Ferran's Map (38 page)

Within minutes she had left the Flower
District behind. Her carriage passed a large opera house, a
beautifully landscaped park, and several streets of small,
exquisitely decorated shops. Finally she entered the Gentleman’s
District, proclaimed by a decorative brass sign planted on a broad
street corner. Here, the store fronts were made of sturdy brick and
polished wood, with large thatched windows displaying various
goods. Sora saw leather workers, tailors, barbers, tobacco shops,
pubs and more. Only two highborn ladies walked the street. They
looked like proud family matriarchs, with graying hair and lined
faces. She guessed that young, unmarried women did not frequent
this area.

Luckily, she spotted Lord Seabourne’s
carriage on the second avenue they turned down. She tapped smartly
on the roof, and the driver pulled over to the side of the road.
Sora didn’t wait for him to hand her down, but exited by herself,
stepping onto the windy street.

The driver looked down from his bench at the
front of the carriage. “Milady,” he said, “Are you certain of your
destination? This is the Gentleman’s District.”

She nodded. “Yes. Just wait here for a
moment.”

He tipped his velvet hat. “Do be careful,”
he said.

Sora looked around, wondering which shop
Lord Seabourne might have entered. Her eyes landed on a large sign
outside the building in front of her:
Brookworth’s Distinguished
Club. Gentlemen Only
.

She gripped her skirts, uncertain. Filled
with burning curiosity, her first instinct was to dash headlong
into the club to see if the Captain was inside. But as a lady, she
would not be welcomed, and her presence might cause quite a
stir.

As her eyes scanned the road, she noticed an
alley to one side of the building. It looked deserted. Perhaps she
could circle around the club and catch a glimpse of Lord Seabourne
through one of the many windows. If not, she might just have to
wait until he returned to his carriage.

Sora lifted her heavy skirts and walked
carefully along the slick cobblestones to the side of the building.
The alley was wide and clean, the snow fresh and unbroken. A series
of low, dark windows ran along the side of the building. She tried
to see through them, but the glass was thick and distorted to
protect the privacy of the patrons. She gnawed her lip as her feet
carried her further and further from the main street. Should she
look for a back door? Perhaps a cook or waiter might help her.

* * *

Crash sat on the rooftop on the overhang of
the second story, watching Sora walk down the alley.

She looked different, far from the fierce
and wounded girl on the Lost Isles, when dirt smudged her cheeks
and saltwater matted her hair. Now she resembled the other ladies
in The Regency—doll-like, fragile, proper and clean—just like the
night they met. He remembered that first sight of her clearly: a
small speck on the ballroom door, spinning before an audience of
the Second Tier. Later, when she ran into him face-to-face, he
recalled the fear and startling innocence of her wide blue eyes,
her green Cat’s-Eye stone glinting mysteriously at her neck.

That was selfish of him to take her for her
necklace. He had ripped her from her life, purely for his own
devices.
You bastard,
he thought. He owed her a debt that
could never be repaid.

His memories shifted uneasily through his
mind as he continued to watch, with no intention of doing anything
else.

Without warning, a shadow portal opened
nearby. Cobra materialized on the roof next to him, and sank down
at his side. His fellow assassin gave off a tense, eager energy
despite the heavy cloak obscuring his features.

“Well?” Cobra hissed, and followed his gaze
to the girl below. “Our master grows impatient. Why are you
stalling?” He asked the question in a mocking tone. Cobra knew very
well why. Cerastes doubtlessly knew as well. His Grandmaster risked
nothing; he knew his Viper might fail, and most likely planned on
it.

Crash lingered on his options. He could
bring Sora to the Shade to save Burn’s life, but then, could he
save them both? He wasn’t sure. If he refused to obey, he would
bring Cerastes’ wrath down upon them all—Lori and Ferran as well.
That was a recipe for disaster. He had now put Sora in more danger
than he had ever intended.

Cobra hissed slowly between his teeth. “A
pretty young blossom,” he said, gazing intently at the girl below.
“Too pretty for you.”

Crash felt a deep yearning to draw his knife
and shove it through Cobra’s throat. He knew this kind of assassin
well—too impatient, too ruthless—the kind that savored inflicting
pain as a necessary evil of their practice.

“Act,” Cobra pressed him.

