Night through Evangelina’s cracked window appeared as pockets of lamplight speckling the city below. Light disrupting rivers of shadow. A gust of wind howled and shoved against the glass before her, grinding its shards against each other, threatening to splinter them into fragments. And then hurl them back into her flesh.
A cold thrill carried through Evangelina’s slip and ran along her arms to the nape of her neck.
Tonight there’d be another murder.
Somewhere out there in that city sprawling away from the tower, Evangelina’s place of residence.
Outside, torches guttered under the sea wind, but a red glow strengthened with the weakening of other flames. This sheen—originating from the tower—stained the dark sky. A beacon for unfortunate souls who found themselves sailing at night.
At least that was the more recent legend.
Torchlight returned in a dance as it flared and wrapped around stone buildings and towers much shorter than the one Evangelina stood inside. The black mass of the sea, moon-painted in silver, carried far out into the night. If not for the cracks that transected the glass before her, the view would be beautiful if not ominous.
“Come back to bed, young lady,” a male voice rumbled from the dim room behind Evangelina, a voice choked with sleep.
A shadow enlarged and twisted by torchlight prowled along a cobbled street far below.
Alone.
There weren’t many others out there this night. The citizens knew what was coming. The shadow would be from that of a beggar, a drunk sneaking home, or a killer—the Necromancer.
“Does the coming event plague your mind as well?” The man rustled against the blankets and sat up, running a hand through black hair streaked in gray. Then softer and quieter, he said, “Even the whores are frightened.”
“Even whores have those things called emotions.” Evangelina folded her arms across her chest and glared past the cracked window.
The man never told Evangelina his name, but his face was known by everyone. The lord of their city. All the fiefdom belonged to him. Sir Mardaine, a noble by blood rite.
“I didn’t mean that,” Mardaine said, regret muffling his words. “It’s just that this is affecting everyone. It should be only my burden to bear. Not yours.”
“Yours and the victims.”
“True.” He shook his head.
“And their families and friends.”
He buried his face in his hands. “I wish it were only mine. I wish it would all end and we could dangle the killer from the gibbet for all to see. I wish the people of my city would no longer have to live in fear.”
“I wish for a flying horse who can fit in the palm of my hand and sleep on my blankets. But whom I can still ride, of course. Ride and fly out over the sea. And for a diamond necklace that will grant me magical abilities and long life. But only if I stay young forever. And to be able to eat pastries and drink ale at every meal without ruining my body and turning away men’s desires … or to never be beholden to a man or his desires again. Oh, I wish for a phantom of me they can romp with instead.”
Mardaine chuckled and shook his head as if he expected a retort of this kind from her. He stood up, naked, towering over Evangelina by several handsbreadths. He gazed out the window and over the city of Red Pike’s Landing.
“You can always take my mind off whatever it needs to be taken from,” he said. “I will have this window replaced. And the down of your bed refreshed.”
“Can you replace the entire tower? From the foundations to the cracking beams?”
Mardaine didn’t chuckle this time, his face turning wan and haggard. “The oldest structure in the city, now infested by the poor as it falls into dereliction. It is beyond saving. I will only mend your loft, and only until I find you more suitable chambers.”
“I cannot leave this place.” Evangelina’s lips curled into a smirk. “I would miss all of my derelict friends … and all of my dirty lovers.”
Mardaine grimaced as if he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not and didn’t want to picture her with those men—what she’d intended.
“Again, young lady, that is not what I mean. You do not belong here. You are breathtaking. A light amidst the marsh. I will save you once you allow me to.”
“Maybe I am a firebug—shiny only compared to the dark recesses of the place I call home.”
“Ah.” He waved her comment aside. “You never—”
A shriek pierced the wind outside like a blade.
Silence lingered for a moment, seeming to crawl up from the chamber floor and nestle between them.
“My legatus and his legion will find this killer.” Mardaine’s hand fell onto Evangelina’s shoulder, which made her tense.
“But our Necromancer grows bolder,” she replied. “I am not without rumors in the midst of this marsh of a tower. Nor can I hide behind guards and a gate like a noble. Corpses that once were discovered every fortnight and that were hidden in alleyways or brothels are now found lying in the open. Where have the last dozen murders occurred?”
Mardaine bit his lip.
“Do not lie to me,” she said. “You may lie to your wife and your other mistresses, but not to me. I can see it in your eyes when you do.”
“A central square. Before a church. Then inside a crowded tavern.”
“And no one sees a thing?”
“Many have seen many things. That is the problem. No witness can agree on what the suspected murderer was wearing or what they looked like.”
“Then it is all true.” Evangelina ran a finger along her lower lip as fear rippled inside her. “We are dealing with a witch. Or something worse.”
“A demon. A necromancer. I’ve heard it all.”
“And so, my lord, how can you save your city and protect your merchants—and through them your taxes—from such evil?”
“My legionnaires will find this killer. Those soldiers are the best in all the surrounding fiefdoms.”
“None of my other suitors share your optimism.” Evangelina surveyed the streets below for more moving figures. A regiment of soldiers—the jagged shadows of their spears spiking as tall as buildings as they rushed past—disappeared into the night.
“Please, come with me. I have a room for you at the estate. You will be protected. I can care for you.”
A cold disgust burgeoned deep inside Evangelina’s stomach. No one would care for her. Not for long. Not for a lifetime. Only while they still desired to grope and prod her.
“You should leave.” She reached for the cracked window to pull it open and allow the cold wind to roar inside. “Unless you prefer to take the inner stairs tonight.”
“My guards await me outside at the bottom. Who knows what rubbish I may encounter inside this tower. Rubbish who may recognize me.”
He dressed in breeches and a surcoat, then hid himself under a gray cloak.
“Until next time your fancies bring you after my scent, my gracious lord of the night.”
Mardaine grunted in reply as Evangelina unlatched the window.
Something banged against the glass, jarring Evangelina’s hand.
She lurched back and stifled a scream.
A smear of yellow—a flash of a colorful cloak unlike any cloak she’d ever seen—disappeared as fast as it had come. As bright as lemons. The muted thudding of footsteps ascending the staircase spiraled around the outside of the tower, fading into the night.
Evangelina’s heart beat against her throat as she steadied herself and glanced back at Mardaine.
Her voice cracked as she said, “Perhaps you will reconsider taking the outer stairs.”
