ASH, AARYA, INES, and I move through Aarya’s apartment, quickly stocking weapons and assessing the ones we have for easy access. I stash my dad’s whittling knife and my mom’s scarf in my duffel bag for safekeeping and triple-check the position of my favorite boot dagger.
I step into the bathroom and pull out my phone.
Layla: When you go underground you’ll lose reception. I’ll take my own route down and follow you once you locate the bouncer.
Me: Ash thinks he and Aarya are recognizable. So Ines and I will track the bouncer and they’ll wait near the edge of the Market. Hoping you know what that means so you don’t accidentally run into them.
Layla: Understood.
I flush the toilet and slip out of the bathroom, joining my friends in the living room.
Ash stands over the coffee table tying small burlap pouches. He hands one to each of us. “There are ten darts in each, predipped in Angels’ Dream,” he says.
Aarya pulls out something wrapped in linen from her bag. “Here,” she says, unfolding the fabric and handing me a wooden blowpipe. “I know Ash gave you his spare, but this one is much better.”
I take the blowpipe, tucking it into my coat pocket. “Thanks, Aarya,” I say, and Ash looks like he’s not entirely comfortable with the gesture.
“Also,” Aarya says, “about the lightning poison…”
Ash’s eyebrows rise, as if he knew something like this was coming.
“Do we really think it’s a good idea for November to have both of those darts?” Aarya shifts her gaze to me. “What if you get incapacitated? It’s just poor logic.”
“Let me guess,” Ash says, like he’s gearing up to argue. “You think you should have one of them?”
“Not me,” Aarya replies with feigned innocence. “And not you, either, since we all know that if November gets taken out, you’re likely to be right behind her doing some inadvisable thing to save her life. I just don’t think we should take any chances, considering we only have two darts of the lightning poison, which is why I’m suggesting we give one to Ines.”
Ash looks at her suspiciously.
“I actually agree,” I say, responding before he can. I know Ash doesn’t trust Aarya, but Ines is a different story. “It’s too risky to have both darts in the same place. We need a contingency plan.” I pull one of the small glass vials out of my coat pocket and hand it to Ines.
“Great,” Aarya says, but from the look on Ash’s face, it’s clear he doesn’t agree.
“Is there anything else I need to know about the Market?” I ask, putting on my coat.
“Just keep your hood up and stare ahead confidently. Strategia can smell weakness,” Ash says, pulling on his gloves. “The good news is that no one in the Market is particularly trying to attract attention; most people are conducting business or restocking supplies and don’t appreciate others being overly watchful.”
And just like that the conversation is over and we’re headed for the door. With every step my thoughts race with hopes that my dad is okay and fears that he’s not. Hang on, Dad; we’re coming.
Ash and Aarya lead the way into a narrow cobblestoned alley that runs between a fancy Italian restaurant and a bookstore with colorful window displays. Even though the lights on the main street are bright, the farther we go down the alley, the darker it gets.
Me: Almost to Market.
Near the end of the alley, Aarya stops in front of an old wooden door and pulls a set of lock-picking tools out of her jacket. There’s a faint click and it swings open. We all slip quietly inside. Ash takes a fast survey of the alley and closes the door behind us.
For a second we’re in complete darkness. Then a match strikes and lights Aarya’s face up like a spotlight. She moves the flame toward the wall, illuminating two oil lamps, and pulls one down to light the wick inside.
Instantly the room brightens, revealing bookshelves of boxes and merchandise that suggest we’re in the storage room of the bookstore. Aarya leads us to the back wall, which I can now see is paneled entirely in dark wood, with electric sconces.
Aarya presses a piece of decorative metal on the side of a sconce and one of the wall panels swings open, revealing a door. Secret doors, secret pubs, coded messages in books at the library, private Gothic inns—it’s like finding out that all of your childhood suspicions that you could step through your closet into another world are turning out to be true.
