To me, introspection felt like a pointless act. Scouring the depths of your mind seemed more than a little self-indulgent. The expectation that something new or unique would be found, despite years of inhabiting that same strand of consciousness was foolish and promised only minor rewards. Besides, how could a mind entirely comprehend itself? It would be like trying to fit a box into an identical box: entirely impossible.
It was a point Sash had made, albeit phrased in a more meandering fashion. Ma had told her the point of introspection was to simplify the mind just enough to understand what mattered. Though I said nothing, I disagreed. Nearly every adult I was close to had had their characters altered by godsblood, trauma, or even something as simple as a bad mood – what was the point of understanding yourself when you could become someone else at any moment? Unlike a person's nature, their choices were carved into the world as soon as they were carried out. They were reliable. Even if I changed, the past would not. The knowledge was not as reassuring as it used to be.
A distant intuition told me I was fooling myself. There were uses in knowing yourself – I could see it in the control and drive many of my friends and family could display. The truth of the matter was, I didn’t want to. My soul was not like other people’s; it was a grotesque, patchwork thing. If I made the wrong move, it would be unstitched and undone. Introspection could be excruciating, so I spun away from it, a dancer evading lethal arrows.
It was impossible to dance forever. Yet, each day spent in ignorance was another without pain. A profoundly distorted way of living, but it was mine.
Ma left soon after she determined I was in good health, leaving me instructions to clean and maintain her sword. She wanted to find the remnants of the Old Guard, or, at the very least, the Owlblood Vernon. I wiped blood off the blade, then oiled and attempted to sharpen it. The small amount of Foxblood remaining on it went into a bottle – it could be sold later for a hefty bundle of chits. However, most of Kani’s power was still in Bab’s body – it would take a transferral device to suck it out. Ma only had one keyed for Oxbloods. Though, any aspiring Blooded could just eat Bab's corpse. At risk of becoming a monster. I hoped someone had gone back to bury him.
Our restaurant had been shuttered – there were no customers anyway. The city was emptier than usual, with the spree of superhuman violence scaring the few inhabitants into hiding. Over the horizon, the Lizard loomed, its divine weight promising death to anything in its way.
Without any business, I searched for something to keep my mind occupied. The house had already been cleaned meticulously, to avoid any rot getting into my wounds. Dash’s ankle was still too swollen for him to do anything besides the most basic of chores. In contrast, my sister was training maniacally. I thought about joining, but my stolen Foxblood was still affecting my senses. I didn’t trust myself not to startle at the nearest loud sound. Even if I avoided any sensory overloads, my kinaesthesia was altered, every movement writ with the flexing of muscles and tendons. The motions ingrained into my body by years of scampering through the streets now seemed lumbering and inefficient. The smallest misjudgement in movement was disconcertingly obvious. I felt like an oaf just by walking around. My new instincts would take some getting used to.
Reminders of my actions hung over me; in my altered mind, in the emptied city, in my siblings' hurried glances; introspection threatening to fall and crush me like a boulder crushes a wormy apple.
Sunset found me sitting in the dining area, drumming my fingers against a table, with Ma’s sword across my knees, when a knock came from the door. Caution and relief filled me in equal measures. Someone was here. Something was happening. I strode over, stopping short of the entranceway. I could hear heavy breathing outside. The visitor had been running. Or was scared. With my left hand I drew the borrowed blade from its sheath, and with my right I opened the entrance. Outside I saw panic carved into a familiar face.
“Blood, Orvs,” Blake exclaimed, raising his hands, “put the damn sword down.”
I lowered it. “Blake.” I said. “Sorry.”
He walked inside before I could give him permission, and sprawled on one of our chairs. I bolted the door and dragged another opposite him. “What in the gods’ names happened here?” Blake asked.
After I was mauled, no one was eager to leave and drag our looted furniture home. “We were a bit busy.”
“Busy doin’ what? Yoinkin’ fancy swords?” he gestured towards my weapon, still bared.
I sheathed it, feeling slightly foolish. “I was attacked. A monster. Foxkin, I think.”
“Raven’s bones, Orvs.” Blake’s expression flicked halfway into disbelief. “How’re you alive?”
“I don’t know. I was running. It got me. Ma killed it, then gave me potions.” I paused, trying to figure out the best way to tell him. “I think it was Bab.”
I had already told Blake and Erin most of the details of Bab and I’s heist. The only thing I left out were details about the potions – I didn’t want them to know I had let Bab do something so obviously suspicious.
My friend’s face twisted, confusion and horror mingling. “How do you know?”
