Chương 23: Chapter 24: Even More Discoveries!

For just a moment my heart stops. There's just no way Sir Jeshia is still alive. It was a perfect shot. I stayed to witness the aftereffects. And then the afternoon light shifts and I realize that face is far too young to be the man I killed. There are shadows under his eyes. A flat, emotionless expression in them. Not like he doesn't have emotions, just that they've been drained. He's not looking directly at me. Just through me. At nothing.

There's movement off to his side, and that's when I realize a much younger boy clings to the older one's hand. But that boy's emotions are all over his face. His cheeks and eyes are puffy and reddened. He looks about two seconds away from crying on a constant basis. They're obviously brothers, but the younger boy has more of his mother. He's not the spitting image of the man I killed but nights ago. It's the first time I've seen the actual aftermath of my work. The first time I've witnessed the ones left behind.

And the first time I feel pure shame and guilt gnaw at me. Assassins don't usually kill in an exhibition setting. We're in and out like a shadow, leaving death in our wake. I should have been paying more attention to my assignment than to my magical acclimation. If I had, perhaps I'd have noticed how many red flags the whole situation sent up. I don't even know if revenge is worth it anymore. These children have no father now. And that is entirely on me. Okay, also on the people who orchestrated the assassination.

But I blew the dart that killed their father. Despite having misgivings as I heard the speech. Regardless of the fact that everyone in the room emanated respect for him when he spoke. My skin crawls and I look away as his gaze rakes past my own, meeting my eyes briefly. I'm surprised to find I'm out of breath. Fine. My revenge is still solid. I just need to be more observant going forward.

"Ria?" Xan's soft enquiry is full of concern. I'm usually the one who keeps their cool no matter what.

"I'm fine."

"Yes, and that's exactly what your face says too," they quip at me, not taking me at my word.

"My face is lying," I lie.

"Your face isn't used to lying. It says what you're thinking even louder than you do sometimes. It's your worst character trait." They pause for a moment.

"Well, considering what you do anyway."

"Later." I wave my hand dismissing the topic for now. Xan raises an eyebrow but doesn't press the matter. Keeping my Recovery Acclimation running at all times attunes me to the nature around me. It lets me know when people are approaching, and allows me to stay alert and refreshed. It's also helping soothe my emotions, I can tell. At the same time, it's difficult to concentrate with all the noise running through me. In such a population dense area, the sensations and emotions are almost overwhelming.

"Let's just focus on snacks and gossip," I whisper, not trusting myself to keep us safe if I speak louder. Seeing Sir Jeshia's sons shook me more than I thought possible. It's difficult to wrest my mind away from the possibilities swirling around, from the chatter and differing theories I can't seem to shake. Xan shoves a piece of jerky directly under my nose and I blink. It's mouthwatering. There's a sweet and tangy smell to it. I grab it off them and bite, focusing on the taste instead.

"That's amazing." I say around the food, and it comes out a little garbled.

"Guess the gift I got you is a good one then." I nod, relishing the flavors I'm experiencing. Close quarters and remaining visible aren't two things that mesh well together for me. My hand keeps straying to the dagger at my belt. It takes actual willpower not to reach for it. Hand-to-hand combat might not be my thing when I'm facing other Nightshade members. I'd be willing to bet I'm better than the typical average thug on the street.

"Settle." Xan's voice rings in my ears even though their lips barely even move. An ominous feeling surrounds me. Careful. Danger. Caution. That's when I feel it. The sheer subterfuge being engaged, the person sidling through the crowd, intent on me. I can practically feel their bad intentions from where I am, oozing through my connection to the world around me. It's not a violent undercurrent, but a sneaky, slimy one. Using my abilities, I focus in on that sensation as it nears me, ever closer.

It's almost like time slows down for me. Tick. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Just a step closer Tock. An arm moving to reach for me. Tick. Slowly, but deftly. Tock. I move so fast I even impress myself, grabbing the hand about to reach my pouch. No one touches my poisons but me. Xan is beside me, flanking me, eyes scanning the entire area without appearing to.

"Well. What do we have here?" I ask, my tone soft and deadly, a rush of adrenaline taking a hold of me. It feels heady, and that's when I realize it's not just me. It's my connection to my element. There's emotion leaking through to me. Triumph. Lust for revenge. It's waiting for me to do something, for me to react. For me to use that power. The pickpocket looks up at me wide eyed, and I know then and there this person wouldn't have been caught by anyone else.

He's very slight, but probably only a couple of years younger than I am. Dressed in non-descript clothing specifically tailored to be inconspicuous. He's used to excelling. Because he's definitely a member of Bryony – the Order of Thieves. Xan tsks under their breath, smile firmly affixed in place as they speak.

"Looks like we're going to have to have a chat with your boss. You should know better." Bryony and Nightshade aren't exactly allies, but our paths cross every now and again. Given our lines of work, that's understandable. There are signs that each of us need to look for in our endeavors and errands. A member of Bryony should have been able to tell where we belong from a mile away. Especially if they frequent the markets in one of the capital cities.

"Sorry. I wasn't paying attention." The thief's face is pale, and I can tell he didn't mean to get caught. It's probably as close to panic as he gets.

"Routine?" I ask, testing the water with my gift. There don't appear to be any other Bryony members around. And drawing attention to ourselves is something Nightshade aren't fond of doing.

"Very well." Xan reaches forward and pries my hand gently from where I'm still gripping the arm of this little thief.

"Next time, be more careful. Don't just go into automatic mode. You could get yourself executed." I can see the half smile at the corner of Xan's mouth. I've seen that smirk before. It's cold and calculating. Nothing I'd want to be on the receiving end of. The pick-pocket shrinks back and nods.

