Sora’s eyes widened—she didn’t know he carried one.
Caprion lifted off and flew across the clearing. He tackled the woman back to the ground and pinned her firmly beneath him, pressing the stone to her throat. The sunstone blazed with power. Sora saw the first set of Caprion’s wings flicker into existence. His wingspan momentarily filled the forest glade.
Then the assassin released a bloodcurdling scream.
Sora shielded her eyes with her arm and averted her gaze from the stone’s brilliant light. The scream continued, perhaps the most excruciating sound she had ever heard. She covered her ears with her hands and clamped her teeth together, willing it to stop. But the shriek went on and on.
The sunstone grew brighter, until the forest seemed filled by summery daylight, at odds with the heavy, storm-laden sky. Then the light dimmed. The woman’s voice hitched and weakened as she went limp.
Caprion ripped the mask from the woman’s face, but Sora couldn’t see much at this distance. She kept to the line of trees at the edge of the clearing, waiting for more assassins to appear. A silent minute passed before she forced herself to stand up, grimacing from the pain in her arm.
She stepped cautiously through the tall weeds and tangled vines, past Caprion, to the fallen assassin’s side. Then she stared in surprise. The woman was…young, only a few years older than herself. And yet something seemed strange about her face. Long scars crossed vertically through each of her closed eyes, trailing down her cheeks like teardrops. A disgusting patch of shiny, wrinkled skin warped the side of her neck and jaw.
Sora gasped softly and placed a hand over her mouth. She blinked away the gruesome scars, shaken. When she looked back at the assassin, the woman’s face appeared flawless and smooth. The scars seemed to have instantly vanished. She stared in confusion, wondering that was all about.
Caprion knelt by the woman’s side and placed one hand on her shoulder, inspecting the work of the sunstone, which was now lodged at the base of the woman’s throat. Sora caught a glimpse of blistered, angry flesh. She grimaced and looked away again.
She saw a familiar figure at the edge of the clearing. Crash came to a full stop when he saw the female assassin lying on the ground. Sora watched his face, looking for any sign of pity or empathy toward his own race—but his eyes remained cold and distant.
She started toward him, wincing as she jolted her arm. He met her halfway across the small glen. His eyes searched her thoroughly, then a wry smile twisted his lips. Without a word, he gently gripped her arm and guided it up until the bone slid back into place. Sora gritted her teeth the whole time, the fingers of her good hand digging into his shirt against the pain.
She felt a sudden pop as her shoulder slid into position. The pain flared, then lessened to a dull throb. She sighed. She had first dislocated that shoulder on the Lost Isles, and once more aboard the Dawn Seeker while climbing the rigging on a particularly windy day. She knew it would always be a weak point.
Crash ripped a piece of cloth from his cloak and helped her bind the arm in a makeshift sling. Then Sora turned back to the female assassin on the ground. Caprion still knelt next to her, taking her weapons.
“Why would they come for me?” she asked Crash softly. She touched the brown bag hidden beneath her cloak. “I thought they wanted the sacred weapons, but they didn’t know I carried them.”
Crash’s face remained grim, his thoughts withdrawn. “We’re about to find out,” he said darkly. Then he approached the female assassin at the center of the clearing.
Caprion had finished disarming the woman and stood over her prone body. Sora watched the Harpy closely. She couldn’t figure out his expression, but it wasn’t hostile. It was….
“Do you know her?” she asked, though she wasn't sure why.
He looked at her with a glimmer of surprise. “No,” he said briefly, then met Crash’s gaze. After an awkward moment, he said, “She’s from your race. What do you suggest we do with her?”
“Take her back to the ship,” Crash said without hesitation. “Interrogate her.”
“We should move her before the other assassins reach us,” Caprion said.
“I cut them down in the forest,” Crash murmured, still inspecting the woman.
“What if more come?” Sora asserted. “They’ll try to rescue her.”
“No, they won’t,” Crash replied.
She gave him a questioning look.