Crash clenched his teeth. “Not yet,” he
murmured.

“Do I sense hesitation? Are you betraying us
so soon?” Cobra taunted. “If you don’t grab her, then I will.”

Crash didn’t reply.

With an idle shrug, Cobra turned and dropped
silently into the alley.

Crash tensed. A curse fell from his lips.
His gaze fastened on Sora, who went slowly from window to window,
still trying to see into the pub; she hadn’t noticed Cobra’s
descent.

Now what? If he followed, she would see the
two assassins together and think Crash had joined the Shade. And
what if Cobra attacked her?

She has a Cat’s Eye,
he thought. She
couldn’t be easily transported by magic. He suspected the Cat's Eye
would block Cobra from using the fifth gate. He would have to wait
and act as needed.

* * *

Sora may have been distracted, but she
wasn’t deaf or blind. She saw a shadow flicker out of the corner of
her eye, and heard a soft, muffled thud as a body landed in the
snow. Not a bird, she thought. She glanced up briefly, but saw no
one. Still, she felt certain she was no longer alone.

As she attempted to peer sightlessly through
the darkened window before her, she wondered what to do. If she
retreated from the alley, would she be followed?
Better to face
the stranger,
she decided. Her unseen visitor might be from the
Shade, and she didn’t want to turn her back on an assassin.

Finally, she straightened up. “Show
yourself,” she called. Her eyes scanned the alley. A cold wind
gusted by, carrying flakes of snow and dead leaves. She waited.

A familiar figure stepped out from behind a
pile of broken crates. He wore a splint on one arm, a new addition
since their last encounter. “Hello, dear,” Cobra said.

She remembered his name, and her stomach
twisted in disgust.

“You…” she seethed. Surprisingly, she was
not afraid, but filled with bitter anger. “Where is Burn?” she
demanded.

The assassin approached her at a gliding
walk. “Your Wolfy friend is in capable hands,” he sneered. “Never
fear; he is alive. I will make you a deal. Come with me, and I’ll
release him.”

Sora took several steps back, trying to keep
her distance. She remembered Cobra’s hands vividly—he could
debilitate her with a single touch. She wouldn’t let that happen
again.

“If you kill him, I’ll murder you,” she
growled.

“How rude,” he mocked. “And here I thought
you were a Lady.”

She reached for the knife in her bodice and
drew it. She didn’t have any other weapon.

Cobra’s eyes followed her hand, then
crinkled behind his cowl. “How endearing,” he murmured. “You didn’t
tell me she was so feisty, Viper. This is truly a delight,” he
called over his shoulder.

Viper?
Sora glanced around the alley.
Her eyes scanned the rooftops, but she did not see Crash anywhere.
Still, Cobra’s words left her cold with doubt. Was Crash here, or
was Cobra toying with her?

She tightened her grip on her dagger. “Come
any closer, and you’ll regret it!” she warned even as she grew
nervous. The Shade rarely traveled alone. How many more assassins
were hiding on the rooftops? Was Crash among them?

Don’t be silly,
she thought, even as
she glanced over her shoulder at the mouth of the alley. She was
too far away to make a run for it. Besides, the street beyond was
all but deserted. She would find no safety there.

“I didn’t come here to fight, but to make a
deal,” Cobra repeated in his oily tone. He halted a yard away.
“Come with me, and we’ll release the Wolfy.”

Sora hesitated. For a moment, she actually
considered his offer, but she wasn’t fool enough to make deals with
the Shade. The sad truth was that Burn might already be dead, and
she would be handing herself right over to the enemy.

“Why?” she called instead. “Why does
Cerastes want me?”

Cobra sneered. “My Master has use of
you.”

Sora looked down, gripping the Cat’s Eye at
her throat. After Krait’s interrogation, she had a vague idea of
Cerastes’ plan.

“You’ll have to kill me if you want the
necklace,” she hissed. “And then it will be useless to you. It only
works with a bearer, and your kind can’t touch it.” She raised her
head. “I won’t go willingly.”

Cobra scoffed. “You forget, my dear, we are
in a city full of humans. You are easily replaced.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Sora countered. “To
control the necklace and kill a wraith, a bearer needs
training.”

