Assassin's Heart (Assassin's Heart, #1)(27)

I tightened my grip on the wall and pulled myself up.

My shoulder exploded in pain. I gasped, dropping to the street. I clutched my shoulder and closed my eyes until the pain faded to a steadier ache.

Damn it. I was too tired, and not thinking straight. My shoulder couldn’t support me so soon after being stitched up.

I looked up at the roofs. I would find no sanctuary among them tonight. I’d have to find somewhere else, somewhere other than the churches or inns where the Addamos would be sure to look.

As much as a bed called to me, I couldn’t take the risk.

I leaned against the alley wall, my muscles sagging, my body begging me to rest, to sleep.

The city remained empty except for a few people heading quickly to their destinations. It was so unlike Ravenna, where there was nothing to fear in the night. Well, except for the clippers. But now, with the hush and the quiet floating across the streets, gooseflesh broke out on my skin. I’d never seen people live this way.

A scream stabbed the night.

That was more like it. I turned, trying to pinpoint the sound. Muffled shouts were followed by scuffs on cobblestones. I grabbed my bags and rushed down the streets, my fatigue forgotten in the moment.

The noise stopped.

Ahead of me, a man stepped out of an alley, rubbing a hand through his white hair. I paused and he turned, catching sight of me. His face blanched and he shouted, then fled.

In Ravenna, people feared my mask, but they also respected me. Here, the man had just reacted in terror.

I let him race away. I had no reason to chase him.

I stepped into the alley, and there lay a body.

I approached it, waiting for any movement, but none came. I knew now why the man had fled so quickly.

The body was that of a young man, not much older than me. He had smooth brown skin and a dusting of hair over his lip. He had been stabbed in the chest three times, and his blank eyes stared at the dark skies. His coin bag lay beside him, torn during the struggle and empty.

He had been murdered for money.

A sudden surge of anger filled my chest. I should have chased after that man. I should have made him pay for what he’d done to this boy. I was a murderer, yes, but I murdered in the name of a god, and the deaths I brought came with the promise of a new life. What did this boy’s death grant him?

He had been killed for no higher reason. He had been murdered in cold blood for a few coins.

The boy’s blood seeped into his linen shirt, and I remembered how Rafeo’s blood soaked his leathers, his hands weak and cold in the tunnel.

My leathers felt suddenly tight around my chest, and I fumbled around in my pocket until I pulled free one of my remaining Saldana Family coins.

My burned hand ached when I looked at it, but I leaned over and placed the coin in the boy’s mouth, humming my song. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe he followed Acacius and his soul had already been reborn as a shrub or something. But if he hadn’t, then maybe Safraella would see my coin and give him a new life.

Behind me, I heard a noise, like a puff of air, or a loud exhale. I turned.

A ghost floated at the entrance to the alley, staring at me.

My blood froze and my hand instinctively dropped to the sword strapped to my hip. Not that the sword would do anything.

The ghost charged, its high-pitched shrieks bouncing off the walls and filling the alley.

I grabbed my bags and ran. After the dead plains I knew the ghost was faster than me, but the alley ended at a canal, and maybe a crooked bridge stood nearby.

I reached the canal. My boots slid to a stop at the edge. I looked left. Right. No bridges. Nothing. I was trapped. The ghosts couldn’t cross the water, but neither could I.

The ghost’s screams reverberated loudly. My head pounded with the beat of my heart.

In the middle of the canal a boat floated listlessly, loosely moored to my right. It was far. Too far to reach, but I had no other choice.

I whipped my bags across the water. My shoulder burned with fresh pain, but both bags landed in the bottom of the boat with a loud whump.

I jumped.

My body crashed into the boat. My arms barely managed to grasp the side. My legs and hips splashed into the water, almost capsizing the boat. My shoulder screamed in agony, but somehow I managed to pull myself over the edge, crashing into the bottom.

I cradled my shoulder, biting my lip beneath my mask. I rocked back and forth, trying to prevent the tears that threatened to escape.

This was just physical pain. It was nothing. I would not waste my tears on it.

I took a few deep breaths, then pushed my cloak off my mask. I peeked over the edge of the boat.

The ghost floated at the end of the alley, stopped by the flowing water of the canal. It moaned steadily, staring at the boat. Like the ghosts at the monastery gates, it would wait for me all night.

I leaned back, slumping against the boat. Finally, I rolled over and covered myself with my wet cloak. It seemed I’d found my place for the night.





twelve


I AWOKE TO THE SOUND OF CANAL BIRDS SQUAWKING in the air and voices drifting over the water. I was lost, but then I remembered the murdered boy and the ghost and my restless night in the boat.

I groaned and rolled over. Above me, the gray of early morning blanketed the sky. I’d wasted the whole night, but at least the ghost would be gone.

The voices came again. I blinked, trying to focus, and then peeked over the edge of the boat.