Page 95 of Mortdale

Scooping up some of the red, watery gunk in a hairclip, I emptied a tin of talcum on the ground and stuck the pin into it.

Liam looked pretty disturbed. “How did these flowers grow in absolute darkness?”

“A question I can’t answer the way you want me to.”

“I don’t smell magic, Willow. Null, nought, none. Not even a little bit.”

“You can smell magic, but you cannot smell chaos,” I said, pulling a needle pin from my hat and pricking my finger. “Your nose is already used to it because chaos is in everything. In all of us. Me and you included.”

“No, no!” Liam whisper-yelled when I lifted the bloodied finger to my forehead. “Absolutely no magic. Not here, crazy lady. They will come on us like hounds! That’s unless I don’t pounce on you like one first. Magic makes us crazy, remember?”

“It’s not magic,” I said, trailing my bleeding finger across my forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“Testing chaos. Dark chaos and white chaos don’t mix. They’re like oil and water.” Chaos churned within the bounds of my body, and I stumbled on my feet, a little lightheaded when a force of unusual gravity assaulted my body. It was like a blood rush. Chaos pulling and pooling to my head as the dark flowers started vibrating.

Something groaned above us, as if hinges of rusted iron were pulling open, and Liam let out a succession of cuss words.

He paced back and forth, chewing on his thumb. “Saints, she’s lost her damn mind. He’s going to kill me. Saints, he’s going to tear my throat open and let me slowly bleed in front of hungry dogs.”

Liam suddenly went quiet, sliding close behind me and tapping my hand with his before he reached for his gun.

My attention rose from the ground when a dark voice called, “Miss Briar, are you lost?”

I wiped the blood mark off my forehead and turned around. “It’s Lady Duncan,” I said, facing him—Fredrick. The human corpse that I had embalmed with my own hands.

“It is, isn’t it?” He bowed his head lightly. “My mistake.”

“It’s Fredrick, right?”

The man’s limbs sounded rigid as he moved. “Balos. That’s what they call me here.”

“Ah.”

“If you’ll pardon me, Lady Duncan.”

Liam stepped forward when Friedrick passed by us, disappearing down the humid tunnel. “Did he follow us down here?”

My brow still burned even with my back turned away from the tunnels, skin pounding with a dull ache. “Does he smell human to you?”

Liam stared at me like I’d grown a third head. “He’s a vampire.”

“Liam, there’s no way. Sniff again.” I pushed his head in the man’s direction. “Sniff, Liam.”

“Saints, woman! He’s a vampire, I tell ya.”

“We have to find Logan.” I shook my head. “No. We have to follow that man.”

Stairs and corridors and screaming acolytes passed by me until I hopped on the carriage and knocked on the window. “Follow him,” I shouted at the coachman.

Fredrick hopped on a horse, turning to glance back at us before galloping ahead, vanishing into the town streets.

Liam climbed in after me and shut the door. “Absolutely not. We’re not supposed to be out in town, let alone following anyone!”

“I am under strict orders for a reason, Willow,” Liam said even as he followed me around the market while I trailed the red-hooded figure in the distance. “It is not safe for you out here. And we should absolutely not be following that giant skelm! He gives me the willies, for Saints’ sake. Let’s go back. We’ll tell your fantastic killer of a husband to pull a number on him.”

“It might be too late; he knows we know something about him. And we will not tell Logan anything about this until I know what I am looking at.”