"Apologies." And then he hesitates.

"You're not really going to turn me in, right?"

"Not today," Xan says.

"We've got a lot to do." I nod, adding my own emphasis. I'm still rigid, angry. But I'm coming to realize it's not my own emotions. It's my element feeling it for me. Roiling just underneath the surface. On my behalf. How does no one else notice this? We watch the thief move away. If you know what you're looking for, you can see just how he works the entire crowd. It also lets me know why he accidentally marked me. Smooth and fluid, a hand in a pocket, or bag.

A slight jostle here, leads to sticky fingers in an inside pocket. Nothing is chance, nothing is safe. On afternoons like this one that order must make a killing.

"... Sure enough, fell on the ground twitching. Veins exploded out of his skin. So gruesome. I still can't sleep at night." My ears perk up and I can see Xan has noticed as well. Slowly we move one stall down. Clothing. Not that I ever need anything fancy, but it's the best cover for eavesdropping. The speaker is a lady with long black hair wound up into a bun. She has to be almost forty from the wisps of grey that defy her hairstyle.

There's another lady with her, blonde and buxom, from the next stall—one with jewelry. No wonder they're friends. Nothing better than perfectly accessorizing the ideal outfit, after all. They probably feed customers to each other.

"You were there?" the blonde says, her huge blue eyes astounded. Our raven-haired friend nods importantly, like she's always at such gatherings.

"Oh yes. Don't you know Tom was one of his aides? My brother has been moved to the deputy of that position now." She juts out her chin self-importantly. Maybe her brother had him killed? No, it was arranged by the Courts, and it was expensive. That sort of display—that particular poison? I'm good, but the ingredients are rare and require a very specific distilling process. Actually, considering the whole situation, I wonder if Nightshade received its fee.

"So, it really was gruesome then?" the blonde whispers, awe in her tone. Xan is holding up a shirt, acting like they're considering buying it, glancing at me for approval. I nod my head as if agreeing with them.

"Horrible. I'll never get that view out of my mind." The lady takes a step toward us, a huge smile on her face as she directs her voice to us.

"Are you happy just looking for now? I do have some different sizes, but most of those have adjustable buttons sewn in."

"We're just great, thanks!" Xan smiles exuberantly.

"Trying to talk my friend here into agreeing that this is perfect. But she's so picky." The shopkeeper smiles, but the hope of a sale fades from her gaze as she goes back to her gossip. Her friend is returning from packing up a bracelet for someone.

"If you ask me, Hattie"—the dark-haired woman lowers her voice—"I think that poison was in the drink they drank."

"Do you think there were really assassins in the building at the time?" Hattie's blue eyes are as big as teacup saucers.

"Well," the owner of our stall says, "I know there were. I saw three of them. Big guys, but they got out before he got up for his speech, before anyone reacted enough to close the doors."

"But…"

"No buts Hattie. That Sect and that Order—they can reach all of us, any time. Any where. There's nowhere that's safe anymore."

"No. She's not going to like another one of those." I say, making myself as unobtrusive while being noticeable as I can. Hattie is lying, even if she thinks she isn't.

"Fine. Let's find something else then." Xan manages to sound exasperated with me. I have to suppress a laugh. Spying out in the open is the most absurd thing I've done. I'm not good at it on my own at all. I tend to feel awkward and like everyone knows what I'm trying to do. But Xan and I work well as a team. We move off, tracking back through the market, passing our jerky stand where I wonder if four types plus what Xan got me are enough for me to snack on. I can see this having to be a regular thing.

Perhaps Lennick can arrange to order stock in for me. I hate braving crowds by myself. The people around us flow past me. Not in the way that they usually would where I barely notice them, but in the way that my power sees them now. There are colors that identify them, these shimmering outlines. Some of them are flat, not exciting, dull as their eyes that are sick of their lives. Others possess a vibrance that makes the sensations around them dance. As if there's more life force inside them.

My power samples each person in a way I didn't expect while it's active and watching out for danger. Their moods, the gist of their reason for being in the market place, and their complete lack of connection to the source of magic. Back at the front of the market we begin to work our way down the left-hand side. Food, soaps, cloth, more clothes, leather goods, different jewelry, pottery… so many crafted wares. It's the epitome of a successful city. Yet underlying everything I can't shake the gloom.

The more we listen as we move along, the more frequently I hear the whispers. Blood Sect here there and everywhere. These people discuss it like it's common knowledge. Common, but never with details that don't make them sound like fairy tales. Dark fairy tales, perhaps, but still stories nonetheless. Whispered fables. It's convoluted, dark, and sometimes wildly fabricated. All of it murmured like people shouldn't be talking about it. At all the stores, too. Muttering to customers. Warning each other.

Silence when the guards pass. Have we been too insulated in our Enclaves to realize how far spread this is? Surely not. We're not just assassins. One of our avenues of income involves procuring information. I've never been on one of those contracts before. A waste of my talents is what Aarron said. How did I miss this very existence? I feel a tingling sensation creeping down my spine. It's as if the elements around me are waking up. Some of this resembles anger, some of it anticipation.

All of it seeking some type of action I've yet to understand. The fear that the Blood Sect is coming for everyone. It's real and reaching out for everyone. And yet, from all of the talk, while they are scared—people don't actually believe the tales. I'm not easily afraid, and I'm not even sure that's what this is. What I do know, is I need to figure out the references in the diaries. Because I have a sneaking suspicion the Blood Sect is partially responsible for Magic being so conveniently forgotten about.

The Blood Sect isn't just a boogie man anymore. It's a threat. To all of us.