Page 13 of The Dagger and the Flame
‘Saints,’ muttered Sera. ‘What happened?’
‘It took nine Cloaks to stop him,’ said Val. ‘But in the scuffle, Phillipe managed to grab one by the neck, killing him almost instantly. Once the Shade wore off, Madame Mercure revoked his Cloak and called the dayguards. He’s been rotting in the king’s prison ever since.’
Sera wrinkled her nose. ‘But the Daggers can kill as often as they like.’
‘The Daggers have their own agreement with the King of Valterre,’ said Bibi. ‘They have his coin and his ear. And besides, in Fantome, murder is only murder if you get caught.’
‘Lucky for some.’ Val’s voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Dufort’s been on a damn spree lately.’ She jerked her chin towards a nearby table, where a slender bald man with thick spectacles was cutting up his fried egg. ‘Griffin says the Daggers cleared out a whole sailing ship that docked in the harbour the other night. Took the bodies, left the boat. The traders are calling it a ghost ship.’
Sera had to work to keep her voice even. ‘Why would Dufort do that?’
A shrug. ‘Maybe he’s finally lost his senses. All that Shade has eaten through his brain.’
‘He probably chucked them overboard,’ said Bibi, pushing her food away. ‘Nothing worse than a watery grave.’
Sera could think of something worse. A burning house. A burning life. What the hell was Dufort up to? And had Mama had something to do with it?
Her thoughts twisted back to Shade. She imagined all those vials of black powder in the cloakroom, just waiting to be used. Sera had been around Shade all her life but she had never longed for the taste of it. She had never wanted anyone dead, never wanted to let Mama down. But now…
Now…
Sitting here, in the grey morning mist, with Dufort on a rampage and without Mama at her side, Sera wondered what she could do if she got her hands on a vial. Took just enough Shade to drown out her pain, to feel strength instead of fear. For the first time in her life, she understood the lure of that black powder.
After all, to swallow Shade was to become a reaper. And everyone feared the Reaper. If she was clever, careful, she could find the Dagger who had killed Mama and give him a taste of his own medicine. Or maybe she would follow him back to the catacombs, to face the snake that was devouring Fantome: Gaspard Dufort himself.
‘Where did you say you came from?’ Val’s question jolted Sera from her thoughts.
‘I didn’t,’ she replied, reaching for her cup of coffee and weaving a quick half-truth. ‘I lived out in the plains. My mother had a vineyard there. Small and seasonal, but it paid the rent.’
‘A farm girl. Hmm. We’ve had a few of those pass through here. Weak nerves. Soft hearts.’
Not mine. Not any more.Sera slipped another piece of bacon under the table, avoiding Val’s probing glare.
‘That’s a pretty necklace.’ Bibi traced the golden tear at her throat. ‘What kind of gemstone is that?’
‘I don’t know.’ Sera closed her fingers around it on instinct. ‘It was a gift.’
Val laughed, brashly. ‘She’s not going to steal it.’
Sera loosened her grip. ‘Sorry, Bibi… It’s just… I don’t know what you look like when you steal.’
‘Well, here’s a hint,’ drawled Val. ‘You wouldn’t see us do it. I could nick your dog right now if I felt like it.’
Sera looked her over. ‘Where would you even put him?’
A flash of pearly teeth. ‘Trade secret.’
Bibi shot her a warning look. ‘Val’s just joking. And anyway, Cloaks never steal from each other. It’s part of our code. We don’t even lock our bedroom doors.’
‘Right,’ muttered Sera. ‘Just the cloakroom.’
Bibi reached for the coffee pot, before refilling their cups. ‘Val and I are doing Sleights this Sunday if you want to come along. We’d be happy to show you the ropes, help you prepare for Mercure’s first assignment.’
‘What’s a Sleight?’ said Sera, looking between them.
‘A small theft. Pockets, mostly. A jam jar, here and there.Chocolates. Perfume. Whatever we fancy,’ said Bibi. ‘They keep our fingers nimble in between Breaks and Heists. The jobs we undertake for our patrons.’
‘Breaks typically involve houses, shops, taverns,’ Val went on, and Sera got the sense she should be taking notes. ‘Heists are the big ones. We’re talking museums and manors, the palatial homes of some of the richest families in Valterre. They usually require a team of three or more, depending on what’s at stake. Precious artwork, antique furniture. And don’t get me started on sculptures.’
