The Dark Light (32 page)

A familiar chirrup came from close by. Round eyes watched us from a gap where the bricks had crumbled from a wall.

“Just a gutterscamp,” said Vermillion, with a loud exhalation.

The eyes blinked twice and then disappeared through the gap.

“It scared me to death,” I gasped.

Heart pounding, I caught a breath before again peering around the corner toward the store. A man headed our way with crates piled high on his cart. Delane was hot on his heels. This was it!

“He’s coming,” I said. I offered Vermillion a final smile. “Good luck.”

With everything in place, I sauntered onto the street and to the window of a storefront across from the passageway. From out of the corner of my eye, I tracked the man and his cart. Thirty feet. Twenty . . . Hand dangling loosely at my side, I made ready to shoot Vermillion her signal.

Ten . . .

Five . . .

Now!

I pointed to the ground.

A heartbeat passed and then Vermillion burst out of the alley and into the delivery guy’s path.

I’m not proud to say that I learned a couple of things from Vermillion that day. From the moment she threw back her cloak, the delivery guy was doomed. She exploded brighter than the fireworks that sparkled overhead, a rich aroma of flowers and spice sweetening the air around her. Never once missing a beat, she kept to her story—ironically about a necklace, a gift from her dying mother, which had fallen into a drain.

“Help me,” she urged, her chest pressed against the man’s arm, her eyes wider than a gutterscamp’s.
“Please.”

“But my cart!” spluttered the man, though his eyes seemed more interested in what was bursting out of the front of Vermillion’s dress. “It’ll get nicked. Find someone else.”

He was not yet convinced, which meant it was time for “Concerned Onlooker” to take a shot at the Oscar.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” I said, springing to the man’s side and prying his fingers from the cart. “You can’t just leave her. I’ll guard this. Show us where you dropped it, lady. We’re right behind you.”

“You’re so kind,” purred Vermillion, and seizing the helpless guy’s hand, she led him into the shadow-filled passage.

Once the guy was safely off the street, I parked his cart about thirty feet down the narrow passageway. Ahead, Vermillion simpered in the man’s arms. She led him toward a deeply recessed doorway, close to where Sol lingered, hidden in shadow. Soon Delane appeared off the street, heading after the pair. With Sol waiting ahead and Delane following behind, the man would not escape.

I spoke no word to Delane as he passed, but handed him the rope he needed to bind the man and the strip of old blanket that would serve as a gag. By the time the man was found or freed, we’d be long gone.

My role complete, I left the cart in the passage, and returned to the street to keep watch. Distant music played. Fireworks exploded overhead. Barring a disaster, everything was in place.

Though I knew I shouldn’t, I glanced behind me, hoping Sol and Delane were going easy on the guy, but I could see little in the shadows. It was probably for the best. Sol beating up on Malone was one thing; the weasel deserved it. But the delivery guy? He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It didn’t take long for Sol and Delane to complete the job and emerge onto the street, leaving Vermillion to transform into the delivery man.

“He won’t get out of that for a while,” said Delane, when he and Sol joined me.

“Tell me you didn’t hurt him.”

“Of course not!” he exclaimed. “The poor man was just trying to make his delivery.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Right into our hands.”

A couple of minutes later, wheels rattled on cobbles behind us. Vermillion had picked up the cart from where I’d left it. The Jova City girl was gone.

“That’s just freaky,” I said, when I saw Vermillion’s latest incarnation clothed in the delivery guy’s brown pants, yellow shirt, and boots. “You didn’t leave him naked!”

“Don’t worry,” said Delane, and winked. “Vermillion left him her dress.”

* * *

“Here’s our spot,” said Sol. We ducked into a doorway in the alley behind Malone’s hideout. “Cloak on.”

We’d sprinted across town, leaving Delane to track Vermillion as she navigated the crowds with the cart. All we had to do was wait.

“It’s crazy out there,” I whispered, as I put on a cloak from the pack and raised the hood.

“Should make it easier to get away.”

“We’ve got to get in first.”

Sol periodically checked the alley as I rummaged through the bag for Vermillion’s spells. It was all planned. She’d gain entry as the delivery guy, then stun Malone’s men with a decimator. Following her signal, we’d enter, find the Solenetta, then get our butts back to the safe house as fast as we could. Simple.

