Dawn of Fog and Glass

Chapter Twenty-Four: Dawn of Fog and Glass

It takes longer than I expect for him to arrive outside, and even longer to ditch his guards as per usual. At first, his body appears like just a silhouette cutting through the Fog, illuminated by lonely, weak streetlamps positioned around the courtyard.

I feel for the photograph in my pocket, making sure it stays flat.

He's alone today. Good.

I clench my fingers around the benches he and the others usually occupy. Keep your cool, Arden. Everything will work out.

I straighten my back and try to maintain my composure as he enters the small, paved clearing, and notices me sitting at his usual spot. The Fog swirls around his feet, licking up the corners of his coat.

Barrett steps into the light, sneering. "What are you doing here?"

A lump rises in my throat, and I try to swallow it away. "You're going to do something for me." Calm. If you say the right things, he'll do it. I think.

He blinks, unimpressed. "Is this your way of asking for a favour?" His voice comes out flat, deadpan, almost like he plans on punctuating his question with a period.

"More or less."

He rolls his eyes. "'Bye, Arden."

Only a moment after he arrives, he turns to leave, waving lazily over his shoulder. He shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn't turn back.

"Barrett—" I scowl and run ahead, stopping him in his path. "Wait." And clearing my throat, "Please."

"Not until you ask politely." He fakes a grin.

I grit my teeth. "I'm two seconds away from strangling you."

"Huh, we must have very different definitions of 'polite'."

"And now it's one second," I warn, only half-joking.

He glances at his guards for a moment, then at the bench. I step in front of his eyeline.

He rubs a hand in front of his eyes, squeezing them shut. "Jeez, jeez, okay, what do you want?"

"Your message send-y thing. The ink power. How developed is it?" I ask, trying not to sound either too eager or too inquisitive. The Fog folds around us, cool and thick in my throat and floating across my skin. It wants in on the plan, too.

He raises an eyebrow silently. "Why?"

Uh-oh. "Just because...I mean...I—can you send messages to someone without knowing what the message is?"

"I don't know. I'm usually the one to write the message."

"Great. Great. Lovely. Cool."

"What, are you planning on sending a message to someone?" He narrows his eyes. The Fog is heavy, obscuring anything more than a few feet away, yet he can see right through me. "You're acting so suspicious."

The photograph burns in my pocket. Resisting the urge to double-check that it's there, I take a subconscious step back, my foot crunching in the dry snow. "No. What? No, of course not. I mean, I want to send a message, but like...not for anything suspicious. Why would I be suspicious? I'm not—"

"Shut up."

"Okay." I feel my face turn red. This is not going how I planned.

What did you expect, Arden? He'd just let you send a secretive message without even seeing it first? Barrett?

No. I shake my head. Snap out of it. You've got this.

"Listen," I say, rolling my shoulders back and staring him down. Or, at least, trying to. "I've been getting tired of this place and of you lately. And, no offense, you owe me."