Page 80 of A Door in the Dark

And then she clapped the hand back over her mouth, embarrassed to have invoked the idea of hell in a place of worship. Ren averted her eyes and stifled laughter.

“My apologies,” she whispered. “It was unlocked. I’ll leave, though. Apologies, again.”

And then she was gliding back through the alcove and into the main hall. Theo offered a look of concern. Landwin was watchful but not suspicious. She kept her head bowed, knowing there were dried tear tracks lining both cheeks. Landwin would notice she’d been crying. Theo would assume it was her reaction to what they’d endured in the mountains. It was not easy to mourn a boy who’d turned into a monster and hunted them. Ren sat there, patiently listening as Clyde’s father spoke about his son’s life. Her plan had worked. No one knew she’d left the monastery.

Ren’s triumph was short lived. When the final speech ended, “The Winter Retreat” began to play. She felt Theo flinch to stillness at her side, clearly aware it was the song he’d played that night. The song that had started everything. Ren remembered dancing with Timmons before that moment. How alive she’d been. But now there were four empty caskets.

Grief finally struck. Ren wept. As the rest of the room began filing out, she stood with both hands hammered into the wooden back of the pew in front of her. Theo hovered at her side, his family waiting awkwardly at the end of the row for both of them. Ren couldn’t force composure, though. She couldn’t compartmentalize pain that was this large. She stood there and cried until Theo wrapped one arm around her shoulder.

“It’s all my fault,” she whispered. “It’s all my fault.…”

Theo whispered reassurances, but even with their newly formed bond, he couldn’t understand the weight of her grief. He did not know her secrets, could not fathom the guilt. She cried until the final note of the song stopped playing. Thankful to be able to hide behind her veil, she took Theo’s hand and followed him down the row. The Broods had already turned heel and started following the city’s other wealthy families into the outer courtyard.

Outside, the various houses stood in their separate groups. Ren had been studying all of them for so long now that she’d memorized family trees and faces. She knew who the firstborn heirs were and what industries they would inherit. The more she’d read about their investments and holdings—at least those legally required to be viewable by the public—the more she’d come to think of these great houses as dragons. Ancient creatures who hoarded the wealth of their world all for themselves. Fire-breathing creatures, intent on leaving everyone else out in the cold. She looked around at them now and felt more confident of her plans than ever.

One day you will be extinct too.

43

The name of the teahouse was Spheres.

Ren had forgotten that detail, but not the scent or the sight. This was where she’d had her first date with Pree Williams. A small line had formed at the entrance. Unable to seat customers in their exposed interior, the shop had rolled tables out into the street and scattered a selection of mismatched chairs around them. It was a fine enough morning that most of the seats were taken and gossip was already being traded back and forth. Boiling teas filled the air with steam. Ren’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the opposite side of the building.

Most of the debris had been cleared away, but that didn’t make the damage look any less devastating. Half of the roof had caved in when the seventeen-string crashed from above. She remembered a run of stained-glass windows on that side of the building. Now their frames were empty and colorless. Ren was surprised to see the instrument was still sitting there, a nearly unrecognizable mass of twisted wood and snapped strings. It had landed a few tables down from where she and Pree had sat on their date. Ren stared at that exposed section of the shop before turning to Theo.

“Stay here,” she whispered. “Vega, with me.”

He gave a silent nod as the bird fluttered to her shoulder. Heads turned as Ren made her way across the street. She was dressed this morning as befitted a future member of House Brood. It always helped to look the part. She wore a tailored plaid jacket that cost more than the rest of her wardrobe put together. Ren had chosen matching leather gloves and boots, both the same stormy gray color. Vega completed the look, talons clutched silently to Ren’s padded shoulder. All were compliments of Theo’s vast bank accounts.

She hated how quickly the folks in line shuffled to make way for her. Ren very deliberately took her place at the back of the line and waited for them to understand she had no intention of passing over anyone. There were some unsettled glances, but tea was being ordered, and the only sin at a teahouse was to dally before you had a drink in your hand. Slowly the line moved. Orders were taken until Ren reached the front. She saw customers at a serving table nearby, stirring honey too slowly into their tea, hoping to eavesdrop on the conversation. Ren smiled at a boy her age.

“I need to speak to the owner.”

His throat bobbed. “Right. Of course. Um. Can you…”

“I can wait.”

He ducked back inside. Several of the servers eyed her through a window. The boy returned a few moments later, escorting a woman Ren knew she’d seen before. She was tall and aproned. Her hair was in a tight braid, shot through with silver. She looked as if she’d lived a year or two in the last couple of days. Seeing someone like Ren was no comfort to her, but still she gestured warmly.

“Right this way.”

Ren was led through the front entrance. The servers were busy inside, but she still caught glances from each of them as she passed. There was a sense of foreboding in the looks they exchanged. People dressed like she was dressed did not come to places like this with any sort of good news. Salt in the wound, no doubt. More empty promises, perhaps. Ren didn’t speak until they reached a back office area. It was little more than an organized closet with a makeshift desk. She was offered a hard-backed chair. The woman’s eyes flicked briefly to Vega before settling on Ren.

“My name is Marlow. My husband and I own the teahouse. We’ve already reported what happened to the constables. How can I help you?”

“That is the question I was going to ask you. My name is Ren Monroe. I’m here on behalf of the Brood family.”

She watched for some sign of recognition. A curling lip or a tight fist. Anything at all. But after a moment Marlow shook her head. “The Broods who built the canal?”

It confirmed Ren’s suspicion. No one had ever told Marlow any of what had actually happened. Likely the investigation was “ongoing.” The city’s warden and his loyal constables would chase down leads, interview witnesses, and report back some nebulous outcome. There was no telling who the guilty party was, they would say, even though hundreds of witnesses had been on hand that night.

There would be no official link to House Brood. Unless Ren delivered one.

“I know who was responsible for what happened to your teahouse,” she said. “There was a party in the Brood family’s villa in the Heights that night. It’s located almost directly above where we are standing now. Theo Brood attempted a magic that failed. In doing so, he dropped that seventeen-string on your tea shop.”

She saw a dark storm churning beneath Marlow’s tidy expression. She had claimed to be here on behalf of the Broods. The easiest step in her mind would be to mark Ren as an enemy.

“Why are you here? Did you come to gloat about how you’d get away with it?”

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