Night's Cold Embrace

Chapter 11

When he returned to the tower, Garrett was none too surprised to see Isabella sitting erectly on the edge of his bed. Her spine was an iron rod, straight and unwavering as she sat with her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes darted about the room anxiously and she began fiddling with the creases of her dress.

Garrett swung through the window, keeping to the shadows as he approached the girl. She was still unaware of his presence, though he was only a few paces in front of her. He shifted slightly to the right to catch a glimpse of the moon outside, unsure of what else to do.

"Your eye." The dulcet voice rang out against the raucous clamour from below. "The right one. Why is it... glowing?"

He turned his head toward her. She studied his face intently but didn't appear to be frightened or even astonished. It was as though she were testing his character more than she was inquiring about his unusual eye. He shifted his gaze back to the window.

"It's a long story." He deliberately kept his response as terse and vague as he could.

Garrett walked to the cracked mirror by the bed. Angling his face away, he pulled the cloth mask from his face and took a deep breath. He bent over the basin and splashed his face with the cool water. The soot and dirt that had collected on his face throughout the night sullied the clear water, turning it murky brown in colour.

No sooner had he wiped his face dry with a loose cloth than she rose from the bed to approach him. Garrett quickly raised the mask over his nose again before she could come any closer.

"Why do you always wear that mask?" Her wandering eyes followed him as he brushed past her. She turned around to follow him. Clearly, Garrett mused, the girl knows nothing about the meaning of privacy.

"The same reason anyone else would," he replied with a tilt of his head.

She had finally ceased following him, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the wooden railing instead. "You do know that half the town already knows who you are." She flashed him a teasing smile. "You are, after all, the public's 'number one enemy.' At least, that's what all the papers say."

"And because the papers are sanctioned by the Baron, that means they're true."

The girl laughed wryly. "I never said that. Believe me, I am aware of Elias' rather unorthodox approach to governing the City."

Garrett remained silent. He considered pointing out the fact that despite her awareness she had still lived raised on her pedestal of wealth amongst beggars and thieves, but decided against it. It wasn't his business or of benefit to invest himself further in anyone else's affairs — that is, unless some form of payment was involved. And there was nothing of value that this girl could possibly give him now.

He apparently didn't need to say anything, for she turned to face him and cocked her head to the side. "I can tell you want to say something. If you want to, just say it."

Garrett sighed as he stepped toward the window. He didn't have the time or energy to deal with her. He focused instead on the commotion below. Given the tower's height, he could only barely make out faces in the crowd.

"You saved my life; I'm in no position to be incensed by whatever it is that..." Her words became muffled to Garrett's ears as he peered out the window. Something had caught his attention.

Amidst the mayhem below, a pale face stood out from the crowd. He immediately recognized the dark, stormy eyes, the shortly cropped hair, the unmitigated resentment that hardened her face and deadened her soul. That was no spectral image, it was her. It was unmistakably Erin.

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"Are you okay? Is something the matter?"

The world around him abruptly came into focus again the second he blinked. The figure was gone. She was gone. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. After squeezing his eyes shut briefly, he pushed himself away from the windowsill. The abrupt movement startled Isabella, who had been inching closer to him in her concern.

"Wait here," he said as he swung his lithe body out the window.

"You're leaving again? What's wrong?" Her questions were left unanswered. He barely heard her voice, already slinking across the rooftops a storey below.

Hidden in the dark, Garrett scanned the square for Erin. He was met only with the rioters, who were clouded by rage and indignation. He was about to dismiss his search, convincing himself that he was seeing things, when he saw a flash of white cloth out of the corner of his eye. It disappeared around a corner and he surged forward, immediately giving chase.

Leaping across rooftops and ignoring various cries of distress and terror, he followed the withdrawing figure. No matter how fast he ran, though, he would only catch glimpses of the dress turning a corner. By the third turn, he realized where she was leading him. They were going back to the Northcrest Manor.

The sound of a familiar clunky gait caught his attention. He whipped his head around to catch sight of the girl, who had — unsurprisingly, Garrett thought — followed him outside. She searched the rooftops, locking eyes with him when she saw him. Her brows knit together in confusion. She clearly sought some form of explanation from him, but this situation was one he neither had time nor wanted to explain.

With a sharp exhale, he turned his back on her. She would have to find her own way through the City; he couldn't lose track of Erin this time. Besides, she had followed him thus far without getting caught; she would most likely be able to make it back to the clock tower on her own safely as well.

His boots barely made a sound as he bounded across the rooftop's shingles, which were slick from the rain. He kept his breathing as steady as he could, determined to catch up to her. He made a final turn, then hopped over a ledge and braced himself for the short drop that followed. The fall brought him directly above the balcony where Isabella had been held at knifepoint, where he he had shot Gil.

"What are you trying to tell me, Erin?" He whispered quietly to the empty garden. Erin was nowhere to be found.

A glint of the lamplight brought his gaze to the veranda. Nothing but shards of shattered, glittering glass and a pool of sticky, congealed blood covered the floor. Gil's corpse was gone.

His chest heaving lightly from the exertion of the chase, Garrett leaned back on his heels as he sighed. The situation was becoming far too strange and unsettling for his liking.