“Giuseppe Monpress,” he said, before she could ask. “You must be Miranda. Gin has told us all about you.”
“Gin?” she said, her voice rising in a rush of hope. “Is he here? What do you mean you’re Monpress?”
“It’s not a terribly uncommon name,” the man said. “And your hound is currently making a fine distraction running circles around the duke’s men. Now”—he took her arm, the one that wasn’t chained to Eli, whom the man seemed to have forgotten—“we should hurry. The duke’s a clever man. He’ll tear away from the ruse soon enough. We’ve got a little time before Josef and Nico’s cavalry shows up, however. Meeting you here has put me ahead of schedule.”
“Well, good for you,” Eli said, elbowing his way between them. “I, however, am in a hurry to miss my date with the duke, so if you don’t mind…”
He made a series of gestures toward the door. The older Monpress shrugged and, gesturing for Miranda to go ahead, let Eli lead the way up the narrow stairs to the maze of tunnels that ran below the citadel, speaking up only to correct the thief when he was taking them in entirely the wrong direction.
CHAPTER 18
Josef and Nico snuck through the empty streets. Above them, lights flickered behind the wobbly glass windows in the upper stories of the lovely houses, but Josef and Nico saw no one. Though it was still early, all the restaurants were dark and closed, same with the taverns, and even the inns. Whatever command of the duke’s had cleared the streets earlier was obviously still in effect, and now that Eli was caught, even the patrols were off the streets, leaving Nico and Josef to run in the shadows behind the watchful lamps and toward the dark river and the docks beyond.
“At least the paving stones aren’t trying to trip us anymore,” Josef grumbled, stomping harder on the cobbled street than was strictly necessary. “I guess Eli was right when he said the spirits couldn’t keep it up forever.”
“Or they just aren’t looking for us,” Nico said. “Spirits are famously bad at finding nonwizards. Humans all look the same to most spirits.”
“Lucky us,” Josef said, hopping up the stairs toward the tall bridge that was the only way across the river. They kept to the back line of storehouses, ducking behind crates and barrels until they reached the dusty, neglected warehouse they’d slept in the night before. Josef flipped the rusty lock with impatient fingers. He could almost feel the Heart inside, waiting for him. The door opened with a groan, and they slipped inside.
With the docks empty, there were no fires burning in the braziers outside. Without the ambient light, the warehouse was ink black, forcing Josef to stop at the threshold and let his eyes adjust. Nico went on ahead of him, striding confidently into the dark. That was typical. The dark never seemed to slow her down, which was why he jerked to attention when her soft footsteps stopped.
His hand dropped to the sword at his hip. He could just barely see Nico in front of him, a spot of darker shadow gone completely rigid. Keeping one hand on his sword and the other on the dagger in his sleeve, Josef crept forward until he was pressed against Nico’s back.
“Someone’s here.” Her voice was scarcely more than a breath.
Josef stared over her shoulders, but he saw nothing but shadowy outlines and dusty beams. She pointed at the darkness ahead of them, and Josef squinted. He could make out details now, the edges of crates, the forgotten tools lining the walls, and, directly ahead of them, the dark, solid shape of the Heart of War leaning against the corner, right where he’d left it. He was about to ask Nico to be more specific when something shifted in the dark, and then he saw it as well. Sitting on the stack of crates beside the Heart was an enormous, dark shape. At first Josef thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, that the shadows were stretched out, for no man could be that large. Then the shape jumped down, landing on the wooden floorboards with a crash that rattled the building to its foundation.
Josef stumbled, gripping the hilts of his sheathed swords, white-knuckled as the dark figure stretched out his hand, pointing one long finger, not at Josef, but at Nico, who was trembling in front of him. The man, for Josef could now see it was a man, smiled, his teeth glinting in the dark, and spoke a command.
Don’t move.
Even Josef, spirit deaf, could tell the words were more than words. The moment they left the man’s lips, Nico went down. She fell hard, straight down without catching herself, landing on the floor with a bone-splitting crack. Josef was at her side in an instant, but wherever he touched her, her coat was as hard as iron. Even the air felt like stone around her skin. Her body was rigid, the frantic darting of her eyes and the slight noise of her panicked breaths the only sign she was still alive.