Chapter 19

I strode rapidly through the streets toward City Center, hands jammed in my pockets and black thoughts swirling in my head. Ziola trotted to keep up, but I didn't slow. Lately, everything annoyed me, and I didn't like or understand it. And that annoyed me even more. I was certain, however, that everything could return to normal if only I could get away from Ziola. Or at least stop thinking about her.

As the buildings became grander and the streets broader, I checked my pace and guided Ziola more into the shadows. The ornate gas lamps were closer together here, and we had to thread a narrow path between them and the lights from the buildings themselves—all while appearing casual and natural to any potential observers.

"Should we move to the rooftops?" she murmured.

"Not yet. Let's stroll by at ground level first. Then we'll climb to the roofs."

As we reached Scepter Seraphim, we moved slowly but without pause past the three-story structure, taking in as many details as we could without being obvious. The building had an intricately carved sandstone fa?ade and a small guardhouse to one side of the entrance. Elaborate pillars adorned with gilt accents framed the large wooden doors, and above them, a grand balcony with metal railings stretched the entire width of the building. The railings looked decorative, but I was certain they were iron to prevent a fae from climbing over them. Reflected lamp light glinted on the panes of the tall, arched windows, but I couldn't see past the drawn burgundy velvet curtains.

I nonchalantly pushed my hair out of my face, taking that moment to scan the roof where a gargoyle clung to the front gable. He was so motionless, I would have mistaken him for a simple stone ornament had I not known better. But I could feel his eyes on us.

Ignoring the tingle of physical awareness touching her always brought, I slipped my arm around Ziola's shoulders and nuzzled her ear. "Gargoyle. Center gable. Don't look up," I murmured.

Without missing a beat, she wrapped her arm around my waist and leaned into me. "I see his silhouette," she whispered.

She smelled of vanilla and lavender, and I struggled not to rub my face in her hair to mix my own scent with hers. We continued our leisurely stroll down the street, entwined like lovers, before turning at the first cross street we encountered. As soon as we were out of sight, I dropped my arm and stepped away from her. My body immediately protested the loss of her slim form pressed against me, but I needed a clear head for the job at hand. And my head was anything but clear when she was so close.

I took in a deep breath of city air redolent of chimney wood smoke and lingering horse sweat to clear my nostrils of Ziola's scent. We had stopped in front of a high-end clothier that offered custom-made clothing, bespoke suits, and couture fashion for the well-heeled. The windowsills and brick front looked to be an easy climb, and I gestured to Ziola. "Up on the roofs?"

She nodded and before I could offer to give her a boost, she leaped, grabbed a shutter, and scampered up the storefront like a squirrel chasing the last acorn of autumn. I paused to admire the view from below as she climbed before following her up.

As soon as I swung up next to Ziola, we moved across the roofs toward Scepter Seraphim, staying low to avoid detection. Three buildings away, I tugged on her sleeve and motioned her to stop. Several pigeons roosted on a ledge just beneath the eave and we dropped to our stomachs, careful not to disturb them. At the edge of the roof, we peered toward the gargoyles. There were two on top of the auction house, the one in front that we had seen from the street and another in back, facing the mews.

"Can you see them?" I whispered into her ear.

She spent several seconds staring intently and then nodded. "Not clearly, but enough to hit center mass with an arrow."

"How close will you need to be?"

"From here is fine."

I continued to study the gargoyles. I wanted to examine the roof for wards and traps, but I'd have to come back alone and do it in rat form. The idea of getting close to the gargoyles in any form wasn't appealing, but they were far more likely to overlook a rodent than two people crawling over a roof.

Suddenly, there was a clatter from the street, and I glanced down to see a delivery cart driver struggling with a horse that had spooked at something. With a rush of wings and wheezy whistles, the pigeons took flight right over us. Cursing to myself, I prayed the gargoyles would ignore the birds and focus on the commotion below.

One of the gargoyles snapped his head in our direction and stood, his broad wings spread behind him in a slight arc. The feathers on his wings tapered into sharp points resembling serrated daggers, and I didn't want to think about the damage they could inflict in a fight.

His face was angular, with high cheekbones, a square chin, and a series of ridged horns that began at his forehead and ran down his spine. Lean muscle covered his tall form and his feet ended in talon-like toes. I held my breath and wondered how good his night vision was. Could he see us or just the startled pigeons?

The second also stood, turning his attention to the first. This one was shorter but considerably bulkier, with thick wings that resembled broken rock and sharp horns that curled around his ears. His face was round with a broad nose and large eyes that gleamed like polished jade. He swung his massive arms back and forth as he walked on formidable claws to the peak of the roof.

In the still night air, I could hear his gravelly voice call to his partner. "You see something?"

"Not sure. You stay here while I check it out."

I didn't know how fast these creatures could move, but we were about to find out. Grabbing Ziola's arm, I yanked her to her feet. "Move! Now."

Ziola didn't need further encouragement. She sprang forward, her lithe, agile body bounding across the slate shingles as easily as if she were strolling down the sidewalk. Behind us, I could hear the gargoyle's low growl as he took to the air with a loud flap of his wings, the sound like thick canvas being whipped in a storm.

Racing after Ziola, I chanced a quick look back and instantly regretted it. The gargoyle was right on our heels, his serrated wings cutting the air with powerful strokes. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity, illuminating the roofs in a ghostly light. I knew people hired gargoyle guards for a reason, but this was worse than I'd thought.

