his chin. The lantern clinging to the inn’s wooden wraparound porch flickered, and I cocked my head to the side. A cloud of shadows spiked around us, and Kost’s confused gaze snapped to mine.
“Not me,” I said. The slats beneath my feet creaked as I turned, searching the gravel street before us.
“Me.” It was a whisper, a grating of dead leaves along jagged rocks, and all concern faded. There, standing in a plume of darkness a few feet from the entrance, was Emelia. Or rather, Emelia’s shadow self.
I stepped off the porch and strolled toward her. “Everything all right?”
Kost followed, flanking my side and studying Emelia’s apparition. A gust blew through and her frame wavered, but she nodded. “Sort of.”
My jaw tightened. Emelia was a damn good sentry, and I’d left her in charge of reporting any issues while we were away. “Is it Darrien?” His wry grin sparked in my mind, and I fought back a grimace. Cruor was all I had. If Darrien tried to take it from me, he’d learn firsthand what it meant to experience a slow and painful death. It would be far worse than his first.
“No, Darrien is fine. As intolerable as always, but nothing of note. It’s the client.”
“What client?” Kost interjected, folding his arms across his chest.
“Leena’s client.” Errant tendrils of smoke spiked around her hands. “He wants to see you, Noc.”
My fingers lightly traced the mark on my wrist. Such a small, dastardly thing. “When?”
“Now.”
“Of course.” I tossed a glance back at the inn. Leena was inside, hopefully resting, and here I was, plotting her murder. “Where?”
“Midnight Jester. He’s already waiting.”
“All right. Get back home. I’ll handle it.”
She nodded, her shadow dissipating into the night. I headed back to the inn and pushed open the double doors with Kost on my heels.
“You’re on the first floor. The rest of us are upstairs. The last door down this hallway.”
“Got it.” I took the short hallway down to a single door framed by twin lamps. I paused at the entrance, fingers lingering on the handle. “Kost, no need to stand guard. Take the night off. Get to know your beast.”
“If you insist.” He hesitated, feet angled toward the low-lit hallway, but his gaze still trained on me. There was something unspoken buried deep within him, and he shook his head once before turning away.
With a soft click, I locked the door behind me. Of course, Kost had gone above and beyond for my accommodations. Back doors thrown open wide to the night, the breeze rolled in off the ocean and flirted with the white organza curtains. Lights winked on as I strolled forward, illuminating the shiplap ceiling painted seafoam green. A low, white sofa was pressed flush against the foot of a bed.
I kicked off my shoes and sank into the mattress, eggshell-white sheets molding to my skin. If I was going to be shadow walking tonight, at least my body would be comfortable. My back pressed against the wicker frame, I closed my eyes and called the darkness to me.
Charcoal tendrils swirled behind my eyelids until my consciousness detached. Leaving my physical body in stasis, I welcomed the freedom of moving without restriction. Shadows formed without thought or effort, and the world disappeared as I traveled on the wind, picturing nothing more than my destination.
Midnight Jester appeared. Tucked between oppressive willow trees on the border of Wilheim and the Kitska Forest, it was the perfect location for black-market dealings.
It was where Kost had first tracked down Leena.
Pushing that thought away, I moved forward and materialized through the door. A few locals shot me cursory glances, but they went back to their ales and their business without wasting a second glance. Assassins flocked to this tavern for work, but only members of Cruor could walk with the shadows. No one wanted to test their luck with us.
The bartender moved toward me, a careful smile trained on his lips. “Can I help you find someone?”
“No.” He most likely meant well, but revealing client information was strictly forbidden.
He didn’t seem offended. “Well, I’m not saying you’re looking for anyone in particular, but there’s a fellow in the back corner who seems interested in your arrival.” Turning his back to me, he took up his place behind the bar and began wiping down the counter with a rag.
Crammed in the far corner of the establishment was a rickety table with two mismatched chairs, one of which was occupied by a cloaked figure in those same liquid-mercury