“The monster was wearing the wing I gave him.”
He clenched his eyes shut, deeply disturbed.
“Yeah.” I agreed. The whole scenario had been horrible, and only promised more to come. I felt like some malformed aberration was laying in wait, brandishing an insane smile. I was struck by the irrational belief it stood, long claws splayed to tear out my throat… I tilted my head backwards. Chairs and tables, and an empty kitchen. I looked back at Blake.
He rubbed the side of his head. “Poor kid.” His eyes were turned downwards, looking at some distant spot on the floor. “What do you think happened?”
“Ma says she and Jackson were attacked. Assassins. Foxbloods. Bab must’ve known something. Drunk their blood.” I was lying to him; I knew their exact relation. But the only way I could possibly know it was if I could speak to the dead. Or, if Bab had told me, I supposed. “Something’s going on. Bab knew. He was scared, all the time.”
The teenager across from me nodded. “Got that feelin’ from him, yeah.” He leaned forward. “Everything’s off. People’re gettin’ out of the Foot. Those with the means, anyway. Rest’re just runnin’ scared. Old Guard gone, a god on its way…” he shrugged. “I thought your Ma would be takin’ you out too.”
I thought about it for a moment. “You’re right. It is weird. Why hasn’t she taken us away?”
“Maybe she knows something we don’t.”
I grunted. “Or maybe she’s planning on leaving as soon as she returns.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’d let her?”
I shot him a quizzical look. “Do you really think I could stop her?”
“You are a bit of a wimp.”
“Oi.”
He chuckled half-heartedly. “Nah, I get it.” His eyes turned dark. “City died eight years ago. We were all just playin’ make-believe with its carcass.”
Blake could be eloquent, when he wanted to be. The feeling wasn't isolated to just me, then.
But if my family was fleeing, like he suggested, I had to do something before I left. I owed the Foot that much. If I could just... fix things, somehow make everything better, then it would be like none of this ever happened.
The thought rang hollow. But I had nothing else.
“It’s still too early to give up.” I said. “Bab was being blackmailed by another House.”
He gave me a sharp look. “How’d you know?”
“He told me.” I brushed it off. Blake was perceptive – he would know something was off – but hiding what I knew wasn’t worth the cost. Especially if this was the last thing I could do for him. “I think I can probably track down their base. Probably. Maybe.” If Bab had been there, I might be able to recall the way.
He waved his hands in front of me. “Woah, slow down. How’re-“ he shook his head. “No, even if we do find it, what’re we gonna do? If they can cough up Foxbloods like you an’ I cough up spit, there’s no way we can just bust in there. Even if I brought of all the Butcher Street Boys – which I can’t, because my Boys're all busy prepping – we’d still end up as smears on the dirt.”
I tousled my hair, trying to formulate a plan. “Look: we just need to find it, tell Ma or Jackson or Captain Vernon – then they can do something.”
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“Do what?” he spat. “Die?”
I threw up my hands. “I don’t know!” Blake was taken aback – I always had an excuse. “It’s something. They…” I grit my teeth. “They killed Bab as sure as they stabbed him through the neck themselves, and they’ll get away with it. It’s stupid! They’re not even supposed to be here!”
“What do you mean?”
I blinked. “About what?”
“What do you mean, ‘they’re not supposed to be here’?”
Furrowing my brows, I answered. “House Esfaria submitted a proper request for the Foot through the Albrights” All of those words were foreign to me, yet I spoke them nonetheless. Gritting my teeth, I continued wracking my brain. “They… promised to pay the other Houses in blood regained from the battle site.” I shouldn’t have known this. “They... want some secret.” A spike of pain struck me, but I soldiered on. “House Leyden is here... unofficially, I think.”
Blake squinted at me. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” the pain in my skull was fading, yet I remained unsettled by this new knowledge. “I am.”
“Right.” He stared at me. I imagined me suddenly turning purple would be less disturbing to him. “If you’re right, we can use this.”
“How?”
“We find their base. Suss it out. Get some proof, if we can. If we can’t, we call in someone else. Head back.” His next few syllables were embellished by him thumping the chair. “Black. Mail. Them. If they’re still in good shape, they might be able to spare Blooded to protect us.”
I chewed on a fingernail. “They might just kill us.”
“We tell your Ma, or bluff. Make ‘em think if we die word’ll get out.”
It wasn’t a bad plan. Except, unlike with Bab and I’s heist, failure would be met with an overwhelmingly high likelihood of death. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
There was no hesitation before his response. “Aren’t any better choices, Orvs.”
