Page 63 of Lux

And now she’s taken the ledger with any hope of seeing my mother along with her. The strange part is I’m not angry with her?—

I am,Caspian interjects.She betrayed you. Abandoned.

She didn't hide her intentions, however. Even though it makes little difference to him, that means something to me.

“Minchae Almony. She’s got a rap sheet about as long as your memory, Altaris.” Marin’s tone implies she doesn’t mean it as a compliment. “Larceny. Theft. Assault with a deadly weapon. As far as we know, she’s our only witness. Unless you killed her too, in which case that would make it two capital murders. Serial killers are denied bond, per the latest ordinances.”

“Speculation doesn’t suit you, Marin,” Altaris warns. He crosses over to the desk and snatches up the folder. “Since Ginni is already handling the autopsy, I will take it upon myself to do the rest of your work and find this ‘witness’ to get her statement. No sense in risking a shoddy investigation, is there? I hear that lys addiction can make those who suffer from it a tad forgetful.”

As Marin looks at him, she smiles. “Fuck you.”

“Well, if that is done, let us get her paperwork underway. Snap. Snap. The sooner we can leave this place the better.”

“Fine.” A frown crosses Marin's face but she doesn’t give Altaris a response this time. “You there. Fae. This way.” As she turns back to the hallway, I follow behind her. “She doesn't need an escort,” she snaps, without looking at Caspian. Ignoring her, heholds my hand as we trail in her footsteps. The second room we enter is wider and longer than the first.

“Stand there.” She gestures to a wall adorned with neat, black lines. From a nearby table, she raises an electronic device to her eye level. There is a blinding flash. Then she sighs. “Now for the fingerprints and blood sample?—”

“No blood,” Caspian snaps, his fangs bared.

Marin doesn’t even flinch. Taking an item from the drawers on the desk, she approaches me. With stern commands she makes me dip my finger into ink. Presses it against a smooth page. Left behind is a beautiful mass of tangled lines.

“All done.” Marin returns to the table, inspecting my fingerprint. Then she stops. Frowns. “That’s odd. What the hell?”

Once again, she reaches for my finger. When I look down, I see that the mark I left before has disappeared.

Frowning, Marin tries again. A beautiful mark speckles the page, as impressive as the first. But…

As if it never existed, it vanishes within a heartbeat.

“What in the world? Did we order some faulty ink or something?”

“Well, we cannot be blamed in that case, can we,” Altaris remarks from the doorway. Unlike Marin, he doesn’t seem surprised. In response to her puzzled expression, he smiles warmly. “If you would just direct us to the medical examiner, then we may be on our way.”

With a growl of disgust, Marin storms into the hallway and bellows “Aleska!” She vanishes into another room and the door slams behind her.

Meanwhile, another woman pokes her head through a nearby doorway. She is beautiful, with long, dark hair and golden skin that seems to glow from within. “Um… I was summoned?”

Altaris looks at her, an eyebrow raised. Then he shrugs. “This way, dear one. A mortal? Not even a mundane? Strange. I am told that you are to assist with the autopsy? In any case, watch your fingers around poor Ginni. She sometimes gets too excited.”

The woman, Aleska, nods, unfazed. “I just need my supplies.”

Minutes later, she reappears, dressed in a black coat with a black bag slung over one arm. “Aleska Fraterani at your service.”

“Altaris Ipsum, at your service.” Though he bows his head elegantly, his eyes reveal skepticism. “I do hope you’ve worked here long enough to qualify for medical. I honestly don’t know how my Ginni will respond to… Well, if you would prefer, she can do the procedure alone?—”

“Oh no!” Aleska's hazel eyes glisten with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to study a murder up close. This is my first one. Even if I get bitten, I won’t press charges or file a claim. I have my own private insurance anyway.”

Altaris shrugs. “Well, onwards.”

Through a pair of green doors, he steps onto the street. I'm unfamiliar with this part of the city. The streets are narrow here, the buildings towering and gangly. It isn’t like the neat row ofestablishments near the museum. In some aspects, I prefer this wild place.

It is as far from home as one could get, the polar opposite to the orderly Citadel.

With Caspian’s hand in mine, it is easy to let the rest of the world melt away. To forget any and everyone else that could intrude. Our minds are linked, entwined as tightly as our fingers are. No one else can invade our world without permission.

And here, in this stoic silence, Caspian lets himself wonder things he would never give voice to. How beautiful he thinks I look in the glow of the streetlight. How the hum of electricity—what the mundane use to power their homes and magic—reminds him of a time he can’t place. A calming time. He wracks his memory to find the answer but one eludes him.

Even so, he enjoys this time with me, in a way he didn’t think it was possible to enjoy anything after Cassius. His world had become narrowed to a single, driving purpose.

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