“Don’t forget the counter spell,” said Sol, as he adjusted his cloak. “Never release a decimator in a confined space without the protection of the counter spell or you’ll knock yourself out in the blast.”

“Got it,” I said, and held up one of the large greenish-yellow orbs.

The minutes crawled by until, finally, the rattle of wheels
approached and then the cart and Vermillion appeared. Gaze forward, she offered out her hand as she passed. Now she was safely off the street, I placed the two spells on her palm before ducking back into the shadows.

Delane arrived moments later. “The parade’s at Tanner’s Row. I’d say that gives us fifteen minutes before it passes this way and the crowds start to thin.”

“Is that long enough?” I asked, offering him a cloak from the bag.

“It’ll have to be.”

“And Vermillion?” asked Sol.

Delane peered out, paused, then drew back into the doorway. “Just gone in.”

This was it. Though Sol and Delane appeared calm, panic rose in my guts. I pressed myself against Sol’s side, searching for the reassurance his physical presence usually provided. For once, it didn’t work. Too many things could go wrong: Vermillion wouldn’t get past Malone’s men; she’d forget to use the counter spell and knock herself senseless with the decimator; or we’d get in and the Solenetta wouldn’t be there.

“Get off!
Get off
, why don’t you?”

I snapped out of my worrying to find Delane tugging at his leg. A gutterscamp had appeared at his feet. It pawed the hem of his cloak.

“Get off,” he said, yanking again. “It was in the other alley too. It must have followed us across town.”

“It followed us from Vermillion’s,” said Sol. “Mia was feeding it last night.”

Delane stopped, mouth agape.
“What?”

Suddenly conscious that this was my fault, I pretended nothing was wrong. “That was him?” I asked. Its cute round eyes peered up.

“Mia, you never feed a gutterscamp,” said Delane, and again yanked his cloak away.

“Well, I know that now,” I replied. “Go on, boy. Beat it.”

The gutterscamp gave a final tug, and then sprang off down the alley.

“I only gave him a Snickers,” I muttered.

Delane brushed down his cloak. “You know they carry screes. Get those in your hair and you’ll—”

I never found out. A muffled bang traveled the alley. A long, trilling whistle followed. Vermillion’s signal.

Sol peered out. “It’s her,” he said, and the gutterscamp was forgotten. “We’re in.”

* * *

Three men lay passed out on the kitchen floor with the delivery of bottle-filled crates scattered around them. Vermillion, in her delivery man’s guise, ushered us past.

“Malone?” asked Sol.

“Not here,” Vermillion replied in the man’s voice. “Hurry. I’ll bind them. You find the Solenetta. Mia, the bag.”

I handed it to her, then followed Sol deeper into the house.

Inside it was cool and quiet, the only noise the sound of distant singing. A narrow hallway bisected the building with doors on either side. Paintings, of what appeared to be Orion’s streets, hung on the walls. About halfway down the passage, a narrow staircase led to the second floor. I tried to listen for footsteps overhead, but the singing from the parade grew louder, like a choir walked the streets, their voices airy and light, their words lost in the melody.

“You go up,” said Sol. “Call to me if you find anything.”

Jittery, I climbed the narrow stairs to a square landing. Three doors edged the space. Body braced for what might follow, I opened the closest one.

Malone’s Bordertown collection had been impressive. What greeted me here was a nightmare. There was not an inch of space to squeeze anything more into the room. Pictures, clothes, teddy bears, saucepans filled it floor to ceiling. There was even an old tin bathtub buried beneath the clutter. If Willie was right and collecting trash really was a defense mechanism against misery, then Malone had some serious issues. Fifteen minutes until the parade passed by? It would take me fifteen hours just to get through the door.

Mia . . .

Suddenly frozen, I turned my ear to the air. “Hello?”

Silence followed, but I’d definitely heard my name. Poised to run, I listened for the others downstairs. Nothing.

Mia . . .

Again. Definitely a voice. In fact, it was a whole host of voices whispering at once. And that song I thought I’d heard outside had grown louder.

I turned slowly, fixing my gaze on the opposite door, convinced that was where the voices came from. The song rose again.

Mia-hasee-ah-mia-si . . .

“Who is that?”

