A narrow path ran around the top edge of the building, between the three-foot-high lip where River’s jungle of trees and plants started. I paced it now. I’d gone down earlier, about half an hour after Ian left. My face had been fresh scrubbed of tears, and I plastered on a half smile as I let River, Anya, and Pinky fuss over me. I had dinner with them and Jarrett, as had been planned before the world had fallen apart. They tried to keep the conversation light, only once asking why Ian hadn’t stayed for dinner. I told them he had work to do, and no one questioned it, though Jarrett gave me a raised eyebrow look.
River went to sleep, and Jarrett, Anya, and Pinky were downstairs in the pub, now clear of the aftermath of today’s fight, playing cards, doing their best to enjoy a forced night off, despite the circumstances. I was on the roof, alone, walking miles around the building because I couldn’t sleep.
Actually, I hadn’t even tried to sleep. I’d taken one look at my empty bed and fled back to the garden. But once up here, I couldn’t force myself to go in, to walk among the flowers, vegetables, and trees. Couldn’t bring myself to sit in my favorite spot. I would probably never be able to sit beneath the apple trees again, not after making love with Ian there. Not after ripping him from my life there.
So I spent my evening between the ugly concrete wall that marked the edge of the building and the lush garden that made it more than just a roof. For what might have been hours, I walked and stared out over the city at the lights of candles, hearth fires, and crystal lanterns flickering like hundreds of fireflies. Somewhere out there, Millie Linton was fighting for her life. Maybe, just maybe, Farah Purcell was still alive and doing the same. And there I stood, in safety and comfort, utterly useless. I felt so completely powerless.
I hated that feeling, I hated it because it made me feel like I was five years old again, watching my mother as she lay in her bed in our apartment over Pinky’s Pub, crying herself to sleep over my father, who had already been gone so many years I didn’t even remember him. But she did, and she wept every night she was home, with such complete desperation and sorrow that I would tiptoe into her room, crawl onto the narrow bed with her, pat her on the back, and say, “It’s okay, Mommy, I’m here.” But she would pull away from me, curling into a ball, and scream at me in her tear-roughened voice to go to bed. And so I would, and I would sit there in the center of my bed, my knees hugged to my chest, listening to my mother sob, feeling alone and helpless, waiting for dawn. When dawn came, Pinky would close up the bar and go to bed. I would sneak down to his room and though I knew he only pretended not to hear me, he never sent me away when I crawled onto the foot of his bed, curled up at his back, and fell asleep.
I pushed the memory, and the sick feeling it invoked, out of my head and refocused my gaze on the quiet of the city. Well, it was quiet from up here, but not down in the streets. Even at this hour, people milled around, shopping or going to bars, or whatever they did. The night was the time of the vampires, the only time they could do the normal things everyone else did during the day. So, while in the outer edges of the city and off towards New Nashville lights started blinking out and settling down for the night, the streets right below me were bustling and bright with life and laughter.
I had always loved that strange contrast. All the streetlights and cook fires burning in the inner city, slowly fading out as you looked further out towards the wall. From my vantage point, I could just see the outline of the city wall. The Guards pacing their watch along it were tiny dots in the distance, backlit by the bonfires beyond the walls, which added another element to the beautiful contrast. Unlike the small fires flickering from inside windows or from rooftop or sidewalk fire-pits in the city, huge outdoor bonfires raged every night out past the wall.
Dozens of small communities existed in the few miles beyond the city, close enough for the inhabitants to work or trade in the city, but still live free of Nash laws, as well as Nash protection. Most of the little villages out there, consisting of anywhere from twenty to a hundred people, built huge bonfires at night for communal food cooking and for warmth. Up close, those communities were sad and dangerous, most home to gangs and outlaws, but from afar, their fires were like fireflies twinkling against the black velvet night. The sight always calmed me.
Oh, fuck. I was so incredibly stupid. The outlying villages were mostly home to gangs of thugs and outlaws. Of course! We’d searched the entire city and found nothing, because maybe, just maybe, Bokor’s hideout wasn’t in the city. The city gates were closed at twilight every night and few were let in, but anyone would be let out. If someone came into the city during the day, getting back out at night would not be a problem. I still didn’t have a clue as to how he was getting the mages out of the city unseen, but I was suddenly positive that he was.
I ran downstairs, to the apartment. It was, as I had expected, empty except for River, who was quietly snoring in her room. I was as quiet as possible as I jotted down a note where I was going and headed out. I stopped in the back room and grabbed my cloak and hanbo, then quietly snuck out, releasing, then reinstating, the alarm wards on the back door as I slipped through it. Once outside, I paused for a breath. No screeching sirens sounded behind me. Pinky hadn’t made good on his threat to set a keep-in spell. Of course, why would he? I had pinky-sworn not to sneak out. A wave of guilt rocked me in my boots, but I stood firm. There was no sense in getting everyone excited over this lead until I had something solid to go on. Besides, if I told them I needed to go out and why, Pinky would insist Jarrett go with me. That would leave my family unprotected. I was not prepared to do that. So, I snuck out, and hoped Pinky would be able to forgive me for breaking his trust.