Empire's Fall


Front Matter

Content warnings etc.

Front Matter

Content Warnings

I've done my best to include as many content warnings as I can here, but I can't guarantee that I've caught all of them. As always when reading a novel that covers heavier topics, please keep your mental health in mind!

Throughout: flashbacks, dissociation

The Year Thief: near death experience

The Year Thief


The Year Thief

Prologue

Lyle

Nine Years Ago

The blow came from out of nowhere. One moment, I was racing down an alley, worrying about getting home in time, and the next, something slammed into my side, sending me sprawling.

As I hit the ground, added weight drove the air from my lungs, making my eyes water, but I hardly registered these things. Instead, I was frantically scanning my surroundings for shadows that I could hide in, a well-practiced exercise that left me wincing. Only daylight surrounded me, blocked by three, vaguely human shapes.

Great. This was just what I'd needed.

Out of sight, Gideon clicked his tongue.

"Shoulda checked your corners, dummy," he said. "Why'd you leave the dark anyway? That was stupid."

If I could have, I'd have rolled my eyes, but I was too preoccupied with keeping tears from falling for that, and Gideon knew it.

"No choice but to give up now," he said. "It'll go better for us that way."

I knew that, but when someone tugged my shirt's collar to the side, that knowledge flew out the window. Hissing, I started squirming, trying to slap my captor, but he just grabbed my wrists.

"Hold still, ashie," he growled. "Don't make me hurt you more than I already have."

Right... like he wouldn't do that anyway, no matter how easy I made this for him.

I drew breath to shout for help, but before I could get the scream out, someone smacked me hard, and through stars, I watched a man straighten above me. Again, he tugged at my shirt's collar, and I started scratching any part of him I could reach, even as he brushed my hands aside.

Clicking his tongue, he said, "He's got nothing, lads. Not enough to force it, at least."

Oh, thank avan. They wanted to rob me. That was all.

"Just take what he's got," another man said.

Scoffing, a third voice said, "Hell, Joshua. He's just a kid! An ashie, sure, but still. I won't make a kid drain his own timepiece."

"Besides, it'd be too much trouble," said the man on top of me. "He dropped some apples when I jumped him. Let's take those and go."

Vaguely, I heard someone murmur unhappy agreement, but then, something slammed into my face, and clutching my nose, I was too busy fighting to breathe to notice anything else. When I could focus again, the alley was empty... or at least I thought it was, and I'd been left lying on my back, panting at the sky.

Before I could get up, a face I knew as well as my own came into view, Leaning on his knees, Ruo solemnly watched me for a heartbeat before frowning.

"You ok, Lyle?" he said. "Need my help?"

Coughing a laugh, I waved him off.

"Nah, we're good," I said, barely containing a wheeze. "Go back to sleep."

Gideon snorted at that, but with his face brightening, Ruo nodded, retreating. With a groan, I rolled over, forcing myself to my feet, and once I'd reached them, I checked the alley again, making sure I was alone.

I wasn't, of course—not really—but then, I rarely was. Ruo was gone, fortunately, but Gideon was leaning against the wall opposite me with his arms crossed. Scowling at me, he shook his head.

"How was that giving up?" he said.

Like he'd have done any better.

Glaring at him, I patted myself down, checking for injuries, but thankfully, most of the body was unharmed with just a couple of bruises on it.

Rolling his eyes, Gideon said, "Hurry up! Maxton's gonna be worried."

"I know that," I muttered.

But I trudged toward the end of the alley, taking deep breaths to bury my pain as I went. By the time I was on an open street, I could walk with confidence, and at the next turn, I started running.

Avan, I'd be so late. Not good.

When I reached the apartment, I stopped outside, checking my appearance in a cloudy window, and made a face. The visible evidence of my bruises might not be showing yet, but my cheek was scratched all to hell, and the skin around my eye had started welling.

"He's gonna know," Gideon grumbled.

"Obviously," I whispered.

What exactly did he expect me to do about that, though?

"Might as well get this over with."

Sighing, I slunk into the apartment, hoping beyond hope that I could find somewhere quiet to hide before someone noticed me, and for a moment, I thought that might be possible. This afternoon's meeting had already begun, leaving friends and business associates crowding the sitting room.

So many people! Dozens of men and women were chatting here, and they sounded so angry! That anger wasn't because of me. I'd just gotten here, and I knew that these people were safe, but even still, I started falling away, drifting toward the top of my skull. Fortunately, I caught it happening this time, and with a sharp headshake, I managed to get centered.

I refused to lose control right now.

The room's occupants—the various member's of Maxton's crew—seemed focused on one another, and seeing that, I hoped that I could glide through the room's concealing shadows to the kitchen, where I could eavesdrop. After all, out of everyone here, only my brother could see me while the dark surrounded me.

But then, Maxton looked up from where he was talking with his second, and when he spotted me, he snapped his mouth shut with his jaw going tight.

"Damnit," Gideon said.

Already caught out, I abandoned all attempts at hiding, shuffling from foot to foot beside the door, and after finishing his conversation, Maxton headed toward the kitchen, beckoning for me to follow without checking if I had.

That was good, though! If I pretended that I hadn't seen my brother's invitation, maybe I could avoid him for now, staying in the bedroom until after the meeting was over instead.

With that in mind, I meant to move that way, but without permission, the body turned toward the kitchen, following Maxton. That was when I noticed how fuzzy the world had become.

I'd lost control. Great.

Still, I'd rather not wrestle it back yet. If we were talking to Maxton, Gideon would do a better job of it than me, so instead of fighting with him, I watched from a point on the ceiling as he walked me to a chair at the table.

Maxton was standing in front of our wood-burning stove, fixing tea. As Gideon sat, he didn't look away from the kettle, waiting for it to whistle, but once it had, he brought two cups to the table.

Seeing how much steam was billowing from them, I absently said, "That'll be hot, Gideon. Wait a while before touching it."

I didn't know why I'd reminded him about that. Gideon might not feel much physically, but he'd had enough tea to know that it was typically hot. Still, I'd said it, and as expected, it made my lips twitch, but Gideon didn't reply as Maxton set a cup beside my elbow, sitting in the other chair.

"What happened?" he quietly said. "Are you hurt?"

Glancing away, Gideon said. "Everything's fine. 'm fine."

For how blunt he was the rest of the time, he sure was shy around Maxton, which was shown by how he kept my eyes fixed on my twiddling thumbs, and for a while, Maxton  merely watched me. Then, he shifted in place.

"Was it another fight?" he calmly asked.

So calmly. He was always patient with me, but the question was enough to jerk my head up.

"No!" Gideon said with wide eyes. "I got jumped. Must've seen my eyes 'cause they called me ashie."

With his face hardening, Maxton hissed, "Fucking prejudiced assholes."

But when he saw how much Gideon had tensed, he relaxed, leaning over to gently move my shirt's collar to the side. With my timepiece revealed, Gideon bit my lip, swallowing hard, but my brother just looked relieved.

"They didn't take anything. Good," he said, "and it doesn't look like they hurt you too badly, which is even better."

Closing his eyes, he sighed before smiling at me. He nudged my chin so that Gideon was facing him.

"Hey. You're ok," he said. "You're safe. He's not here."

For the briefest moment, I zoomed back into the body, which sharpened the world into the clearest of pictures. I took in my brother's grin, fixing it in my mind, even as I said.

"I know."

But then, glass covered the world again, and I was set adrift, if still tethered to the body.

"I was stupid," Gideon said, hiccupping on a sob. "Shoulda stayed in the shadows, but I thought I was alone."

"Hey. It wasn't your fault," Maxton said. "You can't blame yourself for someone else's greed or prejudice."

Hugging my chest, Gideon huddled over my arms.

"Yeah," he whispered.

But he said nothing else. He knew better than to try to convince Maxton of the truth.

"Did you get a good look at them?" my brother said. "I could seen someone to... persuade... them to change their ways."

Gideon shook my head.

"Didn't see nothing," he mumbled.

"Ok," Maxton said.

For a while, they sat together in silent companionship, and I was happy with that. I didn't mind hanging in my corner of the ceiling, watching my life pass me by, so long as my brother was with me, keeping me safe.

Soon enough, though, this peace was disturbed by a man leaning through the kitchen's door.

"Just letting you know Vaughn's here, Max," he said.

And I snapped into place. Vaughn? Out of everyone in my brother's crew, Vaughn was my favorite!

When he saw me perk up, Maxton laughed, slapping his knees.

"All right! I'll be there shortly," he said before inclining his head toward the table. "Don't forget your tea, buddy. Drink it up, and you can join us."

With a solemn nod, I reached for the cup, blowing across its surface while Maxton followed his associate into the sitting room.

Once the tea was cool enough, I gulped it down. I didn't have time to waste. Now that Vaughn was here, the meeting would start soon, and I wanted to be there with everyone.

I couldn't wait to hear the plan for next week's heist.

Audiobook Prologue

The Year Thief

Chapter One: This Is Me

Present Day

Lyle

Tonight's plan was shaky at best. As I stood on a roof, five stories above the cobblestones, I could readily acknowledge that fact, even if it pained me. I'd never liked leaving a heist's outcome to even the smallest of chances, but I'd had to do that tonight.

Beside me, Gideon kicked at the roof, hugging himself.

"I miss Max," he said. "He'd have known what to do."

Somehow, I kept myself from flinching, instead stepping forward so that my toes dangled over the roof's edge. When I looked down, a zing of euphoria, so atypical for me, rushed through my body, banishing the twinges of more unpleasant things back below the surface.

I didn't, however, let this euphoria show on my face. I'd never done something like that, and I never would. Even when I was alone, I couldn't show my internal state.

Of course, I wasn't alone at the moment, and as I balanced on the balls of my feet, the sudden inrush of air through Vaughn's nose almost made me smile. He was huddling on another roof a block over, keeping a lookout for coppers, but his every breath—every pulse of blood under his skin—was sent to me through the shadows around him.

While annoyingly boisterous most of the time, Vaughn was usually still as stonework when on a job, making the fact that I'd drawn a response from him now all the sweeter. I had to get my revenge on him from somewhere. He needled me often enough.

This was why I had a hard time with keeping my face blank as I straightened, shoved my hands into my pockets, and stepped off of the roof.

Before I'd dropped a meter, the night's dark formed a solid surface beneath my feet, stretching a thin sheet of it in front of me, but even still, in that brief moment of my fall, Vaughn had nearly made his own tumble to the ground. With a cry becoming a yip on his tongue, he barely stopped himself from leaping out of cover.

I didn't know why he had such extreme reactions to my antics, even after years of knowing me. He'd seen my walking on a shadowy bridge often enough.

As I strode above a hazily illuminated street, Vaughn moved his lips, enunciating his words so that I'd see their movement through the shadows.

"You did that on purpose."

I ignored him. If he wanted to think that, I couldn't change his opinion, and that wasn't merely because this time, he was right. For as long as I could remember, people had been making assumptions about my intentions and goals, and though these theories were usually wrong, I'd never seen fit to correct them.

Why should I make the effort? I knew what I wanted. I knew the Plan. That was enough.

Below me, the street's cobblestones surrendered to an estate's manicured lawn, and across it, the Watton's private security team moved in their predetermined patterns, exactly as I'd mapped them.

As always, they kept their eyes fixed on the shadows around them. None of them looked up, but even if one of them had, they wouldn't... couldn't see me.

I called the dark my friend for a reason, besides the obvious one that is.

"Should still be careful, though. Right?" Ruo said.

He was sitting on the estate's roof, swinging his short legs over the edge, and as I dismounted my bridge, letting it dissolve behind me, I glanced at him. He grinned up at me with such a spark in his eyes, forcing me to drag my gaze away. I was glad the kid was happy, but when in enemy territory, I couldn't focus on him as much as he deserved.

Silently, I ran over shingles to the wing where my mark would be sleeping, and once there, I laid on my stomach, peeking down the wall that I'd need to climb. Almost immediately, I ducked back into cover, silently cursing.

Getting to my access point—Lady Ada's bedroom window—wouldn't be a problem. I'd made similar climbs so often that I could do this one in my sleep.

No. What had me chewing on the inside of my lip had nothing to do with how I'd get inside the house but instead, with a missed detail.

When relaying his report earlier, Vaughn had failed to mention that a floodlight was aimed at this side of the building.

Even for a normal thief, this would be problem. We operated in the shadows for a reason, but my particular... situation made light slightly more than a simple problem, and Vaughn knew it.

"Bastard," I muttered.

"Don't say that. Besides the occasional prank, Vaughn's good to us," Gideon said. "You shoulda checked this out for yourself."

Great. That one was back.

Slowly shaking my head, I glanced toward where Vaughn was keeping watch. He was probably laughing right now, but no matter how much I wanted to strangle him for tonight's prank, I couldn't. Not yet.

So, instead, I oh-so-gradually lowered myself over the roof's edge, and as always, every incremental centimeter of skin that I exposed to the light strengthened the prickle that was running across it. Avan, it hurt, but unlike with most other types of pain, this was one that I couldn't shake off. I'd never learned how to do that.

Once I was dangling by my fingertips, I let go, kicking my feet free of stone while dragging my fingers along it. They soon slapped into a window's head, and I caught its sill with my boot's toes.

All as expected.

Unfortunately, the next part of the plan proved itself more difficult than I'd thought it might. I fumbled with the window's glass panes, tugging on the lip, while curses rang in my head.

Why wasn't it opening? I should be inside by now. In half a minute, the security force's next patrol would wander across the ground beneath me, and yes, they probably wouldn't look up here—no one ever did—but the chance of exposure sent an itch over my already crawling skin.

Damn this shaky plan.

"Oh, for the love of-" Gideon said before clicking his tongue. "Let me help."

Yeah... I should do that.

With my lips tightening, I loosened my control the bare minimum, watching with detached curiosity as my fingers dug deeper beneath the window panes' lip. They flexed, surging with a strength that I didn't have, and the window flew open. Before I could panic, Gideon stopped it from shattering against the wall, but then, that shouldn't surprise me. He'd always had faster reflexes than me.

Still, thank avan. My crew's inside source had been correct. Lady Ada kept her window unlatched at night.

As I slipped into the comforting embrace of the dark in the room beyond, my heartbeat slowed in my ears while the crawl across my skin subsided. Sucking blood off of my fingertips, I dropped to the floor, glancing around.

Lady Ada's bedroom was about as extravagant as I'd expected for a noble's daughter. Intricately woven, Ostium rugs covered the room's floorboards, which had been crafted from the trees of Crinas' distant jungle, and that same wood continued up the walls into waist-high baseboards. Above this, columns separated the walls' frescoes into panels, and far too much furniture was dotted along the room's perimeter, including the four-poster bed that dominated it.

Avan love how the dark enhanced my night vision.

Finished with my fingers, I crept toward a canopied enclosure, curious if the rumors about Lady Ada were true. While I drew the curtain aside, Gideon ambled around the room with his hands in his pockets, making suggestions for possible, nick-worthy items, but I barely paid him any mind. He knew that we weren't here for that sort of wealth, much as it might annoy him. Instead, I kept my lips in a flat line, no matter how much what I was seeing had me smirking inside.

I'd been right. Eldon, the second in one of Flosa's most successful gangs, was curled against the ever-stunning Ada Watton. I was quite familiar with this man, seeing as he was the one who retrieved me whenever his boss required a meeting, but seeing him vulnerable like this...

Part of me found it hilarious. How would Eldon take it, learning that I knew about his affair with the daughter of a rival gang's client?

But most of me went to suppressing my growl while I kept my nose from wrinkling. Tonight, my crew and I might be risking our lives with this heist, given that death by the chair was guaranteed if we were caught, but with this relationship, Eldon risked starting a gang war where many more lives would be lost. It was unconscionable. 

But this was what happened when someone let love rule them, I supposed.

"You'd know that best, wouldn't you?" Gideon said.

Avan, there had been such loathing in his voice, and it almost made me flinch because he was right.

I'd never make that mistake again.

Gazing upon this scene, I was tempted to reach for my override apparatus, lying in a pocket. Draining the years in these people's timepieces, their life energy made manifest, would be so easy, but... it wasn't why I was here.

Why would I take a piece of Ada's life, a girl whose only crime was to be the descendant of a lost monarch's ally? And if I stole Eldon's years, his boss, Russell Teague, would kill me, and he'd only make my death quick if he was feeling generous.

No, tonight's mark had no such strings attached to them, and denuding them of their wealth would have a much greater impact on society.

"And that's the important part, right?" Gideon said, rolling his eyes.

Hell, he was acting crabby tonight. What was his problem this time?

I'd figure it out later.

Lowering the canopy, I glided to the wall beside the bed, laying a hand on it with my eyes closed, and reached out to the dark.

Sometimes, my friend was quick to respond, like it had been when relaying Vaughn's reaction earlier. At others, it was slow and sinuous, taking its sweet time, but I could be patient. Considering the life I led, I had to be.

In the room next door, the shadows breathed in time to the sway of the moonlight through the tree's branches outside. They flinched from that ghostly illumination, a dog long wounded by a cruel master, and only the sound of my soothing lullaby gave them the courage to expand, creeping over the room's floor and bed and the lump that was lying on it. The dark caressed this sleeping man...

No. That was a woman. And she was alone.

Did that mean that her supposed lover had risen for a midnight snack? That would be unfortunate.

"Shaaaky plaaan," Gideon sang.

Which was why I'd prepped backup plans for snags like this. Having a backup was always for the best.

Relaxing my hold on the dark, I snapped back into Lady Ada's bedroom before heading for the door. I left the young woman and her paramour peacefully snoring behind me.

Once I was in the Watton's estate proper, finding the kitchen—the best starting place for my search—was simple enough, but then, it should be, given how much time my crew and I had spent mapping this place's floorplan over the last few weeks.

Before entering the room, I located every source of illumination inside—fireplace and ovens and candles alike—and stepped into the deepest shadows available to me. As I emerged from the stairwell, however, a cleaning girl, one I hadn't noted, came hurrying around the corner, and even with her body's natural instincts helping her to avoid the hidden threat that I was, I had to clumsily spin out of her path, colliding with a nearby wall as I did. With only a slight wobble to her precariously balanced mop and bucket, she continued on with none the wiser, although the incident sent Gideon into peals of laughter.

"Nimble," he gasped, "Truly, you're a paragon of grace."

'Shut up,' I mouthed at him.

Mentally, I was already cursing myself for the near disaster. I didn't need Gideon's help with my self-criticism.

Besides those two reactions, though, I didn't let the mistake affect me. With Gideon joining me, I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms while I glanced over the surprisingly busy kitchen.

This late at night, most people wealthy enough to retain a household staff would have long ago let them retire for the evening. Not the Wattons, apparently.

Here, a gray-haired cook was screeching at her frazzled assistant with both of their faces reddening, and several young men were lounging around a table, chatting as they shined shoes. In their midst, Lord Cyrus Watton sat, picking at a plate of fruit, with an older gentleman at his side, making marks in a thick tome. He was most likely doing figures for the household's budget.

Target located.

Now came everyone's least favorite part of a job like this: waiting. Most people in my profession hated it because prior plans or boredom or loved ones would have them itching to move on, and such impatience had made many an otherwise capable thief shuffle in place or make some other mistake.

Not me. My life was my work and the Plan, so I watched my mark for minutes or perhaps hours. How long it took didn't matter to me. Without something to goad me, I never made a move before an opportunity presented itself.

So, when Lord Watton eventually finished his snack, leaving the kitchen, I didn't follow him. I stayed where I was, leaning against a wall and waiting.

Waiting.

Soon enough, the man with the tome, the Watton family's steward, snapped his book closed, tucking it under one arm as he got to his feet, and this had me pushing off of the wall.

"Finally," Gideon growled.

He'd always been more impatient than me.

I followed the steward out of the kitchen on silent feet, but when he turned onto the hallway that led to his bedroom instead of heading to his mistress, Gideon threw his head back with a groan.

"Of all the piss poor luck," he said.

I merely raised my eyebrows at him. That the Watton's steward had chosen this one night to stay in his own bed instead of visiting Lady Watton's was quite unfortunate, but it also changed nothing. When making tonight's plan, I'd accounted for the possibility.

"It'll make getting out of the house more difficult," Gideon said.

Maybe, but that would come later.

For now, the steward had reached his room, and as he turned into it, I nudged Gideon, my way of asking if he was ready. The next part was his job.

Maybe Gideon laughed as I drifted toward the ceiling. I wouldn't know, busy keeping watch for him as I was. If anyone stumbled upon us while he was doing his job, it could get messy for us.

So, I didn't see how close the steward came to lighting a candle before we reached him, and I didn't hear his strangled shout when Gideon put him in a chokehold. Their struggle didn't take long, but why would it? With this room so dimly lit, the steward couldn't see his attacker, and that made resisting us all the more difficult.

Finished, Gideon easily lifted him onto a straw mattress before stepping aside, and settling back into the body, I slowly let out a breath, swiping at the sweat beading on my forehead. Kneeling beside the bed, I retrieved my override apparatus while tugging the steward's jacket and shirt aside.

The glow of the numbers on his timepiece's readout only added to the dim light from further down the hall, and at that, I made a face. Too much of that nonsense. For this job, shutting the door would be better than trusting in the shadows' protection.

I let Gideon do that while regarding the steward's timepiece. In a green glow, it's readout's numbers read: five years, four months, and one day. A tidy sum.

It wasn't the truth, though. Returning to my place beside the bed, I rested my override apparatus beside the timepiece's readout, and after a brief flicker, its numbers resolved into something much more expected.

Two hundred and seventy-six years, eleven months, and twenty-four days.

"That's more like it," Gideon said.

Grabbing the steward's hand, I pulled it to where I could touch my band to the one around his wrist before pushing the button on his readout. My apparatus overrode the check that his timepiece made of its owner's willingness to relinquish his years, and carefully, I watched as the numbers on it counted down, a slow process all told. I should really work on that.

"Have to finish tonight's heist before we can tinker, Lyle," Gideon said. "Do you think this bastard will report what we've done? We don't want the coppers coming after us."

He had his eyes fixed on the door, ready to take over if it opened, and in answer to his question, I shrugged. Sure, this steward might be tempted to report my theft in the morning, given how many years I was stealing from him, but I doubted he would for two reasons.

First, the years I was taking weren't rightfully his. He'd been skimming from the Watton's accounts, so if he reported them missing, he'd get in trouble too.

Second, what would he say when asked about the crime? That an invisible man had jumped him? No one would believe that story. Such magical nonsense hadn't been seen in decades.

The steward probably wouldn't report the theft until the Watton's altered finances forced him to.

"You don't think he'll let anger control him?" Gideon asked. "He could lash out, despite the consequences."

But he wouldn't. I'd been watching this man for a while now, getting a read on his personality, but even if I hadn't done that, I'd have known if he were that temperamental of a person within seconds of encountering him. Detecting anger in people was a specialty of mine.

Snorting, Gideon said, "Fair enough."

Once the steward's readout displayed the same number as it had when I'd first revealed it, I laid his arm across his chest and left the room.

Like Gideon had said earlier, escaping the estate from this part of it might be more difficult than doing so from Lady Watton's bedroom, but the task was manageable. Sticking to the dark, I padded my way to the closest exit point, pausing with I saw that the room between it and me was brightly lit. Should I risk exposing myself here?

At the question, Gideon started grumbling protests under his breath, as he always did for such things, but I ignored him. Wouldn't exposing myself for the five seconds needed to reach the windows be better than hoping no one stumbled upon the mess I'd left behind?

Or avan help me, what if the steward woke up during the time I'd need to reach another exit? In a heist, getting out of a mark's home quickly after concluding one's business was essential.

So, I strode into the room, moving as swiftly as I could. I was halfway across it when a squeak burst into the air behind me.

At this unexpected noise, long-honed instincts took over. Flopping to the floor, Gideon rolled for the closest source of cover while blood filled my mouth from a nearly bitten in half tongue. Even as he reached his hiding spot, I fought my way back into the body.

In a flash, I was on my feet and across the room. I pressed my hand over the gaping mouth of the girl who'd snuck up on me, and as soon as I could, I dropped to one knee, hoping to reduce the threat that she might see in me. Swallowing blood, I grinned, although I made sure to keep my stained teeth hidden.

"Shh. Everything is ok, sweetie," I said. "I would never hurt you."

In response, the cleaning girl scrunched her face up while biting my hand, but this just widened my grin, even if Gideon hissed a pained curse behind me.

"Ferocious. I like it," I whispered before jerking my chin at her chest. "How many years do you have, kid?"

The girl drew her eyebrows together, but after a pause, she hesitantly tugged her neckline to the side. Glancing down, I looked over her readout.

One month, eight days, and eleven hours.

"Damn," Gideon said.

I had to agree. Her timepiece was running on fumes.

As if to remind me of how rude I was being, the girl nipped me again, and I softly chuckled. What a feisty little gremlin.

"If I give you a few years, will you let me leave?" i asked. "I just want to go home."

Raising her eyebrows, the girl glared at me, not that I could blame her for her suspicion. How could she accept an offer like that from someone who'd invaded her workplace, therefore threatening her source of income?

"Go on. Put your band on mine," I said. "I will not move."

Slowly, so slowly, she did as I'd asked, and while she did, Gideon clicked his tongue, storming around her so he could hang into the hall.

"No one's coming for now, but come on, Lyle!" he said. "Hurry up!"

Couldn't he see that I was going as fast as I could?

When the girl had touched her band to mine, I removed my hand from the back of her head so I could slide it beneath my shirt. Pressing my readout's button, I held it for a few seconds, giving her about seven years. A veritable fortune for someone like her.

Once I was done, I retreated in increments, keeping my hands visible while the girl checked her readout. Then, she lifted shimmering eyes to me with her lip trembling, and I fought the itch to cover her mouth again.

But she didn't start crying, thank avan. Good girl.

"You can go," she whispered.

"Why, thank you," I said, softly clapping my knees.

As I straightened, Gideon ran into me, and turning to follow him, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Why was he always in a rush? Why couldn't he trust that I knew what I was doing?

For tonight, though, he did have a point about timing, unfortunately, so I hurried across the room to the windows. Opening one, I'd nearly dived into the dark, eager to return to my friend's embrace, when the girl's voice stopped me.

"Mister. Thank you."

Glancing back at her, I tipped an invisible cap before tumbling out of the window, and as I raced across the estate's grounds, the cleaning girl latched it behind me.

When I reached Vaughn's hiding spot on the roof, I started sprinting across its shingles without calling a greeting. He didn't see me coming until I was halfway to him, but once he had, he turned toward me with his arms spread wide.

"What took you so long?" he asked.

And I punched him in the jaw. Reeling, he stumbled toward the roof's edge, but before he could trip over it, I caught him, keeping him from a deadly fall.

