Chapter 48

Lying on the rooftop at home, I listened to Thea, Paesha, and Quill work on the bathhouse in the distance, letting the slices of sunlight through the clouds warm my skin. After all these weeks, there was still a great sense of loss in small moments. Quill had torn her dress, and though Elowen tried, she'd not been able to hide the patch the way Hollis would have. It took two days to coax the kid out of her room after that, and the only reason she'd agreed was because Althea claimed she wouldn't be able to finish the nearly completed bathhouse without her. That and Boo had begun to pace at the door. Her sorrow had begun to seep down the walls, filling the air with sadness when she was at her lowest, and that was a very dangerous ledge for us to let her walk.

Each day held us on edge. We knew the Maestro was not done. We knew he wouldn't just let Quill and Paesha slip through his fingers, maybe even me. But there'd been no sign of him, and every hour that passed convinced us that whenever he did make a move, it was going to be a permanent devastation.

The front door shut several stories down. I rolled to my stomach, watching Orin cross the yard more quickly than normal. When he looked over his shoulder toward the roof, I ducked, convinced he was trying to make sure I didn't see him. For all the distance we'd come, he still had secrets. And maybe I should have let him have that space, but there were promises of a future between us, and I held nothing back.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I was chasing after him before I realized what I was doing. We'd never discussed his ability to kill after that first conversation, but there were still unanswered questions, and the last time he'd snuck out like this, there'd been a singular purpose.

That was night, and this was day, though, so maybe I'd had it all wrong. Still, I followed him through Silbath, taking the long way around Misery's End, crossing the stone bridge into Perth, past the clock tower, turning south through the graveyard, and heading directly into the Scarlet District.

Paranoia crept over me as I kept an eye on my back now more than ever. I'd seen the extra patrols of guards, had caught the way Orin avoided certain streets bogged down by Drexel's henchmen wearing long coats and twisted mustaches, as if they wanted to be the Maestro. He'd avoided going anywhere near the temples, his hatred for the gods shining through, even in the paths he chose to take.

Orin moved with a direct purpose into a narrow alleyway between two towering apartment buildings. I kept my distance, watching him from above, but as if he could feel me watching, he turned, studying the broken cobblestone streets around him. I ducked, holding my breath as I counted to ten, giving just enough time for him to pour over his surroundings. When I peeked my head up, he'd turned away, leaning against a building once more.

Drawing Hollis's pocket watch, he studied the time, danger rolling off him as a door swung open and a man emerged, holding tightly to the elbow of another man. Neither of which I recognized.

Still, Orin was quick. A strike to the throat and the man being detained was free to run. And that's exactly what he did. Though limping, he never once looked back to his savior as he bolted away. The other man, though? He'd fallen to his knees, hands held before him as if in prayer, begging my husband to show him mercy. I didn't need to hear the words spill from his trembling lips to know the darkness in Orin's eyes at this moment.

The ground seemed to rumble for a flash of a second, and the man collapsed to the ground, no longer moving. Orin's shoulders sank. He didn't bother checking for a pulse. As if time were not on his side, he raced down another alley, his coat billowing behind him.

I crouched, frozen in shock. I'd seen it happen before, but I'd somehow convinced myself it wasn't real. That it couldn't be. Even with the confession. I waited moments more, anticipating Death this time, confident he'd come, take the fallen's soul, and return to his home. But again, it wasn't Death. Only a creeping shadow, there and gone before anyone would know what happened.

I wasn't sure if I could catch Orin. I thought maybe I'd be better off heading home. But sheer curiosity forced me to hop across an adjacent alley, letting the sun set as I chased a man that always knew exactly the right words to say to hold my heart in his hands. Even when I knew I should have been more careful with it.

With each footstep, I remembered his words in my mind. His promises to choose me when I thought he hated me. The way he kissed me. The way his eyes burned for me. Whatever his secret, whatever he thought he was protecting me from, I could still feel myself falling deeply, maddeningly in love with him. Poor bastard.

On the backside of an opium den, closer to my father's castle than I was comfortable, he stopped again, this time for less than two minutes before a stunning woman emerged from the back door, her breathtaking beauty betraying her identity as she hugged my husband and pulled him down the street, to which he diligently followed.

When Ro and Orin slipped into an old building, I followed right behind them, jealousy expanding like a wildfire in my heart. I wanted so desperately to trust both of them, but this felt wrong. This felt like a secret betrayal before I'd even gotten an answer. I'd learned over these past months that I truly knew nothing of people. Of friendship or family or love or loss. So how could I claim to know anything about jealousy?

The hallways of the apartment building were narrow and smelled of old piss. Stained carpet and dented doors filled the space as I held my breath and followed the echo of Ro's heels all the way to the back end of the building, around a corner, up a single flight of stairs, and further down another hallway. When I'd nearly caught up to them, turning the final corner, I drew up short. Could my heart really handle what I might find in this moment? Did I really want to see them embrace as lovers or see his lips on another woman? Though my heart ached at the mere thought, I was not a coward. And I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror if I walked away.