Aarya pulls the panel fully open and Ash walks through, offering me his hand. I intertwine my fingers with his and join him on a stone staircase. The steps are worn unevenly, reminiscent of the ones in the Academy. Above our heads the stone arches, and I can’t see very far in front of me. The temperature reminds me of a cave, which Dad always claimed stays pretty consistently around fifty degrees no matter the season.
Ash and I stop at the bottom of the staircase and the oil lamp Aarya carries illuminates a portion of the straight stone passageway. I turn in both directions, but there doesn’t seem to be a distinguishable difference.
“The labyrinth,” Ash whispers near my ear, and I swallow.
I eye the passage warily as we follow Aarya down it and through a doorway into a large rectangular stone room. I look at Ash for an explanation.
“A medieval apartment,” Ash whispers, and points. “You can tell by the hearth in the wall.”
My eyes widen. “People lived underground?” I say, and even though I’m not cold, the hair on my arms stands up.
He shakes his head. “This wasn’t always underground. In fact the passageway we just came from used to be a street. And this was a ground-floor apartment. Over time this city has changed dramatically, and in an effort to level out some of the streets, parts of the buildings, markets, and houses got cut off and paved over. Sections of the city just got trapped down here.”
I shudder at the spookiness of it all. And in the way that darkness can sometimes invite gruesome thoughts, I immediately picture someone afflicted with the plague being attended to by a doctor with one of those ghoulish beaked masks.
We exit through the far end of the room and find ourselves on another underground street. We zigzag like that for the next fifteen minutes or so. And even though I’m not scared of the dark, I feel the impulse to scrutinize shadows and corners for monsters. I can’t imagine the nerve it would take to navigate this alone with nothing more than an oil lamp.
Then, suddenly, we come to a stone door and Ines leans back, using her body weight to push against it. We follow her through and Ash pulls it shut behind us. They’ve silenced their steps and I do the same. Unlike the small homes, streets, and shops that we’ve been moving through, we’re now in what appears to be an endless room of high-ceilinged arches and stone columns.
Ash whispers next to my ear. “Catacombs of an old church.”
As pretty as the stonework is, the idea that we’re walking over people’s graves is giving me the willies.
Aarya stops by a seemingly solid wall, which I know by now should not be taken for granted, and frowns at me. “Get yourself together, November. We’re about to enter the outskirts of the Market and I swear you look like you just got chased by a mummy.”
I close my eyes for a couple of seconds, focusing on all the places I’m holding tension. When I open them again, Ash nods his approval.
Ines glances at each of us, almost like she’s wishing us good luck. “In omnia paratus,” she says, which I think roughly means “ready for anything,” and presses hard on a stone in the wall about the height of her shoulder. Sure enough, another secret door opens, this one with jagged edges formed by the outline of the stones.
Aarya turns off the oil lamp, casting us into near darkness, and leaves the lamp in the catacomb. She’s the first one through the door with Ines by her side, and Ash and me right on their heels. Ash clicks the door shut in one fluid motion.
Aarya and Ines don’t speed-walk, but they do keep a brisk pace. And they’ve dropped the casual demeanor they were using on the surface streets of London for more deliberate movements and a focused stare. Next to me Ash wears the same look he did when I first met him—penetrating eyes with a dash of bravado. I lift my chest and neutralize my own expression, pulling my hood down a little farther to shadow my face in the dim torchlight.
The first turn we take, the streets are eerily empty. However, the farther along we get, the more I hear the buzzing of conversation and the promise of a crowd. As we turn a second corner, Ash reaches out, squeezing my fingers. He meets my eyes momentarily, giving me an encouraging nod; then he and Aarya break off from our group. My stomach churns uneasily the farther away he gets.
Ines walks by my side as we turn away from our friends and emerge through an archway into a big courtyard made of stone. The ceiling looms high above us in a series of domed arches, and the courtyard is bustling with vendors and shoppers from all over the world. Wooden stalls display everything from rare daggers to deadly poisons. And shop windows are lit with oil lamps and candelabras. It’s the medieval assassin’s version of my town square.
