Our Dark Duet (Monsters of Verity #2)(22)

It moves in the cold nothing a shadow of itself folded

between what is and what could be the girl’s mind a shard of heat within

its own— in her head it saw a city carved in two a hundred faceless faces defined only by the red of their eyes the flash of their teeth a place of blood and death vice

and violence and

such wondrous potential it saw

and it knew it knows— this is the way together the girl and the city the city and the girl and the heat will be enough

to burn enough to be made

real.





They were on the wrong side of the Seam when the call came in.

There was no right and wrong side, according to Henry, no North and South, not anymore, but the fact was that one side of the city was being run by monsters. One side was a field of land mines, a place of shadows and teeth. On the south side of the Seam, running into trouble was a risk.

On the north, it was a certainty, especially after dark.

August’s squad had crossed the Seam to offer backup to another team securing a depot. It had gone off without a hitch, and they were almost done loading the trucks with supplies when the comm on August’s collar crackled to life.

“Night Squad One, we’ve got a problem. Squad Six has gone offline midmission.”

A bad feeling brushed his ribs. It wasn’t a good sign when whole squads went dark.

“How many soldiers?”

“Four.”

“Location?”

“The Falstead Building on Mathis.”

He met Rez’s gaze over the hood of the truck. “X code?”

The “X code” referred to the the FTF maps in the Compound’s control room, the ones covered in small colored crosses. Black marked locations actively held by the enemy. Blue marked ones held by the FTF. Gray was for places cleared or abandoned.

“Gray,” said the dispatcher, “but it hasn’t been rechecked in more than a month. Patrol on the Seam caught a light signal from the third floor. Squad Six went to investigate.”

August was already peeling away.

He would have gone alone, but there were no solo missions—that was the rule in the FTF, even for Sunai—so Rez came with him.

Nothing needed to be said. This was the order of the rank and file—Harris, Jackson, and Ani would stay with the other squad, help them back to the Compound with their supplies.

Rez was his second, had been since the squad was formed.

They moved at a brisk pace, August with his violin out, his bow ready, and Rez cradling her gun. The Falstead Building was two blocks north and three east, and they kept to the streetlights, wherever they weren’t broken, trading exposure for a modicum of safety from the night.

When they rounded the last corner, August’s steps slowed, then stopped. There was no sign of the Falstead, no sign of anything; the city just ended, replaced by a wall of black.

Rez let out a curse, fingers tightening on her gun.

They were standing at the edge of a blackout zone. Someone—or something—had killed a section of the power grid, plunging several square blocks into solid darkness. There was another name for these blackout zones, among the FTF: boneyards.

“Wait here,” said August.

It was an empty order, one Rez always disobeyed, but he had to say it.

She snorted, shouldering the gun. “And let you have all the fun?”

They both drew light batons from their pockets. Unlike the HUVs, which issued a single beam, the batons threw light to every side. The result was a diffuse glow, better than shadow, but not as safe as focused light. The techs hadn’t found a way to make them brighter.

Together, they crossed the line into the dark. It parted around them like a fog, thrown back a few feet in each direction by the light of their batons, but just beyond, the Corsai’s wet white eyes blinked, their voices hissing out like steam.

beatbreakruinfleshbone

August could hear Rez’s heart thudding in her chest, but her steps were steady, her breathing even. When they were first paired up, he’d asked her if she was afraid.

“Not anymore,” she’d said, and she’d showed him a scar, running down her front.

“Monsters?” he’d asked, and she’d shaken her head and said her own heart had tried to kill her, long before the monsters had, so she’d decided not to be afraid.

“Doesn’t do much good,” she’d said, “to fear one kind of death and not another.”

Their lights caught broken glass on the Falstead’s front steps. The doors hung askew, and the place had the eerie feeling of the recently abandoned.

Someone had already set a baton in the center of the lobby floor. The pool of light didn’t reach the corners of the room, but it carved a path. Another waited at the base of the stairs.

Bread crumbs, thought August absently. A relic from another one of Ilsa’s stories.

As they started up the stairs, a bad feeling began to spread like cold through August’s chest.

Feelings again, little brother?

He pushed Leo’s voice aside as they climbed.

Around them, the Falstead began to change.

The lobby below had retained its air of luxury, but the second floor was starting to show the rot. By the time they reached the third, wallpaper was peeling back, boards crumbling underfoot. The walls were riddled with bullet holes and flaking drywall, whole sections staved in, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to them. Through open doors he saw furniture overturned, glass shattered, dark stains coating every surface, stale smoke and old blood, all of it human.