The Last Smile in Sunder City (The Fetch Phillips Archives #1) - Luke Arnold Page 0,65

brittle body? I didn’t know enough about the magical make-up of Vampires to answer those questions myself, but I knew someone who might.

Like most members of the Opus, I’d avoided him out of shame. But a girl was missing. Perhaps still in danger. That sounded like a good enough reason to get over myself.

I changed into my cleanest shirt and splashed some water on my unshaven face. My boots were still warm from the night before when they’d taken me out on the road. They needed fixing. A lot of things needed fixing. Today was the day to make a start.

When the Coda hit Sunder City, the population aged in seconds. The magic fell out of their hearts, and all the days that had been pushed away caught up, bringing the months and years in with them.

Before then, the retirement village hadn’t been big. Sunder wasn’t the kind of city that prided itself on welfare and civil services. If you couldn’t pay your way, it was probably best you got out of town. The only aged-care facility was overpriced and undersized. Most of the citizens never even knew it was there.

After the Coda, it expanded to five city blocks. The old-aged homes enveloped three workers’ flats, a renovated office block and a row of small pubs. An entire region of the city had been taken over by the ancients.

Within this Eden of tea and wrinkles, the Elves reigned supreme. There had never been an Elf in an old folks’ home before, but suddenly they were running the joint. They claimed the best flats for themselves and nobody argued.

The Humans, for whom the burden of natural deterioration wasn’t anything new, had been relegated to rooms above the pubs and told that they were lucky to get that.

In one of the flats, the Wizards, Witches and Warlocks were all grouped together. Some of them had followed the old traditions, venturing off into the woods alone to end their lives in nature, but many had moved past those romantic ideas of ritual. The concrete blocks seemed as fine a place as any to stop breathing.

The pensions were paid out of the coffers of the Opus. Some questioned the moral implications of the High Elves’ decision to spend the public savings on themselves, but what good was a magical alliance when there wasn’t any magic? The Elves funneled the money into the old folks’ homes so the newly aged races could live out their final days in comfortable retirement.

Not everyone chose the quiet life of living in the compounds, but you couldn’t blame the ones that did. Even those of us with hard meat on our bones had a tough time keeping on.

Chancellor Fen Tackman had never been an enemy and he’d never really been a friend. He’d led the soldiers of the Opus on many missions and Hendricks and I worked beside him a handful of times. Unlike most of his allies, he’d neither appreciated nor resented my place in his force.

I don’t think he even cared when I defected. It was certainly only Hendricks that would have been hurt. To everybody else, it was exactly what they expected and they were happy to see the end of me. Bringing a Human into the Opus turned out to be a terrible idea, just like everyone anticipated.

Tackman’s room was no grander than any other in the refurbished block of flats; one badly wallpapered dorm with a cloth curtain hiding the en suite that was nothing but a sink and an eternally running toilet. Single bed. Narrow bookshelf. A wobbly-looking desk over a kitchen chair. No photos on the walls, just a window sheered with thin cotton to take the edge off the already dim light.

He held himself up on a dark, wooden walking stick with an ivory handle that had been carved into the head of a Dragon. His cloak had been pressed and laundered with a care that was unique to military men. The smooth, colorful outfit contrasted the gray folds of his skin.

Tackman had always been muscular for an Elf. He still was. But those broad shoulders had become a hindrance and his wide torso weighed him down over the shining cane. His hair was all white and little brown scabs had formed on the end of his nose and bottom lip.

Frailty had crept inside his body but his green eyes were clear. When they landed on me, I felt like a nervous boy again, ready to fall into line if the