I concentrate on keeping my face unreadable, but everywhere I look there’s a potential threat. I move with purpose like Ash suggested, but even so, I fear that every Strategia we pass knows I don’t belong here.
Our pace doesn’t slow as we weave through the busy central square and onto a cobblestoned side street that’s much broader than the ones we were previously navigating. It’s well lit with torches and oil lamps and is an Old World version of the lively London streets aboveground. We pass several restaurants and an antique sword dealer before stopping in front of a pub.
Ines pushes the door open and I quickly scan the room. It’s exactly what I think of when I picture a tavern—cozy and boisterous, with a handful of wooden tables and a lively bar. The place is sparsely lit by torches, which works to our advantage because of the shadows they cast. I immediately head for a small table in the corner near the window that doesn’t leave us exposed to the other customers, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone as I pass.
I choose a chair that gives me a view of the pub across the street, which seems to be much bigger and fancier than the place we’re in. Above the entrance to the pub there’s a big wooden sign with the name THE LIONS’ DEN painted in gold letters. And outside the door are two serious-looking men, one of whom I would guess is nearly seven feet tall. I gulp. My dad was right when he described the guy as tall.
I peek at my phone in my pocket for messages from Layla that came in before I lost reception.
Layla: Be safe. See you in the Lion estate.
I erase Layla’s text as Ines sits down across from me. She doesn’t say a word and neither do I; we just tilt our heads down, covertly keeping track of that bouncer like our lives depend on it.
Seconds turn into minutes and I’m sweating so badly that if anyone could see my face they’d probably wonder if I was ill. Please go. Just go already. I plead and scream silently at the tall bouncer to leave his post and head for the Lion estate, but to no avail. He just stands outside the pub with his arms crossed. So I start counting, which is the only thing I can think to do that will keep me grounded.
When I’ve counted to exactly one hundred and thirty-eight I hear chairs scrape against the floor directly behind us. From the sound of it, six or so people are sitting down. And at one hundred and forty a familiar voice booms behind me. I stop counting.
Hawk. Of all the places he would go after the ball, it had to be this tavern?
“Scooped him right up—never stood a chance.” He’s bragging, and I can almost see him gesturing at his crew. “Mary and Jenny were part of organizing it from the start. And it’s not the first time we’ve worked with the Ferryman, neither.”
“Is that so?” says a voice I don’t recognize. “That must have been quite the golden calf. I’m not sure we could pay as much as all that.”
“Then we might not be the right crew for you,” Hawk says, and it’s clear by his tone that he loves to negotiate.
I sit bolt upright and Ines kicks me under the table. The Ferryman? Mary and Jenny? Scooped him right up? Anger swirls inside me, clenching my fists and tightening my jaw. With great effort, I exhale the tension, writing Hawk an IOU in my head. And suddenly my desire flip-flops—I now want that bouncer to stay exactly where he is until Hawk moves so I don’t have to walk past him.
As though the universe is conspiring against me, I glance outside at the bouncers, and sure enough, two men have arrived to take their place. My muscles tighten, bracing for our exit. No, no, no. I’ve been waiting for what feels like years for them to change shifts and it happens the moment Hawk sits down behind me and says he played a part in capturing my dad? This can’t be happening.
Ines slides her chair back from the table. Reluctantly I stand, careful to keep my head down as I turn around. The bad news is that Hawk’s whole crew is at the table, plus a middle-aged bald man I’ve never seen before. The good news is that Hawk is fully engaged in his conversation, pandering to the bald man the way he once did with me and Ash. But with six crowded around a table meant for four, they’ve practically boxed us in. Even Ines, who’s slighter than me and perfectly graceful, has a hard time maneuvering between them and the window.