"The next time you consider leaving a detail that could get me killed out of your report, I would advise that you do not," I hissed.

Vaughn only laughed. Clutching my hand in his shirt, he roared with it, and baring my teeth, I loosened my grip on him.

"Lyle!" Gideon shouted.

He didn't understand. Vaughn needed to know exactly how unwavering I was in keeping myself and therefore, all of us safe. Forgetting to mention a spotlight, like this man had done tonight, was a mistake that no one in my crew could afford to make. It could get us killed!

"I'm sorry," Vaughn gasped. "I hardly ever get to see you mad. I couldn't resist a chance at it.

See... me... mad? Was I...?

A small hand clutched my pant leg, and I glanced down into Ruo's solemn face.

"Don't be like him, Lyle," he said.

...Fuck.

Sighing, I yanked Vaughn onto the roof, and after stumbling to a stomp, he clutched his stomach.

"So?" he said. "Are you angry? Please, tell me you're angry."

Right now? I didn't think I was. As Ruo had reminded me, anger was... not allowed, but then, few emotions were.

With a cold smile, I told Vaughn, "Your thoughtless oversight will cost you a portion of your cut."

Instead of sobering him, as I'd thought it might, my pronouncement had Vaughn punching the air.

"Yes!" he shouted. "I knew it!"

I lightly slapped him.

"Keep quiet, you insufferable moron," I said. "The coppers might still come."

Rubbing his cheek, Vaughn chuckled.

"I doubt it," he said.

I didn't know how he was so sure about that, but for now, I didn't question him. I spun, heading for a service ladder.

"I am not angry," I called behind me.

When we reached the ground, Vaughn leaned on his knees, heaving at the air.

"Even if you're not," he gasped, "you need a drink."

At that, I could only stare at him. Why did Vaughn always suggest alcohol as a means of appeasing me? It wasn't my thing, although I sometimes used it as a sleeping aid.

"I do not need a drink," I said. "I need to meet with the rest of the crew so I can distribute everyone's cut."

"Oh, loosen up," Vaughn said.

Straightening, he threw an arm around my shoulders, and both Gideon and I went stiff. What was he doing? Vaughn... he knew me...

"He should know better."

And somewhere far distant, I heard a voice screaming awful things at me, but before I could silence it and get control again, Vaughn remembered himself.

"Right. No touching. Sorry," he said.

With his hands raised, he backed off before cocking his head.

"Well, if you don't need a drink, I do," he said. "Plus, I told the younglings to meet us at The Leaky Tap earlier."

Oh, thank avan. Whatever he'd just seen in me, he'd decided not to ask about it.

Internally shaking myself, I said, "That pub is not an appropriate place for us to conclude our business."

"Come on, Lyle!" Vaughn said, pouting. "Indulge your friend! Just this once?"

For this, I had no reply, as he well knew. With a cheeky grin, he turned on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets, and whistling a cheery tune, he led the way out of the alley.

Crossing his arms, Gideon watched him go.

"He knows he's not our friend, right?" he said.

"I do not know," I muttered in reply.

I certainly hoped he did. Vaughn was a work associate, nothing more. Sure, he'd stayed with me far longer than most others had, but nonetheless, he was merely an associate. I couldn't afford to have more than one friend, one thing that would remain loyal to me no matter what.

So, as Gideon and I followed Vaughn down the road, he loped through pools of the streetlamps' light while we slunk in the shadows, where we belonged.

Audiobook Chapter One

The Year Thief

Chapter Two: Completing Business

Lyle

I first heard the screams several streets away from where they'd originated, but then, it was hard not to. The city was quiet tonight, or it was here, in a wealthier part of it at least.

So, the sound of someone howling in pain? It stood out, making the hairs on the back of my neck stiffen. Beside me, Gideon stopped short, blanching, before he vanished.

Not that I could blame him for retreating. I'd like to do that too.

When Vaughn noticed the noise, he winced, turning away from it at the next cross street, but he stopped when I brushed past him, continuing toward the disturbance.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

And avan, if I hadn't heard the warning in his voice. Still, I didn't heed it, moving forward step by resolute step. I had to see this, had to face it once more.

Fortunately, Vaughn said nothing else, and while I was sure that he'd continue to the pub without me, I instead caught the sound of his footfalls at my back soon enough.

Within moments, the street that we'd been walking down opened onto a small square. Here was where we found that horrible noise's source.

I saw the platform. I saw the chair sitting on it, and all of me went dead. Shouldn't I be used to these sorts of things by now?

"Lyle..." Vaughn breathed behind me. "What the fuck are you doing? This is far enough. Let's go."

But I couldn't. There was something different about the scene in front of me tonight.

"You go ahead," I said. "I mean to pay my respects."

Vaughn drew in a hissing breath.

"This is a bad idea," he oh-so-carefully said. "You shouldn't-"

"Vaughn," I interrupted. "You go on ahead. Make sure that Eliza and Gus do not feel abandoned."

I didn't wait to see if he complied, instead stepping into the square. In front of me, I finally saw my opportunity, one I'd been waiting for.

A chance to make a difference.

"Avan damn it all," Vaughn breathed.

He said nothing else, though, and I watched through the shadows as he headed away. Before he disappeared around a corner, he looked back, shaking his head, and almost, this made me smile. He shouldn't be worried about me, and he knew it.

Because only darkness filled this square. No coppers were guarding the platform, and they hadn't set up the typical spotlights and monitoring equipment around it. For once, they'd left everything as-is, probably believing that no one would disturb such a grisly scene overnight, and typically, they'd have been right.

Unfortunately for them, I needed to see this. I needed to pad across the cobblestones, pausing whenever moonlight threatened to banish the shadows.

My friend only stayed with me because of the soothing lullaby that I sang to it. I wouldn't let that soft light hurt its abused counterpart, not while I was here.

When I reached the platform, I climbed onto it, joining the little boy who was already standing in front of the chair, and for a moment, I let Ruo be all that I could see: his dark curls, the stiffness in his narrow shoulders, and the small fists hanging at his sides.

His blue eyes, fixed on the chair.

Drawn by that gaze, I turned my own on the man sitting there. I started slow with my examination, first locating the death machine resting at his feet. From there, I followed a cable up the chair's side, imagining that I could see the pulses of electricity that it carried to its endpoint.

I couldn't see that awful needle from here, but even still, I knew what it would look like. They'd have peeled away the scalp on the back of this man's head, drilling a hole into his skull, and that sharp point would have been pushed through the hole until it was squarely embedded in his brain's pain center.

I didn't circle the chair to verify what I already knew, instead focusing on the man's face.

At one point, he might have been handsome. If that was so, I couldn't tell now, not with the pinpricks of blood pattered across his skin, oozing from his pores. It had been smeared where it had drizzled out of his mouth, and his eyes...

Quickly, I looked away, needing a break from that particular scene. I distracted myself with the restraints securing the man to the chair and how their leather had dug through his wrist's skin to the bone beneath. The same was probably true for his ankles as well, but his pant legs had hidden the evidence of it. Hell, his muscles were tightly bunched, straining to escape their fleshy prison, and so many veins had popped out across that dark canvas.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to again look into the man's eyes. They were empty, staring at nothing, and as I took the full picture in, a ghost from the past superimposed a memory over what I saw. Daylight briefly overcame the night, a crowd filled the square behind me, and in the chair, my brother tried to scream with a ruined voice.

"Max..."

Sniffling, Ruo turned away, hunching on himself, and I pulled him to me.

"I hate him. I hate him," he said into my hip. "This is wrong."

"I know," I said.

For a moment, I let myself have a visible reaction to a stimulus, reaching up to pinch my nose. Maybe it could hide the moisture pooling in my eyes.

When I lowered my hand, however, I'd squared my shoulders, stubbornly meeting that empty gaze.

"I do not know how you angered our lords and masters," I said. "Perhaps you stole from an MP. Perhaps you defied Parliament in another way, but whatever has landed you here, I applaud you for it. You rankled them enough to gain their ire, and that is a worthy accomplishment, even if you got caught in the process."

My voice broke, trapped in a stranglehold, and in the silence, Ruo squeezed his hold on my leg.

With a cough, I continued, "I am sorry. I cannot free you from this torment. If I did, they would never stop looking for me, and I cannot have that. The only way I can help you is to end this more quickly."

When I fell silent once more, Ruo peered up at me.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

I nodded, patting his back as I pulled him off of me. Hopefully, he'd know how badly I needed him to turn away right now.

As for this man, he probably hadn't understood a word I'd said, but that was ok. Those words had been sincere, yes, but they'd mostly been spoken to help me crouch, take hold of a knob on the machine, and turn it to its highest setting.

An inhuman noise rose in the night, so potently wrong that even my friend, the dark, flinched from it. It cut me adrift, flung so far away from the world that I wasn't sure if I could recover, but after only a few seconds, that awful sound ceased, letting the shadows swirl back into place. They helped me find my body, and hanging my head, I repeatedly scrubbed my face, fully bringing myself back, before pushing on.

Without thinking about it, I smeared my fingers along my victim's face, gathering the blood that I'd need, and once more crouched. Writing my message only took me a few swipes, and as soon as I was done, I jumped off the platform, glancing over the nearby buildings.

As expected, lights had started flickering to life in them, so I hurried out of the square, doing my best to ignore Ruo. Following on my heels, he was crying , little hitching sobs that twisted my heart, but I didn't know how to help him. How was I supposed to help with this when I couldn't even help myself?

After a while, Ruo said, "I'm scared, Lyle. What if- what if that happens to us? What if we get caught? Avan, Lyle. I can't. I can't-!"

"That man was caught because he did not have what we do," I said. "We have the dark, and it will keep us safe, like it always has."

How many times had I reassured myself of that over the years? Faced with a potent example of the consequences that I'd endure if the Plan failed, I was tempted to abandon it again.

Not that I could ever truly do that.

So, I repeated the one thing that had kept me firmly here and committed to my life's course, an assertion that at times, was only a denial of reality. Would I accept my reasoning this time?

Sniffing hard, Ruo said, "Ok."

I supposed I would.

When I reached The Leaky Tap, its cheery illumination was spilling onto the street, soon to rip the comfort of the dark away from me. This worn-down pub stayed open throughout the night with its slanted foundation and leaning edifice serving as a home for many of Flosa's crews, all those independent from the gangs at least. As a magnet for the city's less savory population, it proudly displayed the graffitied image of an MP, caught in the same position as my victim from before, with broken windows serving as widened eyes and a gaping mouth.

I'd never liked the presentation.

When raucous laughter escaped from those openings, it burst against my eardrums, and at that sign of the numerous people waiting inside, Ruo shivered.

Squeezing my hand, he said, "Have fun?"

And he disappeared, leaving me alone for the first time in a while.

Staring at the spot he'd just occupied, I blinked. Have fun? Me? Was that allowed? Was it even possible?

Shaking the remnants of Ruo's presence off, I forced myself into the light, shoving through the pub's door when I reached it. Tonight, the place was packed with many a patron clamoring for the barkeeps' attention. The bar itself gleamed with bottles, colored in every shade of the rainbow and containing all kinds of alcohol. I hastily turned my attention away from the sight of it before anything... unwanted could surface.

Even in this crime-ridden neighborhood, the obligatory mark of the empire's monarchs rested atop the doorframe, letting their five visage's glare at patrons. At the bar, people tapped their bands against registrars, exchanging some of their timepiece's years for inebriating substances, and there was so. much. noise.

Music from the radios, scattered around the pub. Singing from patrons. So many different conversations, mixing into an indistinguishable roar. It was no wonder Ruo had left.

The worst of this, though, was the electricity that surged through the bare bulbs overhead. It sent my friend skittering beneath tables and into corners, and I wished that I could join it. Instead, I kept a blank look in place, hiding the prickling sensation of light as it danced over my skin.

As I headed for the staircase in the corner, people parted in front of me. One too many incidents of broken fingers had encouraged others to keep from touching me, much the same as they avoided my gaze. I strode through them without hesitation, only letting myself relax once I was through the crowd. With the space I'd gained, I could fight or run if someone attacked me.

The pub's loft enjoyed none of the electric bulbs that hung over the rest of it. Here, gas lanterns provided dim illumination, light that the dark could resist. With the shadows' return, the itching under my skin subsided, and I flexed my fingers, shedding another dose of tension.

In addition, not as many people were up here, and of those who were, most of them were less enthusiastic than their fellows below. Quietly chatting, some brave few among them nodded when they caught my eye.

My crew was waiting at a table in the corner, and for a moment, I watched them, taking the time to read their temperaments.

Vaughn, usually my crew's muscle, had shucked any sense of trouble that he'd gained in the square. He'd joined the others in their revel, downing a pint of ale to their delighted chanting.

As he did this, Gus, our scout, pounded his fist on the table while Eliza, our lookout extraordinaire, punched the air. With each shouted 'chug', the scars on her face twisted, briefly catching the firelight, but when Vaughn lowered his mug, they disappeared beneath the glow of her smile.

They seemed happy. That was good.

When he caught sight of me, Gus briefly blanched, slapping Vaughn's thigh, but as usual, the bull of a man refused to let me intimidate him. Relaxing into his seat, he patted the bench beside him with a silly grin in place.

As I approached, Eliza and Gus watched me with studiously blank expressions, tracking my every move. I wasn't sure why my presence prompted this reaction in them. I'd never gone out of my way to frighten them... or anyone, really. I simply lived my life, sometimes doing unpleasant things when I must, and apparently, that had been enough to spread the fear of me throughout the Warehouse District.

So, when I'd walked into this room, a monster had entered with me.

At the table, Gus spilled off of the bench to let me sit, and as I did, I noted his unsteady sway. Was he using again? If so, I'd need to have another round of polite conversations with his favored kalvna dealers, but... better to avoid that until I knew if I was right.

For now, I settled in my corner, propping my feet on the table to hide my view of its gas lamp, and folded my hands on my chest. If only I owned a hat, one that I could tip over my face, I could complete the picture of an at-ease gangster, which I'd always found funny considering...

Well. Considering.

Seeing that I wasn't ready to start our meeting yet, my crew resumed their conversation, gradually growing less stilted, and I listened to it with half an ear. The were discussing an upcoming sporting event between teams from Escad and Acrar, which meant that I barely followed the conversation.

I disliked sports. Such matches usually involved having too many people around me, all of whom were likely to get impassioned about the event's results, and unpredictability like that bothered me.

Eventually, stomping footsteps signaled the arrival of The Leaky Tap's proprietor.

"Lyle. Your 1872 Mad Gloom whiskey, neat, along with the bottle," he said as he came closer. "On the house, of course."

He knew me well, although... on the house? That was new. Did he know something that I didn't? Was he about to ask me for some dangerous favor?

No. That was paranoid thinking in the works again.

When I let my feet slip off of the table, they boomed against the floor's wooden planks.

"Thank you, Norris," I said. "That is... quite generous of you."

"Honestly? I heard you had a big score tonight," Norris said. "I expect to see you four often over the next few days, so one free bottle is no skin off my nose."

Ah... that explained it.

With a wink, Norris left us to our business, and raising my glass, I took a sip from it. When comforting warmth splashed into my belly, I almost smiled.

What luck! Norris hadn't watered this bottle down, like he did for most patrons' drinks. Maybe I'd have a chance at sleep tonight.

With this in mind, I drained my glass before filling it once more, ignoring my crew's eyes on me. Cupping my liquid escape, I once more ran through my planned speech. In it, I'd praise their skills while deriding our society's sad state, giving them the reassurance that at times, they needed from their leader. I always wanted to be what they needed but...

Sighing, I simply asked, "Who wants to get paid?"

The three of them slammed their wrists on the table, turning hungry faces toward me, and my guts painfully twisted. Why must our lives be like this, struggling for scraps of existence? Why had the lost monarchs made the years of their citizens' lives the Empire's currency, so many decades ago?

I couldn't consider those questions for long, so save for one exception, I doled out years as we'd earlier discussed. Twenty of them apiece went to Gus and Eliza while Vaughn received ten. When he checked his readout, our crew's muscle bristled.

"You gave me half, " he growled.

Had he already forgotten what I'd said on the roof? Maybe he'd thought I was joking.

Folding my hands on the table, I said, "Indeed. Your job is to protect us, all of us. You know that I need the shadows to do my part of our heists, but even still, you left details out of your report, or at least, that is what I assume happened. You have never been so forgetful in the past. If I had known that my entry point was so well illuminated, I would have called this job off."

Snapping her head to Vaughn, Eliza backhanded his chest.

"You didn't tell him?" she hissed.

At that, Vaughn had the decency to look chagrined.

"I knew he could handle it," he said.

"That is well and good. I am happy to hear that you have such confidence in my skills, but said confidence does not give me the safety that you are paid to provide," I said. "I told you that your oversight would cost you. In this crew, I do not reward slipshod work, as you well know. If you have suddenly taken issue with this policy, then please. Take your leave."

Oh, avan, please say he wouldn't do that. Not only would replacing Vaughn be exceptionally difficult if he did leave, but Gideon wouldn't be happy about it, and when Gideon was unhappy, he found purpose in making me miserable.

I might have my own reasons for wanting Vaughn to stay as well, but if I did, I couldn't examine them now.

After a tense moment, Vaughn barked a laugh, which had Gus and Eliza relaxing.

"Sorry, Lyle. I didn't mean to snap at you. I had plans for those years, is all," he said, "but keep entertaining me like you do, and the loss will be worth it."

"Plans? What plans?" Gus said. "Do you have enough years to last you until our next job?"

I hadn't considered that. Vaughn had always seemed so careful with his years. I hadn't thought he could run out, and the thought that he might made me.... uncomfortable. I'd never wanted to see him dead.

Suppressing a need to squirm, I said, "He may skim from the communal stash if need be."

"Stop it, you two! You'll drown me with your concern," Vaughn said.

Slapping a hand to his chest, he rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine! Come now. Let's get this party started!"

And that, what he'd just claimed? It had been a lie. In this dimly lit room, the dark was only touching him in a few places, but it was enough for me to have felt the increased pace of blood rushing beneath his skin.

Why would Vaughn lie about this? Was he in some sort of trouble? If he was, could it endanger the Plan? Did he need help?

Repressing a frown, I tied a piece of the dark to Vaughn before putting his falsehood out of mind. With my friend riding piggyback on him, I could check on him whenever I liked, meaning I could investigate this discrepancy later.

Because Vaughn had been right. According to tradition, it was time to celebrate.

Given that, I slid the whiskey bottle to Gus. He poured himself a liberal amount before shoving the bottle Eliza's way, and once she'd filled her glass, it stopped at Vaughn. He, of course, only accepted a splash of the stuff, but that was just because our taste in alcohol had always been contradictory, as it was in most things.

But then, Vaughn rested the bottle on the table, and with a solemn air catching us in its chill clutch, the world hushed around us. As if in response to my mood, the dark crept from beneath the table, forming a hazy wall that went unnoticed by drunken patrons and my preoccupied companions. I saw it, of course, but just this once, I didn't calm it into hiding.

The dark was my friend. That it joined my crew in our most momentous tradition was only fair.

Raising his glass, Gus started the proceedings.

"For Ida!" he said.

He wiped his eyes as Eliza cleared her throat.

"For Adrian," she whispered.

On her words' heels, Vaughn said, "For Eleanor."

And as I joined my glass with theirs in the air, my hand trembled under the table.

"For all those lost in our Empire's system," I said.

For Maxton.

We clinked our glasses together before taking our medicine. Some of us did it with gusto while others winced, and once we'd finished, Vaughn slammed his glass down.

"Until the next time we rob from those pretentious bastards!" he shouted.

His cry caught the attention of other crews in the loft, and together, they released a roar, thudding their glasses against wood.

"HEAR, HEAR!"

The loft's occupants broke into song, and while persuading the dark to recede, I listened to the tale spinning through the air around me. They'd chosen a song about the last rebel who'd defied Parliament, which only made me cringe inside. As always, everyone had focused only on that man's heroics. No one liked remembering that his resistance had ended in the deaths of everyone involved in it.

Soon enough, though, that uncomfortable song was followed by one about the empire's lost monarchs, and I pulled my whiskey bottle toward me. With no one's eyes on me, I could drink straight from the bottle, refusing to let up until only a quarter of its contents remained. I'd like to sleep without interruption tonight.

Once I was finished, I nudged Gus.

"Let me out."

He hastened to clear the bench, and as I reached my feet behind him, I nearly stumbled, only stopped by the dark's efforts to steady my feet.

Turning to my crew, I said, "I hope you have a nice conclusion to your evening, but please keep in mind that we will be meeting at my place, midafternoon tomorrow. I have decided on our next job."

"Already?" Eliza said with her eyebrows drawn together. "Lyle. I'll need time with my kids at some point."

At that, I briefly wanted to snap at her. Couldn't she see how much harder and faster we'd need to hit now, if we were to accomplish... everything?

Still, I understood where she was coming from, and her dedication to her children was admirable. So, I forced myself to smile.

"Yes, another job," I said, "but do not fret, my dear. Your role in this next heist will be small."

This seemed to reassure Eliza. She nodded her acceptance, and with that out of the way, I pointed at each member of my crew.

"Midafternoon tomorrow," I said.

They gave their assent, and I let myself relax.

Glancing at the bottle by my side, Vaughn said, "What about you? Can you make it home alone?"

...Really? Why would he ask that?

"Vaughn," I said, "since when have I needed your help?"

Laughing, Vaughn said. "Fair. G'night, then."

"Good night."

I left them in the booth behind me, chatting and signaling for more drinks. As I made my way toward an exit from the pub, a familiar voice on the radio caught my ear, making me pause.

"-great empire has persisted through more hardships than anything we've encountered in these last few months," it said. "We'll survive this recent batch of unrest."

"Sure, sure," someone sitting near the radio grumbled. "That's easy enough for someone that fucking high and mighty to say."

Avan... it... it was him.

With difficulty, I turned away, rapidly blinking. I had to hold it together. Couldn't consider what I'd heard. Couldn't-

What had I been thinking about? And... did it matter that I couldn't recall?

When I reached the door, I glanced back, noting how other crews had crowded around mine. Between their clustered bodies, I caught sight of Gus' hands flying.

Great. He was probably sharing a story about tonight's job.

I hoped he remembered to keep his mouth shut about certain aspects of what we did. If those details ever got out, no one in my crew would live to see the next morning.

Given that, I was sure that Gus would be cautious with his retelling, so I pushed through the door, leaving it hanging open behind me.

Audiobook Chapter Two

The Year Thief

Chapter Three: Two Pitstops

Lyle

As I strode through the night, the world swayed around me, but my friend kept me on my feet and walking in a straight line.

Not that maintaining an appearance of control mattered at the moment. When darkness was around, no one could see me—with rare exceptions—and this had been a long-held source of relief.

Walking through Flosa this late at night had always been one of my favorite pastimes. With most people in bed, it was always so quiet. I didn't have to ignore a flood of auditory sensations, all of which threatened to drown me beneath them. Why wouldn't I enjoy such a time?

That didn't mean that all city activity had ceased, of course. The occasional individual hurried down the street, heading home for the night, and obligatory groups of homeless people were clumped in vacant spots.

I skirted them, as I must, and when I reached a wealthier part of the city, I switched to avoiding coppers, out patrolling the streets. Yes, they couldn't see me at the moment, but honestly? When possible, I'd rather stay away from them. They enabled a broken system.

Gradually, the streets cleared of even those sorts of people, and all the while, my heart constricted in my chest. I hated visiting this place, but it served as a reminder for me, one that I needed.

I was surprised that Gideon hadn't shown his face again. When I was alone, he liked to keep an eye on me, especially when I was drunk, but maybe he knew where I was headed. Once I'd paid my crew, the next step of finishing a job was depositing extra years in my personal stash, which I kept somewhere... special.

Elsewhere, I'd set up a communal stash in a place that everyone in my crew could reach. While the two were connected, the codes needed to access the communal stash were keyed to all members of my crew, not solely me.

My personal stash was in a place that none of them would dare visit, somewhere I visited on rare occasions. It was a place that Gideon hated going anywhere near.

Then again, he might not want to deal with our... friend, who might show up while I was there. If so, I couldn't blame him for it.

As I approached, I let my lips draw thin, but besides that, I maintained an appearance of calm. The roar of blood in my ears? My lungs sudden need for air? I couldn't indulge in these things, not while I was in enemy territory.

When I reached my destination, I took a moment to examine it, making sure that nothing had changed, and as expected, a familiar face soon joined me.

"Exactly what are you doing here?" the Tyrant said.

When I ignored him, he sneered at me.

"I see. Being defiant, as usual," he said. "How tedious."

Without a word, I crossed the street so I could scale the wall of the estate opposite me. When I landed on the other side, I scanned the garden around me, looking for any newly added security, but across the manicured lawn with its many pruned flower beds, I saw not a soul.

Still, I reached out to the dark, paying special attention to its given warnings. Here, on this estate's grounds, was the one place I could not fuck up.

I also couldn't let current danger affect me, though. As I made my way through the gardens, I kept to a sure stride, holding my head high, and while the Tyrant was waiting for me when I reached the house, I was perfectly content to ignore him.

"This is foolish, you stupid child!" he snapped at me. "Even with your limited intelligence, you can't believe that I'm ignorant of your presence here tonight. I will find you."

Maybe so. If he did, I'd have to hope that enough time had passed since he'd last seen me. With that and how much had changed since then, the dark should be able to hide me, and if it couldn't, I could always run away from him. I was a lot faster now.

Skirting the house, I looked anywhere but at it. The dark would warn me if anyone inside was standing at a window, and besides, I wasn't setting foot in there tonight. My current objective rested in these outside grounds, and fuck if I'd enter that place unless I must.

When I reached my first stop on this foray—a seemingly innocuous tree—I scrambled up it, leaving the Tyrant red-faced on the grass beneath me, and soon enough, I reached a crook, high in its branches. Once I was in place, however, a frown took hold of my face before I could smooth it away.

With a tack pinning it in place, a sheet of paper was fluttering in the breeze here. What in the-? Had someone found this hiding place? I'd hate to find a new one.

Before I could consider possible replacements, however, the word at the top of the paper—Ruo—caught my eye, and slowly, I released a sigh. If she'd found this place, it wasn't a problem.

Shaking my head, I unpinned the paper, stashing it in a pocket without reading the note that it contained. I couldn't afford the distraction right now. Instead, I plucked a key, hanging nearby, from its twig and hurried to the ground.

When I joined him, the Tyrant said, "What have you got there, ashie?"

Without a word, I lifted the key into view before magicking it up a sleeve. As hoped, this display shut the Tyrant up, and I could make another quarter circle around the estate in peace.