“She’s expendable,” he said flatly. “She’s not important enough for the Shade to risk losing more men. But we can certainly use her in the meantime.”
Sora hesitated. She didn’t like the casual way he spoke of the woman’s pending interrogation. But they didn’t have much choice—through their prisoner, they could finally find out more about the Shade. She chewed her lip in thought. Caprion would have to fly their new captive back to the ship directly. They probably shouldn’t accompany him because four floating figures in the sky would draw far too much attention, and with the Shade already aware of their presence….
“Where’s Burn?” Sora thought to ask, looking around the forest. She suddenly remembered him lying prone on the hillside. “Is he all right?”
Crash hesitated. “He’s gone.”
Sora blinked. “What?”
“The Shade has him.”
Sora felt all her breath leave at once. She stared at the assassin, stunned.
“He fell through one of their portals,” Crash explained. “I don’t know where….” His eyes focused again on the female assassin, who wheezed softly on the ground. “But I think we’ll know very soon.”
Suddenly Sora understood his coldness—his anger. She stared at Crash speechlessly, allowing the full impact of his words to settle on her. Burn, taken by the Shade? He was in mortal danger. Or dead already, she thought, with a sickening cramp in her stomach.
She abruptly grabbed the front of Crash’s cloak. “Can’t you follow them?” she demanded. “Work some magic spell and open another portal? We can’t waste another second!”
Crash let her hang onto his cloak for a moment, then he firmly shoved her off. “It was out of my control!” he snapped. “I can’t follow them. I’m not skilled enough. I’m not….”
Sora shook her head. “We have to do something,” she said. “Isn’t there some way?”
Crash indicated the female assassin. “She’ll have to tell us where he is,” he repeated.
“What if she won’t tell us?”
“Oh, she will,” Caprion answered. He stood up, lifting the woman in his arms. “We’re not far from the docks. Shall I come back and get you?”
Crash shook his head. “Too obvious. The Shade know we travel with a Harpy. They’ll be watching the skies to see where we take her.” Then, after a pause, he announced, “We’ll walk.”
Sora wanted to groan in frustration. What a horrible waste of time! She wanted to protest, but she already knew Crash’s argument, and it seemed that Caprion agreed. They would be of no help to Burn if they were captured as well, and another attack from the Shade could be disastrous. What if the Shade came back for the sacred weapons?
“At least allow me to transport you to the city gates,” Caprion said, his eyes sweeping the forest. “The Shade might already have an ambush in place.”
Crash relented, tucking the various whips and knives under his cloak. He hooked the long bullwhip to his belt. Then, with a few motions of his hand, Caprion’s white light surrounded them. Sora felt a familiar sensation of vertigo as she was lifted into the sky.
Caprion kept low to the shelter of the treetops until he reached the wide hills, then glided smoothly downward like a kite. Sora scanned the ground continually; she didn’t think they had been seen. He deposited them on the outer wall of the city and made his farewells, then transported their prisoner away over the rooftops.
Crash and Sora found a staircase leading down the other side of the wall to a narrow, winding alley. This district of Crowns belonged to the lower class. The
streets were dirty and uneven. Cracked windows and chipped paint marred the low stone buildings. She caught a vague glimpse of the Temple of the North Wind, though it was half-obscured by drizzling rain and mist. The clouds seemed heavier and lower than before.
They walked for a good while in silence, Crash slightly ahead of her, his eyes endlessly scanning the road and the decrepit buildings. He pulled his hood up as a light drizzle of rain began to fall. People averted their eyes and hurried their steps when he passed. Sora knew why; he looked fierce and dangerous, his stride full of purpose. He was more intimidating than anyone who might emerge from an alley.
Details of their fight with the Shade ran through her head. Cobra spoke to Crash as though they knew each other. I thought you preferred the older, more experienced types—or perhaps a fiery redhead? Even the female assassin had addressed him with some familiarity. Her nagging thoughts left her troubled.
The narrow side streets eventually connected to larger thoroughfares. Sora reached Crash’s side and asked him, “Did you know those assassins?”
