Page 29 of Fated to the Fang

Behind me the harbor pales. Somewhere in it is a man I have feelings for, a man I can't trust, a monster. The explaining can wait. I climb the stairs alone, lock my door knowing it won't hold him out, sit on the broken bed, and let the world cave in around me.

18

DORIAN

The rogue is still immobile where I dropped him, spine flat to the boards, every nerve cut from command. He can wait. The living come first.

Tracy rests against her piling, calm as a woman dozing. The Silted Touch lies over her like still water, the panic pressed flat beneath it. Her throat has already begun to seal; by the weekend the marks will be nothing.

"Slipped. On the wet. Stupid."

"You hit your head," I tell her. "Help is coming."

"My head, yes," she agrees, and believes it. It is the kindest thing I can give her.

Before Celeste takes Tracy from the pier, she binds the rogue in iron-thread cord and sends two of ours to carry him below the council house. Alive, contained, and no longer able to make this harbor bleed before I question him.

Underneath it all, the second heartbeat. Hers. It runs hard and high, and nothing in me can set it down. Her fear is not for the rogue. It is for me. The bond makes every breath of hers legible, and it grants me not one inch of right to answer it.

I give the watchers the new rule before grief argues me out of it. Farther back. No one within sight of her window. No one reports where she walks or who she sees unless there is immediate danger. Not curiosity. Not discomfort. Not council interest. Danger. She accused me of building a cage, so I'm taking the bars down. She needs to breathe. To take this new world in. Celeste turns to me after Tracy is gone.

"She saw your teeth," she says. "She saw it all. Dorian, she has enough now to wake council law in her sleep."

"Yes."

"Helena will not call it an accident. She will call it exposure. And exposure has a remedy.."

"Avery will not be touched. Not by anyone. Especially not by Helena, me, or anyone who answers to either of us. Whatever the law says, it's not happening."

Celeste does not pretend the danger has moved. "Then stake your claim carefully," she says. "You're all she has. If you don't win against Helena on this, she will become another human, or worse. Dead."

Celeste begins cleaning up the area, and I walk away with intentions of speaking to Avery. Mabel is already at the screen door in her robe, arms crossed.

"She doesn't want company."

"May I speak through the door?"

Mabel weighs me. Then she steps aside, far enough to let my voice past, but not my body. Avery's door is at the top of the stairs, shut. I pause, waiting. She knows I'm here. The door creaks slightly and her head appears. Her eyes are drained, and she waves her hand to go up. I look to Mabel and she nods her head defeated, and I move slowly toward Avery and close the door behind me.

"You have until I decide you don't," she says. Steady. Precise. Not a tremor in it. "Answers, not apologies. Are there more of you?"

"Yes. But not all of us are like him. He was a rogue. Most of us live under laws meant to protect us. Stop what you saw. The pier rogue broke said law. He belongs to the organization behind the seal deaths, the missing workers, the Saltline routes, the boats running with no passengers, and the witnesses who came back calm when they should have been screaming."

"The thing you did to Tracy. Did you do it to me?"

"No. The Touch buries panic under false calm. It does not erase what's true—Tracy knows she fell, and somewhere under that she knows she didn't. I never put a hand in your mind. Not once. I can't take your memories. Something inside me doesn't allow me to do that."

"Is there more you're not telling me?"

"Yes."

"Well."

"Now. It's not a good time. If I tell it all to you now, I risk putting you in too much danger. The law. I can't risk that." I set my hand flat on the newel post. "When I can, it's yours. The whole truth."

"Get out," she says—but the heat has cooled to something slower and more careful, worse and better at once. She repeats louder. I startle at her anger, but I listen to her request and go.

Celeste waits at the seawall with the Greer files and the storehouse manifests.