Long ago, the owner of this place had built a garden shed in a remote corner of the estate's grounds, but it had been abandoned, left to slowly succumb to time and the weather. What need was there to maintain it when its purpose hadn't existed for eleven, long years?

Fortunately for me, it was still secure enough to serve my purposes.

After unlocking the door, I glanced over the shed's interior, noticing when my heart picked up its pace in my chest.

"It is ok," I said under my breath. "I am ok. We are ok. Nothing will hurt us here. Not anymore."

But then, I found myself crouching beside a small box in the corner, fumbling with it to reveal the disconnected registrar inside. My personal stash.

Transferring the leftover years from tonight's job, putting me one hundred and twenty years closer to the end goal, seemed to take forever, and once it was done, I raced out of the shed, abandoning caution in my haste to replace the key and escape the estate.

Once I was free of it, I frantically retrieved the bottle of Mad Gloom from earlier, yanking on it when it got stuck on a pocket's cloth, and as soon as I could, I drained what remained of it through shallow sips of air.

Why did I torture myself like that? Avan. What the hell was wrong with-?

Somewhere nearby, the Tyrant said, "Every time I forget how much you disgust me, you give me a reminder. Continue showing weakness like this, and crushing you will be easy, just like it's always been."

Almost, I threw the empty bottle in his face, but... he was right. For a moment, I'd lost control.

And I couldn't do that.

So, I took a deep breath, returned the empty bottle to a pocket, and squared my shoulders, facing the Tyrant.

"You can go now," I said. "I do not need you here."

His face twisted into an ugly scowl, but I only caught a glimpse of it before turning on my heel. With that chore out of the way, I could get on with the night.

What should I do now, though? I could go home, but if I did that, I'd have to wait for the alcohol in my bloodstream to finish taking effect before sleeping. It might already be affecting me to a degree, but its influence hadn't come close to an optimal level. With my drinking history...

Let's just say that it took a lot of the good stuff to get me where I wanted to be.

So instead, I wandered, letting my feet take me where they willed, and as I went, I scanned the note that I'd retrieved from a dreaded estate's tree. I didn't fully register what it said, but considering its words weren't for me, that was to be expected.

Soon enough, I arrived at a place that I hated to love. I wasn't particularly surprised by this turn of events. Even after making my deposit in the stash, I had ninety-nine years to use how I pleased.

To the rest of the world, such a sum would make me a man of middling means. With it, I could move out of my cramped apartment to a more comfortable home in a safer neighborhood, but rather than indulging in that idyllic dream, I found myself beneath a bridge with graffiti on its walls and trash scattered across the cobblestones between them. Under this uncertain source of shelter, ragged people had huddled around fire pits to ward off the night air.

Finding the Ostium children among them was the easiest task I'd undertaken tonight. When I was around them, the lullaby that I'd always sung to the dark swelled from a simple strain of music to a poignant symphony, and I could relax in it.

The lullaby constantly buzzed in my mind, and I'd never been sure why it found such kinship with these children. Over the years, however, I'd learned to accept this symphony for what it was. It and they made me feel at home, something that I'd learned to treasure, so why would I question it?

When I stepped into the light, it took the kids a moment to notice me, but after they had, they shouted.

"Caans riiver!"

When translated from the Ostium tongue, this phrase roughly equated to year giver, and I replied to the kids in kind.

"Hello, my lovelies!"

I dropped to my knees with my arms spread wide, and at the invitation, children threw themselves at me so they could hang from my shoulders and neck. Pulling one of their heads to me, I buried my face in his hair, kissing it, and squeezed the girl beside me.

As with the symphony's manifestation, I didn't know why my typical touch aversion relented when around these children,. I'd never thought too deeply about it, simply reveling in something that I could so rarely experience comfortably.

Take a moment to enjoy it...

"The grownups are looking at us."

Sighing, I nodded in acknowledgment of Gideon's warning before pulling away from the kids. If I wasn't quick, I'd lose the chance to care for them before the adults pushed them out of the way.

As she stepped back, one of the girls rested her hands on her hips with a wry grin.

"What did you bring me?" she asked.

"You know exactly what, Xia, and as always, you'll have to wait your turn for it," I said. "Everyone, show me your timepieces, please!"

Within three breaths, five readouts were shining from grimy shoulders, and I winced at some of the numbers that I read off of them.

"Ten hours, Xia?" I said under my breath before smiling at the kids. "Bands."

They thrusted their wrists at me, and as quickly as I could, I touched each of the bands around them with my own, giving each child four years. I wished that I could share more with them, truly, but considering my limited supply and how many people were headed my way, that wouldn't be possible.

"You coulda deposited less in the stash," Gideon said. "They need the years more than us."

But doing that would have delayed the Plan. I... we couldn't have that.

With my smile tightening, I loudly said, "Be careful with these. Don't spend them all in one place. XIA."

Said little girl blushed, and rubbing the top of her head, I nudged her chin. A smile started conquering the red in her pale cheeks, but then, my time with the kids ran out.

"Lyle. You're back,"  someone behind me said. "Done with the ashies yet?"

If I froze for the briefest of moments at the sound of that voice, I refused to acknowledge that fact. When it came to my interactions with this man, I was usually too busy balancing between floating toward the back of my skull and maintaining control to do that.

While I was still caught in this struggle, my mouth started moving without my permission.

"Hello, Lonnie," Gideon said. "Are you finished acting like an asshole yet?"

And I bit my tongue. Whenever we ran into Lonnie, Gideon always had a few choice words for him, words that I couldn't say. What he'd already spoken was all that I could allow him.

"Haha. Very funny," Lonnie said. "You got somethin' for me?"

Rising from my crouch, I said, "I have gifts for everyone here, not just you."

Turning, I once more looked upon a greedy, soul-suck of a man. With his beefy arms crossed and a mustache hanging above a frown, he met my ice-cold gaze without fear. Avan, how I hated him.

"Shouldn't be so unpleasant, Lyle," he said. "Remember. I knew where you're from and what you can do. I was here when your brother dragged you under here with the both of you broken and bloody."

As if I could forget that. Lonnie reminded me of it every time I returned here, and the proof of what he knew was found in how firmly he'd positioned himself within the firelight's circle.

With tonight's reminder, though, I felt myself drawing further into the back of my head because no matter how much I might hate this man, he also... he also...

"-just this one time, kid. I promise it won't hurt, and the client won't even know your name. He thinks it's Caleb or something. You do this for me, and we'll always be square, even with your... problem. Yeah? Good. And remember. You can never tell anyone-"

"NO!" Gideon growled. "Not gonna let him hurt us. Not again."

With his fists trembling at his sides, he'd lunged toward Lonnie, and as if in commiseration, the dark breathed around me. As the reach of the bonfire's light constricted, deeper shades of black swirled closer to Lonnie, and he retreated a step, even as I snatched his wrist.

He froze, but I merely  rested my band on his, giving him his due. He got three years, the same as what the other adults here would soon receive. Ostracized as they were, I could give the Ostium kids a little more, but if anyone else received a greater sum than Lonnie, the king of this fiefdom would banish that unfortunate soul into the cold.

Jerking the bastard closer, I said, "You should be grateful that I ever return to this place."

As if broken from a spell, Lonnie tore his gaze away from the dark, resting it on me.

"Why do you think I let your filthy ashies stay here?" he said with amusement. "You got a soft spot for those brats."

That was true. The kids were one of my weaknesses, but even years after figuring that out, I hadn't divested myself of them. For some reason, I couldn't do that.

"Maybe you are right. Who can say?" I said. "Now. Are we good?"

"Yeah. Have at the rest."

Snatching his hand to his chest, Lonnie once more glanced at the shadows around us before hurrying toward another bonfire. All the while, I worked to calm my friend down, singing it a soothing lullaby, but it only retreated when Gideon eventually relaxed.

Fortunately, none of the adults around me had reacted to this unnatural disturbance, too enamored with the slice of wealth and life that I represented to notice it. When they reached me, the flicker of hope on their faces, so rarely found there, washed the bad taste of Lonnie out of my mouth, and I began handing out years.

They stretched me thin with this visit. Tonight, more of them had congregated here than usual, so for the first time in a while, I let the number on my timepiece's readout dip below my hard limit of one year. By the time the last woman walked away from me, sobbing over her clutched-together hands, I was left with eleven months, two days, and eight hours. I hadn't been so low on funds in years.

Swaying in place, I ran my eyes over the recipients of a rich man's wealth, taking a moment to enjoy the glow in my chest. These people would live to see tomorrow because of me. Their survival made all my efforts worth it. If allowed, it could make me forget the end game.

"Can't do that," Gideon said. "Go home."

"I will," I muttered.

When a small hand slipped into mine, I almost jumped, barely controlling my startle reflex in time. Glancing down, I smiled at the mischievous smirk on Xia's upturned face.

"Will you do it tonight, year giver?" she asked. "I want to see a magic trick."

Oh, sweet child. What I wouldn't give to see her innocence preserved.

Lifting an eyebrow, Gideon said. "You'll indulge her, even if it's dangerous?"

He knew that I would.

After patting Xia's head, I bowed to her.

"For you?" I said. "I would risk such a mystical crime."

And why shouldn't I? Right now, no one was looking our way, and despite how similar my relationship with the dark might seem, it wasn't the magic of old. That didn't exist anymore.

So, I stepped into the shadow's embrace, and when I vanished, Xia squealed with laughter, pattering her hands together. The sight of her would be enough to soften even the hardest of hearts, so I turned away from her, striding off as fast as I could.

"Crilla le!" Xia shouted behind me.

Thank you!

For who knew how much longer, I continued wandering through the Warehouse District, but eventually, my delay had the desired effect. By the time I reached my apartment, I'd finally fallen into a fully drunken stupor, a warm blanket that might muffle my nightmares tonight, and perhaps because of this, I didn't see the people lurking in the alley beside my home.

Gideon did, though. It was one advantage of keeping him around.

"Some idiots are standing in the alley," he said. "They look like Russell's people."

Fucking fantastic... I'd been hoping to avoid that man for another couple of days, or at least until morning.

"You could ignore them," Gideon said. "The dark's still hiding you. If you wait to go inside until after they've left, they'd never know we were here."

Sighing, I said, "No, I should get this over with."

I'd so been looking forward to a chance at decent sleep tonight.

Once I was close enough, I tapped one of the 'idiots' shoulders, and jumping, he spun toward me, drawing his friend with him. As he did, I circled around him, stepping into the light behind him and his companion.

"Can I help you?" I said. "I have not met you two before. Usually, when Mr. Teague wants a word, he sends Eldon to retrieve me."

If my first interaction with these two had startled them, my sudden appearance at their backs looked like it might kill them. While they slapped hands to their chests, glaring at me, I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. After a moment, one of the men licked his lips.

"Eldon's busy," he said.

With Eliza Watton. I knew that. I'd seen them together earlier tonight.

I couldn't say any of that now, though.

"Which left Mr. Teague with sending you," I said instead. "So? I am assuming he needs me. What are you waiting for?"

Sneering, one of the men said, "Mr. Teague don't need anyone."

But the other one reached for something on his belt, all while I kept myself from lifting my eyes to the heavens. Why did gangsters always feel the need to save face?

They also liked their theatrics. Hefting a small burlap sack into view, the second man pulled it over my head, and taking my arms, he and his companion dragged me into the dark.

Audiobook Chapter Three

The Year Thief

Chapter Four: Dealing with Small Fry

Lyle

When someone became a thief in Flosa, they learned several important lessons, if they survived their first few weeks in the profession that is.

First of all, trusting anyone in the Warehouse District was one of the stupidest moves that one could make. Nearly everyone who was forced to live in that district was only looking out for themselves, and the few exceptions to the rule were usually too overworked and worn out to help those who needed it.

Second, the coppers in Flosa had no mercy. Maybe in the other nations' capitals, a new thief would get let off with a warning when caught. Here, how much or little experience a thief had didn't mean a thing. If a copper caught someone stealing, they were sentenced to death by the chair with no questions asked.

Third, no matter who a thief was, independent or not, they owed a portion of their haul to one of Flosa's major gangs. Usually, this meant regular visits to the headquarters of either the Roaring Whispers or the Thorns, the city's top two rivals.

For me, that had meant forming a working relationship with the leader of the Roaring Whispers. His gang owned the Warehouse District, and after moving here, I'd wanted to make this place my home for quite some time. Endearing myself to the bastard had been a requirement for that desire.

Lastly, as I'd said, gangsters, whether in Flosa or elsewhere, loved their theatrics.

As Russell Teague's men dragged me down the street to their leader's home, they went out of their way with trying to trip me or otherwise make the journey miserable, which I only found laughable. So long as the dark was around me, my feet would remain sure, even with a hood over my head.

I wasn't sure why they'd taken that precaution. Over the years, I'd visited Russell's home often enough. I knew the way there, but maybe these two didn't know that. Maybe they were new to the Roaring Whispers.

"Or maybe they're idiots, like I said," Gideon said beside me. "No, wait. That'd be you. Why are we doing this again?"

Because making Russell Teague wait was a bad idea. For now, keeping him appeased was necessary for the Plan. Even with his questionable ethics-

"You mean how he's scum, deserving of total erasure from the world?" Gideon said. "I can't stand working with him, knowing what he does to-"

Even with that, I wasn't ready to upset the precarious balance of Flosa's gang element . For that, the pieces were almost in place, but as with... what I'd done to my victim earlier tonight, I was waiting for the right moment to make my move. When engaging in something like the Plan, weighted caution was always best.

Besides, if I removed Russell before the time was right. who knew how much worse his replacement would be? At least with him, I knew what I was dealing with, and I had my... deterrent to keep him in line. For now.

"...Fine," Gideon said. "Fucking fine. Guess I'll watch your back while you deal with that evil shit. Again."

Within the safety of the hood, I rolled my eyes, carefully stepping over the loose cobblestone that my escorts had steered me toward. Thank avan we'd almost reached our destination.

When we entered Russell's home, light washed over me, and without the dark to guide my step, I tripped over myself while heading up the stairs. My guides seemed to get a kick out of this, snorting to themselves, but I let them have that, even after we'd returned to the shadows. I'd rather have at-ease, amused gangsters around me than soothe my pride by pissing them off.

Eventually, they pulled me to a stop, and I heard a door open.

"We got him, boss," one of my escorts said.

"Wonderful."

For too long, awkward silence rang until Russell clicked his tongue.

"Well? Push him into the light, where I can see him," he said. "I haven't got all night."

There was a grunt of surprise, and then, a hand on my back sent me stumbling forward. A familiar and rather unwelcome prickle started up under my skin, forcing me to suppress a wince. Fucking Russell Teague and all the ways he knew to bother me...

"Thank you, boys," the bastard said. "You can go."

I waited until the door had closed behind me before crossing my arms.

"Good evening, Mr. Teague," I said. "May I remove this ridiculous hood, or did you have some other purpose for it tonight?"

"I swear to avan, if he does, I'm going to..."

Gideon continued angrily muttering while Russell had himself an nice chuckle.

"No, no," he said. "You can take that off."

Thank fuck.

Perhaps faster than I should, I yanked the hood off of my head, and as I shoved it into a pocket, Russell raised an eyebrow at me.

"Problem, Lyle?" he said.

"Not at all," I said. "I'm-"

But then, I shut up. Oh avan. Gideon. He was influencing me, wasn't he?

"Kinda hard not to when you're drunk like this," Gideon said. "I'll back off."

That would be... helpful.

Taking a deep breath, I smiled at the sack of... at the man of dubious morality sitting behind the desk in front of me.

"I am fine," I said. 'Perhaps a little tired. I was heading home when your men intercepted me."

Making a face, Russell said, "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to inconvenience you."

I was sure that he actually cared about that sort of thing.

"Please, do not trouble yourself over it," I said. "What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?"

"Well now. That's a bit of a sensitive topic," Russell said. "How 'bout we share a drink before discussing it?"

Gesturing to a nearby sideboard, he got to his feet, never letting me state my preferences, and while he followed through with his own suggestion, I glanced over his study again. Not much had changed here, but then, it rarely did. The strangely shaped room had shelves, filled with leather-bound books, lining most of its angled walls, and a giant, claw-foot desk rested against the only one free of them.

I was standing in the center of the room with a spotlight shining down on me, but despite how much I wanted to slink out from under it, I didn't move. If I'd been brought to this place, it was for a reason, and I knew better than to break this interaction's protocols. If I did, it would only make things more tedious for me.

Finished pouring drinks, Russell brought one to me, and I took a sip of it while he sat back down.

"You'd better not drink more, you massive moron," Gideon said. "You're already drunk. Don't push it here."

Yes, that would be wise.

Settled once more, Russell folded his hands on his desk.

"So, I hear you had a big score tonight," he aid. "Mind explaining why I'm just now hearing that you had a job lined up?"

Sighing, I shifted to my back foot while swirling my drink in its glass. It seemed tonight's confrontation would be more predictable than usual.

"The payout was not as big as you have heard, I am sure," I said. "We only made off with what will equate to three hundred years or so."

That was technically true. Of course, I'd left off how I'd stolen those years directly from my mark's timepiece instead of taking items that I'd have to fence, but Russell didn't need to know about that. Stealing from a timepiece without the owner's subconscious permission was supposed to be an impossible feat, and the fact that I could do it was a secret that I was still reluctant to discuss with my crew, let alone with a man I despised.

"Besides, it will not negatively impact your business. Given that, I saw no need to share my plans," I continued. "I meant to drop by in the morning with your cut, and that would have been the end of this job. I am sorry if my lack of consideration has caused you undue worry this evening."

I was about as sorry for that as he was about 'inconveniencing' me, and given how much he was frowning at me, I thought Russell knew it.

"I see," he said. "Seems all we have here is a misunderstanding, then. That's good."

If it was, why did he look so disappointed? Did he want me to have been at fault for something here?

Oh.... damnit. Was it time to stabilize this relationship again?

"Fuck that!" Gideon said. "I get why you're so cozy with this shit stain, but I swear, Lyle. If he acts put out and you pander to him instead of fucking him up, I will dedicate an hour out of each day to scream at your stupid face."

Well, ok. What was I supposed to do, then? My reasoning from before still held true. For the moment, I couldn't have the added complication of an angry gang boss on my plate, and replacing him wasn't possible yet.

With a frustrated huff, Gideon crossed his arms.

"Yeah, yeah. Makes sense or whatever," he said. "Do what you have to, just... keep what I said in mind."

So, in essence, he wanted me to find a compromise between debasing myself to Russell and keeping him appeased. I could do that. I was quite good at this sort of strategic manipulation, usually, but... Gideon probably wouldn't like the solution I'd use.

"Just fucking do it, ya insecure idiot, and I mean that with all love," he said. "The bag of feces in front of you is looking at you weird."

Which neither of us wanted.

"Even if this is merely a misunderstanding, it has been annoying for us both, I am sure," I said. "So, shall we make our apologies, material or otherwise, and leave it at that? Right now, I cannot give you your cut in totality. The funds from tonight's job are still being... processed, shall we say?"

Avan, I hated using misdirection like that. Yes, the years that I'd stolen earlier weren't available for use, the same as everything else in my personal stash. They'd remain in the midst of 'processing' until I reached the next stage of the Plan, but Russell would think I'd meant that my fence was taking their sweet time with paying me for what I'd stolen. He might ask for further details about that, and I wouldn't have answers for him.

Best to quickly move on.

"I can, however, give you a portion of what we owe tonight, and in the morning, Vaughn or Eliza will bring you the rest of our prepared cut," I continued. "As for how you can apologize, I would sincerely love to go home without further hassle. Your boys do so enjoy testing me when they think you have been insulted, Mr. Teague, and I would like it if I did not have to deal with their nonsense tonight."

As I clasped my hands in front of me, I carefully watched Russell's face. Would my proposal have the desired effect?

This man had always been... volatile—yes, that was the best way to put it—with me. We had mutual threats of destruction and history hanging between us, and while most of the time, that history ended with me as the victor of our verbal sparring, sometimes it backfired on me. I could never be sure if or when Russell would decide to test me.

Tonight, a smile as cold as mine crawled onto his face in response to what I'd said.

"I'll take it," he said. "Gimme what you got, Lyle."

"Fuck," Gideon whispered.

That... might have been an overreaction on his part. I couldn't tell yet, but I didn't get time to decide if it was. When Russell pulled a registrar out from a drawer, shoving it over his desk toward me, I had no choice but to step forward, rest my band on it, and start handing out years.

What else was I supposed to do? Run and reveal a weakness to this predator? Fight and potentially get myself killed in the process?

No. Making this concession and risking any punishment that Russell might have planned was the best option here, and once that was done, I could go to the apartment, where I could recover.

As years trickled out of my timepiece, the typical weariness that accompanied sudden poverty lapped at my mind, and when I wasn't sure if I could handle much more of it, I drew back, curious how much of my life I'd given away.

Tilting the registrar to where he could see its display, Russell raised an eyebrow.

"Eleven months?" he said. "That's a bit low for a three-hundred-year haul."

"You gave him eleven months?" Gideon screeched, lifting his hands as if to strangle me.

Ah. Was that why the room was spinning? That was... unfortunate. I might have gone a bit overboard with my 'gift'.

"You think?!" Gideon hissed.

"As I said, this is only an advance," I told Russell, ignoring Gideon. "One of my people will be here with the rest tomorrow, exactly as I had planned before this meeting."

With pursed lips, Russell stared at me, and I wasn't sure what he saw—avan, please say that I wasn't swaying in place—but eventually, he nodded.

"I look forward to seeing them, then," he said. "Have a nice rest of your evening, Lyle, and... do get some rest, yes?"

He smirked, and as Gideon rumbled a growl, I resisted his imparted urge to punch this bastard in the face.

"Rest... what an interesting concept," I said. "Perhaps I will get to it soon, but I might first feel the need to get another drink instead. I would love to visit a pub before going home, somewhere more receptive to certain... stories."

As Russell went still, I returned my still-held glass to the sideboard, pausing with my head cocked once I was there.

"But no. Tonight, I believe you are correct. Some rest is called for," I said. "Good night, Mr. Teague."

I didn't wait for his reply. That threat I'd made? It had been a miscalculation, and if Russell had been even a little inclined to lash out at me before, it would be ten times more tempting for him now. I had to get out of here.

Unfortunately, this disobedient body of mine refused to indulge my haste. As soon as I was through the study's door, away from hostile eyes, it started trembling, and I had to graze my fingers along the wall to walk in a straight line. If that wasn't bad enough, the itch of the light on my skin had now become like a burning rash.

"Get into the dark, then," Gideon said.

He took my elbow, which only provided me with emotional support, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

"Working on it," I gasped.

When I reached the top of the stairs, the Tyrant was waiting there with his arms crossed.

"What idiotic mess have you dullards caused this time?" he asked. "You can't do anything right-"

"Not now!" Gideon and I snapped.

He, however, also lunged at the Tyrant, releasing my elbow, and at that loss of 'contact', I stumbled with my vision swimming. I felt the corner of a wall smacking into my side, but then, everything was movement and spinning, and I couldn't stop it! Couldn't-!

The impact of my body against the door at the foot of the stairs slowed the rush of uncontrolled thoughts through my head, and for a moment, I simply laid there, staring at the ceiling through misted vision. Avan, what an enormous mista-

As pain overcame my dazed state, I choked—for the briefest of moments—on the scream that the body had unleashed, but before I could fully process what was happening, Gideon was beside me.

"I'll take that," he gruffly said.

With a grunt, he huddled on himself, and while he screamed between his knees, I patted the body down, flexing its fingers and toes. Nothing was moving in a distinctly wrong way, which meant that somehow, I'd fallen down a set of stairs without gaining a single significant injury.

"That's not a familiar situation at all, is it?" Gideon hissed. "Will you please get off your ass and go outside? We need the dark."

Right.

Scrambling to my feet, I glanced around, releasing a held breath on seeing that no one was nearby, and opened the door. I was a few steps away from the closest pool of shadows when a voice rose from the house behind me—

"Lyle!"

—and I stopped short. Whoever that was, he couldn't see me vanish into the dark, no matter how close that source of escape might be. With a last longing glance at it, I turned back toward the house, schooling my face into a blank mask.

The men who'd brought me here had stepped outside with one of them having raised a hand to hail me, and I internally groaned. Tonight had already been shot to hell with a series of missteps made on all our parts. I didn't want to know what other unpleasant surprises it might have for me.

Gideon stepped up beside me, hunching over the arm that he had wrapped around his waist.

"It's not like you have a choice," he grumbled.

No, I didn't. Not when the dark's typically blessed protection—something far too similar to tales of old magic—might get me killed this time.

As Russell's goons came closer, I said, "Did Mr. Teague need something else? I thought our business was-"

The rest of my words puffed to smoke as one of the men buried a fist in my stomach. His friend grabbed my shoulder, and the two of them dragged me into a—fortunately—well-lit alley. By the time they'd thrown me into a wall, I was floating far outside of my body, and catching himself on brick, Gideon simply breathed for a moment before swiping a hand over my mouth.

"Well, that was just rude," he said.

He didn't get to say more than that, though. Having already ganged up on me, Russell's thugs proceeded to pummel me... or Gideon, I supposed, with each of their punches a gift from their boss.

He did this sometimes, trying to assert his dominance, but the task was usually given to new recruits. That was for a very good reason, one they'd soon see.

But I couldn't consider that right now.

As each blow landed, I struggled to gain control again. I couldn't keep floating out here, far from the body. Not when someone else was hurting for me, but with each punch, I lost the strength to fight Gideon, and after a while, he started laughing.

"Give it up, stubborn bastard!" he shouted. "Compared to then, this is nothing!"

Rapidly blinking, one of Russell's thugs backed off while the other one took hold of my jacket, slamming Gideon into the wall.

"What was that, punk?" he growled.

With a grin, Gideon further devolved into manic cackling, only stopping when our current captor shook him.

"Oh... it was... nothing," he said before coughing. "Just... it's cute, seeing how badly you want Russell Teague's attention. You are pathetic peons to an especially pathetic man. You happily obey him when he tells you to bring your recruits to a... special introduction with him. You make me sick."

Hauling back, the man holding Gideon slapped him, bouncing my head against the wall, while his companion frowned.

"What's he talking-?"

But I stopped paying attention to those words or the fact that Gideon had started regressing through time because as he straightened off of the wall, blood dripped from the corner of my mouth, splashing to the cobblestones, and with my eyes fixed on it, he froze.

Fuck.

Growling, our captor violently released his hold on my shirt, leaving the body stuck in place.

"You dunno what you're-"

He shut up as the strings holding the body upright were cut. With my heart in my throat, I watched as it fell and curled on itself.

