“Are you sure?” Valaine asked, looking dumbfounded.
“Yeah. I mean, look at her. She’s terrified, thinking we can’t see through this fake bravado of hers,” I said with a shrug. “She’s not going to tell us anything, so we might as well check with the other neighbors.”
Valaine nodded and joined me as we descended the small steps leading from her door, when the old Rimian finally found her courage. “Maybe I did see something.”
Thankfully, my sun mask hid my smile as I turned around to face her again. “Pray tell.”
“Not out here, you insolent boy. Come in!” the old Rimian replied, moving away from the door to let us in.
I admired her courage. She definitely didn’t fear an elite Aeternae like Valaine—at least, she wasn’t afraid of speaking her mind. But there was definitely something that had made her stay quiet over the past two decades, and it was connected to the Darklings.
They were still active. They could still seek retribution against anyone who snitched on them, which was why she was inviting us into her home now. I’d riled her up enough to make her want to talk to us, but she retained her extreme cautiousness by moving the conversation inside.
Valaine looked at me as we went in. I could tell from the glimmer in her eyes that we were both thinking the same thing. We were on to something here. We were maybe one lead closer to unmasking the Darklings… and maybe even stopping them for good, this time around.
Tristan
“I’m Katlin, by the way,” the old Rimian woman said as she welcomed us into her small living room. The house itself was economy-size, but bright and airy. She pulled the shutters closed as we settled on a pale blue loveseat, and I took my sun mask off.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“You’re easy on the eyes, I’ll give you that,” Katlin grumbled. She went into the kitchen, while Valaine and I looked at each other, listening to the clanks and the sound of water running down the hallway.
“She’s right. You are easy on the eyes.” Valaine chuckled.
“Oh, hush. You’re embarrassing me,” I replied, trying not to laugh.
“She might invite you to dinner,” she said, clearly amused.
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and hospitable, but she’s not my type.”
Valaine covered her mouth, stifling a chortle, but immediately put on a more serious face when Katlin returned with a silver tray, on which she’d brought a porcelain tea service. She placed it on the coffee table in front of us and sat in the armchair next to our loveseat. Exhaling deeply, she pointed at the flowery tea kettle.
“Help yourselves. I’m already tired.”
I nodded, pouring a cup for myself and one for Valaine. It smelled of roses and cinnamon, likely a local tea variety. I’d caught a similar scent back at the marketplace, and it filled my lungs with a quiet but much welcome tranquility.
“Tell us, Katlin, what do you know about the orphanage?” Valaine asked, holding the cup and saucer in her lap.
Nervously glancing around, the old Rimian frowned. “I knew about the Darklings. But my husband was ill at the time. None of us on this street dared to rat them out, anyway. We saw what they did to snitches.”
“So you saw them in there,” Valaine concluded, nodding toward the window.
“Every day for thirty years,” Katlin said. “Some left, others came, but there were always Darklings in that place. The children feared them, but they had no other choice. They had to serve them, to watch the streets for them.”
“And what happened on the day of Kalon’s raid?” Valaine asked.
“The Darklings were tipped off. I saw them carrying wooden crates and leather bags out of the building, hours before the golden guards came. They left the children and a few of their newer recruits behind—fodder for the soldiers, really. But the big bosses fled to safety. They’re probably still somewhere in the city, plotting their operations.”
“Do you know what they were?” I replied. “I mean, only Aeternae, or Rimians and Naloreans, too?”
“None of us would ever consort with their kind.” Katlin scoffed, visibly disgusted. “Whatever their beef is with the government, we will have no involvement. They’re evil and dangerous. They kill people without so much as a blink. One night, they beheaded a new recruit right outside the orphanage, for everyone to see. The guy who did it said the recruit was a spy from the gold guards. Wanted to show us all what happened to those who tried to go against them.”
“The orphanage is abandoned now, isn’t it?” I asked.
She thought about it for a moment, watching me intently. “I don’t think so.”
My blood ran cold. Briefly glancing at Valaine, I could see that she was equally disturbed. She leaned forward, her gaze fixed on the Rimian woman. “You saw Darklings in there?”
“I’m not sure what I saw. It could’ve just been squatters,” Katlin replied, her hands shaking in her lap, a little more than before and enough to prove that she was genuinely fearful.
“Please, Katlin. Whatever detail you remember… it’s important,” Valaine said.
“Why, though? It was twenty years ago. There hasn’t been any word of the Darklings since!” The old Rimian sighed, lowering her head.
“We had issues with them last night,” I interjected, drawing Valaine’s ire.
“Tristan!”
“Whoa… They’re back?!” Katlin murmured, her reddish brown eyes wide.
“It’s confidential, for now. We’re trusting you with important information here,” I said. “So, please… What have you seen recently?”
Katlin looked at the shuttered window for a long moment, then back at us. I kept my eyes on her, knowing I’d made Valaine angry over the disclosure of last night’s attack. But I had a feeling it would work out in our favor. The old Rimian woman was surly and secretive, but she was also lonely. There was no sign of her husband still being alive, and she clearly enjoyed our company. Giving her the sense of helping us, of helping save innocent lives from the Darklings, seemed like a good angle.
“They go in there in pairs, never alone,” Katlin finally said. “Long black hoods. Golden masks. Always after dark, close to midnight, when most of the residents here are asleep. I’m more of a nocturnal creature myself, so I hear them, every other day. Their footsteps… their whispers… the squeaking of old doors inside. I don’t know what they do in there, but they never stay for more than a few hours.”
“You’ve never gone inside during the day?” I asked, half-smiling. She struck me as the annoyingly curious type.
