know my sister? And why did you steal the records from the hospital?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A little pressure and the blade bit ever so slightly into the skin of her throat, drawing a bead of blood. “You tell me or I fucking end you right here.” It was a lie, of course. I wasn’t going to kill her – not while she had information on Dede. Though I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t take a bite.
“I’m really sorry,” she said with a slight smile.
“For wha—” And that was all I got to say before I was struck by lightning and died.
I woke up a few seconds after my heart started beating again. Sprawled face down on the crypt floor, I was drooling on the dirt. Crypt dust tasted just like I thought it would. At least I hadn’t pissed myself from the jolt. That was something to be bloody thankful for.
I spat out most of the grime coating my teeth and gingerly pushed myself to my feet. My muscles were a little twitchy, but otherwise I was all right.
Brushing the dirt from my clothes, I cursed myself. The bitch had shocked me good. She must have used a professional-grademachine – the kind usually only available to Scotland Yard and a few government agencies. Good shockers were hard to get, for the very reason I had just experienced – they rendered a half-blood useless.
I could only assume I was still alive because she felt she owed me for saving her life. The irony of her debilitating me the same way the betties had her was not lost on me. The next time we did this particular dance I would have to make certain I knew the steps a bit better. She’d got me because I let my guard down. I was so intent on finding answers I forgot to be vigilant.
My dagger was on the floor. I swiped it up and slid it back into my coat. Nice of her, I suppose, not to take my weapon. She couldn’t have known what, or how valuable, it was.
Or, I thought, turning to the coffin, she’d got what she wanted and just wanted to get the hell out of there. Call it a macabre hunch, but I opened the casket. The crispy half-blood was still there, releasing a sweet charcoal smell into the air. But I smelled Fee as well, and when my gaze fell upon the corpse’s hand, I realised what she had been there for – Dede’s ring.
I knew Fee was a thief – Val had the surveillance photos to prove it – but why take a melted ring? She could try fencing it, but pawn shops were reluctant to take items that were obviously aristocratic – trouble tended to find those who bought and sold stolen aristo goods.
I had given Dede that ring for her birthday. I’d wanted her to know that she was a part of the family, even though she often felt left out. She’d cried.
There was a splintering sound as I slammed the casket lid shut. My breathing quickened and my heart began to pound as irrational rage bubbled up inside me. It raced up my spine, brought heat to my neck and cheeks. I felt like I was about to come out of my skin, the flesh over my cheekbones taut and hot.
I wanted that bloody ring back. I didn’t know what Fee’s game was, but I was going to find out.
I ran out of the crypt, causing debris to kick up and twirl in my wake. As I swung the door shut, I sniffed at the night air; I’d always had a very sensitive sense of smell, even for a halvie – another perk of my breeding. As with every sense, when it was extremely keen, you learned how to “tune” it and ignore those things on the periphery. It had taken me years to get so those industrial rubbish bins restaurants used didn’t gag me – or worse, the whiff of sewers. Church used to tease me and tell me I had the senses of a goblin.
I hadn’t taken it as a compliment.
But now, I had no such squeamishness. I sniffed my hands, digging past the dirt and wood and burnt flesh to find Fee’s scent. It was there, as subtle and unique as jasmine amongst wood chips. I chased it to the street, whipping past tombstones so fast my eyes stung. But there,
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A little pressure and the blade bit ever so slightly into the skin of her throat, drawing a bead of blood. “You tell me or I fucking end you right here.” It was a lie, of course. I wasn’t going to kill her – not while she had information on Dede. Though I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t take a bite.
“I’m really sorry,” she said with a slight smile.
“For wha—” And that was all I got to say before I was struck by lightning and died.
I woke up a few seconds after my heart started beating again. Sprawled face down on the crypt floor, I was drooling on the dirt. Crypt dust tasted just like I thought it would. At least I hadn’t pissed myself from the jolt. That was something to be bloody thankful for.
I spat out most of the grime coating my teeth and gingerly pushed myself to my feet. My muscles were a little twitchy, but otherwise I was all right.
Brushing the dirt from my clothes, I cursed myself. The bitch had shocked me good. She must have used a professional-grademachine – the kind usually only available to Scotland Yard and a few government agencies. Good shockers were hard to get, for the very reason I had just experienced – they rendered a half-blood useless.
I could only assume I was still alive because she felt she owed me for saving her life. The irony of her debilitating me the same way the betties had her was not lost on me. The next time we did this particular dance I would have to make certain I knew the steps a bit better. She’d got me because I let my guard down. I was so intent on finding answers I forgot to be vigilant.
My dagger was on the floor. I swiped it up and slid it back into my coat. Nice of her, I suppose, not to take my weapon. She couldn’t have known what, or how valuable, it was.
Or, I thought, turning to the coffin, she’d got what she wanted and just wanted to get the hell out of there. Call it a macabre hunch, but I opened the casket. The crispy half-blood was still there, releasing a sweet charcoal smell into the air. But I smelled Fee as well, and when my gaze fell upon the corpse’s hand, I realised what she had been there for – Dede’s ring.
I knew Fee was a thief – Val had the surveillance photos to prove it – but why take a melted ring? She could try fencing it, but pawn shops were reluctant to take items that were obviously aristocratic – trouble tended to find those who bought and sold stolen aristo goods.
I had given Dede that ring for her birthday. I’d wanted her to know that she was a part of the family, even though she often felt left out. She’d cried.
There was a splintering sound as I slammed the casket lid shut. My breathing quickened and my heart began to pound as irrational rage bubbled up inside me. It raced up my spine, brought heat to my neck and cheeks. I felt like I was about to come out of my skin, the flesh over my cheekbones taut and hot.
I wanted that bloody ring back. I didn’t know what Fee’s game was, but I was going to find out.
I ran out of the crypt, causing debris to kick up and twirl in my wake. As I swung the door shut, I sniffed at the night air; I’d always had a very sensitive sense of smell, even for a halvie – another perk of my breeding. As with every sense, when it was extremely keen, you learned how to “tune” it and ignore those things on the periphery. It had taken me years to get so those industrial rubbish bins restaurants used didn’t gag me – or worse, the whiff of sewers. Church used to tease me and tell me I had the senses of a goblin.
I hadn’t taken it as a compliment.
But now, I had no such squeamishness. I sniffed my hands, digging past the dirt and wood and burnt flesh to find Fee’s scent. It was there, as subtle and unique as jasmine amongst wood chips. I chased it to the street, whipping past tombstones so fast my eyes stung. But there,
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