And then it happens: Hawk laughs and leans back, tilting his chair on two legs and colliding with Ines as she walks past. She barely stumbles, but the space is tight and the forward motion causes her to knock into the bald man, spilling his pint of beer all over his lap. As if on cue, Hawk and his crew all turn to look at Ines and me. No!
The bald man growls and grabs Ines by the wrist. Her free hand immediately moves to her belt under her coat, where I know she has multiple knives.
“I hope you’re reaching for your wallet, darlin’, otherwise you’re going to sorely regret it,” the bald man says to Ines in a way that tells me he’s used to people backing down from him.
Anger flashes in Ines’s eyes and I get the distinct impression that in any other circumstances she would take her chances and fight this guy. But I can’t think about how to help her because Hawk is staring at me and I at him. And it’s instantly clear that he recognizes me. My eyes flit to Mary, the no-nonsense woman who dismissed us angrily when Ash and I tried to hire them, and her expression is as hardened as ever.
“I’ll get you another,” Ines says through clenched teeth, and yanks her wrist out of the bald man’s grasp. And for a moment I can’t believe she’s forcing civility. Is she waiting to see what Hawk will do, or does she know something I don’t about unallied crews?
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the bald man says, and I’m reminded of what Aarya said about Strategia smelling weakness. “I’m not sure I like that tone of yours. Not very, uh, apologetic.”
Jenny, the weapons specialist with the long sword earring and the leather jacket, clenches her jaw. But no one else at the table so much as tweaks an eyebrow. Time slows to a near halt, everyone calculating what move they’re going to make without having arrived at a firm decision.
“Run along now,” the bald man says to Ines, pushing his chair out farther and completely cutting me off from the exit. “We’ll just keep your friend here company until you return.”
I glare at the bald man. My possible escape routes are absolute garbage—I can either jump on the table and hope I can get off the other side without one of Hawk’s crew cutting me down or I can try to force my way past this jerk, which will probably end the same way.
The bald man turns to me, wiping his lips with the back of his hand—a hand cluttered with rings, one of which is a big silver owl. My thoughts immediately go to Nyx—the Owl Family. And in that instant time speeds up again.
Before I can react to being cornered, Ines grabs the bald man’s mostly empty pint and clobbers him in the head with it. Oh god. Shit. We’re dead. I would expect something rash like that from Aarya, but not in a million years did I think Ines would lose her cool.
I reach for my knife and the table of four men next to us stands up, posturing for a fight. They look from the bald man to me and Ines, and I realize they must be friends with him, or work for him. Even if Ines and I had a chance of fighting Hawk’s crew of five, we have no chance of fighting ten.
To my utter shock, Mary stands, too. Only she doesn’t turn on us; she faces off with the four men. “If you want those pretty faces of yours to stay pretty,” she tells them, “I would sit back down.”
I stare at her, mouth open. Maybe she didn’t like the bald man to begin with or maybe she realizes how young we are, but whatever the reason, it’s working to our advantage.
The rest of Hawk’s crew stands, too, in solidarity with Mary. Mary cracks her knuckles. The four men don’t back down and she throws a side kick at the one closest to her, connecting with his ribs and sending him smashing into the table behind him. And like a scene out of a Western movie, a brawl erupts between Hawk’s crew and the bald man’s crew.
The whole bar turns to watch the fight, taking the spotlight off me and Ines.
“You owe us for this job you just cost us,” Hawk growls, nodding at the bald man, and I get a sense that unallied Strategia are just that—unallied. They didn’t work with Ash and me because the risk was too high, and likewise they would have turned us over at the ball because that was their job, but the moment the ball ended, they were independent agents once again.
Before I can reply, Hawk pulls one of the bald man’s friends off Eddie’s back and punches the guy square in the jaw. Ines offers me her hand and I take it, climbing over the unconscious bald man. We slip out the door and into the alley as the bar begins to attract a crowd. But my relief is short-lived, because as I glance at the Lions’ Den, I realize we have a bigger problem—the tall bouncer has already left.