"P-please stop! Please stop!" Ruo wailed. "I- I'm sorry! I'm-!"

Hell no. No one touched that little boy.

I settled into the body with a jolt, clamping my lips shut. Oh... my everything ached. It wasn't the blinding pain that I should be feeling, making sparks fly in my vision, but still, it wasn't fun.

On hearing the silence around me, I sighed before rolling to my back with one arm thrown wide.

"Is that not what you wanted to hear?" I said in monotone. "Mr. Teague wants me broken, yes? Left sobbing in the dirt. Well, how fortunate for you. You have accomplished your goal. Now, if you would, please impart your final blows and leave. I would like to go home now."

Both men only stared at me, though, and with his eyes wide, the one of the fringe licked his lips.

"What's wrong with you?" he whispered.

Here was the reason why only newly inducted members of the Roaring Whispers got sent to beat me up. Who wanted to attack someone as unstable as me?

Sighing again, I said, "Nothing is wrong with me. You are simply not the worst monsters that I have faced in my life."

The man closest to me clicked his tongue.

"Fucking tough guy, huh?" he said.

Half-heartedly, he kicked the side of my head, and I rolled with the blow's imparted momentum, but otherwise, I didn't react to it. Lying perfectly still, I waited, and as always, Russell's goons said what they must to salve their egos before stomping off.

I didn't move until I could no longer hear their footfalls, but even then, I only crawled far enough that the dark could conquer the streetlamps' light. Once I'd collapsed in its embrace, Ruo slunk into view, crouching in front of me.

Hugging his legs, he said, "I'm sorry, Lyle. I saw blood. I thought-"

Wearily, I waved at him. None of this was his fault, and I certainly wasn't angry with him. I just hadn't wanted to see him hurt. In fact, I badly wished that I could hug him, showing him that he had done nothing wrong, but I was so tired...

"Then, go the fuck home," Gideon growled.

Right. I should do that.

Gradually, I got to my feet, although I failed miserably in my first few attempts at it. Once I was on them, though, I took a steadying breath and started trudging toward the apartment.

Audiobook Chapter Four

The Year Thief

Chapter Five: Nightmares and a Nosy Associate

Lyle

My key shook as I shoved it into the lock, which was worrisome. The journey here had been difficult, a long hike with only the dark to serve as comfort. It had done its best, and I was grateful for its steadying help but...

I was tired.

Summoning strength from somewhere, I banged the apartment's door open, swaying in place for a moment before entering. I only made it one step inside, however, before my legs gave out.

"This is what happens when you're left with only one day in your timepiece," Gideon growled. "How're you gonna replenish it?"

"I have... some ideas," I panted. "Need to... rest for a moment... first, though."

Kicking the door closed behind me, I made my way to the apartment's wash basin. Using it as support, I hauled myself to my feet, barely catching a glimpse of blue eyes and dark curls in the mirror before yanking the medicine cabinet open.

With my hands shaking, retrieving the supplies I'd need became a struggle, ending with most of the cabinet's contents knocked onto the floor, but soon enough, I had my first aid kit in hand. Plodding to my cot, I dropped onto it and opened the box.

"Why're you doing this now?" Gideon asked.

When I glared at him, he defiantly jutted his chin out.

"What?" he said. "You've got a freakin' day to live, and here you are, about to stitch up teensy scratches-"

A voice from the past interrupted him—

Stop squirming, buddy. We've got to treat this now, or it might get infected. Promise me you'll do it? Remember. Big brother's orders.

—and as an inaudible laugh faded to silence, Gideon looked away.

"That is why," I said.

As I fixed myself up, Gideon said not another word, and by the time I was finished, I had nothing left to give, for now at least. I didn't bother with returning the first aid kit to the medicine cabinet. Collapsing into the cot, I closed my eyes, praying that nightmares would-

Sneaking into the house is easier than I remember it being. Either Ephiram Cunningham has gotten lazy recently, or the bastard's waiting for me. Considering why I'm here, I'd bet on that last odd.

As I pad through the house, the dark helps me more willingly than it has at other times over the last week. Suddenly less grumpy, it helps me hide from the coppers in the halls.

The only place where I find light is in the fire that he's sitting beside. He has his typical glass of whiskey balanced on his chair's arm.

For a quarter hour, I watch him, waiting for him to do something, but he never moves, not even to take a drink. He just stares into the fire, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

Asshole.

I'll give Ephiram a little credit. When I step into the firelight, he doesn't flinch. In fact, he doesn't even look at me, and once the silence between us has become uncomfortable enough, I sit at his feet, like I did so many years before.

"Dad," I say.

As it emerged, that hated word stuck in my throat, but it does what I want. The bastard deigns to look at me, and I draw away from what the firelight reveals.

Ephiram's hair forms an uncombed halo around his head, and with bloodshot eyes, he blankly stares at me. Hell, I forgot how much he looks like Maxton.

After what feels like an eternity, he croaks, "Lyle."

Not ashie? Failed experiment? Abomination? We're off to a great start.

Then, Ephiram takes a sip of his whiskey, and my stomach drops through the ground.

"Where's mom?" I make myself say. "Are you still using her as proof that you don't hate the Ostiums?"

He doesn't comment on my sarcasm, merely watching me as he nurses his drink. How can he sit there so calmly? I'm buzzing with energy, wanting so badly to knock the glass out of his hand. Barely keeping a scream in check, I'm pounding my fingers on my knees, but right now, this restlessness is good.

It's keeping me in the now, keeping... THEM away. I'm the best choice for this conversation. I am! And they know it.

Even still, I'm ready to start roaring unkind things at Ephiram—their influence—by the time he lowers his drink.

"Why are you here?" he asks.

Oh... that question makes me crave the knife hidden in my waistband, but for now, I don't reach for it. I need this asshole, much as that knowledge makes my stomach churn.

Taking a steadying breath, I say, "You know why. The coppers got Max-"

"The POLICE have APPPREHENDED your brother," Ephiram absently corrects.

And unable to stop myself, I leap to my feet with my hands curled into fists at my sides.

"You're got to help him!" I say, ignoring how much my voice is shaking. "If you don't, they... they'll kill him."

Shaking his head, Ephiram clinically runs his eyes over me, like he does when considering a new equine purchase.

"Your poor use of grammar disappoints me," he says. "I expect better of a Cunningham, even one like you."

Grammar. What the hell does grammar-?

No. I can't lose control right now, and judging from how much the shadows are roiling around us, I'd say I'm close to doing that.

"Dad," I carefully say. "You have to-"

Stiffening in his chair, Ephiram says, "I must do nothing. Your brother has fallen into a disaster of his own making, and now, he will suffer the consequences for it. That's the way our system works, and the system is perfect."

The sys... he wants to talk about the avan damned system now?

"Max did nothing wrong!" I shout. "He was just protecting me!"

Chuffing a laugh, Ephiram slumps in his chair, sipping his drink.

"Yes, that was his first mistake," he says, "or maybe it was mine in teaching him to have mercy for ashie scum like you."

Even years after fleeing this house, those words sting, and almost, I flinch from them. This time, though, the bastard wasn't criticizing me alone.

And no one badmouths my brother.

"Maxton," I say, enunciating each syllable. "His name is Maxton, in case you've forgotten, and he's not just my brother. He's also your son."

Lunging forward, Ephiram snarls, "I lost my only worthy son when he ran away with you."

Stunned, I can only stare at this man. This can't be happening. I know Ephiram is a cold bastard but- but he wouldn't let them do... THAT to his own child. He wouldn't...

But he would. Too enamored with his fucking system, he'd let his favored son die to protect it, and even as I slunk home, I knew that. It's why I brought a knife with me.

It's also why the dark has been so helpful tonight. My friend knew what I would do, even if I didn't. Not consciously, at least.

As I snatch the weapon free of its hiding spot, tears fill my eyes, so it's with blurry vision that I stab Ephiram, but even still, I can't afford to try again. Leaping into the shadows, I angrily swipe at my eyes, hoping I'll soon see an utterly despicable man bleeding out in front of me, but when my vision clears, Ephiram's calmly staring at the knife in his thigh.

Sighing, he pulls the blade free before tossing it away and pressing down on the wound left behind.

"I'm guessing you were aiming for the artery with that attack," he says, shaking his head. "That's always been a vital piece you've lacked, Lyle: control. Without it, you'll never crush me, despite everything that you might wish. But you'd better run away now, little abomination. Unless you think the police will stay out of this room for much longer, after all the noise you've made?"

Oh, avan. I've failed.

As I sprint into the hall, my father's laughter chases me. It's at my heels even as the world twists, but once this change has resolved, it kills that chilling noise, and as it dies, I fervently wish that it hadn't.

I'm lying on the ground, squeezed to the cobblestone by the wood planks of the platform above me, and through them, I can see a dreaded machine, resting beside a chair.

No. No, no, no! Not again!

Above me, the boards creak, and a set of familiar curls spills around the chair's headrest. Something unseen thumps against the wood, and words that have long been carved into my heart make their millionth cut.

"Run, little brother! I don't want you to see this! Don't let it haunt you. Life the life that you deserve, that I always-"

There is the smack to cut Maxton off. There is the voice, demanding that he be silent. There is the man with his drill. There is the first scream, the one that will sound like music when compared to what comes next. There is the needle-

"Lyle!"

Someone was attacking me, roughly shaking the body, and snarling, I shoved the hostile away before scrambling onto all fours.

Had to keep us safe.

Maxton!

Where was the-?

Fuck, I'd kill the bast-

Gotta run, gotta run-

"LYLE!" a familiar voice shouted. "It's just Vaughn."

Oh. Not a threat?

"Not a threat."

Ok.

Licking my lips, I listened to the roar of my heartbeat in my ears and forced myself to take in my surroundings.

A single room apartment, bathroom and all, was all around me. I was in the place where I slept.

Light was feebly struggling through the parchment paper blocking the windows at my back. That meant day had come.

Gideon was crouched at my side, worriedly watching me with his hand on my shoulder. I wasn't alone. I had help. I was safe.

Good.

Now, what had he said? Something about Vaughn.

"Yeah, he's here, Lyle," Gideon said. "Looks like you scared the shit out of him too."

He glanced at a spot in front of us, and when I followed his gaze, I found Vaughn there, swaying away from me with his hands raised into view. Oh, hell.

"I am... sorry," I said.

But then, I had to stop, falling victim to a savage coughing fit. After only a heartbeat, I was irrationally worried that it would kill me, all while Gideon patted my back and muttered nonsense reassurances. Lowering his hands, Vaughn edged to the side of my cot, only sitting after I'd nodded.

When I could, I rasped, "Again, my apologies. I was having a- a bad nightmare-"

"I know," Vaughn said. "I've sat with you through those often enough. Did you think I could forget what one looks like?"

Glancing away, I shook my head, and Vaughn sighed.

"Anyway, I'm the one who should apologize," he said. "I should know better than to wake you up when you're thrashing like that, but... your face, Lyle. What happened?"

...My face?

When I brushed my cheek, I winced at the pain that my touch had spawned. That's right. I'd gotten the shit beaten out of me last night.

Last night...

Wait a minute. Why was I acting so relaxed around Vaughn right now?

"It's Ruo," Gideon said. "He's... not good. Needs some comfort, so he's trying to get it through you."

Oh... that made my heart hurt, even if I also wanted to smack Gideon upside the head. If Ruo needed help, then why was this idiot with me? Never, in a million years, would I trust that sweet little boy with the other two, so-

Groaning, Gideon said, "Yeah, yeah. I'm going. Avan. You try to help a guy..."

But then, he disappeared, leaving Vaughn staring at me.

"Lyle?" he said. "Are you all right?"

Stiffening, I shot to my feet and nearly fell back down. I was so weak, and already, minutes after waking up, the world was tilting back and forth, if only a little.

I couldn't let Vaughn see it.

As I headed for the wash basin, acting as if everything was normal, I said, "I am fine, and it is nothing. Last night, I had a run-in with Mr. Teague's men, but despite how it might seem, the encounter was resolved to my satisfaction."

Technically, that was true. Russell would leave me alone for a while now, letting me focus on more consequential problems, and the price I'd had to pay for this spell of peace hadn't been unreasonable.

Or at least, I thought it hadn't been. I'd know if that second part was true soon enough.

As I bent to retrieve the items that I'd left sprawled across the floor last night, I peeked at my timepiece's readout, barely visible from this position, and nearly faltered in standing back up. Nine hours? How long had I been asleep?

Behind me, Vaughn had started talking, demanding a more thorough explanation about my encounter with 'that worthless garbage sack of a man', and if I hadn't still been reeling from the number I'd just read, I might have smiled at that. Gideon would love having another derogatory nickname for Russell.

I cut into Vaughn's spiel with a snapped, "What time is it?"

"Umm... three in the afternoon or so? I think," Vaughn said. "Why?"

Oh, thank avan. I'd have enough time to figure out what to do.

A wave of dizziness had me grabbing the wash basin's edge, and the next thing I knew, Vaughn was at my side, supporting me.

With his eyebrows drawn together, he said, "Maybe you should sit down."

"That is probably wise," I said.

Tugging myself free, I somehow made it to my table without stumbling, sinking as gracefully as I could into a chair. Vaughn joined me, if slowly.

"So," he said, "things went down with Russell?"

Sighing, I said, "Yes, and I do not have time to explain everything that happened to you. Here."

With difficulty, I removed my band from around my wrist, offering it to Vaughn, and he flicked his eyes between it and me, acting as if I'd cut off my hand. Suppressing a huff, I shook the band in his face.

"Take it," I said. "You will need it to access my lockbox, and seeing as how I need something from it and you have suggested that I should remain seated, you will have to retrieve my things for me."

Hesitantly, Vaughn plucked the band from me, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger, before cocking his head.

"Wait," he said. "Does this mean you're asking for help? You, the ever-self-sufficient leader of this crew, need my help?"

"Yes. I do."

Wasn't that a novel thing to admit?

"Avan save us all. Lyle's asking for help," Vaughn said, as if to himself. "The world must be ending."

"If you keep acting like this, I might never do it again," I said. "So, if you could please get started? Go to my shower."

With his lips clamped shut, Vaughn did as I'd asked, raising an eyebrow at me once he was in place.

"Pull off the shower's knob, and once you have, you will see a slot behind it," I said. "Insert my band into that slot."

Crinkling his brow, Vaughn followed my instructions, jumping when something near him thunked. One of the floorboards popped open a centimeter, and quizzically glancing at me, Vaughn finished prying it up, whistling when he saw what was inside.

"Nice hiding place," he said. "Is it a modification, or did it come with the apartment?"

"What makes you think I would answer that?" I said. "Now, if you would be so kind?"

When I gestured toward the lockbox, Vaughn got on his knees.

"Sure!" he said. "What do you need?"

"You will see several, rolled-up parchment papers," I said. "I require the one labeled 'Barbary' from among them as well as my tools."

Long had I anticipated completing this particular job, and while circumstances might have pushed the timing for it further ahead than I might have liked, I still intended to enjoy every part of it, including preparing its final plans.

"Got it."

Vaughn started pulling my requested items out of the lockbox, but after retrieving the first, he sat back on his heels with a laugh.

"You own books about the lost monarchs?" he said. "Why? I thought you hated them."

Damn. I'd forgotten how nosy Vaughn could be at times. Maybe I shouldn't have asked for his help.

"Just because I despise the lost monarchs does not mean I cannot learn from them," I said. "You have no idea how much inspiration I have taken from Elliot Lockhart over the years, and when I was a boy, reading about Beatrice Danver's exploits taught me my first lessons in sneaking."

"Huh."

My revelation appeared to have stunned Vaughn. For a moment, he merely stared into the lockbox before shaking himself and resuming his task.

"I'm glad they've helped you somehow. Always hated how much harm they've caused the empire," he said. "Anyway, this is interesting! Sort of like getting a look into the vault of your mind. Like... what's this random chest for?"

He leaned forward to reach for something in the lockbox, and my heart, forced to a stop, painfully squeezed.

"Everything else is loose in here, so what secrets-?"

"Do not touch the chest."

I was on my feet—when had that happened?—glaring at Vaughn, and startled, he teetered in his precarious position, nearly falling into the hole, before steadying himself. Backing off, he shot me an incredulous glance, and I struggled to remember how I should respond to such a provocation.

I had become ice, frozen in time and suspended in emotion, which was problematic, but I knew how to reverse this state. I was simply having trouble with reaching that knowledge.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you," I forced myself to say. "It is just that the chest... it is off-limits."

Even to me, most of the time. What was hidden in there was something that I couldn't know, not yet and perhaps not ever.

"Then, maybe you should have said something about it before having me dig through here," Vaughn drawled before sighing. "It's not a problem, though. Everybody has their secrets, right? I won't poke at yours. So, why don't you sit back down?"

Focusing on the lockbox, he finished his task while I sank into my seat, using what he'd said to shake off my frozen state. I was aware that it was a distraction, but why not indulge it if it broke me free?

So.

Everyone had secrets? Sure, that might be so, but I'd never liked being reminded of it. Each time this happened, I was plagued by a recurrent itch, one that bid me to uncover everything others had hidden. Usually, I could scratch this urge in innocent ways, such as by investigating the hidden lives of my enemies. That was how so many years ago, I'd discovered Russell Teague's secret.

At other times, though, I got caught up in sweeping paranoia, obsessively pouring over the lives of those closest to me until I was sure that I knew everything about them, and I couldn't let such a descent into madness happen now. It was both despicably invasive and a never-ending tsk.

Everyone had more dirty laundry than I could ever hope to uncover, and this was especially true for Vaughn. He'd always been private, and perhaps because I'd known him for so long, I'd always fought against pressing that boundary.

Even beyond that, though, I couldn't indulge in scratching that itch today. With nine hours left in my timepiece, I'd barely have enough time to refill it, if I was to do it the way that I'd like to at least.

Unless I absolutely must, I would not take from the crew's stash. That was meant for Vaughn, Eliza, and Gus: there for if they ever had an emergency. To me, dipping into the communal stash had always felt like stealing from my crew. Fortunately, I had other means of obtaining years at the moment.

When Vaughn dumped my requested items on the table, I broke the seal on the parchment sheet so I could unroll it, and smoothing it down, I poured over a map of the Barbary family's estate.

While I did that, Vaughn said, "You know... as you so eloquently pointed out last night, you pay me to protect you. How am I supposed to do that when you keep me in the dark about things like this?"

He waved at my face before collapsing into his chair.

"Trust me. When it comes to doing your job, I tell you everything you need to know," I absently said.

On reviewing this map, I had a plan—mostly—for refilling my timepiece, so I reached for my tools and the override apparatus in my pocket, never removing my eyes from the parchment. So long as nothing had changed since I'd last visited this estate, I'd only need to make one adjustment to the apparatus, and that wouldn't take long. Then, I'd have to wait for night to fall, and I could begin.

As I started picking the apparatus apart, I said, "I can feel your disapproving stare, and it will not sway me. I have told you everything I can, except..."

Right. The last thing needed to keep Russell happy.

"Mr. Teague has received an advance of eleven months from his cut for last night's job," I said, "although since it is now afternoon and no one has delivered the rest, he may disregard that advance. How bothersome."

Pausing in fiddling with my tools, I stared off into space, wondering how or if that factor might affect the minor plans I had running.

Shrugging, I continued, "Even if he does not, however, I would like you or Eliza to sweeten the pot this time, if only by a few years. Unless something changes, we will need him off of our backs for quite some time."

After all, if everything went to Plan, the message that I'd left at last night's site of execution should have the desired effect, and I'd need to closely monitor the situation.

"You want to add years to Russell's cut after his men pummeled you last night?" Vaughn dryly said.

Lowering my apparatus, I glanced up at him.

"Yes. I am aware that such a move will show weakness, and normally, I would not do it, but these are not normal times," I said. "You will have to trust that I know what I am doing. Can you do that?"

Chewing on his lip, Vaughn stared at me for far too long, but eventually, he nodded.

"I trust you, Lyle," he said.

"Good," I said, returning my attention to the override apparatus. "Now, where are Gus and Eliza? You are probably here because of the meeting I mentioned last night. So, why are they not with you?"

From the corner of my eye, I watched Vaughn shift in place.

"They were," he said. "We were heading here together, but... when we got close, I heard you screaming through the door. I figured you wouldn't want them to see you having a nightmare, so I sent them away, and don't worry. I don't think they realized what the noise was."

Ah. That made sense.

"Thank you for that," I said.

And nothing more. I couldn't dwell on the weaknesses that Vaughn knew about me. In my current life, he was the only person who knew how little control I actually had, but I couldn't help but present a calm facade when around him anyway.

Fortunately, he tended to play along. Leaning his elbows on the table, he frowned at the floorplan spread between us.

"What are you planning, Lyle?" he said. "Don't tell me you're thinking of pulling another heist so soon. You need to rest."

He didn't want me to tell him what I had planned? I could happily oblige.

"I know what I need to do, Vaughn," I said. "It involves asking you to check on Eliza and Gus. I need you to make sure they are not worried. Tell them that something came up. Our meeting has been delayed until tomorrow morning."

Oo, Vaughn looked like he knew I was hiding something, but slapping the table, he got to his feet.

"All right. I can do that," he said. "Please, tell me you'll get some rest."

Resting my override apparatus in front of me, I smirked at him.

"Come on, Vaughn," I said. "You know that I will always do what I must to survive."

Snorting, Vaughn said, "That's true. See you tomorrow?"

"I will see you then."

Hopefully.

He left, and I was left alone with my plans to ensure that meeting actually happened.

Audiobook Chapter Five

The Year Thief

Chapter Six: Dying to Stay Alive

Lyle

Doing this job by myself should have had my heart pounding at the back of my mouth. As good as I was at thievery and as much as the dark might hide and help me, I wasn't invincible. For example, the dark couldn't muffle any noises I might make while doing a job, and I was making a lot of noise tonight.

Having lost my grip on the wall around the Barbary estate, I crashed to the ground, remembering to roll at the last minute, and drunkenly stumbling to my feet, I darted my gaze over my surroundings. Thank avan, no one in this place's security force was in sight, and heaving out a breath, I leaned on the wall while rubbing my forehead.

This was bad. I think... I think I might have started this job too late because I was drained, more exhausted that I'd been in a while, and that could only mean one thing. Holding my breath, I peeked at my timepiece's readout—

Twenty-three minutes and five seconds.

—and was kicked straight into the back of my head. Unlike most times when this happened, though, I couldn't resist the fog around me now.

I was going to die. Shit. Twenty minutes left and I was nowhere near this heist's mark. And no matter how much I might not have wanted to skim from it in the first place, I wouldn't have time to reach my last resort, the crew's stash, either.

Which meant... I was a dead man walking. Which meant... the Plan would go unfinished.

Oh, avan... I couldn't let that happen.

"Brace yourself," someone whispered.

A sharp lance of fire dragged me, kicking and screaming, back to the forefront. Biting my tongue, I kept from shouting, but I couldn't help my hunch over my hand, the source of this pain.

After a moment, I lifted it into view, and my eyes bulged at the sight of my finger, bent the wrong way. What...? How the fuck had this happened?

Raucous laughter jerked my head up, and when I saw the man that it belonged to, my heart stopped. With one hand on a hip, he was snickering into the other one, and on glancing at me, he doubled over, leaning on his knees to keep from falling over. As his body shook, the moonlight caught on the purple streaks in his hair, and I fought to ignore how form-fitting his clothes were.

"Crazy Caleb," I said.

As his laughter petered out, Crazy Caleb slapped a knee before straightening.

"Heya, Lyle," he said. "Long time, no see."

Bristling, I hissed, "We have not seen each other for a very good reason. Why are you here?"

With a gasp, Crazy Caleb covered his mouth.

"Ooohh... you're talking to me out loud? And on a job, no less," he said. "What an honor."

And I slammed my mouth closed. Right now, I was in enemy territory. Why was I making unnecessary noise?

"'cos I'm here, of course," Crazy Caleb said. "Did ya miss me?"

Striking a pose, he ran his hands down his body before bowing.

"I certainly missed you," he said before shooting upright. "That's why I broke a finger. It's a present! Should help you stay alert, right?"

A broken finger. As a present. Yes, that sounded about right for this idiot.

Swallowing a growl, I brushed past Crazy Caleb, hoping he'd disappear at the unspoken dismissal, but to my utter disappointment, he trotted to keep up with me.

"Been a while since you were in enough trouble to need me," he said. "I gotta say. That put me out a little, even if it's for the best. Oh! And before you ask, the others are fine. Unless they're needed, they'll be takin' shelter from the storm that is me, so to speak."

He softly chuckled, and maybe I'd have felt sympathy for him if my finger hadn't been screaming at me. As it was, I didn't respond to him, keeping an eye out for patrolling guards instead.

Crossing the estate's grounds took me far too long, so by the time I reached my projected destination, the number on my timepiece read seven minutes and forty-six seconds.

With a low whistle, Crazy Caleb said, "Is the number on that thing supposed to get that small, or am I just crazy in thinking that it's not?"

Avan... I hadn't seen my readout's number dip this low since-

"Give me one good reason to extend your lease on life, you worthless abomination."

With a sharply indrawn breath, I drew myself up, ready to fight, and all the while, Crazy Caleb threw his head back with a groan.

"Great..." he drawled. "The fucking voices are starting. As if you weren't batshit enough, now we have to listen to that bastard."

So, what I'd heard had been a voice from the past. Just a voice.

Slowly exhaling, I forced myself to relax so I could climb the tree in front of me. As I did, I wondered why Crazy Caleb had seemed to care about who'd been speaking. He hadn't been around for that part of our life.

"So?" Crazy Caleb growled. "That asshole hurt you and Gideon and Ruo and even the Tyrant. If I ever see that bastard, I'll kill him. No one, not even him, fucks with my family."

Here was a prime example of why I must always stay in control. Killing someone? That was inexcusable, pure evil. I wouldn't allow it.

"Sure. Focus on that bit," Crazy Caleb grumbled.

But then, I was at the top of the tree, and I had to concentrate on the next part of this job.

Unlike with the Watton's estate, no buildings had been constructed near this place's main house. I couldn't have pulled another 'bridge of shadows' trick from a neighbor's home, and while I could try doing that at the top of this tree, I doubted that I could trust the dark with such a difficult task at the moment. It had always been less... reliable when I was close to death.

So, I cocked my head with narrowed eyes, judging the distance between me and my access point.

Out of all the places that I'd been casing, the Barbary estate had been, by far, the best one for me to attempt tonight, but that didn't mean it would be easy. After all, Lord Claud Barbary was one of the most paranoid nobles in Flosa. Not only did he keep decorative bars on his home's windows with double locks on every door, but he retained an extensive security team as well. In addition, the walls of his house's first floor were composed of sheer plaster, leaving no handholds for an enterprising thief. The place did, however, have one weakness.

