Chapter Thirty-One Shan

Chapter Thirty-One

Shan

S han and her brother had avoided each other. It wasn't the accidental passing of two ships in the night, busy people with busy schedules and no time to meet. It was the calculated, deliberate work of two people who knew each other—and their schedules—well enough to ensure there were no chance encounters. The only communication they had was the nightly arrival of his notes upon her desk, write-ups on all that he had seen and heard, delivered after she had gone to bed.

She was used to being ignored, to receiving the cold-shoulder. Blood and steel, in her debut year she had received the cut direct a few times. But she had never imagined that it would come from Anton . They had always relied on each other, two halves of a whole, the way twins were supposed to be.

When had that changed?

She stood at the door to her brother's room, her fist raised to knock, but the resolve fading fast. Despite the fact that she had cleared her schedule, had rearranged things so that she could barge in on him while he was getting ready for another night out upon the town. It shouldn't be so hard. They could still talk, mend whatever was going wrong between them, and return to the way things had been before. She just had to be open with him.

Shan dropped her fist and walked away.

It was a little early to begin her rounds, but she couldn't spend another night cooped up in this damn house, surrounded by silence and judgement, her shoulders tense as she sorted through folders of information and ledgers of financial records, constantly switching back and forth between the spymaster and Lady LeClaire.

She could have gone to one of the many parties in Dameral, seeing the boost to her reputation over recent months. But that would just be another kind of stress—a world of lies and false masks and games.

Tonight she needed something simpler. She needed to be the Sparrow.

By the time her transformation was complete, night was starting to fall. She slipped out of the house through the servants' door and crept through the alleys, leaving the fine district she had grown up in and trading it for something raw and real.

Pulling her hood up over her face, she moved through the streets and let everything fall away until she was simply a body in motion, heading by rote memory to the appointed place. At last she arrived in the dark alleyway and slipped into the shadows, preparing to wait. She grabbed a slim case from her pocket, and a moment later had a cigarette at her lips, the burnt match crushed under her heel.

It was a vice she didn't normally indulge in, even with the Blood Healing she had access to. It was a vile habit, addictive and nasty and far too smelly, but she had picked it up from Isaac when they had spent late nights at the Academy, reading texts and preparing for exams. Then it was a source of camaraderie and comfort, and lately she needed that. To ground herself and calm the nerves she couldn't quite shake.

Besides, it only added to her disguise. Here she was just another soul taking a smoke under the night stars.

She took a long, harsh drag on the cigarette, the pale stick of paper and tobacco turning to ash in her fingers. The only light in the alley was the burning tip, a spark of red between her lips.

Then a flash of shadows in the corner of her eye and Bart dropped down from the roof, landing beside her in a fluttering of cloaks. "I didn't expect to see you tonight, Sparrow."

She hid her smile behind a long drag on her cigarette. "I was feeling restless."

He nodded, understanding, but there was humor in his voice as he said, "So you thought you could swipe my bird out from under me?"

"Hey," she elbowed him lightly, "she likes me."

As if to prove her point, the sound of light footsteps barreled towards them. Their informant ran right up to her, her eyes shining with an excitement that made Shan preen. It still shocked her that she earned such loyalty, that her birds seemed genuinely happy to see her. This bird was a small thing, no more than twelve, dark of skin and decidedly plain—which fortunately was helpful in her line of work. She slid right under most people's attention.

"Sparrow! I haven't seen you in so long."

Turning towards the girl, Shan dropped the cigarette, leaving it to burn out on the cold cobblestones. "Hello, Naomi."

"And Hawk?" the girl asked, breathless and eyes wide. She peered around Shan, as if Bart were just a figment of her imagination. "Both of you? Must be serious."

Blood and steel, she was clever. Checking to ensure they were alone, Shan pulled the young girl closer to the wall and dropped her voice to a whisper. "I'm helping Hawk tonight," she said by way of explanation, and to pull her attention back from him. Bart always charmed the young ones with sleight of hand, pulling coins from behind their ears. "So, do you have anything for us?"

