CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
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Iris Everton
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Maros, 927 PC
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“You could put ten moons in the sky tonight and it wouldn’t light up the world,” Urman said. No one would ever realize his hands were wrapped around knives deep in his cloak pockets. Unless of course he needed them. Which, on a night like this, when the shadows had shadows, he very well might. She squeezed her own knife tighter, hoping more to strangle it to death, than to feel better about having it. What would Candice think of this thing? I know what she’d think… she’d hate it. Tell me to throw it in the ocean where it belongs. There was no room for that kind of childish mentality anymore though. Her rocky relationship with Jameson made sure of that.
Master Rellin had warned her of the murderers on the streets of Locke, but that had been when she’d been in bed with one of the worst of them. They’d murdered for her then. Now, she was the person they wanted dead. At least it felt that way, which was enough incentive to put up with a man like Urman walking her to and fro the university each morning and night.
“I think you may be right.” She’d rather not get into a conversation about science with this brute. Resourceful? Yes. Educated? Absolutely not. Every ounce of wisdom the man possessed had been earned the hard way; bumps on the head, cold nights of no sleep, scratches and stab wounds. He knew how to stay alive and was quite good at it, but that was it. Guess that’s all she needed from him though.
“That’d be somethin’ to see. Full moons everywhere. Harlow would have called them a batch of cookies for The Creator.” He used the much less fierce and raspy voice he often used on their walks. His behavior often suggested he’d enjoyed her flirting with him at dinner the night Harlow was poisoned more than he had let on. He held doors for her, bought her things from vendors on the rare occasions they were still open when they left the university, even complimented her on her appearances at times. And with no intention of getting her undressed either. Or if he had them, he hid them much better than Jameson. She could count on one hand how many times she’d misjudged someone as badly as she had Urman Gant. Yes, he was a monster, but one that only attacked if provoked. Not like Jameson who was always on the prowl. It almost made her feel guilty about stealing Harlow from him. Almost, but not quite. She was trying to change the world and all. A task, she’d started to realize, that was more difficult than she expected. Even for her.
“Perhaps we should concentrate…” She’d already answered the door when one criminal came knocking. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Oh. Right.” That terrible tone that made her heart skip a beat was back. “So, he’s just out here? Waitin’ on ya to turn the wrong corner?”
“I don’t know. Probably.” At this hour… well past midnight. Jameson was more likely to be passed-out drunk in some pub where he felt like a king. But on the off chance he’d found some ambition, it was nice to have someone with her that actually knew how to use the daggers Master Rellin had bought them. They wouldn’t do much good against Jameson’s magic, but if he sent any of his lackeys after her Urman could put an end to those imbeciles with one hand tied behind his back.
“Couldn’t believe Rellin trusted me to walk around with ya by ourselves. If I had to reckon, I’d say I ain’t the kind of guy ya let your daughter walk around with.”
“Master Rellin isn’t my father.”
“Ah. Close enough. Who your family is don’t always come down to who popped out of the same cu-” He paused. “Woman. The only family I got left are two fellas I’d do anything to help. One of ‘em calls the same woman ma as I do but the other don’t and I love ‘em both the same. My brothers. Goes for your pa too but not your ma. Ain’t right to replace her. She worked too hard t’bring ya into this world to give someone else all the credit.”
She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t think she wanted to respond. It had been horrible grammar, of course, but oddly eloquent. Then she looked at him and his face begged her to say something. Like if she spoke they might forget that he’d expressed some of his feelings. “I don’t think you’re a bad man. Not at all.” A lie, but one with less malintent than the ones that had brought them together in the first place. If the awkward, toothy grin on his face meant anything, then he was happy to have someone claim to see the good in him.
The university’s tall towers could be seen over storefronts ahead as they turned the nearest corner. Nearly identical to those she’d become so accustomed to and affectionate of in lower Locke yet she couldn’t help but hate these ones for no more a reason than her own problems. The stores on the other side of the city had been a symbol of a new tomorrow. Given her tingles of excitement. These stores just provided shadows for Jameson to hide in, corners to hide around.
“What are ya gonna do at the university at this hour?” Urman asked.
How could she possibly explain the intricacies of creating a mixture that would help locate something invisible? She couldn’t. Well, she could, but she didn’t feel like doing so with Urman. “I think I’ll just clean up the lab.”
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“Mind if I ask ya somethin’?”
“Sure.”
