Page 24 of Reap & Sow

“The Faithhood talks much of the Otherworld, a mystical realm where sinners are condemned to divine punishment. The truth is simpler. Demons are powerful, yes, but they’re a species like any other. Their world is real—societies, hierarchies. Gateways are a precious resource shared between their noble houses. Nothin’ is so desired as the chance to cross into the mortal realm and make Pacts that extend a demon’s life. Without, they’re no longer-lived than you or I.” Eda found herself gawping. “Six archdukes rule over their homeland. I learned that one particular duke took a Gateway for himself, has hoarded it ever since. Quite against their customs.” Lich cocked his head. “Sound familiar?”

Eda’s mind spun. She knew Mr. Night was powerful, a creature of some standing in the place he came from. He’d told her himself how the Shaw’s mirror was his alone. But this…“The noble demons who share your mirror—why haven’t they forced Mr. Night to give up his? If there are five other archdukes, surely…”

“I don’t know the intricacies. Only that for whatever reason, the dukes have not risen against him. Must be quite the brute.” He grinned, flashing a gold tooth. “They’ll not readily make a Pact that risks interfering with one of his. Terrible gossips, demons. If the nobles of the Otherworld don’t already know about Night’s latest conquest, they soon will.”

“But one of them must be willing. There has to be…” She trailed off. Like a window flung open in a dark room, an opportunity materialized amidst the mire of her despair.

If Mr. Night was really so powerful, so afeared by his own kind, why would some nameless demon here in the city concern him? Enough to offer Fane a boon in return for killing them. Was it possible he actually felt threatened?

Eda stared at the bear’s glassy eyes by her feet. A demon who’s successfully evaded Mr. Night. Who concerns him enough that he wants them dead. A demon hiding here, in Blackbridge, with no way of knowing about Mr. Night’s recent dealings.

A demon with no reason to refuse her.

Eda met Lich’s gaze. Perhaps Fane would seek the crime lord’s aid in hunting this quarry…but she got here first. “If you’re still willing, Mr. Lich, I know how you can help me.”

Eight

“Is that it?”

At her shoulder, Hillock grunted. “That’s the place.”

Eda observed the line of tenements across the street warily. The entire row was made of stone, slate on every roof and latticed glass in every window. They were resplendent among the tired stucco and warped timber throughout the streets beyond.

Cannington was one of the wealthiest boroughs in Blackbridge. Here on Harecourt Road, the thoroughfares were wide and cobbled, with paths to stay clear of trundling carts. The tenements faced onto such a street. Young hornbeam trees lined the riverbank on the other side. The Saint’s Waterway still stank, but it seemed somehow less egregious in such neat surrounds.

Eda was a far cry from Crowgate now.

She rarely came this far into the upper city, though not for lack of wanting. As a girl she’d fantasized about losing herself among the collared dresses and expensive masonry, if only to imagine she belonged, living another life entirely. The reality was no less elegant. And yet, now that Eda was here, she felt no awe—only a dim sense of indignation. So many years spent dreaming of new places, and the first time she ventured forth in earnest, it was to sell her proverbial soul.

The entire street could burn for all she cared.

“I can’t believe a demon would actually live here, right under the noses of the most powerful people in Blackbridge,” she said. “It’s too…obvious.”

Hillock huffed. “Could be that’s the point, miss.”

It was drizzling, a persistent rain that fell more like mist than water. Eda might’ve taken her hood down, sheltered as she was beneath the hornbeam’s golden branches, but she didn’t dare. She felt exposed enough being out of doors, as though her clothes were sheer as gossamer. The Blades would still be searching for her. If she possessed more self-preservation, she would already be on a boat leaving Blackbridge.

But it wasn’t her own skin she was here to save.

There are rumors, Severin Lich told her that morning after he’d permitted her a few restless hours of sleep in his office, surroundin’ High Governor Wolfram himself. Many still speculate how he won the vote against far bigger players. Almost twenty years, he’s been this city’s representative. Longer than any to come before. Some like to joke that he sought out a demon’s aid to maintain his position.

Lich did not personally know the demon Mr. Night sought, but he had eyes and ears all over the city. Information, after all, was worth its weight in gold. A residence in Cannington had been purchased by the High Governor twenty years ago, around the same time he’d come into power. Lich had hoped to unearth some sort of illicit leverage. A secret paramour kept in luxury, perhaps. But Governor Wolfram hadn’t visited the place once.

The crime lord suspected a far more diabolical connection.

Eda bit the inside of her cheek as she studied the central tenement, three large windows spanning the top floor. Regardless of why the governor had bought this apartment on Harecourt Road, the place wasn’t empty. Lich’s men had observed lights in the windows. Conversations with local residents revealed that a young man had been seen coming and going over the years. Perhaps he was indeed a lover or even a bastard son kept from public view.

Lich had long speculated on the matter, but would only risk sticking his nose so far into Wolfram’s business, let alone a demon’s. It was impressive enough that he’d learned about the apartment at all.

He was keen to let Eda stick her nose in, instead.

“We doin’ this?”

She shot Hillock a dirty look, adjusted her hood, and strode across the street. He dogged her steps.

Eda was accustomed to keeping distance between herself and others. This was different. Walking among the Blackbridge elite was daunting enough for any Crowgate-born girl, but now…

Hillock overtook her and advanced down the path. Eda hung back as planned. Harecourt Road wasn’t so busy as it might’ve been on a fine day, but the rain couldn’t stop foot traffic altogether. Water carriers, ladies in fitted gowns, vendors with tinkling bells—it made for enough bustle to afford them some anonymity.