Every night, the lord's daughter left her bedroom window wide open, not merely unlocked like Ada Watton's had been, and unlike everywhere else around the house, a single tree had been left standing near this opening. Unfortunately, now that I was here, I wasn't sure if it was close enough for me to make the jump to that window.

Snorting, Crazy Caleb muttered, "And you call my plans risky."

I heard his implications, and yes, they were true. In the short time that I'd had this afternoon, however, this heist had been the best plan for replenishing my timepiece's years, that I could come up with at least.

Looking back on it, I most definitely should have skimmed a few hours from the crew's stash before coming here, but as a general rule, I hated doing that and not just because it felt like stealing from my crew. To me, it also felt like pulling vital pieces out of the Plan's construct, and the Plan was everything.

Also, I'd been arrogant enough to think that I could pull this impossible job off before my time ran out.

"Speaking of that, how about less self-criticizing and more saving our skin?" Crazy Caleb said.

I wasn't sure I could do that without getting caught, though. Look at the jump I'd have to make! I'd either screw it up or do something to alert the estate's security force to my presence, and knowing this, wouldn't it be better to die peacefully in this tree than in the chair?

From the past, a well-loved voice shouted, "Live the life that you deserve!"

Max... I'm sorry...

And with an exaggerated sigh, Crazy Caleb said, "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Without warning, I was shot far into the sky, watching my ant-sized body coil on itself before flying through the air. It hovered for two, dragging seconds before slamming into the wall, and its fingers smacked into the sill, digging in.

The spike of pain from the broken one jerked me back into place.

Avan DAMN it, Caleb! I'd been getting to the jumping bit!

I didn't have the energy to stay angry with him for long, though. Hauling myself up and through the window took everything I had, so much so that instead of gracefully landing on the other side, I flopped onto the carpet, adding to my already extensive collection of bruises.

Hell, that had made so much noise. Shouldn't this worry me?

"You've got bigger concerns right now, mate," Crazy Caleb said. "Check your readout."

Rolling over, I craned my neck to do so, hoping to save some energy for the next part, but once I saw the number on it, I let my head drop back with a thump.

Three minutes and fifteen seconds.

I truly was done for. Sure, I'd known that since trespassing on this estate's grounds, but I'd kept going, unwilling to give up. Now, though...

What was the point?

As I surrendered to the inevitable, the dark kicked into a flurry around me, a whirlwind that I watched though misted vision. It picked and plucked at my clothing, making me wonder how long it would continue agitating this body after I'd died, and no matter how loudly or well I sung its lullaby, it refused to calm down.

So, I murmured, "Shh, my friend. It is ok. We had a good run."

I had to do what I could to lessen the pain of my impending loss, both dreading and hoping to see four familiar people around me as I went.

When someone leaned into my field of view, however, it wasn't anyone I'd expected. Bushy hair surrounded the blurry features of a rather feminine-looking face, and a stranger said.

"Who on earth are you?"

Oh, hell. I'd been caught.

That was too bad. This dreaded consequence had come too late. Whoever the stranger was, she couldn't subject me to a worse torment than I was already experiencing, and knowing this was freeing.

Weakly, I laughed, even if it was rough enough to shake my body, and cocking her head, the stranger had opened her mouth when the sharp rap-tap of a knock broke through the crazed noise around us.

Jerking out of view, the stranger called, "One moment!"

Then, something took hold of my wrists, and I was haltingly dragged across the carpet until a bed came into view at my side.

In a blink, Gideon was standing over me.

"What is going on?" he demanded before dropping to his hands and knees over me. "Oh... no..."

His moan almost concealed the creak of bedsprings above me. The stranger cleared her throat.

"Come in!" she called.

In the crack between the bed's slats and the floor, I watched a far-distant door open, and as it did, light came in after it. That most hated of enemies rushed across the distance to splash over me, setting my skin into a crawl while something deep in the core of me started shaking.

This pulled Ruo into the world, leaving him centimeters from my face and dazedly blinking, while a man at the door said.

"Is everything all right, Miss Zorana? I thought I heard a crash."

My fault, that. I barely remembered not to laugh while Ruo struggled to rise onto his elbows.

"Lyle? Do you need me?" he said, slurring his words. "Seizure's coming."

Yes, I was well aware. Bruised and broken as I was, the addition of light exposure to my maladies had made that eventuality inevitable, and it didn't matter how close I was to death. That particular physical reaction had always overridden everything else the body did to stop a shut down.

Above me, the woman  said, "It's nothing, Walter. I was getting cold, so I meant to close the window for a time and tripped while on my way to do it. I'm fine, though."

...She was hiding me. Why?

"Why does it matter, you- you imbecile?" the Tyrant hissed. "What have you done?"

"I see. In that case, I'll leave you be," the man at the door calmly said, in direct contrast to the Tyrant. "Unless I can get you anything?"

"Avan above, she's fine," Gideon wheezed. "Fucking leave! I can't hold this seizure back for much longer."

Aww... he hadn't needed to do-

"No, thank you, Walter," the woman said. "I'm sorry to have disturbed your rest. Please, sleep well."

"And to you, Miss Zorana."

The door closed, the light died, and gasping, Gideon collapsed on me before stumbling back to his feet, even as Ruo leaned closer, reaching for my face. I was already starting to shake, but somehow, I forced words through chattering teeth, even if they were mostly unintelligible.

"Do not! This is not for you."

The woman dropped to the floor beside me.

"Now," she said, "what kind of miscreant are you?"

That question, paired with our current circumstances, almost had me laughing again.

"The worst," I managed to gasp.

Sighing, the woman sat back on her heels, shaking her head, before reaching for me.

"Well, let's see what you have," she said.

She started tugging on my clothes, but for once, this didn't spawn something ugly in me. I was too preoccupied with the dark swirling around us—why couldn't she see it?—and the four people on all sides.

My friends. My family.

"Somehow, I always knew it would end like this," Crazy Caleb said, crossing his arms. "Not because of something I did but with us standing vigil while you died."

Stinging heat in my eyes soon had my vision blurring.

"'m sorry," I mumbled. "Wanted to make... Max proud. He is the only one who was never scared of me. I tried to protect you..."

"It's ok. It's ok," one of them—I wasn't sure who—said. "You did your best. Now, we can rest."

And at the edge of the world, a woman gasped.

"Oh, shit!"

Was that a word a noble's daughter should say?

Before I could ponder this idea for too long, though, the world's details started sharpening again, and when I could focus on her, the woman slumped onto my chest.

"Thank avan," she said into my shirt. "I made it in time."

What did that-?

Groaning, Gideon stumbled into the Tyrant, who... propped him up, surprisingly.

"Can't... hold it..." he muttered.

Given that warning, I was prepared for what was coming. When the body seized up, I happily bowed out, surrendering to an unconscious state.

Audiobook Chapter Six

The Year Thief

Chapter Seven: An Impossible Woman

Lyle

Maxton's shouting again. I don't like it when he's upset like this. It makes him sound too much like dad.

With my arms full, I creep toward where he's talking with another man. Even at fifteen-years-old, Maxton towers over Lonnie, but that bastard is still standing up to my brother, as if he were a bully.

Maxton is anything but a bully.

As I come closer, he growls, "-can't report him! If you do, he's dead!"

Lonnie crosses his arms with an eyebrow raised.

"Why should I care about that?" he says. "He's got ashie blood in him! You can see it in his damn eyes and how much he likes to sneak up on people."

At that, I flinch. I haven't been trying to scare people. The dark's just been more protective of me since Maxton and I left home, and sometimes, I forget how much it hides me.

Bristling, my brother shouts, "His heritage shouldn't matter! But even if it did, he's a damn MP's son. That has to count for something."

"Maybe it would have before you two got disowned. Now, it don't count for shit," Lonnie says. "So. If you want to take shelter from Flosa's cold here, you'll pay the same rent as my other tenants, and if you want me to keep your brother's secret, you'll have to give me a little something... extra. You see, I've heard rumors about you too-"

"They're not true."

Avan, I've never heard Maxton sound so cold before, and as he steps into Lonnie's personal space, I blink, fighting to stop the world from going fuzzy.

"Let me show you what I think of your... rent," my brother softly says.

He cocks his head, and for a moment, our father is standing in his place, making me want to RUN. Instead, I force myself to walk into the firelight, and Lonnie jumps.

It's been three weeks since Maxton and I first came here, and people still find my abrupt appearances unnerving. Will anyone besides my brother ever look at me without fear again?

"Are you going to hit him, Max?" I ask. "Dad would."

For a breath, Maxton freezes, but then, he spins in place before rushing to gather me in a hug.

"I'll never be like dad," he whispers. "Don't you worry about that, little buddy."

I know that. Making a face, I squirm out of my brother's arms so I can hesitantly approach Lonnie. As I come closer, he takes a step back before squaring his shoulders, and I stop so I can show him what I'm holding.

"Can we pay with these?" I ask.

With wide eyes, Lonnie leans forward to pluck an orange out of my arms.

"Haven't seen one of these in ages," he says. "How did you...?"

Trailing off, he runs his eyes over me, as if seeing me for the first time, and I have to wonder. Does he see how useful I can be yet? Surely, that outweighs everything that's wrong with me.

"Does that mean we can stay?" I say.

After a pause, Lonnie smirks, glancing over my head.

"You see, Maxton? This is what I'm talkin' about. Re-source-ful-ness," he says before returning his attention to me. "Yeah, you can stay. Keep one orange each for you and your brother, and I'll sell the rest of them to cover your first month's rent. Sound good?"

Wonderful. He's acting like dad used to when he was in a good mood. I know it'll be a matter of time before the bemusement he's presenting becomes something much more dangerous, but I'll take advantage of it while I can.

When I nod, Lonnie ruffles my hair—which makes me want to bite him—before taking his payment and stalking toward other, huddled groups. With my last two oranges, I shuffle closer to the fire, crouching beside it, and when Maxton joins me, he pulls my neckline aside to check my timepiece's readout.

He should be proud. The number on it hasn't changed much, only reflecting the normal passage of time.

Once he's settled, I hand him his orange, which he holds up to the light.

"Lyle?" he quietly says.

He doesn't continue until I look at him.

"Where did you get this?"

Shit. How do I answer that?

"It's ok, buddy. You're not in trouble," Maxton says. "I just need to know."

That's good but...

"I- I don't know," I say, biting my lip.

Because I know how that sounds: like I'm crazy or lying.

Drawing my legs to my chest, I hug them while spinning my orange between my fingers.

"I went to see mom. She sometimes gives me years, when she can," I say, "but dad..."

He might not know what my mother's been doing, but he'll find out soon, and I don't like thinking about what he'll do when that happens.

"Ok. So, you were near Parliament Grounds," Maxton says. "That explains how you found the oranges. Eating them is quite fashionable nowadays."

He rolls his eyes.

"What else do you remember?"

...He's not going to call me horrible for being stubborn? I mean... I'm not being stubborn. I really don't remember how I got the oranges, but when I say that, people usually don't believe me. It's why I typically make up an explanation for what I've done, but... this is Maxton. I don't want to lie to him.

"I was coming back here," I say. "I saw a fruit stand, which reminded me of how hungry I was, and the next thing I knew, I was running away from it with my arms full of oranges."

And doesn't that sound insane?

"So... you stole them," Maxton says.

Hunching even further on myself, I shrug, and with a sigh, my brother rubs my back.

"Ok. Did anyone see you doing it?" he asks.

Oh... he doesn't believe me. Avan, I can't cry. I CANNOT.

"I... don't know," I say.

Somehow, I swallow the fiery fist that's been shoved down my throat.

"No one was chasing me, though," I say, "so... no?"

"Good," Maxton says.

Gently, he nudges my chin until I'm looking at him and hell! What sorrow I see in him.

"Make sure no one sees you next time too," he says.

Furrowing my brow, I say, "Next... time?"

Maxton nods.

"When I took you away from home, this isn't the life I wanted for you," he says before shaking himself. "That doesn't matter now, though. So, Lyle. Let's not just survive here. How do you feel about bringing dad down as well?"

For a moment, all I can do is blink at my brother.

"Re- really?" I somehow manage. "I... I'd like that. I'd like that a lot!"

And the sorrow I saw in Maxton vanishes. Laughing, he slings an arm around my neck, drawing me to where he can kiss the top of my head.

"Then, we have a lot of thieving in our futures," he says.

Which is very exciting, and I can't want to talk about it more but...

"Max, I'm hungry," I mumble. "Remember?"

Snorting, my brother releases me, and I shove my orange toward him.

"Can you peel this for me?" I ask.

"Of course I can."

As Maxton reaches for the orange, the world twists, and his voice chases me through the change until I'm lying beneath wooden planks again. Barely contained whimpers have replaced the screams from earlier, and through the planks, I can see the hole that they've drilled through my brother's skull. I can see a peek of his brain, wrinkled like a blood orange.

Someone above me clears his throat.

"By the lost monarch's will!"

That same man steps between me and my limited view of my brother, but I know the needle's been inserted, releasing a first electrical pulse, when he releases the most awful sound I've heard in my life, and hearing it, I lose all reason.

When I've once more regained control, I'm standing, out of breath, on the far side of a gathered crowd, and I can't help myself. Despite knowing it for the awful idea that it is, I look back.

Maxton, the best big brother I could have asked for, is fighting against his restraints and...

It's my fault.

I run, never looking where I'm going with a mantra repeating in my head: my fault, my fault, MY FAULT! When on our last job, all I had to do was kill the copper who'd come to investigate, but I couldn't pull the trigger, and now, my brother's paying for my failure.

So, I flee from the square where he'll slowly die, but his screams chase me wherever I go.

They chase me into the Warehouse District, chase me to the apartment that we shared, chase me as I pace across it, banging my fists on my head.

And when night comes, they follow me into the dark, intent on sticking with my until I've returned to-

A stinging sensation on my cheek woke me up from the nightmare this time, and hissing, I blinked back tears, struggling to orient myself. Before I could do that, a bread crust—of all things—bounced off of my chest, and I shot upright, seeking its origination point.

Unfortunately, I didn't get far in that search, as in that moment, the body's distressed call defeated the lingering haziness of sleep. As it came into awareness, I wasn't sure how I maintained a blank presentation. Gideon wasn't helping with alleviating this pain, and with my plethora of bruising, my broken finger, and the weakness that came after a seizure, it was... a lot.

Someone unknown was in the same space as me, though, and because of that, I couldn't be anything more than a blank slate. I might relax that state—to a degree—when around my crew, but that wasn't allowed when around anyone else.

So, I took this pain, and I did my best to ignore it, even if I had to freeze for a moment to do that. Then, I returned to the question of where I was and who was with me.

Apparently, I was in an attic, or that was what I assumed from the crates around me, the dust in the air, and the rafters overhead. Those could indicate that I was in a warehouse, of sorts, but based on what I could remember from last night, I doubted my location would have so drastically changed. Plus, I'd spent a lot of time in attics, both as a child and after growing up.

As for who was with me, that turned out to be... a woman. And a rather pretty one at that.

"She has blonde hair," Crazy Caleb said. "Oo... I want to touch it."

Crawling into view, he reached for the stranger, and my fingers itched to scrunch alongside his. He truly wanted to touch this person we'd never met before.

No. That wasn't happening.

Sitting back on his heels, Crazy Caleb groaned, "Aww... you're no fun."

...Fun wasn't a word typically associated with me, no.

Still, though. Blonde hair? That was an unusual feature to flaunt in the Ibisian Empire., especially this deep in the heart of it. Most people with blonde hair tended to dye it to a darker shade. After all, a shade this light was most commonly found in the Empire's most recently gained colony, Ostiu, and no sensible person in Flosa wanted a connection with that region.

The stranger was starting to look at me funny, though, so I donned my most practiced smile and offered her my hand.

"Hello, there. You must be the woman who saved my life last night," I said. "My name is Lyle. What is yours?"

"Oh wow...." Crazy Caleb said. "Offering her your name when you meant to rob her father last night? How daring."

Oh, avan. He was right.

This was why I didn't like having this inconvenience around, though. His very presence had always made me more impulsive.

"Good to know you care," Crazy Caleb grumbled.

"I'm Zorana Barbary."

Blinking, I returned my focus to the stranger in the room, who was awkwardly smiling at me.

"Don't you know that, though?" she said. "You're obviously a thief, and despite how desperate you seemed last night, you must be good at what you do to have gotten past my home's securities. Only an ignorant or newly-born thief wouldn't know who he was robbing."

Well. That was more insight than I'd expected from this woman. She was part of the nobility, and while I hadn't walked in that social circle for quite some time, I'd never met one of them who was quick on the uptake, on the rare occasions I'd had to deal with them.

Also, she had yet to take my hand, which was problematic. If she had, I could have used that contact to draw her into a chokehold and escape, not that I'd decided to use such a direct course of action yet. In fact, I hadn't at all decided how to handle her and how she'd discovered me.

"You could start by lowering your hand," Crazy Caleb said. "You look like a fucking moron. It's embarrassing."

Good point.

Withdrawing my offer of a handshake, I tugged on my neckline to check on my readout, and when I saw the number on it, I barely remembered to keep breathing.

Ten years? Who gave a complete stranger—a thief—ten years of their life?

"So... miscreant," Zorana said. "What were you doing in my bedroom last night? Besides breaking into the house, I mean."

"Did I need another reason beyond that?" I said before sighing. "Tell me. Why am I not in a prison cell? If you know why I entered your home last night, I find it odd that you have yet to send for the... police."

I couldn't call those people—I wasn't sure if that word applied to them—coppers right now. She wouldn't know what I'd meant by it.

"Why would I have sent for them?" Zorana said. "I gave you what you needed, so there's no need to get them involved. Right?"

That was an... interesting approach. What did I...?

"I like her," Crazy Caleb said with a giggle. "She's left you speechless."

Which was unacceptable at this point. I had to take control of this conversation, guiding it until I could escape from this place.

Maybe I could get out now.

"While I appreciate your help, I should leave you be, yes?" I said. "It is bad enough that you have given me so many years. I should not also waste your time."

As I cautiously climbed to my feet, Zorana shot to her own, extending a hand toward me.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "You're still hurt, miscreant. I saw your finger, and you can't have recovered from such a massive seizure already. Stay for a while. Get some rest. If you do, maybe I won't have to drag your twitching body to another hiding spot."

She'd done that? All by herself?

"Why are you so surprised? It's not that hard," Crazy Caleb. "Roll a body onto a sheet, and you can drag it to plenty of places without using too much energy."

I didn't want to know why he was so certain of that.

"Let me be the judge of what I can handle," I said.

Stepping forward, I leaned around Zorana, although I was careful to leave space between us, and extended my hand into the sunlight. Even before that illumination touched my skin, I knew it would be bad. I was having a hard time with simply staying on my feet right now, but I had to try. I had to get myself somewhere safe.

So, I let sunlight caress me, and immediately, my hand started shaking. I clenched it, digging my fingernails into my palm, before retracting it and sinking to the floor.

"I suppose a break is in order," I said. "I would not want to trouble you more than I already have."

With a half-smile, Zorana said, "It hasn't been too much trouble. Really."

Sure, it hadn't. Give a thief a veritable fortune. Drag his seizing body into a secluded corner of the attic. Wait for him to wake up. That was no trouble.

"You know... most people have enough of a conscience to help someone when they're hurting, Lyle," Crazy Caleb softly said.

I didn't reply to him, nor did I speak a word of what I was thinking. I merely kept my blank face in place and wondered what on earth I should do now. With my body unable to stand even a modicum of light exposure, an immediate escape was beyond me, unfortunately. That left me with what? Talking?

How was one supposed to do that with a complete stranger and a noble's daughter at that?

It helped that she didn't seem disturbed by me. In fact she'd been curiously watching me for most of my time here and I...

I was actually comfortable around her, despite having no idea what to do. Why was that?

"So, miscreant. Tell me more about yourself," Zorana said. "It's the least you can do after waking me up in the middle of the night."

Oh. Um. That was a.... delicate subject.

Even still, I didn't find it as difficult to approach as I normally would. Again, why the hell was that?

"Well, first of all, my name is Lyle, not miscreant, and I am a thief. I steal the years that I need to live," I absently said. "What more is there to share?"

Clicking her tongue, Zorana said, "Plenty, I'm sure. No one's life solely revolves around their work. Do you have a wife? Family?"

Beside me, Crazy Caleb snorted.

"Nope," he said. "No way in hell will he-"

"I do not wish to discuss that topic," I interrupted. "Instead, why not tell me about yourself? Why did you help me?"

Because I truly did not understand what this woman had done.

Tilting her head, Zorana stared at the ceiling, chewing on her lip, and as she did that, sunlight brushed over her blonde hair. Such a gorgeous color.

She started answering me, and yes, I should listen to what she was saying. I knew this, but even still, I couldn't focus on her words.

That hair. How comfortable I was around her. What was going on?

Then, it clicked. 

Who else was I this comfortable around? Who else made the lullaby that I was ever singing to the dark shift in tone and volume, even if the change seemed... different this time?

Without considering what I was doing, I asked, "Are you Ostium?"

Because the only other people who prompted these strange feelings in me were the Ostium kids that I sometimes tended to.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, though, I was cringing inside, knowing what a huge mistake I'd made. Zorana Barbary was a nobleman's daughter, and Ostiu was the land of troublemakers and rebels. The outcasts. What noble house wanted to admit that a native of that nation had tainted their bloodline?

Instead of scoffing, as I'd expected, Zorana shrank on herself, grabbing her hair. She could barely meet my eyes as she said.

"Yes. How did you know? Is it... is it-?"

"The hair, yes," I said.

Curling even further on herself, Zorana stroked those long locks.

"Dad usually makes me dye it," she said, "but he's not home right now, so I don't have to."

Not home? I really would have died last night if Zorana hadn't helped me.

That, however, wasn't important right now. The look on this woman's face and how she was holding herself... well did I know them.

"I can't take you and your disgusting eyes anywhere! Go to your room! Maybe I can keep you hidden in there."

With Crazy Caleb growling beside me, I said, "Please, do not be ashamed of it. I- I find it quite beautiful, if I might be so bold. I am not trying to flatter you with that statement. It is merely that I... have Ostium blood too. My eyes?"

Glancing up at me, Zorana quickly looked away before chuckling.

"I'd noticed that," she said. "Silly of me to get embarrassed about who I am when I'm with someone who might understand, but... that's how it is."

And wasn't that horrible and, in a way, absolutely infuriating?

"It's not right,' Crazy Caleb said.

No, and it hadn't been for a long time.

Sighing, Zorana tossed her hair behind her before pulling herself up as tall as she could.

"Yes, I have Ostium blood. My grandfather on my mother's side was a wealthy merchant in that nation's capital, and after the war, he immigrated here," she said. "And now, miscreant, this quarter-Ostium girl intends to get you some supper. If you're to be my guest for a time, I should make sure you're comfortable."

Zorana got to her feet before I could say a word, and as she made her way to a trapdoor, I scrambled to my hands and knees.

"Wait!" I called. "I did not—"

She disappeared through the hatch.

"—mean to scare you away," I quietly finished.

With a sigh, I sat down before sprawling on the floor, and quite uninvited, Crazy Caleb leaned into view with a sloppy smile on his face.

"That was well done, you most eloquent of men you," he said.

"Fuck off," I muttered.

Laughing, Crazy Caleb faded away, and I closed my eyes. I might as well rest them while I had a moment, Given my current situation, I doubted anything here could hurt me-

Screams. All I hear are his screams. They boom and bounce in the air around me, and no matter how well I block my ears, I can still hear them. Please, stop! I'm so sorry, Max-!

A short water bath woke me up, and as I shot upright, I gasped, scooting away from a blurry figure.

"Sorry," Zorana said. ""You were thrashing and screaming something fierce. I didn't want the noise announcing your presence to the whole house. Who knows what they'd do with you?"

After sputtering for a solid minute, I pulled myself together and donned my blank face again.

Slicking my hair back, I said, "Probably wise."

As Zorana sat opposite me, she tossed me a roll, and on catching it, I hesitated. Why was she feeding me, on top of everything else?

Why did I care? Food was food. I knew better than to refuse it.

As I started in on the roll, Zorana shifted in place, biting her lip, but I didn't prompt the question on her tongue. It was bad enough that she'd seen me having a nightmare. I'd much rather if she never asked about it or anything else uncomfortable, even if I knew that wouldn't be possible. The curious types, as she seemed to be, could never keep from speaking their mind.

Eventually, she found her courage.

"I'm sorry to be so intrusive, and if you'd rather not answer this question, you don't have to," she said, "but who's Maxton?"

I froze. Maxton? Where had she heard that name?

Coming out of the blue as it had, it made the world shrink, and I forced myself to inhale. I couldn't indulge in shallow breathing or an escape into the fog around me, not right now.

"Why do you ask?" I managed to say.

Looking away, Zorana said, "You were screaming the name while you slept."

Oh.

Wait. I talked in my sleep? Still? That was... good to know. It was another reason why I wouldn't let anyone share my bed anytime soon.

There I went again, though, getting distracted by irrelevancies. Zorana had asked a question, and avan, if it wouldn't be difficult to answer.

Steeling myself, I said, "Maxton was my brother."

I hated how I'd had to say that sentence, using the word 'was'. That he was gone was painful enough. Why did the language needed to express that fact have to remind me of it too?

Jerking toward me, Zorana took one look at my face and softened. I wasn't sure what she saw there. I wasn't displaying emotion right now. I'd checked, but still, tears started shimmering in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Losing family is never fun."

No. It really wasn't.

Slowly, Zorana inched closer, and confused by what she was doing, I watched her until she hesitantly leaned forward and... wrapped her arms around me.

In an instant, I went stiff, in body and mind. Inside, someone started roaring in anger while another voice wailed a desperate cry, but much as they and I might need it, I couldn't shove Zorana away. As I'd said, she was a noble's daughter. Hurting her would at the very least be counter-productive to my goals.

So, with more control than I'd thought possible, I took hold of her arms and tugged her free.

"I appreciate what you are trying to do. It is more than kind," I said, "but please, do not touch me."

"Oh," Zorana said. "I didn't mean-"

Waving at her, I said, "It is fine. Please, do not worry about it."

With a nod, Zorana sat back, but once she had, any shame she'd been displaying vanished. Cocking her head, she frowned at something above me.

"What... is... that?" she asked, pointing.

When I craned my head to look where she'd indicated, my heart stopped in my chest. Above and around me, the dark was going crazy, whipping various shades of it into a frenzied storm. Oh... this was bad.

