The Girl at Midnight (17 page)

Dorian held his sword up to Caius’s mouth, silencing him, blade hovering but not touching. He
had
just run it through two bodies. Contact would have been unsanitary. “I’m going to stop you right there.”

Caius lifted a single eyebrow.

“I have said it a thousand times, and I will say it a thousand times more until you get it through your thick skull,” Dorian said, lowering his sword but keeping it in his hand. He had a feeling they would need it before they were clear of the fortress and the long arm of Tanith’s rule. Enunciating each word carefully so its meaning wouldn’t be lost on Caius, he said, “You. Are. My. Friend. And I will follow you anywhere. Now let’s go.”

The land beyond the keep’s walls was eerily quiet. Moonlight skittered across a sea speckled with starlight. They made it all the way to the shore before Caius noticed that Dorian was nursing a limp, leaving a bloody trail behind them with each step. It was too much to ask to have escaped unscathed, but Dorian was a fighter and he would soldier on. Tanith would notice their absence soon enough, and her Firedrakes wouldn’t be far behind.

“Dorian, if you would be so kind.” Caius waved a hand at the foamy waves that marked the border between sand and sea. “Water is more in your wheelhouse than mine.”

Dorian knelt along the shore, at the seam where the in-between pulsed, shadow dust in hand. “Where to?”

For what felt like the first time in his life, Caius had no answer. Tanith knew him better than anyone, save Dorian, and she certainly knew every inch of Drakharin land as well as he did, if not better. Every hideout, every safe house,
every remote stronghold. If they stayed within Drakharin borders, it would be only a matter of time before she found them. Caius could feel their eyes on him, waiting, expectant. He was meant to be a leader, and he had no idea what to do. Maybe Tanith was right. Maybe he wasn’t fit to lead, not anymore. Maybe he had lost his edge. If he couldn’t lead three people to safety, how could he hope to lead an entire nation to peace?

He looked down at his hands. To think, he’d washed Ribos’s blood from his skin a mere hour ago. He couldn’t leave the Drakharin to Tanith’s tender care. He couldn’t fail the motley band of fugitives that needed him now. And he couldn’t ignore the message Rose had left behind, scribbled on a map so many years ago. That map was sitting on the desk in his study, and he was plagued by a bitter stab of regret for leaving it there. Now he had nothing left of her but memories. The firebird was out there, and he was going to find it. For his people. For Rose. Thankfully, if there was one lesson he had learned during his reign, it was how to delegate. Caius cleared his throat. “Echo?”

“Yeah?” She squinted into the distance, scanning the hill behind them, checking to see if they’d been followed. They had been. Golden armor glinted in the distance. The Firedrakes would be on them in minutes.

Caius could hardly believe what he was about to ask, but everything about the past day had defied explanation. “Where to?”

Echo turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “You’re asking me?”

With a sigh, Caius said, “Obviously.”

He could hear the Firedrakes gathering in the distance.
They were running out of time. If he were captured now, if they were dragged back to the keep, then it would all be for naught. He would lose the only lead he had to find the firebird, and though Tanith might spare his life, Caius knew she wouldn’t shed a single tear over ordering Dorian’s execution. Echo and Ivy meant less than nothing to her. Capture would mean their deaths, and enough blood had been spilled already.

Echo shared an incredulous look with Ivy. “Why should I take you anywhere?”

The guards were nearer now, their footfalls getting louder and louder as the seconds ticked by.

“You want to take your chances with them?” Caius asked.

“Well, I don’t exactly trust you,” Echo said. Her eyes were riveted to the hill over which the Firedrakes would soon appear. The set of her shoulders was tense, as if she was ready to flee. But like Caius, she had nowhere to go, unless they went together.

“Nor I you,” Caius said, “but beggars can’t be choosers, can they? Your enemy has now become my enemy, and the way I see it, that makes us allies. And the firebird is bigger than you and I.”

“Echo,” Ivy said, tugging at her sleeve, “can’t we just go home?”

“No.” The word was laced with sadness. Echo swallowed thickly and shook her head. “Altair already threw me in a jail cell once today; I don’t think he’s going to be overly thrilled that we’ve started conspiring with Drakharin.”