Crash’s green eyes shifted to her briefly. His expression became guarded.
Of course, she thought. “Tell me,” she insisted.
“They know of me,” he answered, emphasizing his words. “But I don’t know them.”
Sora’s frown deepened. “Why do they know of you?” she pressed. “Did you have dealings with the Shade?”
“Of course not,” he snapped, then fell silent as they passed a series of street vendors. The crowd thickened, then dispersed. “I didn’t know about the Shade until you did. You’re beginning to sound like Caprion.”
“Well, maybe for good reason,” Sora said firmly. “I think you’re hiding something.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I can tell when you’re lying,” she pressed.
“Can you?” he mused.
Something about his tone made her feel terribly self-conscious. Sora looked away, but she trusted her gut. She felt certain he was keeping something from her, so she tried again.
“Cobra said you prefer redheads?” she asked. “Was that sarcasm…?”
“Perhaps,” Crash responded dryly. “That comment was more for you than me. He was trying to get under your skin. Don’t let him.”
Sora balked at that. “It doesn’t bother me!” she insisted as her cheeks flushed. “But he acted so familiar toward you….”
Crash paused and caught her hand. He looked at her sternly. “I’m not part of the Shade, Sora. And I don’t have a fondness for redheads.”
Sora didn’t think she could blush any harder. “I know,” she admitted.
“Then what’s this about?”
“Just a terrible feeling that you know more than you’re letting on,” she muttered.
Crash considered her for a moment, then released a long sigh. Unexpectedly, he swung his arm around her shoulders. Sora walked next to him, surprised. His heat enveloped her against the cold, and his cloak shielded her from the windy gusts of rain.
“Don’t let a stranger’s words shake your trust, Sora,” he said. His jaw brushed the top of her head as they walked. She shivered at their contact. “And…” he continued slowly, “I need that trust, now that Caprion and half the Dracian crew look at me askance.”
“They hate you,” Sora agreed.
“I know.”
“Perhaps because you threw Tristan off the boat.”
His voice was amused. “You heard of that?”
“It’s a large boat, but not that large,” Sora said, quoting Burn from the beginning of their journey. Then she grimaced. “I hope Burn is still alive. We have to find him. Perhaps Caprion can search the city for the Shade’s hideout….”
“I doubt he’ll find it from above,” Crash muttered, “and I’m sure he’d rather watch me instead.”
Sora didn’t expect those words. Her mouth twisted stubbornly. “Caprion isn’t against you. He helped us escape the Matriarch—”
Crash cut her off. “Caprion is still in league with the Matriarch. He suspects I’ll lead him to the Shade, mostly because they’re my own kind.”
Sora paused. That doesn’t make sense, she thought. Why would Caprion go to all the trouble of rescuing them from the Lost Isles, if he was still beholden to his queen?
She raised a skeptical brow. “Even if that were true,” she conceded, “what could he possibly do against the Shade? Singlehandedly kill them all?"
Crash’s eyes darkened. “I assume he plans to take out the Shade’s leader. He’s a seraph, after all.”
Sora considered it. Seraphim were bred for war—built to hunt demons. Still, Caprion hadn’t mentioned any plan to root out the Shade on his own. He had been friendly, if quiet, since leaving the Lost Isles. He helped around the ship where needed and kept to his own business. Perhaps he’s a little too quiet, she thought. At times, he acted strange. He would fly away from the Dawn Seeker and return at odd intervals. Could he still be in contact with the Matriarch?
She considered the sunstone Caprion used on the woman in the woods; he had disabled her with hardly a struggle. He knew how to waylay an assassin.
Slowly, she said, “He seems dangerous, Crash.”
“He is,” Crash agreed. They turned down Tourmaline Street, an old and winding avenue that continued toward the docks. The drizzle thickened to a steady rain, and they tried to keep to the overhang of buildings, though Sora was already drenched.
Crash picked up a piece of wood from an alley and held it over their heads for shelter. They made better time as the weather worsened and the streets cleared. Finally, he flagged down a public coach.
