Perfect, I thought, as I tried to open it. “Dammit,” I mumbled. It was locked from the inside. A dart shot past me, missing my shoulder by mere inches. There was no time. It had come from above, so I had a hostile on the second floor.

I punched through the window, the glass crashing and spreading down the stairs. I cleared out the rest of the shards with a bleeding hand, hissing from the stinging sensations. It didn’t matter.

Pulling myself all the way in, I reached the stairs and bolted up them. Kalon jumped through and joined me, moving like a shadow. I heard a scream somewhere below—a Nalorean woman with a tea tray. We’d scared her, but that didn’t matter, either.

We made it onto the second floor, as I followed the foreign scent into one of the rooms. A Rimian in a black hood was by the window, reloading a brass tube-like contraption with another poison dart. He’d shot the one that had nearly caught me between buildings. He saw me and raised his dart-weapon, but I got to him in a split second and punched him in the side of the head so hard and fast, it knocked his lights out.

“Whoa!” Kalon exclaimed, almost laughing. “You are one savage little vampire.”

“Who are you calling little?” I returned, and took the dart-weapon away from the unconscious Rimian. Kalon grabbed it and pointed it out another window that overlooked the alley from which we’d just escaped. He pressed the small trigger below it, and I heard someone cry out in the distance. He’d hit one of the other attackers.

We stared at each other for a minute, listening to the sounds outside and below. Boots thudded on the floor and on the ground. Hushed whispers. Doors opening and slamming shut. Windows breaking. But no more darts being fired. Something had changed.

“They’re leaving in quite a rush,” Kalon said, his breathing ragged.

The Nalorean woman we’d scared earlier finally found us upstairs, and she was terrified, shaking like a leaf as she held up a broom. “You’re trespassing! Get out or I’ll call the silver guards!” she screamed, her full cheeks red, her lips quivering.

“I’m Lord Visentis, and you will do no such thing!” Kalon shot back, standing tall and menacing in front of the open window.

Whoever had tried to take us down was already gone, from this house and the others—except, of course, for the Rimian I’d sucker-punched into oblivion. The Nalorean woman was just as surprised to see him as we were, though.

“What… Milord… What is going on here?” she asked, unable to regain her composure.

“We’re not sure,” Kalon replied. “But I assure you we mean no harm.”

“You broke my window.” She huffed, gradually calming herself down with deep breaths, leaning against the doorframe, broom still in her hand.

I pointed at the unconscious Rimian. “Do you know him?”

“No! I don’t know what he’s doing here!” she said.

“Then, if I were you, I’d be less worried about the window I broke, and more worried about how this guy made it all the way up here in what I assume is your house. He was trying to hurt us,” I replied.

As if suddenly conked on the head with a magical bat of clarity and common sense, the Nalorean woman exhaled sharply, her pale blue eyes bulging with realization. “He snuck in. He must’ve snuck in. I didn’t hear a thing… What’s that ruckus outside?”

Voices emerged through the open window. I got up and joined Kalon in front of it, to find dozens of confused Naloreans coming out of their homes, their doors wide open and some of their windows broken. Darts were scattered all over the alley, though none had hit their target. Whoever had attacked us had snuck into these people’s homes, and they’d rushed out as soon as we’d taken this Rimian guy down.

That told me a few things about their capabilities. I had a feeling we were dealing with the Red Threads. Rimians didn’t stand a chance against us in direct combat, which was why they’d chosen to fire their poisonous darts at us. I rushed back to the unconscious Rimian and searched his pockets, wondering if—there it was!

I took out a red leather thread, knotted on both ends, and showed it to Kalon. “I think we found the Red Threads.”

Kalon looked a little pale as he gawked at the thread between my fingers. “Oh, good. The day has not been wasted yet. I would’ve preferred different circumstances, of course, but I’ll take what we can get.”

“We can’t take him back to the palace,” I said. “If there are Darklings who have infiltrated the gold guards, he’ll be dead before we get anything out of him. Assuming, of course, that the Red Threads and the Darklings are cooperating, somehow.”