“Altair imprisoned you?” Caius asked. “I thought you were on their side.”

“Yeah, so did I,” Echo replied. “I’ve had a really long day.”

“Echo,” Ivy said, “I’d hardly call this conspiring.” Her white feathers quivered. “Wait. Will there be conspiring? What are we conspiring about?”

Dorian looked up at them from where he knelt. “This is all well and good, but we really need to get going.” His voice was strained, and he had a hand pressed to his side. Even though it was dark, Echo could see something staining his pale skin that looked a lot like blood.

“So,” Caius said, “what’s it going to be?”

Echo hesitated. He was losing her. The conflict was written on her face, as plain as day. They were meant to be enemies, but those distinctions were nowhere near as clear as they’d been the day before. If he failed to convince her that he was on her side—for now, at the very least—then the slim hope he had of finding the firebird would shrivel to nothing.

“You can take your chances with me,” Caius said, “or you can stay and find out what the Dragon Prince has in store for you. All our fates rest with you.” He extended his hand to Echo. “Well?”

“Echo …” Ivy took a step closer to her, fear and concern etched on her face.

Echo dragged her gaze from Caius’s hand to his eyes. They could hear the Firedrakes cresting the ridge. It was now or never. Depending on Echo’s decision, they would live to fight another day, or they’d meet their end here, on the shores outside the keep where Caius had been born. He and Dorian were capable fighters, but not even they could stand against the might of a full battalion of Firedrakes.

The Firedrakes were now close enough for Caius to make out individual figures on the hilltop. There were more than a dozen of them. After several agonizing seconds, Echo nodded.

“You know what they say.” She stared at Caius for a beat before placing her hand, small but strong, in his. “The devil you know.”

“Any day now.” The silver-haired Drakharin—Dorian, Caius had called him—was holding the portal open, his one eye fixed on the approaching Firedrakes. With Caius’s hand in hers, Echo hoped to every god in the heavens that she wouldn’t regret what she was about to say.

“Strasbourg.”

The word was scarcely out of her mouth before the darkness of the in-between rushed up, crashing against them. The Firedrakes’ shouts were eaten by a heavy silence. The impact stole the breath from Echo’s lungs, and if it hadn’t been for Caius’s solid grip on her hand, she would have been wholly untethered, set adrift at sea in the midst of a raging storm. She’d never traveled through the in-between with more than one other person at her side, and the force of it nearly made her collapse, knees turning to jelly as the ground fell away from beneath her boots.

As suddenly as it began, it was over. Cold, hard pavement
materialized beneath her. Even though Echo hadn’t moved an inch, it was like stumbling while standing still. Her eyes fought to adjust to the light. She focused on what she could hear and feel rather than what she could see: Solid stone beneath her feet. A church bell tolling the nighttime hours. The soft whisper of a river slapping the base of a bridge.

“Where are we?” Ivy asked.

Echo recognized the queasy hitch in Ivy’s voice. The last time she’d heard it, the two of them had gorged themselves on a bag of Halloween candy Echo had stolen from the Kmart at Astor Place. Ivy had puked up a rainbow of masticated gummy worms. Echo wasn’t the only one who’d struggled with their journey.

She held up her hand to shield her eyes. The streetlamp above was glaringly bright after the darkness of the in-between. Her vision prickled, and she blinked away the bursts of light exploding behind her lids. She recognized the bridge. It was one of the oldest in Strasbourg. Bridges made for excellent thresholds, being themselves monuments to the in-between, and age had made this one strong. Jumping between gateways without knowing one’s destination was always a gamble, but some thresholds were so strong they managed to shine through the darkness at the person on the other side. Dorian had found the bridge just as it had found him.

“We’re in Strasbourg,” Echo said. “The Ponts Couverts in the center of town, to be specific.”

“A wise choice,” Caius said, as if he couldn’t quite equate Echo with wise choices. Both he and Dorian seemed unruffled by their jaunt through the in-between. Echo hated them for it, just a little. “Strasbourg is situated in one of the
few neutral patches of Western Europe. Neither the Avicen nor the Drakharin patrol it regularly.”

“True,” Echo said, brushing off bits of straw that still clung to her jeans, “but that’s not why I wanted to come here.”