Cobra’s eyes sharpened. Sora held his gaze
in defiance. Finally he shrugged, “As you wish,”

and vanished.

Sora felt a gust of wind brush her left
cheek; she ducked just as his heavy gauntlet swung past her face.
Remembering her training, she grabbed Cobra’s arm, dragged him
forward, off-balance and over her hip, and threw him into the
snow.

Cobra landed on his back. He lay in the snow
for a moment, but then she heard him laugh. The eerie sound echoed
off the alley walls. “Well-played, little girl,” he wheezed. “But
you won’t be so lucky twice!” He leapt to his feet, turned, and
lunged at her.

Sora braced herself, knowing she was
outmatched. Cobra slammed into her, his crushing grip on her
wrists. She gasped, anticipating the pain. He twisted her arms
behind her; fire shot up her arms and down her spine. She collapsed
to her knees with a choked sob.

Cobra laughed. “Just a weak little human
after all, hmmm?” he taunted.

She couldn’t focus on his words through the
pain. Her eyes fell to the cobblestones, and she saw a dark shadow
gathering beneath her on the ground. A portal.

No, I won’t be taken!
she thought.
With a firm command, she activated her Cat’s Eye. Green light
encased her skin as the necklace counteracted Cobra’s magic. With a
loud crack, the portal snapped shut.

Cobra cursed and dragged her from the
ground. Sora screamed—she thought he would break her arm. “You
crafty little fox,” he seethed. “Must we do this the hard way?”

Suddenly, a strong vibration passed over her
skin. Her Cat’s Eye released a fierce jingle. Bright light spilled
into the alley, dazzling her eyes, and she felt arms wrap around
her. Cobra lost his hold as she was dragged backward, away from
him.

Caprion,
she thought. It had to
be.

The bright light disoriented her but faded
quickly. When her vision cleared, she saw Cobra at the opposite end
of the alley. Skid marks in the snow revealed he had been pushed,
or pulled, away from the fight. And then a shocking sight met her
eyes. Her heart stopped. Crash stood next to him. She blinked
twice. He seemed to look straight through her.

“If you want to fight, you can fight me,”
Caprion said from behind her, his voice firm and authoritative.

The two assassins glared menacingly at the
Harpy. Sora tried to recover, although she couldn’t stop staring at
Crash. He still wore his suit of dark livery, but somehow he looked
different. Dangerous. Not himself.

Cobra hissed, a venomous sound, and then the
shadows darkened at his feet. Crash grabbed his arm. Within
seconds, they vanished into a portal, and the alley was empty. A
lonely gust of wind swept over the snow. Sora waited, wondering if
they would reappear and continue the fight, but after a long
moment, she relaxed in Caprion’s hold. It seemed that Cobra had
fled.

Caprion’s strong arms gently released her,
and Sora stood shivering in the snow. She couldn’t look away from
where Crash had stood just seconds before.

She turned to the Harpy. The wind ruffled
his pale hair and he looked tense, his eyes scanning the alley and
surrounding rooftops, still prepared for an attack. He was dressed
in a clean, white tunic, soft tan breeches and tall black boots. He
turned and touched her arm, the one she had dislocated two days
earlier, then searched her eyes. “Are you injured?” he asked with
concern.

His hand was surprisingly gentle, and she
brushed it off awkwardly. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said. “How did
you find me?”

He pushed his pale hair away from his eyes
and said in a weary voice. “Ferran told me you were in The Flower
District. I didn’t know if this was the place, but I spotted you
from above.”

Sora frowned. “Ferran sent you? Why?”

“No, not Ferran. I came by myself. I feared
you were in danger. The Shade are much bolder than we anticipated.”
He paused solemnly. “The sacred weapons are missing from the
ship.”

Sora blinked twice. Then her face became
pale. “What?” Her bodice suddenly felt too tight. “But how…?
When?”

“A thief came in the night and took them.”
His expression darkened. “I suspect the Viper.”

Caprion's words made her stomach cramp.
“Crash,” Sora corrected automatically. She wanted to forget her
entire encounter with Cobra. “It can’t be…he was with us last
night.”

“And this morning?”

She found herself reluctant to answer;
Caprion seemed to know her reply already. She shook her head. “I
didn’t see him at the manor this morning, but that doesn’t mean
anything.”