“To the south docks,” he said as he passed a few coppers into the man’s hand.
Sora didn’t say so, but she was relieved to be out of the rain, even if the carriage smelled like musty cigar smoke and mothballs. The coach was uncomfortably cramped. They sat face-to-face, their knees touching. She spent a minute adjusting for more room, then gave up.
“How do we rescue Burn?” she asked. “The assassins are your kind. Don’t you have any idea where they might be hiding?”
Crash frowned. “If I did, I’d already be there.”
“What if we can’t reach him in time—”
“He’s a warrior, Sora,” he said firmly. “We have to trust him to survive, just as he trusts us to find him.”
His words struck her, and she felt momentarily guilty for doubting Crash. He wouldn’t abandon Burn now, no more than he had back in Fennbog swamp or the Lost Isles. She sat back, wishing she could shake off her horrible sense of foreboding. She hoped so much that Burn could defend himself. But he might already be dead. What if they arrived too late?
Silence filled the carriage as it rolled down the cobbled streets.
CHAPTER 13
Sora stood awkwardly in the bowels of the ship where she had once meditated with Ferran. It was one of the few isolated places where they could lock up their new captive. Still, as her eyes searched the underbelly of the Dawn Seeker, she wondered if it would be secure enough. Large wooden crates and barrels of supplies occupied the hold. Dense shadows obscured half the room, beyond the light of Caprion’s wings. Above her head, she could hear footsteps treading back and forth as various Dracians strode to and from their cabins to the mess hall. If the assassin got loose, there were no bars to hold her, no locks and no doors.
Caprion deposited the woman’s body on the wooden floor planks, then stepped back. Sora noticed the way his eyes lingered on their prisoner. She wondered what he was thinking.
After a moment of silence, she asked, “Now what?”
Crash shifted at her side. “Now we get answers.” His words sounded brutal.
She hesitated. They hadn’t broached the subject of the woman’s interrogation during the coach ride. “You don’t intend to torture her?” she asked.
“What else would you suggest?” Crash said coldly.
Thoughts of Burn filled Sora’s mind, causing her cheeks to flu
sh with anger. She wanted to know if he was still alive, and where the Shade had taken him. She didn’t know if this assassin could tell them, but so far she was their only source of information.
Still, Sora didn’t know if she could stand to watch the prisoner being tortured.
“Look here,” Caprion said suddenly, drawing their attention. As he knelt over the woman, his hand hovered over the sunstone. “Do you see the way the light fades? She doesn’t have a demon. So we don’t need the stone.”
“How is that possible?” Sora asked, surprised.
“She must have run into Harpies before,” Caprion mused. His eyes passed over the assassin again curiously. “Given enough time, a sunstone can remove a demon from an assassin’s body. It works similarly to a Cat’s Eye in that sense. The demon will become trapped within the rock.”
Sora frowned. In the Crystal Caves, she had learned that Cat’s-Eye stones were formed from sunstones. Over countless centuries of resisting the magical friction of the ocean, shards of sunstone formed into Cat’s Eye, absorbing the ocean’s powerful energy so it wouldn’t split apart the earth.
“It’s not a pleasant thing to witness,” Caprion added. “Ensnaring a demon, I mean.”
“The sunstone keeps her immobile,” Crash pointed out.
Caprion raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but so would a firm rope, and the rope would be less painful.”
“Do you really have no pity for her?” Sora asked, turning to Crash in alarm. “A month ago, you were imprisoned with such a stone at your throat. Your voice still hasn’t healed. Don’t you care if she’s in pain?”
“I don’t,” he said flatly. “They have Burn, Sora.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it quickly. He did have a point. The Shade was the enemy. Still, she hated the sight of the woman’s blistered flesh. “How can you be so indifferent toward your own people?” she asked softly.
“The Shade is not my people,” Crash replied, his eyes falling scornfully to the woman. “For all the pain she’s inflicted on others, I’m sure she can stomach this.”