Fortunately, I knew how to stop it. With a thought, all emotion was dumped from me, and I started singing the dark its lullaby. After a few heartbeats of this, it settled into its normal undulations, letting me focus on the problem that its outburst had caused.

Damage control.

Zorana, however, didn't seem to have put together that what she'd seen in the dark might be related to me. She was also, surprisingly, not panicking about it. Tapping her fingers on her lips, she stared at a spot above my head for a moment before meeting my eyes.

"Do you understand what just happened?" she said. "Was that-?"

Frowning, she started leveling her finger at me, and I loudly sighed.

"How on earth would something that strange be connected to anything human?" I said. "Please, Zorana. I do not know what we just saw, but it seems to have gone now. Unless it returns, I would prefer to pretend that it never happened. It is too stressful for me to consider in this state."

Yes, I was playing the injured card. Showing such weakness now would be better than letting Zorana think that I could have long-dead magic. People had made similar assumptions about me and the dark before, and at those times, I'd barely wormed my way out of danger. I'd rather not do that now.

To my utter surprise, Zorana, shrugged, seemingly content to drop the subject, which...

Much as I'd wanted that reaction, I had to admit. It was a tad unbelievable. Who could drop a discussion of a possibly life-threatening phenomenon, something never-before-seen, like she had?

Or at least, I thought she'd never seen something like the dark's response to me before. If she had seen something as strange as that in the past, I'd love to ask about it, but... in this case, it was best not to tempt fate.

Instead, I'd repeat the question that had been on my mind since I'd woken up. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to believe the first answer Zorana had given me to it, and given that she'd had a chance to indulge her curiosity, that she'd let me indulge mine seemed only fair.

"I do not understand. Why have you helped me?" I said. "I came here to hurt your father, if only in a financial way. To me, saving the life of an aggressor seems... counterintuitive."

Pursing her lips, Zorana stared at her hands in her lap.

"You meant to steal from my father because you had to, or that's what I assume from how low the number on your timepiece's readout was. And your desperation, your need to survive, is in no way your fault," she said. "I helped you because everyone deserves a chance at life. I helped you because you needed me to, and that's all there is to it."

So, Crazy Caleb had been right. People did help others when they were hurt.

Why did that still seem so unbelievable?

"And of course, there's that thing the Prime Minister always says," Zorana continued. "I may not agree with many of his policy, but in the last election, he did have one good quote. How did it go? 'Help those who ask for it because...'"

I didn't hear the rest. A buzz had filled my ears... my mind, and the world turned to fuzz around me, taking on a crimson hue. Energy, the precious commodity that I'd been lacking not long ago, surged through my body, and fighting it, I hissed a single sentence into Zorana's stream of words.

"It is not enough."

Avan above, the control it had taken to speak that quietly! I wanted to scream it from the rooftops, to howl it-

Furrowing her brow, Zorana said, "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

Suddenly, I was on my feet, towering over her.

"I said, IT'S NOT ENOUGH!" I shouted. "It's not enough to give years to needy beggars, pat yourself on the back, and go home to your enormous mansion. Our whole system, this pathetic government left clinging to the vestiges of long-absent monarchs, is corrupt. It needs to come down."

I was left panting with my hands in fists at my side, but rather than cowering from me, as any normal person would have, Zorana merely stared into space for a moment before cocking her head.

"And what would take its place?" she said.

Just like that, the steam got sucked out of my engine. Swaying, I barely made it to the ground before my legs could give out, and somehow, I kept from scrubbing my eyes. I returned my facial expression to neutral and regained control.

Because that question? I'd never been able to answer it.

If everything went to Plan, I likely wouldn't survive it. I wouldn't see the world that I longed to create, and that meant I was a coward, only willing to throw my temper tantrum and raise a ruckus. I couldn't consider the back-breaking work that would come afterward.

That was what I tried to explain to this impossible woman.

"I was made for destruction," I said. "Building an empire's wealth on something besides the years of people's lives? Establishing a government that is fair to all people, where someone can rise above their station and where the punishment for crime is something besides a painful death in the chair? Deciding these things is for better people than me."

Whatever confusion had been on Zorana's face cleared. In its place, her mouth formed a perfect little 'O', and I wondered how I'd confounded her this time.

"That..."

For a moment, she couldn't continue, but swallowing hard, she forced herself onward.

"That's how he died, isn't it?" she softly said. "Maxton."

Sucking in a breath, I shot my eyes to the rafters overhead. Wasn't the pattern that they made lovely? Such strong support, keeping that giant block of wood from crashing down on us! How I wished I could find something similar right now.

"Oh... hell," Zorana whispered. "Miscreant. I'm so sorry."

That took me by surprise. Most people who learned how Maxton had died didn't receive the information well. Usually, they turned dismissive, saying silly things like 'he deserved it' or 'good riddance'. No one liked facing what was done to even the most harmless of criminals in our current day and age.

There was a reason that members of a convict's family were encouraged to avoid execution day.

Zorana, however, gave me something that I'd never known I'd needed: sympathy. Commiseration. A glimpse of the compassion that I should have always had and the knowledge that she could understand my suffering.

Fuck, if it didn't hurt. I barely kept myself contained, unsure how I wasn't blazing what I was feeling to the world.

"It's happening again."

That comment had been so softly spoken that it barely drew me out of my internal struggle, but when I pulled free of it, I noted Zorana staring above my head again.

Oh. The dark.

Again, I sang my friend its lullaby. Again, I felt it calm down, and again, Zorana met my eyes with an uncertain smile.

"Are you sure that storm has nothing to do with you?" she said.

"I cannot answer that question," I said. "I am sorry."

And for once, I actually meant it.

"What now?" I asked.

Could she ignore of the dark's outbursts, or would she do what she should have done from the beginning: call the coppers? I still had no clue why she hadn't done that, even with her answering a similar question twice before.

Wrinkling her nose, Zorana said, "I'm not sure. I'd say that we should move, but that... storm, if that's what it was, has calmed down, and it didn't hurt us either time it showed up, so... maybe we can talk more? I know you'll need your rest, though. When you feel well enough, we can think about getting you out of the house unseen, but that probably won't happen for a while. You should at least spend another night here."

...Another night?

Rapidly blinking, I looked around the attic again. Boxes and crates all around me. Cobwebs in the roof's corners. Sunbeams outlining the dust motes in the air around Zorana.

Orange sunbeams.

"How long have I been here?" I asked, dreading the answer.

If I was right, then both of us were in trouble. I'd told my crew to meet me at my apartment this evening, and if I wasn't where I'd said I'd be, Vaughn would not take it well. He'd tear the city apart while looking for me.

"It's been almost a day," Zorana said. "You slept through the morning and most of the afternoon, and it's a good thing too! You looked like you needed it."

Damnit.

"Zorana, you need to listen to me," I said. "I need you to go downstairs and talk to the person in charge of your household staff. A man going by the name of Vaughn will soon visit this estate. He will ask after a 'Mr. Cunningham', and when he does, someone must quickly tell him that Mr. Cunningham has successfully concluded his business here, although a slight hiccup might delay his reunion with his associates. Exactly those words. Can you pass the message along? It is important."

Having swayed away from me, Zorana nodded a little.

"I can do as you've asked, although I'm curious why I should," she said before shaking her head. "Not that that question is important right now. From the way you've asked it, I assume your request is time-sensitive?"

"It is," I said.

"Then, I should get on it immediately."

Standing, Zorana brushed off her skirt before smiling at me.

"You stay right there, miscreant," she said. "I have more questions for you."

I was sure she did. Why did the idea of that warm me as much as it had?

"Where would I go?" I said, nodding to the nearby shaft of sunlight. "You have seen what light does to me. For the moment, I cannot leave."

Laughing, Zorana said, "Fair enough."

And the sound of her pleasure made my heart swell, starting a crescendo in the music between us, which was... unusual. What the hell was going on?

Fortunately, the source of this confusion quickly left me, and as I settled onto my elbows, I tracked her movement around the house through the dark.

Our conversation this afternoon had been... interesting. Unexpected. I wasn't sure what to make of it or if I should bother with interpreting everything that had been said. Once I left this place, I doubted it would matter.

It took me a moment, but by the time Zorana had reached the ground floor, I realized that throughout the second half of our conversation, I'd been alone. Well... alone except for her. This surprised me. Not even Crazy Caleb had stuck around, despite how much he'd seemed to like our partner in the conversation.

Had something about her been keeping the others away, or... had they found Zorana as comforting and—dare I say it—safe as I had? If so, that would be interesting.

I dwelled on this for a while, getting increasingly drowsier, and before long—

—someone kicked me awake. Hell. Had I just slept without dreaming? No nightmares? That hadn't happened in forever.

Again, someone's foot shoved my ankle.

"Hey. I'm here to rescue you."

Vaughn. Of course it was him. I'd known the floorplan that he'd retrieved for me yesterday would eventually lead him here.

Sighing, I got up, not once acknowledging the help my crew's muscle was offering me. He didn't seem to mind this, hovering like a shadow as he was, but then, he'd never complained about how I tended to ignore him.

"I did not need rescuing," I said, "but I appreciate the effort anyway."

"It is what you pay me for," Vaughn said.

Nodding, I glanced around the attic, noting that it was empty and that sunlight had stopped streaming through its single window.

"Where is Zorana?" I asked.

It was curious how quickly I'd focused on that aspect of my situation.

"Downstairs, I think," Vaughn said. "After I arrived earlier, there was quite a ruckus. I left them to it, too focused on getting to 'Mr. Cunningham'."

Goodness, that had been sarcastic. Did Vaughn think I was ungrateful for the risks he'd taken today?

I should reassure him of that, even if it would be perfunctory at best. I wasn't sure how else to comfort another person.

"I have already thanked you for your work," I said. "Work that I pay you to do."

What sort of commotion had Vaughn been talking about? I hoped it had nothing to do with me. I would hate to have caused Zorana trouble...

And why was that, exactly?

Mentally shaking myself, I stepped around Vaughn, advancing on the window. It was already open, and leaning through it, I brushed my fingers over the grappling hook that was embedded in the sill before tugging on its connected rope.

"Interesting way of retrieving me," I muttered.

"I worked with what I had," Vaughn said.

As he always had.

"Well, let us leave this place," I said. "There is nothing more for me here."

Zorana would have to do without answers to her questions, but what else should she have expected from a 'miscreant' like me?

"Besides," I continued, "I am sure that you and the others would like an explanation for what has been going on."

"Like you'll ever give us one," Vaughn grumbled under his breath.

Oh, what little faith he had in me! Not that I could blame him for it. I'd always been reticent about my activities, almost to a paranoid degree.

Still. I was ready to leave. I'd gained what I'd needed from this place: a new lease on life and with it in hand, I could return to the Plan.

Climbing out of the window, I started descending the rope and put thoughts of an impossible woman out of my mind.

Audiobook Chapter Seven

The Year Thief

Chapter Eight: Revelation of Intent

Lyle

Or that was what I tried to do. As if to thwart my attempts to forget Zorana, however, a new voice entered the crowd of those that typically filled my head, and while following Vaughn down Flosa's streets, I couldn't help but listen to it.

"What kind of miscreant are YOU?"

"That's how he died, isn't it? I'm so sorry."

"What would take its place?"

Up ahead, Vaughn slowed down, glancing at me.

"Are you humming?" he asked.

I absently replied with... something, too enmeshed in my thoughts to care about the words I spoke.

Her hair seems to glint as she flings it over her shoulder and proudly proclaims her heritage.

She laughs, and the music that's ever mine soars.

"Dear avan, Lyle. Are you happy?"

Was I? Whatever the answer to that question might be, it was certainly a good one. I hadn't been happy in...

How long had it been since Maxton had died?

The point was; I hadn't been this happy in a while. I didn't remember what the emotion was supposed to feel like.

"Hell. You are happy."

Another voice tagged onto the end of Vaughn's whispered words.

"Huh. Been a while since I've been summoned to help you control something good. I'm not sure if I should do it."

Gideon? What did he sound so shocked...?

What the fuck was I doing?

As I crashed into the body, I silenced the hum on my tongue and reverted a rebellious grin into its typical flat line. I didn't know how I'd gotten so distracted, but something like that could not happen to me.

Fortunately, the only person who'd seen this slip was Vaughn, and he'd been around me long enough that such glimpses into everything I hid were unavoidable. This one did seem to have unnerved him, though. He was giving me the oddest of looks, and when I raised an eyebrow at him, he spun forward once more, driving his heels into the cobblestones.

Meanwhile, Gideon refused to stop staring at me, striding beside me with his hands in his pockets.

"She really got to you, didn't she?" he said.

If she had, I couldn't acknowledge it. She was too distracting, too much of a liability. She was like my orphans under the bridge, but since I'd discovered the weakness before forming a connection with her, I could easily sever anything that might have been building between us.

I must focus only on the Plan.

"Must you, though?" Gideon said. "Avan help me, but I think Max would have forgiven you for taking a little time to think only about yourself.

Maybe he would have. My brother had been the only person who'd ever taken care of me, the only one who could save me from the hell of my childhood, but no matter what he might have said about my current circumstances, I couldn't listen to it. He and Gideon didn't understand how easily swayed I could be, how simple I'd find abandoning the Plan.

And I couldn't do that.

"Fine," Gideon sighed. "It's just... she was so nice. Pretty too."

Yes. Yes, she had been.

And that was the end of it.

Soon enough, Vaughn and I turned onto the street that my apartment bordered, and when I saw the figures restlessly pacing in front of my door, I resisted the urge to cock my head. Why were Eliza and Gus here?

When Gus saw Vaughn coming, he moved toward us with purpose.

"Did you find him?" he said. "I swear, Vaughn. If he's hurt and you didn't fuck up the people who did it, I don't know what I'll do."

That was... curious. I hadn't known he cared that much about me.

"Maybe he's worried about losing the leader of his crew," Gideon said.

I could see that.

"Or maybe both of you are being stupidly cynical. Would match your cranky attitudes."

With an internal groan, I did my best to ignore Crazy Caleb's appearance at my side, even as he darted forward. Giggling, he slowed down beside Gus, keeping pace with him, and looked the scout up and down.

"Goodness, Lyle. I didn't know you were recruiting them so young these days," he said. "I thought we had a rule about that."

"Kindly shut the fuck up, Caleb," Gideon grumbled. "I don't like what you're insinuating."

Oh, goodie. I just loved it when those two started arguing.

While they sniped at one another, I fought through the noise of their chatter, concentrating on what Vaughn was telling Gus, and instead, got my focus zeroed onto Eliza. She hadn't moved from my home's stoop, staring in my direction with her nose wrinkled.

Hell. Had the dark begun loosening its concealing protection when around this woman? Why did it think Eliza was safe enough for her to see me here?

"She's nice. I like her kids, and she's good to them. Loves them. She reminds me of mom."

And now, we were four. With a slow sigh, I imagined that I'd put my arm around Ruo, drawing him into a side hug, and beside me, the kid ducked his head, hiding a smile.

I wasn't sure what was drawing everyone from the crevasses of my mind, but at least we hadn't been joined by... that one. Maybe, if the three who were here could keep their voices subdued, I could hide how loud my internal world had suddenly become.

Digging in a pocket, I stepped beneath the streetlight that illuminated my door, and after a sharply indrawn breath, Eliza jerked her head in a nod, as if confirming a suspicion. Gus and Vaughn fell silent as I drew forth my key, but before I could finish transitioning my center of focus to the world outside of my head, where it belonged, something slammed into my back.

Hissing, Gideon took a step forward, reaching for me with Crazy Caleb restraining him. Fortunately, before anything more violent could occur, Gus whispered—

"I'm so glad you're ok."

—and it took everything I had to keep from throwing the scout off of me.

He wasn't attacking me. I was safe. We were safe. He'd simply forgotten how much I didn't like people touching me.

Vaughn saved both of our asses. As he loomed into view. Gus' weight was pulled off of me, and I released a held breath. Turning toward my crew, I caught sight of Vaughn releasing his hold on our scout.

"Not a good idea," he said.

Gus flushed, rubbing the back of his neck while retreating a few paces.

"Right. Sorry," he said. "I guess I just..."

His voice faded to an indiscernible mumble as another man popped into being nearby, circling Gus with a sneer.

"Tell me you'll put this... gutter trash in his place, you stupid child," the Tyrant hissed. "You may be unworthy of our family's good name, but you're still a part of it. No mere peasant should touch you."

Great. Now, I had seven people—four inside and three in the outside world—to split my attention between. That wouldn't be stressful at all.

I wouldn't even consider how having all of them here might affect my behavior.

In the past, the only way I'd gotten through times like this was by putting Gideon, the Tyrant, Ruo, and Crazy Caleb on the edge of my awareness. I couldn't completely ignore them, but I could pay them as little attention as possible, staying constantly aware of how I was supposed to act as I did.

So, I heard Gideon click his tongue and Crazy Caleb groan. I saw Ruo flinch and skitter behind me, but I didn't react to it.

I only considered how I should respond to what Gus had done. Up until now, I'd discouraged other people's touch because most of them struggled to remember how much something they considered normal—like touch—could completely and totally unsettle someone else. To maintain the barest sense of safety for myself, I'd had to remind everyone around me of this fact.

Now, though, I wasn't sure if those reminders were still necessary, especially when I was with my crew. They knew me, or they did so as much as I'd let something like that happen. I could... trust them to respect my preferences, keeping in mind all the while that they were human. Sometimes, they'd cross lines without meaning to.

Plus, Gus was not gutter trash or a peasant. He was part of my crew, an associate I could rely on.

So, as he continued fumbling through an apology, I tiredly waved it off.

"It is fine," I said. "While it is true that I do not like being touched, I understand why such things sometimes happen. I am simply more sensitive to it than I should be. My father... he is not a kind man, but my predilections toward touch should not greatly change your behavior when around me. So, please. Let us forget what has happened and move on."

As I turned back to my apartment, I ignored how quiet it had become behind me, unlocking the door.

Gideon stepped up beside me.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "For once, I'm not trying to be hostile here. I'm just confused. Are you...?"

A metaphorical tug on my pant leg had me glancing down.

Solemnly looking up at me, Ruo said, "You're right. It's time. Tell them the Plan."

"What?" the Tyrant shouted at my back.

As I pushed the door open, I suppressed a smile, even as I wondered what Ruo was talking about. Tell my crew about the Plan? I might have decided to relax around these people, but I was nowhere close to opening up about that.

"Nah, Lyle. The kid's right," Crazy Caleb said. "This crew of yours was worried about you. They care, and that's worth something."

But he'd sounded so serious while saying it that my eyes shot wide open. Crazy Caleb was never that sincere unless it was truly needed.

"Please, tell me you're not actually considering-" the Tyrant started.

"Shit. They're right," Gideon interrupted. "I haven't been paying as much attention as I should have recently, or I'd have noticed it sooner, but based on the rundown I'm getting from you... yeah. The pieces are in place. It's time for the next step.

Oh, hell. Never mind that Gideon had just agreed with Crazy Caleb, something I never thought I'd see. He was the only one of us who knew all of the Plan's details, and if he was talking like that, it meant... it meant...

"And you know that these three are trustworthy," Crazy Caleb added. "Look at them. You know their stories."

I did. With the door open, I stepped aside to let my crew enter my home, and as they passed me, I recited everything I'd learned about their pasts to myself.

Gus. As a child, he and his family had worked for my father. In addition, Gus suffered from a bad case of malaise, and as part of his self-treatment plan for that, he'd gotten himself addicted to kalvna. When my father had found out about this, he'd kicked Gus and his family out of our household. The kid's parents had abandoned him and his sister on the streets, and as young as they'd been, it had only been a matter of time before one of their timepieces ran out of years. Unfortunately, this had happened to the sister first, leaving Gus with a sense of regret and self-blame a kilometer long as well as an intense hatred toward our governmental system.

That was why he toasted Ida's name during our after-heist ritual. She'd been his sister.

Eliza. Born in the Warehouse District, she'd married young. She and her husband had struggled to provide solely for themselves, let alone the three kids they'd soon had, and as always in a situation like theirs, the couple had eventually run afoul of Flosa's gangs. As part of this, Eliza had gotten her face cut up, and her husband had killed the bastard who'd done it as payback. The coppers had caught him in the middle of cleaning up the murder, and as a result, he'd been sentenced to death by the chair.

His name had been Adrian.

I wasn't sure about Vaughn's history or why he made a toast to Eleanor during our ritual. Any time I'd considered looking into him or his past, I hadn't gotten far before something distracted me, and I'd never persisted with the investigation for one, very good reason.

I'd known Vaughn since before Maxton had died. He and my brother had been friends and honestly? That was all I'd ever needed to know he wouldn't betray me.

That was my crew: three people who'd been badly hurt by a corrupt system. I'd scouted all of them for that reason alone, but over time, a connection had formed between us, despite my desire to stay unattached, and as they got settled around my apartment's table, I could acknowledge something that I'd been denying for years.

They were my friends, if only in a way. I didn't have to rely on the dark alone to keep myself safe. I had three people who'd help me if I asked, and I... I would give far too much to ensure their happiness.

So, I locked the door behind me, and resting my hand on it, I took a deep breath. Avan, this would be difficult for me. As a general rule, I didn't trust people. Being close to others felt dangerous. Uncomfortable, to an extreme.

Now, I'd have to knowingly do that with my crew. Not only that but I'd have to continue doing it, long past the conclusion of tonight's meeting.

I didn't know if I could.

"Lyle?" Vaughn called from the table.

"Might as well get started," Gideon said. "All we can do is try."

Of course.

Even still, I didn't join my crew at the table, where they'd lit the only candle in this place. First, I grabbed my first aid kit from the medicine cabinet because much as I could ignore how badly I was hurt right now, I shouldn't leave these injuries untreated.

With it in hand, I plopped into a chair and sighed. What should I say first?

"If you plan on being so moronic as to share your dreams with undesirables such as these, starting with an explanation for why you're in such bad shape would be best, yes?" the Tyrant grumbled. "Although I'm not sure what you hope to gain from sharing with these... people. How on earth could they help you?"

That was an easy enough question to answer.

"While on a job last night, I broke my finger," I said. "Would one of you help me with splinting it? Unfortunately, I cannot do that by myself."

With a cough, Vaughn pulled away from me while Gus frowned, but Eliza merely clicked her tongue, scooting her chair closer. As she gathered what she'd need from the first aid kit, she shook her head.

"What were you thinking, pulling a job alone?" she said. "You could have been caught."

She took my injured hand, none too gently I might add, and I suppressed a wince.

"I was, actually," I said. "Caught, that is."

This revelation got a reaction. My crew started demanding more details from me while Eliza paused in her ministration, and I lifted my free hand to quiet them.

"Obviously, we do not need to worry about what has occurred over the last twenty-four hours," I said. "I am alive, and we are together. If I had betrayed you to the coppers, those bastards would have shown up long before now. We would be in their custody. So, please. Calm down, and give me a moment to share my story."

Slowly, they relaxed, all while Ruo swiveled his head to glance between them, frowning.

"I don't get it," he said. "Don't they know you'll keep them safe? You always keep your loved ones safe."

Folding to the ground, he leaned against my leg with his head in my lap, and I barely kept from brushing my fingers though his hair. He didn't need to know how clueless these people were about my feelings for them, not that they could help it. After all, I hadn't known how I felt until a few minutes ago.

When I was around my crew, though, Ruo generally stayed away, for his own safety, so it made sense that he wouldn't understand this fact.

I wouldn't make him leave now, though. It didn't seem right.

"Yeah, probably wise," Gideon said. "He's gotta get some outside experience, or we're never gonna grow."

At my side, he was sitting on the table's edge, looking down on me with his arms crossed, and on the other side of it, Crazy Caleb had perched on Gus' leg, primly folding his hands on his knee. When he noticed me looking at him, he made a silly face, which I blinked at.

All four of us ignored the Tyrant as he paced along the far wall.

And all three members of my crew were staring solely at me, never knowing about the others around them. I should start explaining myself before they decided to leave.

"In the past, I have been reticent about my plans with you, as I am sure you have noticed," I started with.

Seemingly eager to interrupt me, Vaughn snorted.

"That's an understatement," he said.

"Perhaps," I said, "but I did it for your protection. My long-term plans and goals are dangerous, and I'd hoped that by keeping you in the dark about them, I could keep you safe. The time has come, however, for that to change. So. Here is your explanation for why I am so battered and why Vaughn had to rescue me from the Barbary estate tonight."

I couldn't look at their faces. I couldn't see their blank-faced surprise.

I couldn't give them the chance to notice the beat of my heart, thundering in my chest.

Licking my lips, I said, "After distributing everyone's cuts two nights ago, I was accosted by two of Russell Teague's men. They brought me to their boss, and in an effort to keep him appeased, I gave him an advance on his cut of our heist."

"Why did he drag you halfway across the district, just for that?" Gus said. "We pay him every time, on time."

Still sitting on the scout's leg, Crazy Caleb shifted in place, refusing to look at me, while Gideon bristled at my side. I knew why they were having such bad reactions to this topic, connected as they were to the man in question. I understood it, more than they could possibly know, but I couldn't avoid the subject just to relieve their discomfort.

I'd also determined not five minutes ago that I'd start sharing more with these people. I wouldn't reverse that decision so soon after making it.

So, I said, "Mr. Teague and I have an interesting relationship. We have... history, and if that were not enough, we each hold a piece of damaging information over the other person's head, or that is what he thinks, at least. I am not too concerned about the blackmail he thinks he has on me.

"Because of this, though, he likes to test me on occasion. That is what our meeting two nights ago was about, even if he wanted to disguise it as ensuring our payment of his cut. May I please move on?"

Gus looked like he wanted to ask another question, but Vaughn rested a hand on the scout's leg to stop him, passing it through Crazy Caleb's abdomen. That man made a face while my crew's muscle inclined his head to me.

"Go ahead, Lyle," he said.

Nodding, I said, "Unfortunately, because I had already made a stop at our stash, giving Mr. Teague his advance almost drained my timepiece. Once all was said and done, I was left with about one day."

Eliza, diligently working on the splint for my broken finger up to that point, jerked on its final linen wrap, sending a spike of pain up my arm. Rolling his eyes, Gideon touched my shoulder before that spike could reach it, shaking out his hand once he had, and my pain vanished.

"A day?" our lookout shouted. "Lyle!"

"I know," I said. "Giving Mr. Teague so much of my life was foolhardy of me, but I had a plan to replace the years. Eventually, it led me to the Barbary estate last night, where I meant to rob Lord Barbary of a portion of his wealth."

"Why rob anyone at all?" Vaughn growled. "Why not just take from the stash?"

Oo, he'd sounded angry. With his arms tightly crossed, he was scowling at me, but all I could do to answer that disapproval was shrug.