Heart thumping, I crept to the door and gently pushed it open. Beyond lay a large room, decorated with heavily carved furniture and richly woven rugs. Daylight flooded through a wide window. Sweet perfume lingered. The singing voices swirled, beautiful, lighter than anything I’d ever before heard. Certain again that they must have come from outside, I hurried to the window where crowds mingled below, jockeying for position in readiness for the Suzerain. Sentinels and guards kept them back. There was no choir.

. . . hasee-mia . . .

“Who’s there?”

And what were they saying?
I made for the door, but got no more than a few steps before I stopped. The hair on my arms bristled. The skin on my neck tightened. I felt
watched
. There was no other way to describe it.

I looked back to the window, expecting to see a face peering through. But no face appeared.
What was I thinking?
I was on the second floor!

Then maybe it was the four poster bed and the beady eyes of the animals that had been carved into it that had me on edge. Their teeth and claws looked as if they could spring to life and pounce.

Spooked, my gaze swept to the side of the bed. A wooden jewel box lay on top of an end table, its image reflected in the mirror behind.

Mia . . . mia . . . mia . . .

I dashed across the room and snatched the box from the table. The voices I’d been hearing soared as something shifted inside it. Heat rose from the wood. This was it. The Solenetta. It had to be.

Hands trembling, I opened the lid. As soon as I saw those golden stones, relief flooded through me. The stones were unharmed, the veins intact. Even the chain’s broken clasp had been repaired. Elated, I threw back my hood and reached inside. Images burst in my mind when I touched the Solenetta. Crystal
blue waters. Mountains and streams. Birds flying above forested peaks. Fountains. Palaces. It was almost as if I stood inside the scene. It
was
my name they’d called. It was the voice of Balia. . . .

“You called out!” Sol stood at the door, his eyes wide with concern.

The images vanished. The song ceased.

“Sol, I found it!” I gasped. “It called to me.”

Sol hurried to my side, the concern on his face morphing into relief.
“How?”

“I don’t know. But I saw a place. I think it was Balia. I
heard
them.” I laughed. “Sol, I got it back!”

Sol tentatively touched the stones as if he expected something wild and miraculous to occur. The solens did not respond.

“Mia, we have it,” he said. “Now let’s get out of here.”

I was never going to lose it again. Ever! I securely fastened the necklace around my neck, then tucked the stones safely beneath my clothes.

Sol glanced out of the window, waiting for me as I secured the necklace. “It’s crawling out there,” he said. “We should go.”

I put the box back on the table, then went to raise my hood. I stopped. My heart raced at the reflection in the mirror behind the box. I backed away, tentatively touching Sol’s arm. I pointed up.

Malone’s eye watched from the ceiling. I don’t know how I’d
missed it—it was at least twenty inches across. I knew what I’d felt watching me. I glanced at the jewel box—there was no lock or bond key. With those voices singing and my name whispering on the air, I’d never stopped to wonder why Malone would leave his treasure so unprotected. Now I knew. He’d been spying on us the whole time.

“We’re in trouble,” said Sol. His gaze on the eye, he gestured to the window.

A gang of at least ten sentinels closed in on the house, pushing bystanders out of the way as they approached.

“What do we do?” I cried.

“We run.”

He didn’t need to say it twice. We tore downstairs.

“They know we’re here!” Sol yelled. “Everyone out.”

Vermillion guarded the men, who were blindfolded and bound in the kitchen.
“How?”

“There’s an eye upstairs,” I replied, as Delane rushed into the kitchen. “He knows we’re here. There are sentinels heading this way. They’re right outside!”

“But did you find
it
?” said Delane.

Sol was already at the door. He stripped off his cloak. “We got it,” he said. “Cloaks off. We split up. Get back to Vermillion’s—any way but by a direct route.”

“I don’t know the way,” I said.

Sol opened the door. He cautiously checked the alley. “You’re coming with me,” he said as he hurried Vermillion and Delane through the door. “If we get split up, follow the towers to the Velanhall. I’ll find you there.”

I grabbed his hand, the magic and mystery of the Solenetta long gone. Malone knew it was us; even if I hadn’t lowered my hood, he would have seen my reflection in the mirror. Bordertown would definitely be closed to us now. Would we even make it back to Vermillion’s?