

Shouts, shots, screams of dying watchmen and wearhs combined then with the deafening sound of the falling building. I scrambled away, debris hitting the back of my head and coat, and the ground rumbled hard enough to knock my strides unsteady.

By the time I reached the place they had Nico, he was gone. I looked around, searching the smoke, but only flashes of faces appeared before vanishing into the thick fog once more.

A mask of obsidian found me first, turned its obscured front to me. The guard lifted his gun, but before he could pull the trigger, my hand darted out between us defensively—an involuntary reaction I'd picked up from my time in the prison.

He was consumed in the next moment, no more than red mist across the cobblestones, though his mask and gloves fell to the ground untouched.

"Chaos!"

My title was shouted behind me. I turned to find another sprinting in my direction. This one was closer, not giving me time to react before he wrapped my shoulders in a tight embrace, pinning my arms down. Gloved hands burnt the skin over my throat.

The pain of his touch was agonizing, and I would have screamed if he hadn't been choking my airway. My arms were locked at my side, and I was hardly a match for him physically. My fingers reached, skimming the handle of my revolver, still sheathed in my waistband.

I rested the barrel against the curve of my waist and shot until he fell limp to the ground, next to the remains of his fellow watchmen.

But more were coming. He'd alerted them of my presence. Keeping my gun close, I tried to backtrack my way to the warehouse. Bleeders rushed past, some of their figures no more than a blur, confirming I had broken whatever arcane circle that had once surrounded the area. Yet still, no Attanos appeared in the haze.

The wind stirred once more, though this time, the force of the gust could only be compared to that of a violent thunderstorm. Where Gideon's had been a gentle breeze, this was a gale, slamming through the street to clear the remainder of smoke and fog and nearly knocking me back in the process.

I couldn't even walk against it and instead was forced to get low and shield my eyes from the haze of dust carried in its wake.

An icy spark chilled my cheeks, spilling through the cracks of my fingers. This was no unintentional wind—this was Nicolai. Only he could conjure a force this powerful and simultaneously leave behind the faintest electric touch of his remnant across my skin.

Once it settled, I lowered my arms to look around, taking in the remains of storehouses, the bodies of both sides littered across the pavement, the stains bleeding across the grey ground and coloring it red.

But not all of them were dead.

A watchman scrambled to attention a mere ten feet in front of me. Black cape with sigil of an eagle flapped in the scraps of the waning breeze. I vaguely heard my name being shouted behind him, but that mask soaked up my attention, preventing me from looking anywhere else.

This one was different. I could feel something from this man, an energy pulsing in the space between us.

"Camilla," he spoke my name like a slur.

I gripped my hand around the handle of my gun, which was pointed in the wrong direction. Wouldn't matter if it was. This one's armor was twice as thick as his comrades'. Not an inch of skin, no weak point, was revealed in the solid black attire. The watchman did not reach for his weapon. Instead, he reached for my mind.

With a power I didn't understand how he possessed, he took control of my body—and made me kneel.

My hand relaxed, letting the weapon fall to the ground. Footsteps came behind me, closing in—and yet I could do nothing. Completely overtaken by this man and his remnant—magic from a guard that made little sense. Only twice had I felt this way, when Sera had bound me with her power, when her father manipulated my body, but this was a guard. He couldn't be a descendant—the Watch would never let one of them into their ranks.

The men behind us fired off their guns at whoever was trying to come to my aid.

"Stand down!" I shouted, hoping they'd listen to my orders. By the rapid fire continuing to press on, they didn't.

Then the whirr of a machine cut over the guns. I turned my head in time to see a bike emerge from the edge of the fog beginning to creep down the alley between warehouses. A fast bike—a white plume rising from an engine I could only assume was powered by steam.

The rider pointed a gun in my direction, and I could only stare wide-eyed and frozen in place by the watchman's magic as he fired—and shot me in the leg.

As the bullet tore through my flesh, the pain lost the compulsion over my body and I fell to the pavement, weak and compromised. It seared through me, sinking into the thick part of my thigh and spreading a white-hot agony through the rest of my body.

The watchmen scattered as more shots pinged their armor. All four of them fell, one by one, as the rider took them out successively. The one with magic must have realized he lost his backup, because he retreated toward the docks with the flap of his cloak.

Wind sliced through the area once more, this time in a purposeful direction, lifting the bike off course and tossing the rider into a nearby wall. Their head slammed into a brick wall, body falling limp against the ground.

When I looked toward the docks, the watchman and the rest of his legion were gone.

"Milla!" My name shook in Nico's voice. I sat up slowly to find him running toward me. The tan skin of his face splattered with blood, though none of it seemed to be his own. He took in the gunshot wound on my outer thigh before stripping off his coat, using his teeth to tear at his sleeve while his false hand was still immobile. He held the scrap to the bleeding wound.

"The haelens are on their way." Panic laced his words, his touch trembled. "Sabina's house has been cleared. We'll take you there to be seen first. Can you stand?"

Without letting me answer, he shook his head, dismissing his own question. He looked over at his cousins. "Help me carry her. I can't..." He grimaced and shook his head.

I placed a hand around his bare forearm. "It's alright, Nico. I don't think the bullet hit anything important. It's not even bleeding that bad." Trying to scoot to sit closer to him, the movement aggravated the lead still embedded in my muscle. I winced. "Hurts like a bitch, though."

His eyes darkened as they settled over the place where blood soaked through my pants. He shifted his attention to where a group had gathered around the fallen rider. "Take off his helmet!" he commanded. "I want to see who did this. I want to know who shot my wife."

Nico stood and started toward them once Gideon came beside me. The bleeders set the rider on his feet, who had apparently regained consciousness.

"I want to look him in the eyes as I strangle the life from his chest for—" He stopped dead in his tracks.

I gasped, disbelieving my own eyes. My voice came out as a shaken whisper.

"Aramis?"