Most of Inkstone closed at night, but a few taverns and kiosks stayed open for late-working bureaucrats. Isyllt and Khelsea sat beneath a vendor’s awning with plates of olives, bread, and cheese. The air was sluggish with haze, blurring the edges of buildings and bleeding golden halos from the streetlamps.
“What next?” the inspector asked, neatly sucking the flesh off an olive.
Isyllt frowned at her food. Even chewing made her shoulder hurt. “Back to the sewers, I suppose. I have to find the bastard who bit me, and the rest of the stolen jewels.”
“I hope you’re taking more than a minstrel with you this time.”
“Are you volunteering?”
Khelsea’s eyebrows rose. “Can you think of anyone else you trust?”
Maybe Kiril was right. Maybe it was time she took an apprentice. She ripped off a piece of bread and chewed, ignoring the pain. Relishing it.
A shadow fell across the table before she had to answer. She looked up at a tall cloaked figure, face lost beneath a cowl. A stripe of light kissed one pale cheekbone as he tilted his head, and the rich taste of goat cheese turned metallic as blood on Isyllt’s tongue. Her right hand clenched around the diamond’s chill.
“Good evening.” Spider nodded to Khelsea before turning his attention to Isyllt. “I’ve missed the chance to ask you to dinner, but perhaps I can buy you a drink.”
Khelsea tensed, one hand vanishing beneath the table. She might not be a mage, but she had a good nose for danger. Isyllt caught her arm, feeling muscles flex as the inspector reached for her pistol. “It’s all right.”
The woman’s dark eyes flickered from Spider to Isyllt and back again, shining with skepticism in the lamplight. “Misadventure?”
“Exactly.” Isyllt stood, reaching for her purse. “I’ll talk to you before I do anything stupid.”
Khelsea’s hand caught hers, forcing coins back into the bag. “I’m buying, remember. Next time.”
Isyllt nodded, and regretted it quickly. She followed Spider down the dark and misty street, feeling Khelsea’s eyes on her back until they turned a corner.
“What kind of drink did you have in mind?” she asked. She walked slowly, leisurely, but her nerves thrummed with his nearness. Their first altercation had been a misunderstanding, but he made no secret of his appetites. The truce forbade killing, but there were always people who disappeared in a city as large as Erisin. And those like Forsythia, willing to bleed for love or money.
His chuckle made her shiver. “How’s your shoulder?”
“I’ll live.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “He didn’t bite as hard as you.”
He laughed again and took her arm, covering her hand with his. Grey gloves hid his claws, supple as snakeskin and as cold. But only as cold as the night, not the aching chill of death. She touched his arm; it might almost have been living flesh.
“You’re warm. Who did you kill tonight?”
He arched an eyebrow. “There are always willing donors. You should try it.”
She rolled her eyes toward her wounded shoulder. “No thank you.”
“It doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”
She ignored him, and felt his shoulders shake with amusement. They managed to walk comfortably together despite his gangling height. The vrykolos’ magic was a subtle thing compared to human sorcery: instinctual, blood- born instead of studied. It crawled over her skin, wrapping her in his glamour. Alien, but not-as he said-unpleasant. She tried to push the thought aside. She’d slept with a demon once, but she didn’t need to make a habit of it. The Arcanost didn’t look fondly on those who did.
The vrykoloi were unusual among demons. Among the Arcanost’s countless classifications of spirits they were
Streets wound and twisted like dark ribbons through the city’s core. Elaborate stonework decorated the quarter-gargoyles crouched on roofs, their snarling faces smoothed by years of wind and rain, and lichen-skinned nymphs danced in fountains. Here and there ancient graveyards nestled snug between buildings, tombs worn nameless with time; they had stood before the city sprawled so far, and the builders had simply wrapped the streets around them. Autumn leaves dripped from trees, skittering in the breeze and piling in the gutters till feet and hooves crushed them against the stones.
They left Inkstone, winding deeper and deeper into the city’s heart, where the streets were still busy so late. No one spared them a glance. Spider made no sound as he walked; if not for the strength of his arm in hers, she would have thought him no more substantial than a shadow.
She recognized the path he followed just before they turned into a dark alley mouth. Even so, her shoulder throbbed a warning as they stepped into the shadows. Spider felt her hesitation and smiled, a flash of ivory teeth.
The alley ended at an iron door set in a rough stone wall. Rust traced twisting spirals across the metal, dripped down the frame like dry blood. But for all its age, the door opened soundlessly beneath Spider’s hand. A narrow stair led down, lit at the bottom by dim red light. Smoky air wafted up, redolent of poppies and wine and warm human skin. Spider stood aside, gesturing Isyllt ahead of him.
Kiril had brought her here years before on an investigation. As much to entertain her, she thought later, as for the information they found. The place had been hallowed ground once, a section of catacombs, before a demon infestation led to the burning of the temple and the tombs below. Shops had been built aboveground, but the charred tunnels below remained. Old spells whispered to her as she descended, traces of long-broken magic lingering in the stones.
The patrons called it Sanctuary now, only half joking. It was known for the quality of its wine and opium, and for the darkness of its tables. It was a haven for well-off criminals and those who played at spies. And maybe those who did more than play. Interesting things could be overheard there, if one listened carefully enough.
She stepped out of the stairwell into a long, low room. Music drifted through the air, haunting pipes and low throbbing drums, the musicians hidden behind carved sandalwood screens. Red and violet lanterns stained the smoky haze that shrouded the ceiling. Isyllt stifled a sneeze.
Spider steered her through the foyer to a velvet-curtained alcove. His hooded cloak was standard attire for this place-Isyllt’s bare face and hair felt much too exposed. She kept her hands in her coat pockets, concealing the telltale stone and equally telling injury.
Dark wood paneled the booth, and the light of the single candle slid like water across its well-oiled surface. Spider shrugged back his cloak, revealing a coat of worn grey brocade. By candlelight his face was the color of yellowed bone.
A young woman appeared to take their order. If she noticed that Spider wasn’t human, she gave no sign. An abundance of tact, Isyllt wondered, or were demons really so common in the city? It would have bothered her to think so once, but for the past two and a half years she’d held a steady correspondence with a demon. He sent her presents every summer.
“Have you learned anything?” Isyllt asked when the girl was gone, turning her attention back to the demon across from her. She leaned back against the cushioned seat and crossed her legs.
He waved a hand. “Have some patience, witch. Can’t I enjoy your company for a moment without discussing business? It’s vulgar.”
Isyllt scooped a spoonful of crushed lavender and anise from a bowl on the table and poured it onto the nicked and polished boards. Dusty sweetness filled the air as she traced a sigil of silence through the powdered seeds and flowers. “A vampire lectures me on manners?” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, my company can’t be that enjoyable.”
He leaned forward, crystalline eyes abruptly serious. “You’ve seen my home. Do you think I don’t want something different now and then?” He took her hand, caressing her palm with one gloved thumb. “Do you think I don’t yearn for a little warmth?” His fingers strayed to the hollow of her wrist.
She tugged her hand free. “Yes, wet and pumping from an artery.”
He chuckled, low and dark. “That too.”
The serving girl returned with a tray of liquor and food. Spider pressed coins into her hand and pulled the