Naomi then remembered her place, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin like she was giving a report to a queen. "I have news for you."

"Please, continue," Shan said, giving her the ceremony she wanted.

"It's about the murders," Naomi said, dropping her voice low. "I've been telling Hawk that people are growing more nervous—they've stopped going around after dark anymore, and if they have to, they go in groups."

"What about you?" Shan interrupted. "Are you being safe?"

"My brother is working the corner," she said. "He's a pickpocket. I distract, he steals. We've not split up lately."

Shan didn't know if she should be worried or amused. Bart was fond of this girl—she was quick and clever, and she had a knack for hearing things she shouldn't. But these were dangerous times. The killer had yet to take someone so young, but Shan didn't want to be careless, and the blade tucked into Naomi's belt was little more than a sharpened piece of scrap metal. Slipping one of the small daggers from a sheath up her sleeve, she pressed it into the girl's hand, ignoring the gasp of surprise from Bart. "Keep this on you, just in case."

Naomi's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Wow."

"You know how to use it?"

"Stab them and run?"

Shan laughed. "Basically. You'll be fine." She passed her a coin, more than Naomi would normally make in a month, and added, "Get yourself a proper sheath for it. I don't want you accidentally cutting yourself."

The girl slipped the coin away into one of her hidden pockets, but she kept the dagger clenched in her fist. "Yes, ma'am."

"Anyway, I interrupted you," Shan said, courteously. "You were saying?"

"Right." She drew her shoulders up again. "I found something out." She leaned in, dropping her voice. "They just found another body, not even an hour ago."

Shan grabbed the girl's arm. "Where?"

Shan had Bart see the girl back to her brother, ordering them home for the night and bribed them with another piece of shiny gold. It was more than she was used to spending in a night, but she didn't want to risk it, even if Bart was watching her with surprise in his eyes. The girl was a good bird, she had a bright future ahead of her, and she shouldn't waste resources.

It had nothing to do with her being so young. Shan was not going soft.

Besides, she still had a body to see.

Dameral was dark and quiet. The crowds that had been present and thriving at dusk had already dispersed, and Shan never felt so exposed as she did then. But the empty streets at least allowed her to make good time as she hurried down to the waterfront, to the place her bird had said the body had been found.

She quickly glanced up at the moon, tracking its movement across the night sky. It had only been a couple of hours—maybe they hadn't moved it yet. Maybe they hadn't touched anything. Maybe she could actually find something .

Shan threw off her hood as she approached the perimeter, the spray off the sea kissing her skin. Several members of the Guard were already in position to keep civilians away, blocking off the area where the edges of Dameral clashed against the ocean.

Not that anyone was attempting to get closer. The sector was completely shut down—everyone hidden behind locked doors, as if that was enough to protect them against a determined enough Blood Worker. But Shan wasn't going to shatter their illusions of comfort. Even she wasn't that cruel.

Slinking around the perimeter, she searched for a familiar face to grant her access, when she was stunned to see a shock of familiar golden hair. Samuel stood at the edge of the pier, hands in the pockets of his coat, staring out across the water. The breeze caught his hair—loose and unbound—whipping it back and forth in a way that shouldn't have been so striking.

She hadn't seen him in days, not since before Isaac had come to her. He had refused her messages, and Isaac's as well, and they had both decided to give him what he seemed to want—time.

But time had run out and, and damn it all, she wanted to comfort him, to let him know that she was still on his side, but she couldn't bring that up now. Not when they had a corpse to examine.

Stepping across the perimeter, she passed by the Guards, holding her head high and acting as if she belonged. No one ran to stop her, though she did earn a few strange looks. As she came up beside Samuel, he turned his head and tried to offer a smile.

It came out closer to a grimace.

"I understand," she said, quietly. "The circumstances being what they are."