"I thought I had the time to pull a job, so that is what I did," I said. "I miscalculated, though. Badly. After getting into the house, I could not continue with the job. I thought I would die there, but Lady Barbary saved my life. I spent the next day recovering in her attic, which is where Vaughn eventually found me."

There was a beat of silence, one I had trouble interpreting, and then, Vaughn coughed a laugh.

"A noble saved your life?" he said. "Yeah... I don't believe that."

For some reason, this made me tense. Why did I feel the need to defend another human being, let alone Zorana?

Fortunately, Gus stepped in before I could say something I might regret.

"No, that makes sense," he said. "I know Lady Barbary's attendant. He doesn't want to admit that he likes me, calls me a miscreant all the time, but we talk, on occasion. From what he's said, I gather Lady Barbary is quite the charity worker."

As he fell silent, the newly added voice to my collection wove an addition to the conversation, one unheard by everyone but me.

"You stay right there, miscreant. I have more questions for you."

And at my side, Ruo looked up at me.

"Why didn't we stay with her?" he asked.

I couldn't answer that right now.

"Believe what I have said or not. It is what happened," I said. "I owe Lady Barbary a life debt, one that I intend to repay soon, but for now, that is my explanation for you. I broke my finger while on the Barbary job. When I left his place two nights ago, Mr. Teague's men gave me a beating. That is all there is to it."

With a nod, Eliza finished her work on my finger, leaving me free to rub a salve into my bruises.

"So, where does that leave us?" she asked. "You mentioned you had another job lined up. Are we still doing that, or should we wait until after you've healed up?"

Right. I'd forgotten about that. With the next phase of the Plan having come, any minor jobs I'd gotten ready for us no longer matter, so I'd already let them go. My crew, however, didn't know about this change.

How should I go about telling them, though? And how did I move from there to sharing everything that the Plan was?

Groaning, Crazy Caleb collapsed on the table, stretching across it.

"Just let me do the sharing already," he complained. "You know I'll do a better job of it."

Yeah... no. I wasn't letting him take over for something as simple as this. I had to figure it out for myself.

"We will not be waiting, nor will we complete the job I mentioned before," I said. "It is time to move on from the petty thievery that we have done to this point. We finally have enough years in the stash to start accomplishing bigger things."

For a moment, my crew stared at me, as if unsure how to respond, and I might have found the situation more amusing if blood wasn't rushing in my ears.

"About the stash... I've been meaning to ask how much is in there," Vaughn said. "Whenever I make deposits or skim from it, it never shows how many years it contains."

That was another modification I'd made to the communal stash, if only because I couldn't let the others in my crew know the very information Vaughn was asking about. At least, I couldn't until it came time to share about the Plan.

"When I last checked the stash, we sat at two thousand six hundred and forty-six years, four months, and seven days," I said.

In the silence that followed this, the dark seemed to laugh. Defying the candle's flickering light, it brushed against my crew's flint eyes and sharp frowns, and at my side, Gideon flipped to face the threat, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I appreciated his offer of support, even if I knew that none of these people would actually attack me. It helped me remain silent until one of them spoke up.

"If we have so many years, why haven't we cashed out?" Eliza harshly asked. "With that much time, we could leave this life behind. We could-"

"We could, what?" I snapped.

I hadn't meant to interrupt her. When people were confronted with news they didn't like, it was best to let them vent their frustrations before explaining yourself, but Eliza was treading on a touchy subject for me. It was the same one that had caused my outburst with Zorana in her home's attic.

"We could retire to the country and live a life of luxury?" I continued. "We could get ourselves households of attendants and servants, exploiting others in the same way that we have been exploited? Is that what you want? Any of you? Because if it is, congratulations. You have achieved your life goal. Take your cut of the stash and leave us. Now."

Despite the disgruntled faces on all sides, no one moved, which surprised me. Maybe they hadn't understood what I'd truly meant.

"So, explain it to them in a way they'll understand," Gideon growled. "Use what I'm leaking to you, Lyle."

That I could do.

Slowly, I set aside my salve and washcloth, getting to my feet, and after resting my fingertips on the table, I kept my eyes fixed on its wooden surface.

"This is the moment where you will have to decide what you want. I am sorry to have sprung it on you so suddenly, but now that it is here, I cannot give you time to fully consider what you will choose," I said. "Tonight, you will make your decision. Take your money and leave me to finish my work alone, or stay and help me. It is up to you, but let me be clear. If you decide to stay, you will never get another chance to back out.

"If I ever see you wavering in your loyalty, I will put a bullet in your head, not because I want to but because everyone else's lives will depend on it. The work I mean to do is that dangerous. So, make your choice now, and stick with it."

After a beat of painful quiet, I made myself lift my eyes to my crew, and to my utter surprise, I found only determination in them. I'd thought I'd see outrage or some form of scoffing. Any normal person would have responded to a death threat in that way, but these three merely looked at me, two with their chins lifted and one with level curiosity.

Honestly, I should have expected as much. Knowing their stories and knowing them, my 'choice' had never truly been a decision for them. They'd take only one of my offered options.

So, in them, I saw their decision. Not one of them would leave me, much as I might have secretly wanted it. They'd stay by my side.

How I prayed that I wouldn't lead them onto a path of destruction.

With a sigh, I sat down while Gideon returned to his half-seat on the table's edge.

Folding my hands on top of it, I said, "If you mean to stay with me, then our first course of action will be to remove Russell Teague from the Warehouse District. Vaughn, you have been chomping at the bit to reveal our evidence of his... proclivities. It is time to do that."

"Finally," Vaughn said. "I'll get on it in the morning."

What he'd said was exactly what I'd expected from him, but in his tone of voice, I heard a pitch that I'd never thought to encounter with him: uncertainty.

"No," Gideon said.

Straightening from his seat on the table, he disappeared, flashing back into being behind Vaughn. There, he hovered over the bulkier man for a breath before looking up at me.

"That was fear, Lyle," he said. "Vaughn's afraid."

...Why would he be afraid? Revealing Russell Teague's secret had been Vaughn's greatest desire for years now. Why wouldn't he want to do it?

Unless he'd been misleading me. Unless... unless he was somehow involved with that sordidness.

No. That couldn't be right.

Could it?

Clicking his tongue, Crazy Caleb shook his head.

"Don't think that's it. If he was a part of that group, trust me. I'd know," he said. "Maybe he's afraid of what this new step will bring with it."

So... the big picture. How could Vaughn know that there was more to what I was planning than unseating Russell Teague from his throne? How could he know enough about it to be afraid?

"Is that the plan, then?" Gus said, breaking my reverie. "We throw our hat into the ring of Flosa's gangs?"

That almost made me snort while Crazy Caleb started laughing.

"This brat thinks that we'd ever stoop so low?" the Tyrant growled in his corner.

Ignoring him, I said, "No, that is not my Plan. You need to think more large-scale, Gus."

Said scout smirked.

"Great!" he said. "I just wanted to make sure we weren't messing with those assholes too much."

And why was that? Was he worried about how much a gang war might affect his access to kalvna?

"Can't focus on that, Lyle," Gideon said.

Even as he'd spoken those words, though, he'd remained intent on Vaughn.

"With Mr. Teague out of the picture, we will need a new leader of the Roaring Whispers, and while I have no intention of staying mired in gang politics, I do mean to interfere with who leads them," I said. "In other words, which of you would like to take the reins of the Roaring Whispers from their current, ignominious leader? It cannot be you, Vaughn. I need you elsewhere."

This change of subject took my crew by surprise.

With a squeak, Eliza said, "Wait, what? You want one of us to lead a gang? How the hell will we do that? We wouldn't have the support we'd need..."

"But you would," I said as she trailed off. "Over the last few years, I have been speaking with the independent crews who make the Warehouse District their home. Whoever accepts this position will find all the help they will need there. So, Eliza. Gus. Which of you wants the job?"

With a soft moan, Gus leaned on the table, clutching his temples.

"Oh... my head," he hissed before shaking himself. "Well, whatever the fuck you're planning, I can't be involved with the gang side of things. I'm too..."

He wildly waved while Eliza rolled her eyes.

"Reliant on the kalvna they provide? Yeah, we noticed that years ago, hon," she said. "Have you fallen off the wagon again?"

Gus looked away, refusing to answer her, and sighing, she turned to me.

"Guess that leaves me, then," she said. "You sure it's a good idea for me to lead a gang, though? I've got kids, Lyle. Will they be...?"

She roughly shook her head.

"Never mind that," she muttered. "The biggest problem with me as a gang leader is that others will see my kids as a weakness. You know that."

When presented with a position of power, of course Eliza's first concern would be for her children. Frustrating as it might be at times, how much she cared for them was also one of the things I valued the most about her.

"In most cases, your children might be a problem, yes," I said. "Tell me, though. In the years that you have been a part of my crew, have any of them come to harm while in the Warehouse District? Or have they lived peaceful lives, something unheard of in our neighborhood?"

I lifted an eyebrow, waiting for Eliza to work through what I was implying, and once she had, she gasped.

"Avan, Lyle. Thank you! You didn't have to do that."

I wasn't sure why she was so shocked that I'd kept an eye on her kids. Making sure my crew's loved ones were safe was just another part of my job as their leader.

"It's not shock, ya idiot," Crazy Caleb sighed. "She's grateful."

Oh.

"You are... welcome," I said.

As soon as that was spoken, though, I moved on, reluctant to dwell on what I was feeling.

"Once Eliza has taken her place as the leader of the Roaring Whispers, we can begin our true work, what I have been preparing for these last nine years," I said.

I couldn't get further than that, though. As soon as those words were out of my mouth, Gus burst into laughter, and while I stared at him, the Tyrant huffed in annoyance.

"Uncouth degenerate," he said under his breath.

"Hang on. I'm sorry, but hang on," Gus said. "You've been planning this for nine years?! That would mean you've meant to take over Flosa's biggest gang since you were ten!"

I was unsure why he found this so funny.

"Yes, in part. I had much bigger plans than that alone, but I began working toward this particular goal at around that age," I said. "If you could please control yourself, I would love to share the rest of the Plan with you."

Gus looked like he'd start cracking up again, but that got stopped by Vaughn, gently smacking him upside the head.

"Stop acting like a child," he said before facing me. "So? What's the rest of your plan?"

At that, I paused. He'd said the word 'plan' much like I thought of it: as if it were capitalized. That combined with the tense state he was in...

Did he knew what I'd soon say?

"I think he does," Gideon said.

With a choked noise, he performed another disappearing act so he could return to my side.

Grabbing my shoulder, he said, "Lyle! I think he knows everything!"

And I thought Gideon was overreacting. Vaughn certainly knew more than he should but everything? I doubted it. If he knew who I truly was, he'd never have stuck around for as long as he had.

Even still, perhaps I should delay the full revelation of the Plan for the moment. Perhaps I should give Vaughn time to center himself. Avan knew how often I'd needed something similar in the past.

"First, we shall complete the job I botched last night," I said. "While Eliza is getting herself established as the Warehouse District's new crime lady, the three of us shall be robbing Lord Barbary blind."

Or we'd be taking a vast portion of his wealth at least. That job might have been one of the few I'd always known I'd enjoy, but having met his daughter, I was reluctant to ruin the man as badly and I'd meant to beforehand.

"Sounds fun!" Gus said. "I'm guessing you'll need me to talk to my contact in that household."

"Please," I said. "And Vaughn? You will have to play lookout once more. My apologies. I know how much you dislike that role."

Snorting, Vaughn shook his head.

"I'll deal with it," he said.

He was back to relaxed. Good. Maybe I could finish this awkward revelation now. Maybe I could finally... share the Plan.

Now that I was here, though, I found myself unable to move. How could I reveal this, one of my greatest secrets? I couldn't make myself that vulnerable. It would leave me hurt, broken and limping along, and if that happened, I didn't know if I'd have the strength to pull through it again.

As if aware of these thoughts, the dark leapt for me, gathering me in its comforting embrace, and while I found this normal—my friend had been doing this for me since I'd been a child—my crew found it much more disturbing.

Over the years of our association, they'd gotten used to the dark's smaller abnormalities, but this, a storm of shadows on all sides? It was too much for them.

They leapt to their feet or jerked back in their chairs, reaching for unseen weapons, but fortunately, once they'd established their own sense of safety, they stayed frozen in place. This gave me a chance to calm the dark down, silently singing its lullaby until it returned to a lulling lap at our feet.

"What... was that?" Eliza gasped.

Wincing, I rubbed my eyes until the Tyrant started growling insults at me, but then, I froze, lowering my hand so I could stare at it like the traitor it was.

Avan, the dark's reaction and this physical indicator of how stressed I was... how out of control was I?

That thought brought a hated voice to the forefront—

"That's always been a vital piece that you've lacked, Lyle: control. Without it, you'll never crush me, despite everything that you might wish."

—and at the sound of it, even the Tyrant flinched.

So, I took a deep breath, and I made myself rise from my chair, joining the others on their feet.

"Please, forgive me and my friend," I softly said. "You know that I have certain abilities that others cannot understand. In the past, I have trusted you with the vulnerability. What you do not know is how protective my friend, the dark , can be of me. Right now, it knows that I am... frightened of what I must now tell you, and because of that, it leapt to my aid. I am sorry to have distressed you."

After a moment, Gus cleared his throat.

"It's all right, Lyle," he said. "Just a little scare, nothing to it. Right, guys?"

He straightened his chair while the others muttered their own reassurances, but while Eliza also sat, Vaughn made no move to do so. He stared at me with something deeply unsettled in his eyes, even as he asked.

"What do you need to tell us?"

Oh, hell. He knew. Gideon had been right. Vaughn knew.

And he didn't want me to share this with the rest of my crew. Why?

"Does it matter?" Gideon growled. "I swear. If he means to stop us, I'll beat the shit out of him."

"As I will shout in his face," the Tyrant said. "No one tells me what to do."

"You idiots," Crazy Caleb started, rolling his eyes.

But he was interrupted by Ruo as he jumped to his feet.

"He is Vaughn," the kid said, glaring at me. "He just wants us to be safe, and what you want to say isn't safe. That's all."

Oh. Vaughn was worried for me. He wanted me to be happy.

Why did that feel familiar-?

"Run, little brother!" Maxton shouts. "Live the life that you deserve!"

With the breath knocked out of me, I shoved aside the lingering echo of my brother's voice, focusing on what its presence meant.

Because I knew what Maxton and Vaughn were trying to say, whether vocally or not. I understood the sentiment behind their words and actions but even still...

Who determined what I deserved? Was it a man who'd known me for over half my life? Was it my brother? Or was it me, knowing everything I was and everything I'd done?

I defied them. I defied them both.

Only I knew what I could do or what I was worth.

So, I smirked at Vaughn, squarely meeting his eyes as I drew in a breath.

"I have a confession to make. Ever have I let you and the others believe that I am a nobody, someone without a family name. That is a lie. I know who I am and where I come from."

At that, Gus and Eliza exchanged a glance while Vaughn's expression turned pained.

'Don't do this,' he mouthed.

I merely widened my smirk.

"My name is Lyle Cunningham," I said.

In the resulting stillness, a pin drop would have sounded like the crash of plates to the ground, and slumping, Vaughn dropped into a chair. Meanwhile, Gus frowned, seemingly oblivious to the older man's pain.

"Cunningham? As in... from the Cunningham family? Somehow related to PM Ephiram Cunningham?" he said. "No, that can't be right. Sure, when I worked for that bastard, I heard he had a couple of kids who'd died a few years ago, but... wait. Are you saying-?"

He cut off as I nodded.

"My father may have murdered my brother, but I survived," I said. "You are right, Gus. I am the PM's son."

No matter how much I might want to deny that fact, it was the truth. I might as well own it.

Gus and Eliza were looking at me like I was crazy, exactly as I'd expected them to, but that was ok. I had the proof that they'd need to believe me, hidden away from the world until it was required, and soon, I'd show it to them.

Once they'd accepted my identity, I'd have them leave my home without Vaughn. He and I would need to have a little... chat, one that the younger members of my crew couldn't overhear. For now, though, I couldn't think about that. I had to plough forward, heedless of what any of them might do.

I had to tell my crew about my life's work, the Plan that had guided me since I was nine, and based off of how the invisible people in the room were looking at me—most with pride and one with resignation—I'd say they were ready for it too.

"I am the Prime Minister's son," I repeated, "and I mean to bring Parliament, along with the rest of his governmental system, down on his head."

And at my first admission of this secret ambition, the dark roared its victory.

Audiobook Chapter Eight

The Year Thief

Chapter Nine

Zorana

After an intriguing conversation with the thief in my attic, I'd come downstairs to receive my new visitor. The man who'd come to retrieve 'Mr. Cunningham'—cheeky of the thief to use that name—barely passed as someone from the respectable parts of society, but I couldn't pay much attention to how he looked. He'd said the one thing that could rip the rug out from under me, and at it, I fell to pieces.

Somewhere outside the fog of my mind, a door slams.

"What did you do?!"

Walter's upset. That's... disturbing? Yes, I think that's the word. I can't think of a better one at least.

"I just mentioned how excited she must be about her father coming home tonight."

"Oh, no... I thought we had another-"

I stop paying attention, and time might pass. I'm not sure. Either way, only one more thing reaches me, deep where I've hidden inside.

"-right, Ms. Zorana. Let's get you ready for him."

But... I don't want that.

Through the motorcar's window, I watched as expansive estates gave way to smooshed-together homes and apartments, built over shops. After the commotion at home this afternoon, Walter was taking me to the train station, just outside of the city, but as we trundled along, I wasn't thinking about that or what was waiting for me there. Instead, I was dazzled by the many distractions available to me.

The sun was setting over Flosa, and as that orange light steadily vanished, it painted increasingly complex pictures on the faces of the pedestrians outside. Those morphing colors fascinated me—every brush of shadowed purple, bordered by gray or brown—and for once, I let it. I wouldn't let myself listen to these people's conversations, muted by the glass between us or their overlap over one another, but the colors? Noticing those minute details was an acceptable indulgence for now.

My other distraction existed only in the hallways of my mind: a scruffy man who'd fallen through my window last night. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of him for long before the world around me faded to fuzz, and considering what was soon coming my way, I couldn't afford to let that happen right now.

So, much as the mysterious thief, Lyle, banged around in my mind's crevasses, popping up at the most random of times, I didn't let my attention linger on him for long.

I could only let myself watch as the sunlight's glow slowly surrendered to twilight.

Soon enough, we arrived at our destination, and after parking the motorcar, Walter hurried around it to open my door. My attendant smiled at me as he helped me to the ground. 

"It's a lovely evening, Ms. Zorana," he said, "and from what I understand, this month's round of business trips went well for Lord Claud. He should be well-pleased to see you tonight."

One can only hope, came a whisper through my mind.

Rather than voicing it, though, I grinned at Walter.

"I'm sure he will," I said. "We haven't seen each other in so long."

And thank avan for that.

Walter led me to the train station's platform. So many other families were waiting for their loved ones here, and together, we watched a distant point on the horizon, where the tracks disappeared into the trees.

Some people found solace from their anticipation in hushed conversation, and as always, I did my best to keep from eavesdropping. Doing that was difficult, however, when my every sense was locked onto where a locomotive would soon emerge from the forest, straining for the first sign that it had come.

Waiting was always the most difficult part of this for me. I knew what was coming, but I could never know how it would go. I could only hope.

Fortunately, Walter was well attuned to me. He might stay silent, as any good attendant would in such circumstances, but he risked placing himself closer to me than he should, radiating such confidence and calm energy that I couldn't help but let it touch me in my storm.

Before long, I heard the far-distant clatter of wheels on the train track, and as I tensed, Walter briefly touched my shoulder before returning to his still pose. Besides him, though, no one else noticed a change in my bearing, which was how it should be.

Long had I practiced the art of a blank facade, holding all emotion in check. The skill came in handy, most especially when I'd detected something that no normal human could.

By the time it came into view, the train had already slowed from its careen, and people on the platform turned alert as it chugged to a stop, releasing a long, dying hiss once it had. Considering how late it was, this journey was probably the locomotive's last one of the day. Its cooling corpse could rest now, or it could until the morning sun reawakened it once more.

Closing my eyes, I shook my head, smiling at how morose I must sound. It wasn't like me, but then, this evening's events weren't normal either.

If only, a whisper in my mind said. You just wish such things were rare.

People around me started crowding toward the train, intent on greeting loved ones, but Walter and I stayed where we were. We knew well that our anticipated arrival would come to us once he was good and ready.

I chewed on the inside of my lip until I spied a familiar head of hair bobbing through the crowd, but then, I relaxed, donning a wide smile.

Once he was clear of people, my father spotted me. Dropping his bags, he spread his arms wide.

"My angel!" he cried.

And I only winced a little inside. I hated when he called me that.

Still, I hurried to him—as fast as I could in this damn dress—and accepted his embrace.

"Oh, it's good to see you," my father said. "How has she been, Walter?"

Avan help us if I was ever allowed to report on my behavior.

Walter merely said, "As always, Ms. Zorana has been the perfect lady."

Retaining a snort, I backed away from my father while he laughed. Perfect lady, huh? What a bald-faced lie. Thank goodness my father had believed it.

"But of course she has!" he said. "I'd expect no less."

Nodding, Walter gestured to my father's luggage.

"May I take your things, Lord Claud?" he said.

My father made a face, flapping a hand.

"Yes, yes. Let's head home, shall we?" he said. "I'm sure both of you are tired. Thank you for coming to greet me. I couldn't catch an earlier train."

A concession to the fact that he'd inconvenienced us? My father must be in a good mood.

Once we were back in the motorcar, I leaned my forehead against the window, once more intent on what I could see through it. The march of buildings, passing us by, progressed back to solitary estates, surrounded by expansive grounds, and all the while, my father and Walter discussed what had changed in the city during his time away.

My attention switched to their conversation when the topic of Ostiu came up. Whenever that place... my distant homeland was mentioned, my father tended to get grumpy, so all of my senses honed onto him: his subtle shift in his seat, the tone of his laugh, the genuineness of his smile.

"Another spat of unrest, eh? That's not surprising. I wonder if those uncouth rebels will ever learn their place," he said, "but it's not my place to comment about that nation and how it's run. I'll leave that to the Prime Minister and all of his wisdom."

With a slight sneer, my father rolled his eyes, and I relaxed. If he'd chosen to focus on the rivalry between himself and Lord Cunningham, then I wouldn't have to endure another temper tantrum, thrown over Ostiu.

"Please, Walter," my father continued. "Has nothing interesting happened in the last month? Nothing that might require my attention?"

Hesitating, Walter glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and I sighed.

"I'm not some delicate flower to be sheltered," I said. "I am a lady, yes? And a lady should know of any potential upsets to her routine."

Chuckling, my father patted my knee.

"That's my angel, with as stiff a spine as ever," he said. "Go on, Walter. What's the problem?"

Flicking his eyes back to the road, Walter cleared his throat.

"There was another execution while you were gone, Lord Claud," he said. "You may have heard?"

Ah. That was why he hadn't wanted to speak up. He knew how much I disliked this subject.

"Yes, I had," my father said with a wince. "Did something happen?"

Nodding, Walter said, "For this one, the site was left unmonitored, and presumably because of that, someone decided to... interrupt the proceedings. They killed the condemned before his time."

Slumping into his seat, my father hummed to himself.

"I'm not sure if that's reprehensible or admirable," he said. "Avan knows that even I think our current method of corporal punishment is a bit much."

And I distinctly did not think about what he'd meant.

"There's more," Walter said. "Whoever killed the condemned left a message at the site. Should I...?"

Again, he glanced at me, and my father waved a hand.

"Go on. Zorana has already expressed a desire to be included," he said.

I was surprised he'd listened to me about that.

Sighing, Walter said, "The message was, 'Your system is flawed. I'm coming for you.'"

Again, my father hummed in contemplation, but I barely noticed, listening to an echo of a voice from earlier this afternoon.

"IT'S NOT ENOUGH! Our whole system is corrupt. It needs to COME DOWN!"

Hell. Could... could he have written the message? If he had, who had I been helping over the last day? Did he actually mean to try what he'd implied? And if he did, why, oh why, did my heart cry, he's right?

Perhaps noticing how much I'd tensed, my father laid a hand over my clenched fists.

"It's all right, angel," he said. "Dissidents like this crop up all the time, and when they do, the police quickly catch them, or they disappear, back to the dark hole they crawled from."

Avan, I didn't want either of those things to happen. Still, I smiled and nodded, and with a final squeeze, my father returned to his conversation with Walter.

Content to be ignored, I leaned against the window with a single question on my mind.

What would I do with the thief in my attic?

I didn't get the question answered that night. By the time we arrived home, it was very late, and Walter hovered too much for me to check on my thief. So, I got ready for bed, ignoring the noises of my father doing the same on the other side of the house.

Once I was in my nightgown, I stood in front of my bedroom window, staring out over the city through the branches of my mother's tree. I could hear the roar of so many people over those distant kilometers, and maybe, if my father hadn't been occupying all of my senses, I could have distinguished individual conversations from the noise. As it was, I let the world fade, seeing without seeing, until Walter came to wish me a good night.

Then, I made my well wishes of him and a tree, my only comforts in this world, and it was off to bed.

In the morning, things seemed brighter. I could appreciate how lucky I was to live in such a lavish home with an attendant who doted on me. I could see how foolish I'd been to lament my familial situation and everything related to it.

This ability was helped by the fact that I'd heard my father leave the house hours before, in the deep dark of the early morning.

Unfortunately, before I could take my breakfast, Walter brought me an... irritant, I'd put it. Something neither good nor bad, but also something I'd rather never deal with.

Lady Ada Watton's presence.

As she entered the drawing room, wringing her hands with red eyes, I forced myself not to wince. She was clearly in distress. How dare I judge her!

She sat opposite me as Walter left the room, and I hurried to kneel in front of her, placing my hand on her knee.

"Ada, what is it?" I softly asked.

Had someone died? Was her mother ill again?

With her face screwing up, Ada wailed, "We've been robbed, and daddy won't let me buy a new dress for the ball because of it!"

As the expression on my face froze in place, I could only blink at the woman opposite me. Years? She was worried about the loss of years and the minor ways in which it could affect her, not because it could potentially see her dead. That I could have understood, but no. She was distraught because she couldn't add another piece to her already expansive wardrobe.

Pinning a sympathetic frown in place, I patted Ada's knee, murmuring reassurances, before returning to my seat, and all the while, a blaze threatened to eat me up inside. I was having trouble swallowing it, but even still, I sat and folded my hands in my lap, politely nodding as Ada continued talking.

Was this what my thief had been feeling yesterday? Was this what had prompted his sudden outburst?

Could this be one reason why he'd fallen through my window in the first place?

