Page 73 of Shadows of Perl

I release him. He rubs his throat and sits. I slide him the report detailing the fallout from his raid: the costs to repair damages, the Retentors pulled off their jobs to remove traces of toushana in that ballroom, the scathing remarks by the mayor, and a dozen irate members questioning the Dragunhead’s methods. My name is mentioned more than a few times. But the worst of it: the three people injured trying to escape and Quell wasn’t even apprehended! He starts signing, slouched in shame. What was the Dragunhead thinking, commissioning this guy?

I scrub a palm down my face. “You’re too new to be running raids. Who authorized you to assemble a team without my sign-off?”

“The Dragunhead. He assigned me to find Quell.” The Dragunhead had told me plainly that he would put someone on finding her.

I stiffen.

“How did you know it was her?

“I’m sixth of my blood. A Retentor, Shifter, and Anatomer, sir, from the House of Ambrose.”

“You helped her?”

“Quell and Abby met up. I came with her. There wasn’t much time to put something together, but when I saw the opportunity I seized it.”

“What else do you know about Quell’s whereabouts?”

“They met up before in some rural spot in Virginia a couple of times. Then she moved from there. Abby didn’t know where.”

I rear back in my seat. Hopping from safe house to safe house.

“Is it true? All that stuff she supposedly did at House of Marionne while you were there?”

“Stop talking.” I stand, the walls closing in on me. “Leave. Just get out.”

* * *

After surviving an hour’s lecture from the Dragunhead, my boots clack on the hard floor of the Shadow Cells. This captive I apprehended with Audubon’s briefcase also lived in Virginia, according to her driver’s license. She and Quell were both at the ball. Not a coincidence.

The prisoner is kept on the isolation row as a precaution. When I arrive, she’s in her chair. A thin sleeping mat is on the dirt floor, same as the other cells. My jaw clenches. I told them to ensure she was given a raised bed at the precise height of her chair.

I clear my throat.

She doesn’t even turn her head in my direction.

I open her cell, slicing through the veil to step through. The scent of dirt hits me and my heart skips a beat. I wait for my pulse to simmer down. “Someone is going to fix your bed. This is not how things are done. I apologize for that.”

She rotates to face me, her blue eyes combing me from head to toe. But she still says nothing.

I dig the thin silver case out of my pocket. “Gold bars, a ton of unmarked bills, and this. Sun Dust. What did you need so much money for?” I prefer a confession, even though I know exactly who she is now that I’ve checked her prints. Knox Molaudi, of the West Coast Molaudis. Her family is ancient. Before the Great Sorting, before the Houses, her ancestors were known toushana-users in Misa.

She rolls away, turning her back to me again. I step into her path.

“Are you affiliated with any House?”

I need something to show the Dragunhead. I’m running out of excuses. There’s no record of a Molaudi ever enrolling in a House. Living in secret for generations hardens a person. This won’t be easy. I walk the length of her cell and let a few moments roll by. Her cold eyes are fixed on me, unblinking.

“How did you come by such a fancy chair?” It’s decked out in tiny details only noticeable up close. There are spikes on the wheels, engraved vines along the armrests, and the tiniest gems embedded in the handles. The wheels appear to be coated in a thick layer of ruklemint, the same magical ingredient used on dagger blades to help enhancer stones melt in more easily. “Very skilled Shifting magic made this. The attention to detail is exquisite.”

“Minting coins was my father’s favorite hobby, so he learned a bit of Shifting that way. But I’m sure you already know that.”

“It’s a shame he wasn’t more suited for a House.”

She flinches, and I can feel her roiling anger. Maybe she’ll talk now. But she meets my eyes for the first time, and my heart tightens. Then she stares right at my chest. A probing coldness scrapes across my ribs, and I grab my blade.

“What are you doing?”

“Just looking.” Her head cocks. “And what I’m seeing is very interesting.”

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