REAPERS - Book Two: The Hunger and the Sickness

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Dimia saw that a handsome man with an easy smile often came to see Mulia (and though he had one eye missing which he did not cover, Dimia had long been hardened to such sights). They sat in the courtyard garden and whispered together and sometimes broke into laughter. Astrid and Amelie told Dimia the stranger's name was Nayte. The twins were fond of the nobleman. He brought gifts and compliments. But Dimia did not warm to the suitor. To woo Mulia was to dishonor Halo. Mulia shamed her husband while she should be at the window waiting for his return at the gate. Or, more grimly, news of his ultimate fate from a uniformed messenger. But perhaps the betrayal was for the best. If Halo were to come home to this cuckoldry, Dimia would be waiting to comfort him. Perhaps she was too young to be the Reaper's bride, but she could still be his confidante. Their relationship could be platonic and all the more pure.

Oddly, her mind went back to Quint, the boy she had kissed in the attic of the orphanage. Dimia almost felt an adulterer herself. Quint had not been nearly the man Halo was, but she did not need a man. She needed a companion. Her Brambles were gone, both piglet and golem. And while Scratch was her best of animal friends he was still feral and aloof as many cats can be. Perhaps she could write Quint a letter. Dimia laughed at herself as she watched Nayte tell some tale to a transfixed Mulia. Quint had blackmailed her out of bread and a kiss. He was a scoundrel. Dimia cleared her mind. She was not destined for boys or love. She had ambitions of blood. She could never count on things staying the same. The world could turn on its head at a notice. Dimia had to focus on her studies, secret and known. Perhaps when revenge was done there would be time for more trifling things. She pulled out her lute and sat at her window and quietly played and practiced her forbidden songs as she ruminated on her future plans.

— • —

Skinner studied the guards on patrol in the Warden's magnificent estate from his perch atop one of the high ivy-choked walls that surrounded Hotch's family manor. The fugitive had bought rope and hooks and spiked gloves and studded shoes and thieving tools at the Hookyards market with the money he stole from Inspector Valen. He knew he should get out of Camshire. Spend his life hiding somewhere in the wild, away from Nation eyes. He had the mettle to survive in the wild, enough to warrant recruitment into the Reapers before he was sabotaged by his inner dragons and dropped out. The ranger skills he'd been taught would serve him well on the run. The city was less safe than ever. He was a wanted man. Surely after his escape from Strotham Yard's custody and all the false evidence Warden Hotch had stacked against him, Skinner had no chance of convincing anyone who mattered that he was an innocent man.

But no. He couldn't let the Warden win this one. Skinner had nothing next to the lawman's resources but he had his own particular strengths. He still had a network of associates that could tell him things like where a certain powerful and rich man lived, and now that he was no longer forced to work by Church's rules he exploited all of them. And Skinner was quite good at breaking into houses, or at least he once had been. He was older now, and if his writing was rusty, his ability to scale walls and sneak quietly and navigate tight spaces were even further diminished by his long stay in that damp cell at Fetterstone and the bodily changes that simply came with age. He wasn't so young anymore. He only knew one thing that would make him ever feel young again. Smite. He had some ready but would only use if it he needed its boost. Only as a last resort.

The Warden's estate was thick with sentinels. It would be difficult to infiltrate through the exterior but that was never Skinner's plan. Tonight was simply about observing and studying, as had been the last several. The fugitive had watched Hotch himself come and go, emerging from the front door to be greeted by his guards and ushered into his armored carriage and out the gate toward Fetterstone or wherever his business or pleasure carried him. Always the Warden had several guards with him, surely due to the innumerable enemies he must have accrued over his draconian career. Skinner also saw Hotch's family in windows and in the gardens and coming and going. A wife, several boys and girls, elderly in-laws. If Skinner was the type of man who would threaten an innocent, he could snatch one of them as a hostage. But for all he knew they would be of no use against such a callous man as the Warden anyway.