She was beginning to learn that Caius’s confused face was that of a person who was not accustomed to confusion. It was almost endearing. Almost.

“No?” Caius asked. “Then why?”

“Jasper,” Echo said.

Without another word, she turned on her heel, slipping Ivy’s arm into her own and trusting the Drakharin to follow. And they would. If they were desperate enough to follow a human girl into what could have been an Avicen trap, they clearly had nowhere else to go. They couldn’t go home, but then again, neither could she.

They made their way through Strasbourg’s narrow cobblestoned streets, empty of wandering eyes and curious pedestrians at such a late hour. Echo counted the number of times the bells at the top of the cathedral rang. It was approaching midnight. Though Taipei felt like a lifetime ago, it was still only the middle of the week. The denizens of Strasbourg were tucked in their beds, safe and sound and completely unaware of the unusual quartet roaming their streets.

Echo spared a glance at their Drakharin company, whose leather tunics were strangely at home with the old-world feel of Strasbourg’s architecture. Night painted the streets in shades of blue and black, and Dorian’s fair hair shone like a beacon. Caius, with his dark hair and clothes, blended with the shadows.

“Where are you taking us?” Caius asked. His long legs caught up to her with ease.

“Jasper’s.” Echo could have volunteered more information, but she was feeling difficult. It was immature, but she couldn’t quite find it in herself to care.

Ivy slipped her arm from Echo’s, falling back a few steps. She’d kept a healthy distance between herself and the Drakharin since leaving the keep. Dorian looked in Ivy’s direction, and she tensed, crossing her arms stiffly. Something had happened between them, Echo realized. She made a mental note to ask about it later.

Since arriving at the bridge, Dorian had remained silent, as though he were perfectly content to let Caius do all the talking. His face was drawn and pale, and the wound he’d been clutching earlier was still bleeding. Echo hoped he wouldn’t leave a set of bloody footprints in their wake. A trail of blood leading from point A to point B would have been a touch too conspicuous. Caius had offered to help him, but Dorian had brushed his hand away, muttering something in rapid Drakhar that Echo couldn’t understand. A strange pair, those two.

“Right,” Caius said, keeping his voice quiet so it wouldn’t carry in the still night air. “Jasper’s.”

He was close enough to Echo that his arm brushed against her shoulder every few steps. She wasn’t quite sure why her heart wanted to beat in time with his stride, but she elected to ignore it.

“Who is this Jasper?” Caius asked. “Friend of yours?”

“Jasper doesn’t really have friends,” Echo said. “But he does owe me a favor. And since he’s usually happiest when he’s on the wrong side of the law, he’s our best bet for finding a place to crash until we figure out a game plan.”

They were nearing the cathedral that Jasper called home,
his nest perched in one of its spires. She was glad the bells had stopped tolling. The trip through the in-between had left her with a persistent ringing in her ears that probably wouldn’t fade for hours.

Echo chanced a peek at Caius. His eyes had a faraway look to them.

“Is he Avicen?” he asked.

“Nominally.”

“What does that mean?”

Echo wrapped her arms around herself, burying her hands in her armpits. It was spring, but the night air was cooler than her leather jacket was made for. “It means the only side Jasper’s on is his own.”

“You said he owes you a favor.” Caius didn’t seem bothered by the cold. Lucky him. “How did someone like that wind up in your debt?”

Echo let herself smile. “I saved the one thing he cares about more than anything else in this world.”

“What’s that?”

“His life.”

Caius looked at her as though she were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “There must be a story behind that,” he said. “Perhaps you can tell it to me sometime.”

Echo shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Is he a thief, then?” he asked. “Like you?”

The question sounded vaguely judgmental, but when she shot a dirty look at Caius, she found him smiling. It was tired and ragged at the edges, but a genuine smile. Not a grin or a smirk. It made him seem younger. As quickly as the smile had appeared, it was gone. It had been a wisp of a smile. A fleeting not-smile.

“Don’t knock it,” she said, turning her gaze front. She must have been more tired than she realized, if she was letting her mind busy itself with musings on Caius’s smile. “A girl’s gotta eat. And yeah, he’s a thief. Among other things. Jasper’s more of a career scoundrel.”

“Well, any port in a storm, I suppose.”