The door to the apartment they sank into was left ajar. And I'd never felt like a bigger fool than I did, peeking inside to find Orin's eyes locked with mine, arms crossed over his chest, tapping his fingers as if he'd been there for hours, waiting for me to arrive.

"Took you long enough," he said with an eyebrow raised.

I peeked around him to see Ro sitting on a golden couch that looked oddly similar to one I'd seen in her home.

"Where are we?"

He flashed a curious glance at Ro and then back at me. "You've never been here?"

"Of course, she has; she's just confused." She pinned me with a stare, but I shook my head, unwilling to play her game.

"No. I've never been here. And just as I won't let you lie to me, Orin, I'm not going to lie to you."

Ro rubbed her face, the eye roll almost audible. "Fine. Come sit down. Both of you. Where to start…" She tapped a finger to her chin, scooting to the edge of her ornate couch. "Dey first, I think.

"She's never been here because I have another home I usually invite her to. That covers that."

And it did, I supposed.

"Orin, on the other hand, is harder. Perhaps we should have some tea. Maybe something stronger?"

I had barely sat down before pulling away from Orin's grip on my hand and standing. "Just get to the point. I've been patient long enough."

"Your husband has the ability to kill, yet he is not a Death Lord."

I tucked my chin to my chest, pinning her with a stare. "I've gathered that much already."

Orin cleared his throat, reaching for me, but I took a step back. "Start talking."

"It's not like your power. Death doesn't come. I don't get names. I just… how do I explain this?" He turned to Ro, but she only lifted a shoulder.

"Try the beginning," I said, throwing my hands on my hips.

Ro cut in. "Deyanira, sit down."

"I'm fine standing. None of this explains why you two are sneaking around Perth."

"Remember that time when you locked yourself in your father's dungeons, and the madness set in so deep you clawed your way free, and…" Ro's voice trailed off, but it didn't stop the embarrassment and shame from crawling across my skin. "You spent a good amount of time lost in the opium dens, and I basically had to drag you out, kicking and screaming?"

Without directly telling him, I'd said as much to Orin in the past. Still, I hated the way that memory haunted me. I sank into the couch, ignoring the pity on his face. My voice was little more than a whisper. "How could I ever forget the way they ran? The screams. The bloodshed. There were twenty-three deaths that day. Twenty-three people that happened to be standing in my path. I can never let that happen again. The madness that has never left or the nightmares from what I became. I tried to lock myself away, and it saturated me in bloodlust. So badly, the only thing I could see beyond the red were the faces of my victims as they fell. I killed until I found a way to stop. But I'll never forget it."

"The madness?" Orin asked gently.

"I'm not a terrible person."

He narrowed his eyes. "Of course, you aren't. Why would you need to defend that point to me, of all people? You've seen the darkness I harbor, Dey. You know most of this truth, though the words haven't been spoken."

Managing a breath, I nodded. "Tell me what's happening."

"I go to a place that's consumed by hatred. Slowly, over days, sometimes weeks, I become dark. Hateful. Hard. It's my own kind of madness, all-consuming until I kill someone."

I swallowed my pride, reaching for his hand. "Anyone?"

"Anyone. But Ro… she helps me. She finds the criminals, and they are who I hunt. Because I have to. Not because it was ordered by Drexel. He doesn't know. It's my choice. Otherwise…"

I knew that fear so intimately it hurt. "If you… I don't understand. The abhorrence you had for who I was, was real. Why would you hate me so much if you knew why I had to do it, too? If you'd experienced what I did?"

"I told you. I thought you had a choice, just like I do. And with the people that are missing, it just made sense that you were killing them. But I never meant to hate you, Deyanira. Not one day. When the darkness sinks in, it makes me hate everything. Even my own mother. And unless I'm with you, every day is a chore."

I shook my head, pulling away. "What do you mean, unless you're with me?"

He shifted closer, taking my hand, stroking a thumb over my knuckles as he cast his eyes to the floor. "That night in your room… I wasn't there to marry you. I was there to kill you."

A single sharp breath hissed between my teeth. "But I thought your uncle forced you to marry me."

Ro cleared her throat. "Be careful what truths you seek. Some are harder than the lies you find so comfortable."

"Stay out of this," I ordered, eyes like daggers as I threw a glare at her, pulling away from Orin again.

"Deyanira."

"No. You don't get to do anything but tell the truth. If one more lie slips from those lips… so help me gods…"

"My uncle had nothing to do with me marrying you. That's why he punished me during every show. Icharius was pissed, but the boss was furious. He's always called the shots and pulled the strings on the streets, and I slighted him."

"Tell me why, Orin. Why did you marry me?"

He looked at Ro, so much anguish on his face it physically broke me. But rather than respond, she simply stood and left the room. Likely seeking the drink she'd hoped for at the beginning of this.

My heart wasn't ready. My mind wasn't. Not for him to stand, take a knee before me, and drop his head. "I'll never be able to redo that day. And in many ways, I'm not sorry for it. You've been my match and my balm. The only thing I have ever truly needed in this world."

