Nameless

Tor’s scowl didn’t change. “Clock me out, Derek?”

“You bet.” But the blond was staring at her, as if she was a summerfey appearing past the Dead Harvest—a violation, something that shouldn’t be.

Like a minotaur. Or a Twist.

Tor approached with long loping strides, and there was a dark bruise on the side of his neck, peeking past a ratty red knitted scarf. She stood, not quite sure what should happen next, and he tilted his chin a little at the door. She groped for the knob, and in a few heartbeats the cold hit her afresh. So did the glare of sunshine, and she began to shiver.

He barely waited to sweep the door closed before snapping at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, isn’t that welcoming. “I th-thought—”

He apparently didn’t care what she thought. “It’s dangerous.”

“I w-w-won’t l-let N-nico do anything.” To you. Just so you know.

A dismissive movement. His boots, at least, looked sturdy. Not tattered like the rest of him. “You think I’m worried about him, princess? Not likely.”

This time, she minded the name. She raised an eyebrow, an imitation of Ruby’s do-you-know-who-you-are- addressing expression, and for once her tongue didn’t eat a word whole. “P-princess?”

“Up in your tower, watching the rest of us. Never mind. Come on.”

I thought you said it was dangerous. “Why? If I sh-sh-shouldn’t b-b-be here.”

“We can talk. A little, at least.” He raised a hand, flattened it against his chest—high up, just where a pendant would rest. A curious look of relief passed over his sharp, wary face. “But after that, we shouldn’t. It’s not safe.”

“I th-thought you w-w-were the r-right k-kind of trouble.” I can’t believe I just said that.

I can’t believe he stood there and let me get it all out.

“I thought I was, for you.” He glanced around. “Not anymore.”

The shed by the south pond was ramshackle, and unlike the barn, it was familiar territory. Near the wall at the very edge of the property, it was as far away from the house as Cami could comfortably go on a summer’s evening—which meant it was too far while winter lay on New Haven.

Afterward, she wasn’t quite sure if Tor led her there, or if she led him. They just . . . set out, and naturally arrived there in the middle of the brambles, a slice of land left fallow inside the Vultusino’s massive wall. Every house of the Seven had a charmed property boundary, gray stone from the quarries upstate threaded with ancient barriers against trespass and stray charm. The security crew walked the boundaries every dusk and dawn, with wooden daggers and other weapons, searching for any attempted breach.

It was frigid inside the shed, and the weight of snow on the roof was about to cave it in. Thorny vines clasped the walls—they had played Reeve and Wasteland here as children, Nico as hunter and Cami as herbalist, fighting off mutants and wild Twists. She knew the floor was sagging but not quite ready to give yet; the hole in the ceiling where the swallows nested spilled a trickle of diamond snow.

The coils of rope on the wall, slowly rotting, were old friends. The stain in the back, on the packed-earth floor, still gave her a chill deeper than the cold outside. Just the size of a body, Nico had said once, casually, and she was never sure if he knew something she didn’t.

“We can’t do this again.” Tor folded his arms. “It’s dangerous.”

What’s so dangerous about you? “What if I don’t c-c-care?”

“Maybe I care.”

“M-maybe you d-d-don’t.” But she had other questions. She pointed at his throat—no, slightly below, where the pendant would gleam. “An apple. C-c-cut in h-half.”

He actually went white, even the rawness at his nose and the corners of his mouth paling. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I d-d-don’t. But I n-n-need—”

He took two steps toward her, and his hands curled into fists, dangling naked at his sides despite the cold. “What do you think you need? Take my advice—stay where it’s safe. Don’t go outside. Don’t go places with strange men. Stay away and hope . . . ” His throat worked. He’d run out of words, so maybe she could get one or two in.

So Cami swallowed hard, and went for it. “Wh-what’s B-b-biel’y?” She couldn’t pronounce it like Stevens had.

She didn’t need to. If she thought he was pale before he was ashen now. His throat worked as he gulped. His shoulders hunched too, defensively. “Do they know?”

Know what? I don’t even know, how can I tell what they do? I’m not one of them. You said it yourself. She swallowed, the bitterness all through her hard and frozen as the ground outside. “I h-heard them t-t-talking.” I don’t have to say what they were talking about, now do I? Or even who “they” are. “I d-d-don’t know anything. B-b- but I n-n-need to. I . . . I h-have d-d-dreams. Bad ones.” Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned her coat. “W-wait.” Even though he wasn’t going anywhere. The cashmere fell open, and she lifted the thick woolen jumper and her T-shirt underneath. Her belly showed, so pale the veins were blue through the skin—and not only that, but the scars from burn and welt and slice were plainly visible.

The breath left him in a rush, a white cloud. The wind rose, fingering at the shed’s edges. A low moan, eerie and unmodulated.

“Y-y-you’re n-not the only o-o-one with sc-c-cars.” God, why can’t I just talk?

He stared until she lowered her shirt and sweater. It was too cold, but she didn’t feel it. Her fingers shook even more as she buttoned her coat back up, her gloves making her clumsier.

“They f-f-found m-me in the s-s-snow.” Now it was easier, because she had his attention. He was listening like Nico did, leaning forward, the rest of the world shut out. “I’m not F-f-family. N-not a p-princess. I w-want to know wh-what’s h-h-h-happening t-t-to me.” Because something is. Something terrible.

He stared for a long while. She fidgeted, shivering, wishing she could shake him and make him start telling her things.

Finally, Tor let out a ragged sigh. “Okay.” He nodded, his shoulders slumping. “Okay. But not here, for Chrissake.”

Uneasy relief and fresh nervousness mixed inside her stomach. “Wh-where?”

“Not tonight, either. Let me think, all right? Just let me think.” He actually turned in a full circle, looking at the shed’s walls covered with coils of decaying rope and the black hanging driblets of moss that would green in spring.

Just like a dog settling down for the night. Cami shivered even harder.

When he turned back to her, he was still pale. His hands were fists again, and he thrust them in his jacket pockets. “Fine.” As if they’d been yelling, and the fight was over. “Biel’y. Okay.”

“D-d-do you—”

“I said okay.” Quick as a flash of lightning, and the irritation gone just as fast. “I’ll tell you what I know, but not here. The moon turns tonight. Waxing moon’s much safer for . . . both of us. Can you get out after dark? Two days from now?”

She nodded. Nico’s going to be angry.

But only if he finds out. And besides, she had to know. If she wasn’t Family, this wasn’t his business, was it?

Tor nodded, once, sharply. You could tell he was used to planning things, once he made up his mind. “Here’s what we’ll do, then.”

TWENTY-THREE