Page 7 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion
Everything about her hurt too much. Like picking at a scab. So, I watched Emrys’s movements numbly as he let the door click and whirr before the knob turned on its own and the darkness of night greeted us. Stale cold air nipped at my cheeks and stole away the warmth of the house.
‘Charming,’ Thean sighed, their breath brushing upon the back of my neck, making scales ripple in the wake of that ghostly touch. Curious, perhaps.
I should have sent my elbow into their ribs at their sudden closeness, but fear had frozen me in place.
Welcome back, little rat, a ghost seemed to taunt in my mind.
Blackthorn crossed the Portium threshold, from polished wood floor to damp cobblestones into a cold grey night mist, forcing me to follow until we all stood in the shadows of the abandoned warehouses that filled the south side of the markets. Or what had survived the dark storm.
The crumbled remains of the old buildings pierced the shadowy night, as did the creak of the chains that still swung from the wooden loading cranes. The musty smell of the dank canal water filled my lungs as I noticed the rot from the abandonedwharf had shattered the wooden barrels lining the walkways. Ropes curled like waiting snakes turned green with time as weeds clung to the cracks in the stone.
This was what remained of the bone markets.
The reek of brine, stagnant water and bitter dead magic carried on the ruthless winter breeze. The horror of it all sent a shiver down my spine. I was unable to stop myself remembering how it had been before. I could hear the ghostly whistle of the barge workers through the mist. The cackling laughter of the night traders and calls of the street girls who had nothing left of value but their bodies. The sweet tang of sugar buns that would make my starved mouth water.
‘The rebels never wanted to cleanse this place?’ I whispered, turning to see that Thean was not considering the derelict streets beyond but looking down at me almost expectantly.
‘The creatures here resisted rebellion law.’ Their answer was careful, those amber eyes tracing every inch of my expression, seeking something unspoken from me. ‘This is justice in her eyes.’
Her.
The Countess.
The name sent a wave of nausea through me, even though Thean hadn’t spoken it aloud. How rarely it was said. As though speaking of her too often could summon her to your door. Just like all dark things in this world.
The leader of the rebellion. A blood witch hiding in her lair in the midlands.
Some said she was ancient, others young and vicious, only her cruelty was a commonality in the tales.
A murky memory threatened to surface. Small rodent eyes peering through cracks in stained floorboards, hearing a sharp cruel laugh as soft lamplight played through strands of inky hair.
Show me what you have.A dark purred command. The scentof marrow and iron. A memory I recoiled from as a shiver dragged down my spine like an unwanted caress.
I shook it away. There was enough horror before me without wallowing in the haunting agony of my past. The bone markets had been slums, taverns and brothels, but there were beings here who had no choice. Lost and poor. Left in the shadows of the world. Those the rebellion saw as having little value. Lesser fey and impoverished mortals.
A screech cut through the misty night.
Emrys’s arm forced me deeper into the safety of the shadows. The wildness in my blood sent a piercing pain into my temples, alerting me to a threat. My nails shifted into claws just as a grey silhouette cut through the fog barely feet away.
Its hunched, spiked back and long thin claws were too clear before it lurched into obscurity once more, patrolling the ruins for whatever it could scavenge. My breath stuttered in relief knowing the harsh wind had stopped it sensing us.
‘Croverns.’ Emrys’s voice was the barest puff of frosty breath.
Croverns. Shadow eaters and devourers of dead things.
‘Croverns eat remains,’ Thean observed quietly, slipping their shadow blade from the sheath at their thigh, their full attention on Emrys as they pressed closer to my side. ‘They shouldn’t still be here.’
Croverns feasted on dark magic.
Yet, all that was left beneath the debris was charred bone. The dark fires would have claimed any flesh. Any bodies that survived the chaos would have been devoured by scavengers years ago – their magic too.
Those croverns remained because they could sense there was more to devour. Just like the skelmor in Fairfax Wood.
Something was luring them here. Even after all this time.
Dark magic. The remains of it.
‘It’s here,’ I whispered, my focus on the darkened path beyond us where the moonlight made the shadows shift between the ruins.
