Chapter Twenty-Seven Shan

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Shan

"Y ou're not listening to me."

"I am," Shan insisted, though she didn't tear her gaze from the streets below. She stood with Bart on the edge of a sloped rooftop, tracing the movements of the people through the district—or more accurately, the lack thereof. It was a heartbreakingly lonely sight—there was hardly anyone out, and those who were moved together in groups, rushing through the night.

There was fear in Dameral, and she could feel it in the air.

"If you were listening," Bart continued, his voice quiet but sharp in her ear, "then you'd be more cautious about this."

She cast him a glare. "I have to investigate them, Hawk," she said, using the code names for their street work. It was safer that way, and Shan didn't want to risk it. Especially when she was investigating something so important.

She had yet to find a connection between the four victims, but she had to keep looking. Their names ran through her head like a mantra.

Fiona Molloy. Charles Hahn. Jessica James. Thomas Menken.

The street was clear, and she dropped from the rooftop to the alley below, softening her landing with a bit of Blood Working. Bart scrambled down after her, his descent less dramatic but no less effective, appearing at her side as she inserted the lockpicks into the keyhole.

"And just… like that," she murmured, as she maneuvered the tumblers into clicking free.

Bart slipped past her, easing the door open and entering the small flat. Shan bit back a smile—even though they were arguing, he still insisted on accompanying her on this mission, going so far as to take the lead when he could.

As if he could do anything against a Blood Worker. She let him have his pride, though. She was familiar enough with the sensation—and besides, if they did run into any trouble, she could protect them both.

When Bart waved her forward, the all-clear sign, she stepped into Thomas Menken's flat. He had been the latest victim, found dead in the middle of the intersection in one of the poorest districts of Dameral. He had been found by the Royal Blood Worker and Samuel Aberforth, and from the reports they had given it had been a gruesome affair. Just like the previous ones.

And now she was here, in his home, digging through his belongings in hopes to find some clue as to why he had been targeted.

"What was his job, again?" Bart asked.

"He was a foreman for one of the larger shipping companies," Shan replied, going through the contents of his pantry. It was well stocked, though starting to go off in the week since Menken had been murdered.

Bart simply hummed to himself, and Shan glanced his way. "What?"

"It's just… he did well for himself."

Shan turned around, taking in the space. The furniture was well made, sturdy and solid. The space itself was fairly large, and there was even a private washroom. It was, admittedly, a nicer home than she had expected, though it was perhaps unfair of her to judge it. Her only real experience was with the flat that Samuel had rented—and, well, he had been practically destitute.

"I suppose so," Shan said, "but he was a foreman."

Bart continued to search through Menken's things.

They worked together, letting the silence grow, as they carefully searched every corner of the flat. They were meticulous to leave everything as they had found it, though Shan wasn't sure it mattered—the Guard had already been through, and they hadn't found anything suspicious.

And neither did they.

"Everything is perfectly normal," Bart said, rubbing his hand across his eyes. "There is nothing here to suggest why him."

"Exactly like the others," Shan said. "It must be random, then." It made a certain kind of sense. Whoever this murderer was just wanted them for their blood. There was nothing else to it.

"Unfortunately, this means we have nothing to go on as to who they'll target next."

"Perhaps it's for the best," Bart muttered.

Shan whirled on him. "What?"

He hesitated, gnawing his lip. "Never mind."

"Oh, I will mind." She stalked forward. "Speak your piece."

For a moment she thought he wouldn't, thought he would turn away from her. But he jutted his chin forward, his eyes alight with a burning fire. "Hasn't it occurred to you that this is a trap?"

"A trap?" she repeated, eyes narrowed.

"Yes!" he glanced away, running a hand through his short curls. "Isn't it odd that the King turned to you for this?"

"He took a chance on me, when I found Samuel."

"And how long before the King realizes who you are?" Bart hissed. "Lady LeClaire is not this well connected. Lady LeClaire is not the type to run about Dameral, breaking into people's homes for information. Lady LeClaire is not the type to find a killer."

Shan didn't hesitate, the words flying from her lips. "That's irrelevant. If we succeed I could have my father's role." How could he not see the value in that? "It's a risk worth taking."

"And when he discovers you're the Sparrow?"

Shan rolled her eyes. "He won't. No one will." Aside from a handful of her birds—and Isaac, now—no one knew who the Sparrow was. No one would dare think that it was Shan LeClaire.

No one would expect her to have that kind of ambition. She played her part well, too well sometimes. It chaffed at her, pretending to be what she was not. But it brought her ever closer to her goals.

Bart was just watching her with a sad look in his eyes. "He will. One doesn't remain King for this long by being a fool. You're playing right into his hands."

"I have everything right where I want it," she spat.

He just shook his head. "Your pride will be the death of us, Sparrow."

"You're wrong."

Bart stepped away, and she let him go. "I hope I am." Pulling his hood up, he turned towards the door. "We're not going to find anything else here, and I have birds to see."

Shan watched him go, not calling him back, not fighting him any longer, though his doubts cut her to the bone. It was bad enough that Anton had been turning away from her—she didn't need this from Bart. Now not.

They were the pillars that had held her up her whole life, and now the very foundation she stood on was cracking just as she was reaching new heights.

Everything was playing out better than she could have anticipated. Lady Belrose was considering her bill, the Eternal King had turned to her for aid. She had both the Lost Aberforth and the Royal Blood Worker eating out of her hand.

It was everything she could have hoped for.

A small part of her rebelled at the thought of counting Samuel and Isaac amongst her accomplishments, but she was not fool enough to discount them. Regardless of her feelings for them, they were assets, and she had to be cognizant of it.

She was building power faster than she had ever thought she would. How could they not see it?

Clenching her fist at her side, she strode out the door. This might have been a dead end, but she was not done for the night. Samuel had picked up a couple of interesting leads at the Lynwood party the other night, and she had time.

She would gather every other secret and lie in Aeravin to her and prove that she was able to do this.

She would not destroy them.

She would bring them to glory.