The Cursed Deal ✓

Chapter 22

The Brass Boulder was on the other side of Olhathas, towards the salt mines but farther north and swallowed up within the business district of the city. Faine and Ilian walked past the rundown building three times before they spotted it nestled within two stone structures and small enough to be as noticeable as a shed.

Not a single sign led to Brass Boulder, neither did anyone in the neighborhood. Their first sign to be extra cautious—if no one knew of the business, yet it was well known in the business district and a reputable creator of all weapons, it was contradicting to think no one, yet everyone, knew of it.

"Clearly, no one has cleaned up in a while," Ilian pointed out, the first thing he said to Faine since the night before.

He pointed to the tossed-out food, trash bags, spilled ale, and vomit splattered against the side of the stone building that barricaded against Brass Boulder. The remains of a goat carcass ripped to bits by rats and larvae reeked of rotting decay. Faine scrunched up her nose, wishing for mortal senses instead of the over-analytical ways of her body.

"I hope it smells better inside," she muffled underneath her shirt sleeve. Ilian was enjoying watching her eyes water, his smirk said it all, and Faine kicked him in the shin.

He continued to smirk and wrapped his hand around the metal door handle. "Is that any way to behave during a time like this?"

Faine narrowed her honey eyes. They were wide and bright, bordered by drawn-in brows, and were great for stealing attention. "I don't know, you tell me. Kick me in the shin and we'll see who wins."

Instead of doing that and finding themselves rolling through the streets together, Ilian yanked open the door and walked into the shed-like structure. The smell was not better. If it was possible, the stench inside Brass Boulder was even worse; it reeked of sweat-covered clothes and body odor, the worst kind. Like the owner hadn't taken a bath in weeks and rubbed himself all on every surface.

Faine felt a hand on her arm and immediately knew that Ilian couldn't see in this level of dark. Only a single torch was on the wall, on the other side of the room, but it was dying out by the second. In front of them was a wooden counter, a wall of swords, and a back door leading to another room. Shelves stocked with books, weapons, shields, and an entire array of pointy-things were intricately placed near that torch for the viewing eye of shoppers.

If anyone dared come in here. "Why do you immortals have to live in such gloomy conditions?" Ilian hissed in her ear.

His breath was the only warm presence in the room. "We like our light to be as black as our hearts," Faine retorted. She rang the bell on the wooden counter and grimaced at the sticky wooden surface. Was everything in Olhathas covered in a layer of grime?

Even in daylight, the city wasn't spectacular. The streets were still black, the white stone had long since lost its shade of beauty and depression leaked it into a soulless grey, and the summer months did nothing to help the levels of mud puddles and urine splashes. It was a city filled with mortals and low lives, yet it was somehow the lifeblood of Pinedon.

"Can't you create fire or something? I thought immortals had magic; it was in all the stories I read as a child." Ilian braced his hands on the counter, felt his way around, and stopped at Faine's elbow.

The rug underneath their boots, like the goat carcass, wasn't in prime condition anymore, but clean for the most part. Faine searched for blood stains and luckily found none. The owner of Brass Boulder sold weapons, but that didn't mean he took kindly to customers entering his shop without warning. Olhathas residents worked differently—if they saw a life, they took it.

"Our magic doesn't work that way. We're only allowed to use what we need when we need it. Right now, I can only give you this—" Faine raised her palm, and hovering over her lilac skin was the smallest orb of white. It revealed Ilian's face in the dark and illuminated the small corner of the room.