“Well, the Red Threads are definitely interested in us. We’re getting closer,” Kalon replied, blinking slowly as he leaned against the window frame.

I looked at the Nalorean woman, adrenaline still rushing through me. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” I said to her.

Kalon fumbled through his pockets and threw her a couple of gold coins, which she caught in her hands, still speechless and stunned by this clearly unexpected development. The woman was probably getting ready for a nice cup of afternoon tea and a good book. “Here, take these for your broken window,” Kalon said. “I’ll be getting a nice little prize from Trev’s victory tomorrow, anyway. I think I still have my winning flyer…”

He patted himself down, his words slurring. There was something wrong with him.

“Kalon, are you okay?” I asked, measuring him from head to toe.

“I don’t think so.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping.

“Oh, dear…” the Nalorean woman managed, pointing somewhere behind him. I followed her gaze and took a couple of steps to the side. A dart was lodged just under his shoulder blade. The poison was already spreading through him , hence the increasing sluggishness. He’d been hit somewhere along the way.

I gripped his shoulders, shaking him so he would look at me. “You said the dart wouldn’t kill us, right?” I asked, and he nodded slowly. “What will it do, though? If we’re hit?”

“It’s slow acting… for Aeternae… but… put… to sleep…”

A second later, Kalon was flat on his face, snoring like he hadn’t slept in centuries. I was baffled and genuinely alarmed. I had an unconscious Aeternae, an unconscious Rimian, and a barely conscious Nalorean woman who couldn’t understand what was happening or what we were all doing here.

We did have a member of the Red Thread faction in our possession, though, and I knew they were using a similar identification method as the Darklings, with the red leather strips. I also knew they wanted us silenced, so I had to find us a way out of here, and fast. The Red Threads might’ve left, but the Darklings were bound to show up soon.

If evil Rimians couldn’t take us, evil Aeternae definitely could.

“I need some rope for the Rimian and a cold bath for Lord Visentis,” I said to the Nalorean woman after a few minutes of feverish thinking and planning.

She stared at me as if I’d just insulted her mother. “Excuse me?”

“Did I not make myself clear?” I replied, raising my voice. “Rope. Cold water. Help. Now!”

I startled her, but it worked. She rushed down the stairs and came back minutes later with a handful of twine. She was panting, but I had her on my side, judging by the curious look in her eyes, as she watched me tie the Rimian’s hands behind his back.

“Thank you,” I said. “Now, the bathroom?”

The Nalorean woman pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Down the hall, here.”

“Help me get Lord Visentis in there,” I replied.

I had my hands full, to say the least. I needed Kalon up and running, ideally before the Rimian came to. For good measure, I ripped a piece of the Rimian’s cloak and used it as a gag, to keep him quiet in case he woke up. I’d clocked him good, though.

Whatever this hot mess was, I was all the more determined to untangle it and get to the truth. Someone didn’t want me investigating the Darklings and the Red Threads, and that was exactly what I was going to do. First, however, I’d have to bring Kalon back into the realm of consciousness.

Tristan

We arrived in the far south of the city, where the Makios dynasty was known to live. One of the more fortunate families, they counted six to ten siblings per marriage, and they occupied an entire neighborhood in this area.

The alley was flanked by blue brick homes with three levels and whitewashed windows. The doors were white, with brass knockers, and there were flowers at every entrance and sill. “It’s a common theme for the Makios,” Valaine said. “The dark blue and white. They’re seafarers, most of them. Sailors. Matching their colors to the sea and its foamy waves.”

“Do you know Egan’s wife?” I asked, as we made our way up the steps to his house.

Two gold guards had come with us, and they stayed in the middle of the street. The sun was setting through the reddish haze, a giant crimson blotch spreading across the sky. I took my mask off as Valaine knocked on the door.

“Maritza. Yes,” she said. “Not intimately, but I know she’s a good person. Gentle and kind, patient. An excellent mother, too.”