"Enough with your pretty words." I slipped Chaos from my thigh on instinct, bringing the blade below his chin to force his eyes to mine. "Tell me why you married me."

He swallowed, never moving away from my dagger, letting it nick his neck rather than allow a sliver of more space between us. Holding eye contact, he shrugged out of his coat, rolling the sleeve of his shirt to show me the black veins creeping down his muscled forearm. Slowly, he used his other hand, sliding it over my wrist. The darkness faded, accompanying my gasp.

"When I kill, it stays the magic. But when I touch you, it recedes. I accidentally grabbed you that night, and it changed everything. I didn't know what else to do. It was death or marriage once you woke, and… I'm sorry."

The betrayal was more lethal than the knife in my hands. Inch by inch, I felt the crack and then the shatter of my heart. Everything had been a lie, and he carried that willingly. The threat of tears burned like acid, their scalding trails etching the painful truth deeper into my wounded soul.

"You could have told me so long ago." I ground my teeth together, letting anger cover the sadness. "You let me be the fool in front of everyone. Did they all know?"

He nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, landing on the cold, unforgiving steel of the knife pressed against his throat. "Not about the murders, but they knew about the madness."

"That's why they let me stay," I whispered, the blade dropping to the floor. "It's all been a fa?ade. Even Quill? And Hollis? Gods, tell me Ro didn't send you to kill me."

He opened his mouth to speak and quickly closed it. And that was all the confirmation I needed. She wasn't perfect, but she was all I had then. And even she had wanted me dead.

I ran until I couldn't hear him calling my name anymore. Until the shadows were no longer a comfort to me, and the rain had soaked through every layer of clothing I'd worn. Until the crows scattered at my presence and the rats hid among the alleyways. And in that moment, pausing at the end of a street I hardly recognized, I realized I was truly alone, with nothing but my slain trust and the bitter taste of a life I once thought I knew.

How could I go back? How could I look any of them in the face knowing what they'd all been hiding? I'd freed them. I was willing to be imprisoned by a man I thought to be the greatest villain of this world… and for what?

I wasn't sure when my tears ran out and only rain fell upon my skin. Soaked to the bone and weary, I wandered aimlessly, so lost in my own misery, I let my guard down. So much that I hadn't noticed the looming silhouette of a broad man standing beneath the glow of the streetlamp, nor the cane planted into the ground to steady him.

"Is our precious Death Maiden in distress?" The squeaking of Drexel's leather gloves gripping his cane tighter felt like its own kind of warning.

I said nothing, unable to conjure the anger swelling within me any more than the numb sadness. He stepped closer, the clack of his walking stick muted by the sodden cobblestones.

"I know you think I'm a scoundrel, Deyanira, but I am a giving man. Tell me what you want in this world, and I will see it done. There are no limits to my power."

Ice filled my veins. "I want nothing from you. I can't be bought."

He chuckled, the deep red curl of his mustache bouncing with the sound, mimicking the scar on his face. "Everyone has a price."

For a second, I wondered if I did. If there was anything this man could do to take away the betrayal wreaking havoc within me. But I knew better. I knew he would only see that pain tripled in size. He was everything I thought he was, including Orin's scapegoat. And I hated him with such a visceral passion, I couldn't see past the red lining the edges of my vision. Serenity was a cool comfort in my hand as I charged for him, stopping only a single step away. "Tell me the price for your life, Maestro."

He lifted his cane, attempting to swipe my blade away, but I grabbed the end and jerked him forward until he sat at the edge of Serenity. Again, he smiled, his jagged scar setting me on edge. I'd never looked at the man as anything more than a villain, but in this moment, as he faced his own death, he was attractive in his own right. Rough, confident, everything a man should and shouldn't be in one single package. I could see a hint of Orin behind those eyes. Even a dash of Elowen on his face. He'd been only a person once, until this world twisted him into something far more vile.

"You don't have the nerve, Maiden."

My flesh rippled at his spitting use of my title. As if disdain was not a strong enough emotion to convey the jealousy over my power.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of right now, Drexel."

"You're right. Let's play a game, shall we? Take that beautiful blade and plunge it into my heart." He gestured to the ground. "Watch me take my final breaths right here in this puddle."

I inched forward. I wanted to. Gods, I did. If not for the years and years of suffering he'd brought to this world, then for my own aching heart. But even now, at the pinnacle of my own sorrow, I knew his death would offer no solace. Still, I could free the world from at least one of its problems.

"Do it," he purred. "Bury the blade, Deyanira. Or are the rumors true? Have you not the conviction without the command from Death?"

I hesitated for only a moment. I could and would do this. A hardness settled over me with my decision as I drew Serenity backward, watching for the second those eyes turned from calculated to cold fear.

But Drexel Vanhoff was only the distraction, one Icharius Fern probably didn't need, as an army of men stepped from the shadows, surrounding me with faces hard and weapons drawn. I didn't bother fighting them. I simply slackened my shoulders, letting Serenity clatter to the saturated ground, no longer feeling an ounce of attachment to it as a hundred burly hands grabbed me.