When a thunk wakes me from my dreams, I shoot upright, clutching the comforter to my chest. I scan my bedroom with my heart thundering in my ears until I spot a lump on the floor at the foot of my bed.

A man. What on earth-?

He lifts himself onto his elbows, as if to crawl, before once more dropping to the carpet with a muffled crack. That's... worrying.

Slipping out of bed, I tiptoe toward this trembling mess, ready for him to attack me at any moment. Really, I should have called for Walter by now, but something about this man... something...

He's mumbling to himself, an unintelligible garble about a friend, and when I crouch in front of him, my fear that he might hurt me fades to nothing. Such a pitiful sight, this broken face, twisted with anguish!

I have to help.

Before I can try anything, though, footsteps approach my room. The silly intruder must have made too much noise when barging inside, so I hurry to hide him, and after dealing with Walter, I fling myself atop the stranger.

As I speak empty words of comfort, I pull his shirt's collar aside to check his readout and gasp with tears filling my eyes at what I see.

Five fucking seconds? What the-? No wonder he's a limp, weak mess!

Slapping my band to his, I push my timepiece's button, and as years fill his, he mutters nonsense, something about the dark and a brother. I'm not sure how much time I should give him, but as I reach ten years, he shudders beneath me, bucking off of the floor in a worryingly rhythmic pattern, before falling unconscious.

Later, when he wakes up, this picture of a vulnerable man has been erased, replaced with an empty husk, and my mystery deepens.

"Zorana!"

Rapidly blinking, I focused on Ada, who was looking at me with a wrinkled nose.

"Did you hear anything I just said?" she asked.

With an awkward smile, I said, "Something about your family's steward running off with some of the Watton's wealth. I'm sorry to hear about that, Ada."

Clicking her tongue, Ada crossed her arms with a head shake.

"Of course you weren't listening. Why should I have expected differently?" she said, as if to herself. "I don't know why I put up with you."

It probably had something to do with how many years her father owed mine or perhaps how much he hoped to use our 'friendship' to advance his goals in Parliament, but I didn't say any of that. I kept smiling, and as hoped, Ada moved on to another topic soon enough.

"Whatever will I do about the ball this weekend?" she moaned. "Simply none of my gowns will do for this one, not when the Prime Minister himself will be hosting it!"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out. You've always been so resourceful," I said. "Perhaps that new beaux of yours could help?"

Cocking her head, Ada frowned. 

"Eldon? Maybe," she said. "I am meeting with him later today, and he owes me. I swear. That man could wake up the dead with his snoring."

Did that mean the two were sleeping together? That was... interesting. Ada had always been more of a free spirit when it came to love. She was unapologetic about it too, but usually, she was more discreet, especially in situations that could lead to gossip. Not that I would talk about her behind her back but she didn't know that.

She did still seem upset, though. It had probably just been a slip of the tongue.

"In that case, I hope he can repay you," I said. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Ada? I was about to take my breakfast when you arrived. You're welcome to join me, if you like."

Somehow, Ada managed to make a face without actually grimacing.

"No, thank you, although you're lovely to offer. I should be going," she said. "Look at me! Wasting so much of your time with my woes."

Fluttering her eyes half-closed, she fidgeted in place, leaving me to wonder what she was doing. I wasn't some suitor to be flirted with, although... I supposed our relationship was like courting, of a sort.

"Really, it was no trouble," I lied. "I'm always happy to see you."

With her face brightening, Ada jumped to her feet, and as she made her farewells, I went through the motions without thinking about them. It was terribly rude of me but honestly? I had a hard time focusing during conversations with ladies like her.

Avan, I was such a horrible person.

After Ada had left, I wandered into the kitchen, hoping to grab some food for my thief before breakfast. As I entered, however, I heard harsh whispers coming from a door to the outside, and frowning, I headed that way, idly filling a plate as I went.

In the next room, my family's cook was leaning through a door with it hiding most of her body.

"-can't be here, girl," she was saying. "Lady Barbary stretches herself so thin, helping you lot. I'm sorry you're hungry, truly, but there's nothing I can do, and I certainly won't bother-"

"Me?" I said.

Jerking upright, the cook partially closed the door with guilt written all over her, and I set down my plate.

"Who's come looking for me today?" I asked

With her mouth gaping, the cook couldn't find her words, so I sought an answer for myself. Looking through the door's crack, I saw the girl on the other said, and something just as small as her broke in me.

Absently, I waved the cook away.

"Hi, Cary! It's good to see you!" I said, forcing as much cheer into my voice as I could. "Did you need something, sweetie?"

With tears already dribbling out of her eyes, Cary's lip trembled as she said.

"I'm sorry, Miss Zorana. Didn't want to bother you, but... I didn't know where else to go."

Wincing, I crouched, taking her hands in mine.

"The job with the cobbler didn't work out?" I gently asked.

Cary's mouth pulled tight, and a hiccupped sob burst from her.

Shaking her head, she mumbled, "He said my hands were too big."

That was what I'd been afraid of. Sighing, I bowed my head for a moment, but then, I rallied myself, squeezing Cary's hands.

"Well, that's all right. It just means we'll have to try again, yes?" I said. "I'll look for another opportunity, but in the meantime... how much time do you have?"

Refusing to look at me, Cary said, "Two weeks, three days."

And my grip on her turned into an iron vice. As she winced, I made myself loosen it.

"Sorry," I said, "but you know you're supposed to come see me if you get below a month."

"I know, but I didn't want to-"

"Don't you dare," I interrupted. "Let me see your band."

Cary hesitantly offered me her wrist, and placing my band on hers, I gave her about a year from my timepiece, refusing to look at it. I wasn't sure how much time I had left, not after everything that had happened last night, but it was surely more than this little girl had.

Once the exchange was done, I rose from my crouch, ruffling Cary's hair.

"Come back in a few days, ok? I'll see about another job for you," I said. "For now, I'm sure we have something you can eat in here."

As if summoned, the cook reappeared with two sad looking loaves of bread, but despite their appearance, I knew that they were probably the best either of us could spare right now. She handed them over, and wiping her eyes, Cary tucked them under an arm.

"Thank you, Miss Zorana," she said. "Thank you so much."

"Sure, sweetie," I said. "Have a nice rest of your day, ok?"

Nodding, Cary hurried across the lawn, and as she went, I kept an eye out for any members of my father's security force. Fortunately the little girl was smart. She'd come here at a time when their numbers were diminished, so no one saw her escaping from the estate.

Once she'd disappeared, I turned on the cook, and it was as if all the heat I'd been retaining over the course of the morning spewed out of my mouth.

"I understand that you were trying to protect me," I said, "but I do not need anything like that from you. If one of them comes looking for me, you let me know. You do not shield me from it. Ever."

Cringing, the cook nodded, and that huddled posture... hell, it reminded me of a pose I'd often worn.

I couldn't be like my father.

So, with a sigh, I lightly touched the cook's shoulder, bending forward until I'd caught her eye.

"Nicely done with the bread," I said. 'Thanks for helping me with that."

The cook weakly chuckled.

"I wish I could have done better, Lady Barbary, truly," she said. "If I may, why are you in the kitchen? Did you need something?"

Right. My food for my thief. And breakfast would be nice at some point.

"Maybe some toast and tea in five minutes?" I said. "I have to take care of a small matter, but I'll return soon."

"I'll have your favorite blend waiting for you," the cook said.

She hurried away, leaving me free to once more grab my plate.

As I mounted the stairs, I let myself return to a question left abandoned since last night. What would I do about the man in my attic?

I'd love to keep him hidden until he'd fully healed before sneaking him out of the house, but while I might have suggested that to him yesterday, I wasn't sure how feasible such a plan would be. Getting him off of the estate's grounds wouldn't be that difficult—he'd snuck onto them, after all—but making sure no one found him in the meantime might be problematic, especially if he had another nightmare like he had yesterday.

That screaming... I wasn't sure what had caused it, but I had my ideas, and if it was because he'd gone to his brother's execution, like I'd theorized, then...

Avan, I didn't know how to feel about that.

Hopefully, he could keep quiet while he slept, although given that I'd heard nothing from him last night, that must be possible. With that in mind, the only thing I could do now was hope for the best and work on my plan.

Once I was in the attic, I made sure to step more heavily, hoping the noise would alert the thief to my presence.

"Miscreant!" I said after a moment. "I've brought you some-"

His spot was empty.

With a frown, I set my plate down, brushing my fingers over cold, wooden boards, before searching the rest of the attic. He couldn't have left, right? Where would he have gone, especially with how injured he'd been?

Unless he'd had help. My visitor from yesterday could have gotten him out. Maybe.

Still, he'd made a promise.

Where would I go? For the moment, I cannot leave, he'd said, in reference to the sunlight around us.

...I suppose that hadn't been a promise, had it? Still, I'd thought that reassurance had been implied.

Even still, this place was empty, much as I might hate it, and again, heat rose from a hidden place in me.

Curling my hands into fists, I whispered a single word into the dusty attic.

"Liar."

Audiobook Chapter Nine

The Year Thief

Chapter Ten

Vaughn

The kid had done it. He'd actually said those words, the one statement I'd never thought I'd hear coming out of his mouth.

As he escorted Gus and Eliza to his apartment's door, I worked my way through the circumstances that had led us here, and in none of them did I see a blatant sign of what tonight would bring.

Yes, the kid had been acting... strangely before we'd arrived at his home—I hadn't seen him display anything beyond cool detachment in years—but I hadn't thought anything of it. I hadn't seen it as the brightly lit billboard, indicating danger, that it had been, and looking back on it, I wanted to kick myself for missing the subtle clues of what was to come.

Maybe if I had, neither of us would be in this precarious position.

After closing the door, the kid stalked back to his table, and taking a seat, he pulled a pistol, the one he kept hidden in his overcoat, into view.

"We should talk," he said.

And I shuddered at how empty he'd sounded.

The tone of his voice was nothing new. For years, the kid had always been nothing but predictable in his presentation and carriage. He never gave the world a clue about what must be going on underneath his vacant shell, but still, I heard the threat of violence in it now.

Not that I could blame him. As he'd been working up to saying those words, I'd fucked up. I'd let my anxiety for what he'd say shine through, and he'd seen it, knowing exactly what it had meant.

He knew that I'd always known who he was, which was all sorts of confusing, but I couldn't think about it right now. I could only pleasantly smile at this baffling, brilliant, absurd, absolutely wonderful kid opposite me and say.

"I figured."

What else could come from him catching me in a mistake?

Even still, he didn't get on with it. He sat in silence, letting time pass us by, and I made no move to break the quiet. Why would I?

Soon enough, though, the lateness—or earliness, I supposed—of the hour made itself known. Dawn sent muted shafts of light through the parchment paper that blockaded this apartment's windows, and when they hit the kid, he... diminished.

I wasn't sure how else to describe what happened. When in the dark, the kid had always seemed more full, not like this far-too-young grandfather who was suddenly sitting across from me, and I'd always wondered if he knew about this change in appearance.

I'd always wondered if he knew what it and his 'relationship' with the dark truly meant.

Still, the shift happened, and after a slow blink, the kid leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands on the table.

"Who is Eleanor?" he asking in that typical, clipped tone of his.

And I froze with ice cascading down my spine. Out of all the questions the kid could have asked, all the words he could have spoken, I'd never expected to hear that name from him.

Eleanor. One of the two best things to have happened in my life.

The source of my greatest shame.

Lying in bed beside me, she sleepily turns my way, resting her hand on my chest. We've recently come home from a meeting with our friends, and despite the other ways we've used to cope with its emotional fallout, I've known something else was coming for a while.

I brace for it as she opens her mouth.

"I'm going to help him," she says. "I think you should too."

There it is, the decision I've been dreading, and I don't know if I can change it.

"I don't know, love," I said. "Ephiram... he's changed over the years, and you know it. Something about him... it scares me now, horrible as that is. I'm not sure if helping him is wise."

After a moment, she sighs. Sitting up, she applies pressure through her hand on my chest, and I can't look away from her determined gaze.

"I'm helping him," she says. "It's happening, and you can't change my mind."

How I wished I had.

Swallowing hard, I looked away, fighting to remember that I should breathe. It was hard to do that when so much hurt had suddenly been shoved down your throat.

"Eleanor was my wife," I roughly said, "and Ephiram Cunningham killed her."

"Ah."

When nothing else followed, I glanced at the kid, unsurprised by the blank face he'd presented me with. Even still, I could swear I saw something behind it.

"I am sorry to hear that," he said. "My father is a cruel bastard."

"Yes," I gruffly said, "Yes, he is."

More than the kid could possibly know, and that was saying something.

After a moment, he sighed and stood, tucking his pistol back into his jacket.

"Thank you. For the moment, that is all I need to know," he said, "although if at any point you feel like explaining how you already knew my family name, I am all ears."

Oh... was that what he was concerned about? I'd thought it had been about... something else.

"You don't need to worry about that, Lyle," I said. "Your brother told me years ago."

The mention of Maxton made the kid freeze up. It was only for a split second, but I saw it and wondered.

"I see. Thank you for sharing," he said.

Turning away, he shrugged out of his jacket before padding toward his cot, and I'd have been happy to take his unspoken dismissal, letting him get the rest he so clearly needed, if I hadn't had a question of my own.

"Before I go, can we discuss Mr. Teague, please?" I said. "We may have done that broadly before, but pulling him out of power will be a delicate maneuver, and I'd like to know if you have any preferences for how I go about it."

Stopping short, the kid sipped in a breath, and for a second, his eyes went as blank as the expression he typically held on his face. Then, he cleared his throat, and one corner of his mouth lifted, ever so barely.

"Why would I care? He's nothing to me, just a sad man who should never have existed," he said.

If there had been more emotion than usual in his voice there, I didn't comment on it. I'd known for years that something lay between those two men, and I didn't like thinking about what it might be.

"Make sure it hurts, though, would you?" the kid continued. "Can't have a monster like him floating around my district, not for any longer than we must, and I want him to know just how much I've tolerated his presence for as long as we have. Think you can do that?"

...Had we somehow started drinking without me knowing about it? Unless he had alcohol in his system, the kid didn't usually relax around me like this, not even in such a slight way.

"Sure, I can handle that," I said with a frown. "Are you ok?"

"Fine, fine," the kid said, waving a hand. "Time for some sleep now, though, so please. Get out."

Drawing back, I lifted my hands in surrender, and as he collapsed onto his cot, I walked out the door.

I started in the Leaky Tap. If one wanted to start a rumor—true or not—one's best bet for that was always found in the local tavern.

As I heavily took a seat at the bar, its keeper came hustling to me, swiping a cloth around the rim of a glass as he did.

"Hey, Vaughn! Haven't seen you here in a while," he said. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, just an ale. You know what I like."

But then, I sighed, resting my elbows on the bar so I could clutch my head. It was a manipulative move, planned to be that way, and I absolutely hated doing it. This sort of work—best undertaken by the secret police and various other sordid organizations—wasn't my specialty. In fact, I was terrible at it, but unfortunately, that same behavior was what this situation called for. If I was to push Russell Teague out of power, I'd have to engage in it, and I desperately wanted that man gone.

So, when the barkeeper set a beer in front of me, I morosely pulled it to my chest, cupping it as I took a sip, and the other man raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Nodding, I said, "Yeah. Work related, though."

"I see."

Ducking his head, the barkeeper intently focused on cleaning the bar top in front of him, all while I waited. In the end, he couldn't stay silent, as I'd expected.

"If I'll be seeing you and your boss here over the next few days, I'd like some heads up," he said.

At that, I winced. Avan knew how many times I'd pulled the kid out of this place in the small hours of the morning, long after everyone else had gone to sleep. Doing it had always been an intensely uncomfortable experience for everyone involved. Uncomfortable for the kid because he'd always had far more than one too many, and uncomfortable for everyone else when it came to dealing with him. I didn't think anyone besides me and this bar's various employees knew about those incidents, not in recent years at least.

Then again, everything to do with the kid had changed after his brother had died, not just his retreat into his frozen persona or his occasional, intense outbursts of drunken stupor.

"No, nothing's up with Lyle. He's fine," I told the barkeeper. "The problem's all mine."

I paused a moment, wondering how to phrase the next part. It had to sound both appropriately shameful and like it had been dragged out of me. No one would want to admit to something like this.

"You know I do the occasional job for crews other than Lyle's, yes?" I said.

When the barkeeper nodded, I sighed.

"Well, a couple of days ago, I did a favor for Mr. Teague," I reluctantly continued. "It was supposed to be a small job, a go-and-fetch sort of thing. I didn't... I didn't know what I was fetching."

Seemingly intrigued, the barkeeper lifted an eyebrow.

"And that something was?" he obligingly drawled.

Harshly breathing out, I took a long pull from my beer, continuing to drink until my lungs were burning. Slamming my mug down, I swiped my mouth, almost violently, and managed to make an aborted gag come forth.

"A... a girl," I eventually whispered. "Maybe eight-years-old. Mr. Teague wanted a little girl."

This pronouncement stopped all activity in the area around me. Even a fellow patron a few stools down paused in his drinking, pinning his eyes on me.

With a groan, I scrubbed my face.

"I don't know what he did with her. Don't want to know, honestly," I said. "But it can't have been good, and I... avan, I'm such a coward. As soon as I saw that damn 'package', I should have stopped. I should have gone to the coppers-"

"And gotten yourself caught up in something like this?" the barkeep interrupted me. "Vaughn, everyone knows getting the coppers involved in anything is a suicidal idea when in Flosa, and you couldn't have defied Mr. Teague at the time. The important thing is that you're here now, talking. I just..."

Shaking his head, the barkeeper rested his rag and the glass on the bar top.

"This is a lot," he said. "More than I can handle. I'm just gonna... I'm gonna get my boss, all right? He'll know what to do."

As the barkeeper hurried away, I lowered my face into my folded arms, radiating as much self-loathing as I could. Unfortunately, this pretense wasn't half as difficult as it should be. I might not have directly participated in facilitating Russell Teague's... proclivities, but I certainly hadn't stopped them after the kid had told me about them.

To be fair, he'd also told me that he had a plan to neutralize the monster, one that he'd needed time to implement, and the blackmail he held over Russell's head had kept that man from acting out his darker impulses in the years since. That only mitigated my guilt a little, though.

The barkeep soon returned with Norris, the Leaky Tap's owner, on his heels.

"What's this I hear about Mr. Teague?" the stockier man grumbled as he approached.

Waving at me, the barkeeper said, "Go on, now. Tell him what you just told me."

So, I repeated my story, making sure to tear up as I did, and once I'd finished, Norris reacted as predictably as everyone else around me had. Immediately, he accepted what I'd said before cautioning me to keep quiet while he and his friends verified the truth of my story. Then, he rushed out of the bar.

When among decent people, this was how it always went after news of child abuse first broke. There might be some initial shock, but for a short time, the story was also believed, swept along by the outrage every moral human being felt about such awful crimes.

Soon enough, that would fade, allowing doubt and society's habit of outright denying life's horrors to take its place. I wasn't worried about that, though, for one very good reason.

The kid had told me not to.

There was more to that, of course. When he'd first brought this issue up with me, he'd included me in the surface level details of his plans to deal with it. So, I knew the kid had physical evidence that would prove Russell Teague's involvement in the crime I'd accused him of. I wasn't sure what that proof was or how the kid hadn't gotten his hands on it, but whatever it was, it would soon be circulating through the Warehouse District, all as the kid had dictated.

All as he'd had planned for who knew how many years now.

I was just glad he'd let me play a part in this piece of his Plan. If there was one thing I'd always abhorred, it was seeing innocents harmed. I'd experienced enough instances of that to fill a lifetime, and perhaps the kid had seen that on my face when he'd been explaining all of this to me.

So, the fact that he'd eased his insistence on self-reliance for me to help in this small way meant a lot to me.

But now, that part of the Plan was over and done. I finished my drink under the barkeeper's watchful eye, and as soon as I was done, he gave me another.

"You did good, Vaughn," he said. "This one's on me, ok? On all of us."

He tilted his head at the patrons in the Leaky Tap, a few of whom nodded my way, and on noting the hard glint in their eyes, I bit down on a grin.

Whether in a few hours or days, Russell Teague would soon face the wrath of the Warehouse District. For any other man, I might hope that avan could help them, but given what I knew about the crime boss, all I could think was, it's about damn time.

I was scouting the perimeter around the Barbary's estate when the expected happened.

While making my rounds, I couldn't help my exasperation on examining the grounds opposite me. At one point, the Barbary family had been full of honorable people, whose who'd done what they could to help their fellow citizens. Now, they marked their claimed territory with a tall stone wall, topped by wrought-iron spikes, and beyond, I knew I'd find far more luxuries than a single family should ever own. A small nation's worth of wealth kept from the people who needed it.

And we intended to take some of it from them.

So far as I could tell, the place's protection looked the same as always. Despite the heavy clouds overhead, the sun still illuminated the members of the Watton security team, spaced every hundred meters or so. Loosely standing guard, they kept a wary eye on the street in front of them. Their staggered shifts had made it difficult to find a hole in this single defense alone, but with Gus' help, the kid had pinpointed just such a weakness, although I had no idea what it could be.

Not that this was a change. When it came to the crew's jobs, the kid never told all of us the full plan, the better to make sure none of us could let those details slip free.

Much as it might annoy me, I couldn't begrudge the kid his caution. He'd seen far too much trouble in his life to trust any of us fully, even after our many years of working together.

As I was turning the corner for my return trip home, a bag was dropped over my head, and a split second of panic quickly gave way to me rolling my eyes. Fucking gangsters and their love of drama.

The hood was removed after I'd been roughly escorted several paces from where I'd been standing, and on seeing the abandoned alley around me, I sighed.

Really? Russell couldn't have come up with somewhere less exceptionally typical for this confrontation?

Before I could say a word, the gang boss was shouting in my face.

"What the hell are you and Lyle playing at?!"

Running my eyes over him, I noted Russell's ruddy cheeks and glassy eyes, the way his fists were trembling at his sides while he convulsively swallowed, and I barely kept from smiling.

At surface level, this might look like anger, but I saw the real emotion that anger was covering up. This man was scared.

Good.

"Ah, yes," I said. "I was wondering when the cockroach would show up."

At his side, Russell's goons bristled, but before they could react to my words, their boss lashed out, and I let the slap land.

"You should watch what you say, Vaughn," Russell hissed. "You're in deep enough shit with me already."

Humming to myself, I lightly touched my cheek, feeling the heat coming off of it. Yes, this should redden nicely. It wasn't quite enough for what I needed, though.

Spreading my arms, I smiled.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Teague."

As he turned an even deeper shade of red, Russell was hauling back for another slap when the clouds above, which had been threatening rain all day, finally let loose. Water cascaded over everyone in the ally with none of the trickle one usually saw at the beginning of a storm, and while I didn't move, Russell sputtered, shaking out his arms, before taking a step back beneath a roof's eave. He gestured at the goons escorting him. Cracking their knuckles, they stepped into my space.

I didn't resist for the first ten seconds of this confrontation. In that time, several blows landed, but once I determined that I'd gained enough authentic injuries, I moved to stop the fight.

To them, it would look like I'd moved faster than humanly possible. I knew this, but not only was I not inclined to hide my long-honed skills from these three gangsters, but it was the best way I had to fully communicate how much of a threat I was to them.

To me, it was routine, boring in its predictability.

I ducked a punch at my face, swiveled to the right—stopping between the goons—and hooked a foot behind the knee of the one I was facing. He'd fully invested in his initial strike, so when I nudged him, he stumbled forward into the wall. With my fingers in his hair, I bounced his head off of the bricks.

I heard my second opponent snarl, felt air moving toward my lower back, and stepped to the side, avoiding a punch to my left kidney. Grabbing that outstretched wrist, I curled into the man's body, driving my elbow back and into that same joint on him. The force of my momentum had something popping, and with a released huff of air, the goon backed away. I barely caught sight of his lower arm's bone jutting out from the back of his elbow before I was absently catching my first opponent's fist, stopping it mere centimeters from my face.

Blood was seeping over his mouth from his nose. I added to it with my own punch, and as he reeled,, I released his hand, shoving him backward. Another hard impact with the alley's wall, cracking the back of his head into it, soon had sim slowly sliding to the ground.

My second opponent was running at me, so once more, I stepped aside, raising my arm into his path. It toppled him into the slick mud at our feet, sending his legs crashing into the wall. One flew up it while the other snapped into a painful looking position. I took a single step forward before placing my boot on his throat, firmly pressing down.

He tried to get me off of him but wasn't successful, not when my stance was firmly set and he was still addled from his fall and the dislocated elbow. When he dropped into unconsciousness, I glanced back to make sure the other man hadn't gotten back up. Sure enough, he was still slumped against the wall, dazedly staring into space. I hoped I hadn't cracked his head too hard in that last exchange of blows.

Sighing, I put my raised foot back on the ground. I checked the scene, making sure I'd neutralized all sources of danger, before crouching to gather up some of the muck that the fight and rain had displaced.

As I spread it over my face and clothes, I said, "I trust my point has been made?"

From where he'd started cowering soon into the fight, Russell Teague cleared his throat.

"Your point?" he croaked.

Pursing my lips, I shook my head. It seemed I'd have to spell it out for the bastard.

"That you can't threaten me. That you can't threaten Lyle. More importantly, that you've played into my hand," I said. "I've been waiting for you to attack me all day. It took you long enough, but that will work in my favor. The crowd at the Leaky Tap should be getting just drunk enough to fully appreciate my battered appearance when I get there."

Russell merely gawked at me for a moment before sputtering.

"What?!"

The rain was washing off most of the dirt and grime I'd applied to my body, so with an annoyed breath out, I scooped up more.

"It's simple, Mr. Teague. My injuries from this... inconvenience will gain me sympathy, especially as they've come so soon after the confession I made this morning. That, combined with Lyle working his usual magic, will leave you with not much of a defense when our combined accusation brings this conflict to a head," I said. "If you want to avoid a lynching tonight, I'd suggest you get out of the Warehouse District while you still can, but... what do I know? Maybe I've misjudged my neighbors'' temperaments. Maybe they won't recognize you for the waste of space that you are."

"But I doubt it."

Bristling, Russell curled his hands into fists.

"You really think you can intimidate me?" he shouted. "You? The insignificant peon of a truly insignificant thieves' crew? Really?"

That nearly made me fall over cackling. He had no idea who I was.

Instead, I finished with dirtying my clothes and skin before shrugging.

"Honestly? I don't care what you think about me or how you feel," I said. "Your days of ruling this district are over."

I left him standing over his defeated subordinates, making my way toward the Leaky Tap and the final performance of the evening that I'd need to make there.

Audiobook Chapter Ten