“Dark and river swift,
Cold as stone, smooth as ice,
Vicious as flame,
Biting as shattered glass,
Pure and refined,
Its edge writes history,
With life’s blood.”
-Attributed to Cornelius of the Silent Arrow
“You never get tired of such...dreadful colours, do you, Irea? You’re wardrobe is a sea of black with a few pitiful islands of brightness.”
The words issued from the phone speakers like hissing smoke and Irea felt her heart flutter. She nearly dropped the phone. She blinked rapidly and strode away from the group she had been talking to, her face utterly blank, expressionless, colourless as snow. She passed through the doors to the Commons and strode into the hallways of the Four Seasons Hotel, her gaze fixed unblinkingly ahead.
“I know you are there, Irea. You breathe loudly.”
The Darkling’s breath caught at those words, and she couldn’t help sparing a look around, which attracted a few curious stares from customers in the hotel lobby. She quickened her pace and gripped the phone tighter, fighting down the urge to bolt into the street. Passing through the revolving doors of the building, the Darkling moved onto the sidewalk and then turned down an alley a block away from the Four Seasons.
“Cornelius, what are you doing in my home?” she demanded, spitting the words into the phone, her eyes glinting as she scanned her surroundings.
“Waiting for you, dear. Something has come up, something that we must discuss, and I’m afraid you won’t like it. I did, however, bring a good vintage. This doesn’t have to be an entirely joyless visit.”
“Yes, it does have to be joyless. Since when does a Silent Arrow ever bring joy? By coming from the Freehold of Angels, you have put me in danger Cornelius. Why did you come?”
“Now, now, I would hold that tongue, if I were you. I have put no one in danger,” the voice replied, anger riding subtly beneath every syllable. “I do this as a courtesy to you and I would appreciate the same in return. So please hurry back to your hidey hole so that we may trade words.”
Irea blinked and quickened her pace. Cornelius had always been bristly, especially when anyone tried to place blame on him, but his words carried more than just annoyance and pricked pride.
“I’ll be there soon, but I won’t thank you until after we speak. You should have known I would not greet you readily.”
“Perhaps, dove,” the voice admitted. “Just hurry back. Your decorations are very dull.” The phone clicked off.
The sun was beginning to set when Irea finally got home, although she slipped through the bathroom window via her fire-escape instead of coming through the front door. She had carefully watched the apartment building and talked to a few of the neighbors to make sure that nothing else was amiss. Just the thought of someone invading her home had her on edge, and she wanted to take every precaution that she could, even if it was someone that she knew. As she crept further into her home, however, she noticed that nothing was amiss until she came in view of the kitchen and caught sight of Cornelius sitting at her dining room table. He had two crystal glasses and an unopened bottle of Merlot keeping him company.
Irea had never figured out how he managed to avoid attracting attention with looks like his, or with a taste in clothing as expensive as his. Just his shoes alone were probably worth more than her rent every month. Nevertheless, none of her neighbors had mentioned seeing him, not even the paranoid war veteran who kept a telescope looking over their street at odd hours of the day. She stared back at Cornelius as he regarded her with pale grey eyes set in a face only a master sculptor could have envisioned, and then gestured with a gloved hand at the chair opposite him. She approached soundlessly and sank into the chair, watching while he opened the bottle, poured wine for them both, and sipped slowly from his own glass.
“You’re not going to like what I have to say, but you should believe it to be true regardless. Your friends would thank you, if they knew, and they would find it unpleasant if this warning goes unheeded.”
Irea narrowed her eyes slightly and raised her glass to her lips, sipping lightly. Even without having aired properly it was exquisite, but it went unappreciated in the wake of her old mentors words. “I doubt that anything having to do with me would be so dire,” she replied.
Cornelius laughed, the sound chill and smooth as frozen steel. “Well, it both is and isn’t. For the nonce its just you who should worry, but it has the potential to become much, much worse. So heed what I tell you. You managed to slip away before She found you, but not well enough, I'm afraid. She's sent a few servants after you, a fetch and some privateers to be specific, to try and gleam information on where you went, doubtless with the intent to hunt you. Odd that She’s so interested in you, but not every one has good taste, I suppose.”
“Tis surprising, but I feel much the same,” Irea replied icily. Her mind whirled with the possibilities and dark portents of the information Cornelius was giving her, but the banter helped keep her grounded.
“Well, regardless, that is just the beginning of this tale. You see, the reason why I have come is because of two things. For one, this is just a quick rest stop on my way elsewhere-"
“As you say,” Irea replied wryly.
“-and for two," he continued, ignoring the interruption, "I managed to stumble across a traitor in the Hold. One of our forgers had an apprentice disappear on the quick after stealing information on some of his clients. You, by the way, happen to have been one of his clients...I’m afraid that, in addition to an ID, he also sold you the car which is broken down outside. It’s really only a matter of time before this information gets into the heads of those searching for you, and unfortunately I cannot help you. I have my duties, and none of our court wish to involve themselves. The rest of the Freehold of Angels feels much the same, being preoccupied with a small war as they are. Besides, the information taken wasn’t hugely important, or valuable, much of it was old and useless. Most don’t care. I figured that you might, however.”
There was a loud clatter of a chair overturning, the sound of wood bouncing off linoleum echoing through the room. Hands flashed upwards, clutching her head, and she spun away, acid burning her lungs as she lurched forward. Her eyes blurred and she stumbled into the living room. Half falling, half leaning, she braced herself against the couch, fingers digging into the fabric, tendons popping beneath her skin. Breath came in ragged bursts, and the room tilted and darkened, seeming to swing beneath her feet and pitch drunkenly. After all the care she had taken, all the time and thought and hope she had pledged into disappearing from the Thing that had taken her--The shadows lengthened into vast spiders limbs, and the vapid beat of moth wings echoed in her head.
The floor pitched again and her stomach heaved as she choked back a scream. Her heart was a great drum, beating, beating, pounding through her ribs, into her throat, bloating her arteries. Her stomach knotted and churned again, and she almost fell when she lurched away from the couch towards the bathroom. It was only after several minutes of crouching over the toilet bowl that her insides stopped revolting, but the taste of bile clung in her mouth. Suddenly, a presence filled the doorway and she snapped her gaze up to find Cornelius staring down at her.
“What…what do I do? What can I do?” she pleaded, hysterics hovering beyond her words.
“What I taught you to do,” he replied simply, dropping something at his feet contemptuously before striding away. She heard the door shut and the lock turn, but she was focused on trying to slow her breathing and keep from choking on tears.
It was only when she had calmed down that she saw a naked dagger lying in the threshold of the bathroom, its bright steel edge glinting against a blackened blade...
Draft this Post