We couldn't outrun him up here—we'd have to get down to street level and hope to lose him in the narrow alleys of the rookeries. His wingspan would make it difficult for him to navigate in those tight spaces. I just hoped we could stay ahead of him long enough to reach the poorer district.

We zigzagged up and down the angled rooftops, trying to evade his grasping hands and vicious wings before leaping over a gap between two buildings. The gargoyle must have been unaccustomed to such nimble prey because he hesitated just a moment too long. The tip of his wing grazed the side of the building, sending a cascade of loose tiles spiraling to the street below. That poor cart driver. If his horse had been frightened before, it was probably in a blind panic now. I could fully sympathize with that feeling.

"Split up," I yelled to Ziola. "Get to the ground and run for the guildhall. Stick to the narrowest alleys. I'll distract him."

"No," she cried. "I—"

"Don't argue!"

Ziola veered right toward a massive drainpipe while I scrambled back up to the peak, making myself the more obvious target. She grabbed the spout with both hands and in a fluid motion descended swiftly. I flung a knife at the gargoyle, knowing it would bounce harmlessly off his stone hide but hoping he would see me as the greater threat and ignore Ziola.

With a roar, the gargoyle spread his monstrous wings and dove for me. I shot down the back side of the roof and didn't dare look back, but I could feel the rush of air as he advanced. A wide alley with mews on the other side loomed before me. Without pause I vaulted across, my fingers grasping the cool, slick edge of the mews roof. Below me was a window with a tiny iron balcony.

Letting go, I dropped into the narrow space and kicked in the window. Just as I leaped through, the gargoyle smashed into the railing. It crumpled under his assault, but he was too large to pass through the opening I had created. Instead, he tried smashing through with his powerful arms, sending debris everywhere. I had a feeling the neighbors wouldn't be happy with Scepter Seraphim's guard force.

I found myself in a storage area full of hay, feed, and tack. Racing down the steps, I ran through the stable area, unlatching stalls and letting all the horses loose. Then I opened the main door and chased them out. From upstairs I could hear the alarmed cries of grooms, including one shouting, "The horses are out!"

Sticking to the shadows, I slipped into the next mews and released their horses, before repeating my actions in a third. Horses and grooms ran in all directions and in the ensuing chaos, I was able to escape the alley without the gargoyle tracking me. I didn't know where he went, but I knew there would be hell to pay if any of those horses got hurt. These were the well-bred riding mounts and carriage horses of wealthy residents, not hackneys for hire or draft horses. The sight of a gargoyle terrorizing them would not go over well.

Panting hard, I sprinted down the street and saw Ziola standing at the entrance to a smaller lane, beckoning frantically to me. I darted into the alley, and we pressed ourselves against the cold bricks, listening for sounds of pursuit. My breath came in rapid, shallow gasps and my heart thundered in my chest.

After a moment, I wheezed, "I told you to run for the guild house."

"I thought you might need help."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't."

She peered at me with a furrowed brow. "Are you sure? You're bleeding."

Adrenaline had kept me moving, but now that Ziola mentioned it, fiery pain lanced through my side. I looked down to find blood soaking through my shirt and vest and realized I must have gotten caught on the broken glass when I flung myself through the window.

"No time to worry about it now. We're sitting ducks in this district's wide streets."

Ziola pursed her lips and looked unconvinced but nodded.

"An entrance to the Veiled Vaults is closest," I said. "We can rest there for a little while." I started jogging down the alley and Ziola kept pace.

"What's the Veiled Vaults?"

I lifted my eyebrows. "Did no one teach you anything? How did Lorget send you on assignments with so little information?"

"Maybe they were testing me? To see if I could fit in?"

I had no answer for her. Halder kept me close during the first year of my apprenticeship, but I'd been ten years old. Maybe they treated adults differently. Upon reflection, I couldn't think of another adult coming to the guild. I was one of the youngest when I started, but most of us had been no more than teenagers.

"The Veiled Vaults are a secret network of safe houses and passages beneath the city. They used to be just for guild members, but now anyone who needs a temporary refuge can use them. Petra stayed there off and on."

"She did? Why?"

"Ask her or Ralph. That's their story."

We left City Center behind with its faint scent of money and privilege, and the distant echoes of high-society laughter from exclusive parties. Now gas lamps were less frequent, and the architecture transitioned from grand townhouses to more modest brick buildings. I could smell wood smoke from hearths and caught the occasional whiff of cooking from small eateries that catered to the working class.

Soon we entered the rookeries, where the gas lamps were even more scarce and many of those were broken or unlit, leaving long stretches of dark shadow. The buildings were tall and closely packed along narrow, winding alleys that confused outsiders. Despite the squalor and violence of this area, I relaxed. I doubted even a gargoyle would venture through the rookeries' maze of passages. And if he did, he'd do it on foot because his wingspan was too great. I lived elsewhere now, but these neighborhoods were my roots, and I could navigate the warren with ease.

"I hope Petra restored the entrance," I said, more to myself than Ziola.

When she looked at me questioningly, I added, "She was being chased and used her magic to seal the doorway."

I turned into a narrow passageway and stopped where it dead-ended in a brick wall. Running my hands over the surface, I felt the opening and breathed a sigh of relief. Ziola's mouth dropped open as I took her hand and stepped through the wall.