I nodded. After telling the twins I was heading out, I tied Ma’s sword to my back with a bit and cloth. Then we left, barring the door behind us.
Silently, I was glad to be taken away from myself. For a few more moments, I could avoid the inevitable.
----------------------------------------
The shadows of the day were at their longest, stretching down the street and mingling with the yellow light of the setting sun.
Distantly, I had recalled that Bab’s days would usually start with a trip to the central farmlands. The specific location was hazy, but I hoped that the impression would get stronger the closer we came. The walk also gave me an opportunity to get used to my new senses – I would run and jump and jog back and forth, my friend giving me a look of bemusement.
Between my shenanigans, Blake and I chatted about small things. The most interesting occurrence was that Bran, Blake’s former second, had tried to challenge him to a fight, his position going to the victor. My friend laughed at the recollection, because there was no actual precedent for such a thing happening. They weren’t ancient warriors, duelling for a god’s honour. Erin had promptly beat the surly adolescent black and blue.
“Really?” I wondered. Bran was a decent brawler, and had given a good showing the few times we fought. “On the rooftops, Erin didn’t seem that good.”
“You’re a freak, Orvs. She didn’t expect you to keep takin’ hits.” He sniffed. “She’s a strange one, to be sure. Gets better the more she knows about her opponent.”
“Do you think she’d beat you in a fight?”
He scratched his head. “Maybe I could’ve when we first met, but now? Yeah,” he said, unashamedly. “Knows me too well.”
All these talks of losing were firing my ego. “What about me?”
Blake gave me a long look. “You can’t even beat me.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve beat you plenty of times.”
“Pfft.” I could tell he was intentionally riling me up. That knowledge didn’t stop it from working. “Don’t count.”
“You little rat. What do you mean ‘don’t count’?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. None of them count.”
“Why not?”
He snorted. “I was goin’ easy on you.”
“You absolute dog,” I went through the motions of anger jokingly, in an attempt to hide my very real irritation. “If I hadn’t just been bedridden for several days, I’d have your eyes for that slander.”
“You’re mad, aren’t you?”
I was. “I’m not.”
“You are!” Blake grinned triumphantly.
I pointed a finger at him and opened my mouth, only to cock my head. Between the wind rushing through the streets, the flapping of old fabrics, and the scuttling of small creatures, something else lurked.
“You can’t-“
Then I heard it: clear as day. A set of near-silent steps were hidden behind us, flitting in and out of alleyways as we moved. While motioning for him to continue, I simultaneously mimed a person sneaking about. I withdrew my sheathed blade and handed it to my friend, wary of stabbing an innocent pickpocket. Besides, swinging a sword in an alleyway was exactly the kind of poor move I was always tempted to make. Blake would have more use for it, in the open space we stood in.
Blake kept up the mindless chatter, while I snuck closer, the sounds of the person’s movements becoming clearer and clearer. Around five paces away, the breathing was well-defined enough to identify the stalker.
“Sash!” I yelled. “Get your butt out here!”
A quiet ‘oh’ echoed down the empty street. My sister emerged from the shadows, doing her best impression of a cute puppy. Unfortunately for her, she had never been a good actor.
“What are you doing here?” I scowled at her.
“I am coming with you.” Her calm words were belied by her inability to make eye contact.
I looked at the sky, stars barely visible. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you are not.”
She imitated me, likely meaning nothing by it. “Yes, I am.”
“Sash, it’s dangerous. You can’t help us, you have nothing to offer.”
“You are incorrect.” She emphasised the point with a shake of her head. “You have been in a coma for several days. You’re not functioning at your best. I am smaller and quieter than both of you.”
Blake approached. “Listen, kid, we can’t afford to be looking after you.”
“Considering how thoroughly I trounced you, it’s more likely I will be looking after you.” Sash stated blandly. It was difficult to stifle a smile as Blake reeled from the impressive insult, the blow made worse by the lack of malice in her voice.
I changed tactics. “Dash will be alone at home. He might need you to look after him.”
Her guilty look was promising, but after a pregnant pause, she shook her head once again. “My brother knows how to hide, if needed, and Ma will be back soon. If we run into trouble, he will be able to tell her where we’re going.”
Panic threatened to worm its way into my voice. “You told Dash?”
She nodded. There was no rebuttal on hand.
I searched for another argument. “You coming will make me very worried for you.” I made sure to speak clearly.
“I know.” I was surprised by her quick answer, but my feelings were probably obvious, even to her. “However, I’m coming, no matter how you two feel about it.”