“Is Harlow still alive?” There was so much sadness and desperation in his voice that it sent her mind right back to Master Rellin’s study, where Urman had collapsed to his knees and held Harlow’s head as he struggled to breathe. She knew that feeling, that helplessness as you begged your loved one to fight for their life. She couldn’t believe she’d caused someone else that pain. This pain on his face, in his heart. The only difference between them was that she knew Candice was dead and could work to move on inch by inch. He had no idea where his brother was or if he was alive. He’d be running in a circle until he got the information he needed to start the grieving process. The problem was, she didn’t know if Harlow was alive or not either. Master Rellin had put enough Red Venom in the man’s wine to kill an elephant and yet he’d woken up, groggy and very much alive two hours after Urman had set off for the Emerald Forest. He’d left that night in hopes of getting back to Harlow as fast as he could. A good brother. Master Rellin had sent her home so he could deal with her mistake and never mentioned it again. And given, Iris wanted nothing more than to forget Harlow ever existed, she’d been content with leaving it as a mystery. Though the notion that she made a mistake when mixing the Red Venom nagged at her regularly.
They’d walked several more steps before Iris turned and stopped Urman. She stared at him, hoping to convey the truth in her words. A thin layer of tears covered his eyes. “I don’t know if Harlow is alive or not.” Urman bared his teeth, not in anger but to deal with the pain. “Urman.” She considered putting a hand on his shoulder but refrained. “I am truly sorry about your brother. I had no idea Master Rellin was going to poison him.” Urman studied her with his unique kind of wisdom. “I lost my sister, you know. A few years ago. To a disease that I figured out how to cure a month later.” Suddenly, all of her sister’s most painful comments tore at her heart. Is he going to help? Her hope slashed away by Iris’ pitiful shake of her head. It’ll be alright, Iris. Barely heard over all the sobbing as the disease cut the final threads of Candice’s will to live. I’ll make it home safely. Barely heard as Candice whispered her last words.
Before she knew it his arms were wrapped around her. Her face pressed against his chest unwillingly. His breathing was uncomfortably loud in her ear. “It ain’t easy,” he said. “Losin’ ‘em.” He was strong, much stronger than Jameson, much stronger than most men she imagined. Felt like being hugged by a bear. Where was the stench of alcohol? The lingering aftermath of half a dozen smoke sticks? She’d forgotten what men that don’t waste their lives in pubs smell like.
“No. No, it’s not.” Where were her tears? She missed Candice more than this fool could ever miss his halfwit brother, and yet his tears flowed from his eyes like a river and she felt nothing but anger. Barik Liskin. She’d tried not to think about the name too often over the years, hating the image of herself that it painted in her mind, but now it rang louder than church bells in her head. I’ll kill him.
“I just hope he’s alive. I can take care of him if he’s hurt or sick. He’s a fighter, ya know. Been standing at the golden gates more times than me but never goes in.”
She brought an arm up and patted his back. Suddenly, he grunted and went limp in her arms. She fumbled backward a few steps as she tried to let him hit the ground as softly as she could. Not an easy task. The dagger slid out of his back like a spit being pulled from a pig.
She looked up to see Jameson standing an arm’s length away, chest puffing in anger, moonlight illuminating the bottom half of his chin beneath his hood. “Found another man awfully quick, didn’t ya? Carrying my fuckin’ child and throwin’ yourself at this prick! Were ya gonna tell him it’s his baby?”
“Jameson.” She took another step back, looking around the empty streets for help. Where in the three hells were the City Guard when she needed them? “Jameson. It’s not like that. His brother… His brother…” She couldn’t get the words out to save her life. A terribly inconvenient time for such a problem.
He stepped toward her, the bloody tip of the dagger pointing at her. Urman groaned in pain as he moved his head and arms weakly. Jameson kicked him hard in the ribs, curling Urman up in a fetal position. His muddy boot reared back to kick again. She lunged at him only to be thrown to the ground with a quick swipe of his arms. She broke her fall in all the wrong ways but she had a baby to protect. Her wrist snapped, her shoulder and face slid along the cobblestones. She lay there for a moment listening to the thumps and grunts as Jameson unleashed on Urman. There was a sharp stinging sensation all throughout her arm. Thick blood poured from a long gash in her forearm. He’d cut her! She wanted to grab her own dagger, cut him once or twice, but it was in the wrong pocket. That wrist was full of pain and useless.
“Look at me, ya cunt!” Jameson said, trying to use his magic on Urman, no doubt. She’d prepared him though. Told him not to look Jameson in the eye if this moment ever came to be.
She rolled over and did the only thing she could. “Help!” She didn’t care what happened to her. Not if this was her life now. “Guards! Help! Someone help!”
Jameson turned on her, eyes narrow and dark, until he saw the blood all over her arm. His fury melted, replaced by concern and confusion. “Iris.”
“Help!”
Jameson didn’t wait around to see who would come to her rescue. He took off into a nearby alleyway, running every bit as fast as he used to claim he could in all his stories.
She climbed to her knees, wrist in agony, forearm burning and bleeding. “Urman. Urman, are you alright?” He had a puddle of his own blood forming around his beaten body. “Urman.” He lifted a single finger just enough to indicate he was still alive.
She was trying to check the wound in his back when the footsteps came charging down the street. Panic at first, swept away by relief when she saw the black and gold uniforms. She let herself slump backward to her rear end.