Samuel nodded, then took a step back to take in her outfit. "Been a while since I've seen that." His smile was more natural this time.

A small flare of warmth rose through her. Very few people had seen her as both sides of her herself, the Lady and the Sparrow, and fewer yet seemed comfortable with both of them, expecting one or the other to beg a mask. But that wasn't the truth—the truth was far more complicated than that. She was both in equal measure, moving between the noble and the spy with a fluidity that couldn't quite be pinned down.

"How did you come to be here?" Shan asked, and Samuel gestured down to the shallow beaches below them to where Alessi stood, directing her Guards with a quick and efficient hand.

"A note. Didn't you get one, too?"

"Possibly," Shan admitted. "But I wasn't home. I do have other sources of information."

"Ah, right. Foolish of me to assume that you didn't find your way here on your own." Holding his arm out to her, the perfect gentleman, he added, "Let's not waste time. Alessi's holding everything for us."

Samuel grabbed a lantern of witch light and led Shan down a short flight of stairs, leaving behind the warehouses and the docks, heading to where the ground turned to sand. The tide was low, exposing a harsh beach filled with stones and shells, and the moon cast a wan and faint light. Samuel held the witch light, illuminating the ground in a span of a couple of feet in front of them as they walked in silence.

The body was closer to the docks than it was to the sea, looking oddly sad and forlorn. Alessi stood near it, waiting for them as they approached. "It's not the body that I'm concerned about," she said, skipping right past the greetings and straight into business.

At times like this, Shan really appreciated Alessi. There was no need to pretend at propriety and pleasantries now. Shan was thankful that she wasn't wearing one of her dresses as she stepped around the body—a quick glance showed that it was the same kind of death as the previous victims. Desiccated and papery, drained of life and vitality. Only this time, the body had been drained and then thrown onto the beach, salt and sand crusting its dark hair—

Her dark hair. It had likely been a woman. Shan couldn't tell if she had been old or young without seeing the face, but that much had been clear in the shape of the body, the tattered remains of the dress.

Samuel coughed behind her, and she turned to check on him, but he was holding himself together better than she had expected. Then again, this was not his first body—in the past few months he had seen more than his fair share, and that changed a person.

For some reason that made her incredibly sad.

"Here," Alessi said, drawing their attention away from the body as she held up a lantern. "This is what you should be concerned about."

Shan stepped forward, squinting at the dark wall. It took her a second to realize that those weren't smudges on the old, salt-soaked wood, but words scrawled in dark lettering, their edges smudged and dripping.

Five Down. One Left.

Your Secrets Will Out.

"Is that paint?" Samuel asked, reaching out to touch it, but Shan snatched his hand in midair.

"It's blood," she whispered, then turned to Alessi. "Hers?"

Alessi shrugged. "Likely. We've gathered a sample, but we haven't had a chance to test it yet. Or to identify the corpse."

Shan spun back to the victim, her mind whirling with possibility. This message was new—a break in the pattern. And there was a deeper pattern here, something they had been missing.

"There was nothing tying them together," Shan said, mostly to herself. They had just been Unblooded people. Simple people with simple lives.

She had been wrong.

"We must have missed it." Samuel looked towards Alessi. "Can you turn her?"

"I can," she said, though she seemed hesitant. "Why? Do you think you recognize her?"

Samuel just stared down at the corpse. "I… don't know. Just a feeling."

"Let's do it," Shan said, though she wasn't looking forward to touching it. "In case there is anything we can find—"

"All right, LeClaire." Alessi pulled a couple of handkerchiefs from somewhere in her robes and handed them over. "Here, don't touch the body directly if you can avoid it."

Shan took them gratefully, waiting for Alessi to take her position on the other side of the corpse. Together, they carefully lifted her and flipped her over, laying her back down on the sand.

"Well?" Alessi asked.