I drew my final card. “I carried you across a battlefield, you know.” It sounded weak, even to me. Blake looked at me, and I realised I had never told him the story.
Sash nodded, her tangled ponytail bobbing. “I know. And now I’m going to help you.” The day had come – I had lost an argument with a kid five years my junior. I ground my teeth. This wasn’t the time for jokes.
Blake looked at me for a verdict. I scratched my head, and considered turning back. Short of knocking her out – which I would never do and was probably incapable of anyway – there was no way of stopping her. Yet, if our lead ended up bearing fruit, we might be able to save the Foot. Or at least stop it from being completely destroyed.
That line of thinking felt familiar. This time would be different, I promised myself.
“Alright,” I sighed. “But if you’re coming, you stay back. You don’t do anything unless I say. You don’t fight anyone, and if things get bad, you run and get Ma, just like with the monster.” I glared at her.
“Okay.” She agreed.
“Promise me.”
She reiterated my demands. “I promise I will stay back, not do anything unless you say, not fight anyone, and if things get bad, run and get Ma.”
I rubbed my head and swore quietly. It would have been easier if she didn’t cooperate. We could have just turned back.
Or maybe we couldn’t have. I don’t know.
----------------------------------------
By the time we made it to the fields, night had fallen. We walked through trails cut through seas of plants, ripe with the cloying scent of mud and damp. If not for Sash, we would have blended into the darkness.
They stretched endlessly, crossed with beaten pipes sporting the occasional leak. Grain swayed madly in the night’s wind. Sometimes, we would pass a swathe of land that was completely barren, bereft of any plants. They looked lonely, underneath the starlight.
I wondered if Jasmine ever felt lonely here. Immediately, I cringed at the overly-romantic thought.
Blake and Sash passed the time by trading guesses about what was being grown. This wasn’t our territory – even my sister, usually world-class in her ability to recall pointless factoids, didn’t know most of them. I had a different task: leading the three of us in the approximate direction. In a place bereft of any landmarks, I wasn’t doing too well. The darkness didn’t help.
My only saving grace was having entered from the same direction that Bab should have. I could recall Bab trudging through unending orchards and vast swathes of grain, but it all coalesced into one distinct impression – a seemingly endless march towards the place he would be buried in.
An hour of wandering saw my companions grow increasingly irritated. Sash was more forgiving – she vaguely knew what was going on – however Blake, having smelled my justifications were garbage, began voicing his doubts openly. “You’ve got no idea where we’re going, do you?”
“I have a vague idea.”
“Were you tellin’ tales?”
I scowled at him, though he couldn’t see my expression. “Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know.” Despite the shadows, my Foxblood helped me see his frustration clearly. “You’ve fibbed for less.”
“This is serious. We’re close. I can feel it.”
I wasn’t lying. Something was different. A growing pressure from above, and anxiety brewing in my stomach, carved into Bab’s blood by months of abuse. Even if my head couldn’t find the way, it seemed my legs remembered enough to bring us nearby. I attempted to use this new fear as a makeshift compass, heading whatever way made me feel the worst. The wrenching in my gut could only mean we were getting closer to the source of Bab's terror. My focus was so great that despite my enhanced senses, it was Sash’s nose that noticed the smell first.
As we walked, she began wincing. My sister sniffed, her inhalations growing increasingly violent. I was on the verge of asking her if she was having a stroke when her she spoke. “Something’s burning.”
A distant thought struck me, from a foreign section of my mind. I didn’t question it. “Sash, get on my shoulders. Tell us if you see fire.”
She was acrobatic enough that I didn’t need to bend over; in a few seconds my shoulder muscles ached as her full weight was pressed down upon them. She straightened and began turning around, as naturally as I would on flat ground. I wondered if this had been a good idea - her pale complexion would make her easy to spot.
As I was about to put her down, suddenly terrified of an arrow emerging from the dark, she spoke from above me. “Yes, I see it.”
Sash hopped down. “It’s this way,” she said, pointing directly through one of the grain fields. I grabbed her by the hand and began rushing in that general direction, pushing my way through long, green stalks. Heavy footsteps and harsh breathing followed from behind as Blake followed.
Flickering light began shining through the grain. It grew closer and closer, until the three of us burst into a clearing. In a depression in the ground was a small mansion, built of expensive wood and pockmarked with glass windows. Flashes of rich tapestries, countless veiled faces and bloodied knuckles withdrawing from my face struck me. A place full of richly appointed rooms, fit for the son of an Earl. This was it; our one hope for helping save our home.
All of that was obscured by the red light exploding from it. The manor was aflame.