The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(116)

Florence opened the door to the uppermost level over the course of several breaths. It sighed softly, but the speed silenced any squeals from the hinges. There, sleeping under the moonlight filtered through the clouds above Loom and the thin curtain, was the Vicar Alchemist.

Florence adjusted the grip on her revolver.

Now was not the time for second guessing. Now was not the time for hesitation. There was one future before them, kill or be killed. Any who didn’t see that were a risk to the rest of them.

Strategic sacrifices had to be made.

Florence crossed the room in a few wide steps. A floorboard creaked from her unhesitant movement and the Vicar stirred. Florence raised her arm.

Sophie’s eyes opened to the barrel of a gun. Florence didn’t give her more than a breath. Her pupils barely had time to dilate in shock, to register what was happening, before it happened.

Florence squeezed the trigger.

A single shot echoed through the streets of Keel. It was the first bell to usher in an assembly the following morning, in which the Masters of the Alchemists’ Guild appointed a woman named Ethel—a woman who had been seated at the opposite end of Florence’s table the night before—as the new Vicar Alchemist. The transition was smooth, simple, and well received by the guild entire.

No one spoke of the mysterious departure of the not-Raven, not-Revolver, who had been in their midst for months. Not one Alchemist searched the airships headed for Ter.4 for a coal-skinned, ink-haired girl. No one even breathed a word about finding the assassin of the former Vicar.

Sophie’s death was a mystery, and the culprit was nothing more than a whisper on the wind.





51. Yveun


It was not long after Yveun descended beneath the surface of Ruana that he was approached. He always knew what Coletta’s little shadows looked like, when they chose to show themselves to him. Coletta dried and lacquered flowers for each of them, which they wore as pendants. His mate was too particular to assign the different buds and colors at random, but whatever system she used, he’d yet to decipher it.

It was merely another layer to his Ryu, a mystery cocooned in the delicate webs of her mind. Yveun was content to let her keep her secrets, for doing so both afforded him freedom, and odd benefits like the one that now stood before him.

“You will take me to her?”

The figure nodded.

There was no further exchange. It was one of the many unspoken rules he’d picked up along the way and followed with ease. He never tried to see their faces or otherwise uncover their identities. They would not speak, only gesture yes or no to questions with a nod or shake of the head. He never asked anything unrelated to the task at hand.

The woman led him into the dim, dank depths of the underworld. The condensation on the walls combined with the general filth made it appear as though they were actually oozing, as though he was in the innards of some kind of grotesque beast.

They shimmied through passageways and wandered around storerooms that connected to equally unappealing alleys. They stepped over the remnants of carnage and the destruction left from illegal duels. The stench of blood and rot quickly became so potent that Yveun had to mentally keep his hand at his side, lest he end up walking with his nose covered the entire time like some kind of delicate Fen.

He adjusted his wide hood as they entered the imbibing parlor. The man behind the counter looked up but stopped shy of addressing them. His guide held out her pendant. Just the sight of it silenced the owner and dropped his gaze.

The shadow woman lifted her finger, pointing toward the end of the hall.

“The last door?” Yveun whispered in a higher note than he usually spoke.

The woman nodded.

Yveun left her and the man behind him. He had what he had come here for. The door ended up being not a door at all, but a heavy curtain that was well framed. Still, he didn’t knock, and he didn’t announce his presence.

His Master Rider was laid out upon a lounging chair. Arms and legs stretched every which way, muscles cutting out from underneath the skin. She was naked, save for the thin coating of blood that seemed to cover most of her body.

But the blood wasn’t hers. She had engorged herself to the point of her stomach growing fat and her eyelids heavy at this little illegal parlor. Her body moved slowly to life, her eyes opening just enough to see him.

They were a bright purple, the color of lilacs, and seemed to nearly glow with power. It gave him pause. They were so similar to eyes he had only recently lost a battle of wills and magic against.

A smile crept upon his mouth. It pleased him that his new Rider and the Perfect Chimera known as Arianna would share similar eyes. Let them both be monsters.

“I was told you would be coming again,” she purred, a fat cat on its bed.

“You’re House Tam.” He focused on the expansive and unbroken display of her emerald skin.

“That’s what you choose to say?” She laughed at him.

She laughed at him. This was going to be a very different Master Rider than his Leona had been. He couldn’t wait to discuss with Coletta what methods she’d suggest he employ to ensure the woman’s loyalty.

“And you’re not marked as loyal to Rok.”

“I haven’t had a reason to be.”

“Marked? Or loyal?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions.” She slowly drew herself to a seated position. Her hair was short and as wild as she, spiking in every direction. “Let’s say both.”