She had been young. Under thirty. Shan could see it now, even with her ruined face. But more than that, there was something vaguely familiar about the corpse, a faint recognition that she couldn't quite place underneath all the ruined skin. But it was there, even down to the outfit she wore—a tight, black corset that would have fitted much better on a body filled with life.

Wait.

She leaned forward, studying the corset and skirt, the few faux diamonds that still clung to the fabric. Her blood ran cold—she knew this outfit.

"Hells!" Samuel swore, suddenly and violently, and both Shan and Alessi looked up at him in surprise. He was pale and shaking, the lantern twitching violently in his hand. "I know her. She's a card dealer. Vingt-et-un."

"At the Fox Den," Shan said, and Samuel nodded.

"Her name was Sarah."

Shan closed her eyes, searching her memories of her nights at that place, of the Unblooded workers who came and went. Of a brilliant, bright woman with dark hair and a loud laugh. "Sarah Dean." She turned her gaze onto Samuel, who looked pale and wan in the moonlight. "But how did you know?"

"We need to talk" was all he said. "Alone."

"Yes." She glanced at Alessi. "Check the corpse against the blood on file for Sarah Dean, as well as the… ink from the message. It should be a match." She was already standing, brushing the sand off her knees.

"Where are you going?" Alessi asked. "They said there will be one more."

"Exactly." Shan looked to Samuel. "There is no time to waste."

"Right." He passed the lamp to Alessi, who took it questioningly, but his attention was entirely on Shan. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe." She turned quickly, striding across the sand, knowing that Samuel would be one step behind her.

It wasn't long before she had gotten him away from the crime scene, not all the way fully back towards the noble district, but the streets were quiet enough. Pulling him into an alley, she spun to face him. "What do you know?"

Samuel didn't meet her eyes, staring instead at the cobblestoned street, dragging the toe of his boot along it. "There are a few things I haven't told you."

"Clearly. You gamble, for one."

He winced. "Just the one time. Anton took me."

Shan took a step back. " Anton took you?"

"Yes." Samuel still kept his gaze low. "I had—it wasn't important, but I wanted to stop by to see you. But I found Anton instead. He let me know that Isaac was already there, and I was too late. So instead he took me to the Fox Den."

Shan just gaped at him. She had no idea that he had tried to reach her that night—her brother had said nothing of this. But the knowledge that he had wanted her, and had not been able to find her, cut her like a knife.

"Samuel, you could have—"

"No, I really couldn't," he said. "It would have been selfish of me, and I couldn't bring myself to interrupt whatever moment the two of you were having. But that's beside the point."

Though it hurt her in ways she never had imagined being hurt before, she held her tongue. "Right. So, Anton. I didn't realize that you two were that close."

"We're not," Samuel replied, "at least I don't think we are. But this isn't the first time he's come to me." He hurried into the tale, of Anton accosting him at his home, of Anton arranging something behind her back, of wanting Samuel's aid but judging him lacking.

And Shan remained silent through it all, as the pieces started falling into place. Her brother had been growing angrier and more secretive by the year, and she had thought it was merely the ever-growing strain of living under their father. For all the plans she had made, she had just assumed that he would be with her.

But she had never once asked him if he was.

"I am a fool."

"You're not," Samuel said, quickly. "It could be nothing at all."

They both knew it was a lie, but Shan didn't press it. She just allowed herself to lean into him, and he wrapped his arms around her. There was nothing forward about it, nothing demanding—just comfort, freely given.

Shan felt like she was breaking apart.

She stepped away, though the loss of his touch was like a physical ache. "You should go. There are some things I need to do."

"You shouldn't do this alone."

"I have to." She dashed away the tears that threatened. She would not be weak—she could not be weak. "I owe it to my brother."

"Okay…" He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. "Just be careful."

"You, too," she whispered, and then slipped out into the night, leaving him alone in the alleyway. She had to start moving before she broke down completely.

Samuel's fears were justified, but it had to be something else. Her brother might be playing something behind her back, but he wouldn't dare do this.

She had to hold onto that.