Page 71 of What Blooms from Death

Her gaze swept over our flourishing surroundings. “This scene you’ve created is going to cause us enough trouble.”

Before I could ask what kind of trouble she meant, a small host of heavily-armed men and women emerged from the darkness.

We were surrounded in seconds.

I counted them quickly—fourteen in all. Their faces were mostly covered by an assortment of scarves and masks, but what I could see of their complexions appeared unnaturally pale; not quite as gaunt as the shades, but close. They moved with a slightly inhuman twitchiness, too, and though their bodies looked more solid than the shades, their skin still took ona papery, translucent quality whenever the dim light pressed against it at certain angles. They all wore identical bandoliers, and looped onto each belt was a small, circular container rimmed in gold. Blue flames somehow burned without ceasing within these containers, similar to the fires that danced atop the walls around Erebos.

As the group closed in around us, a man strode into the middle of their circle, parting the others as he came.

He was the only one not wearing a covering on his face. A dark beard covered part of that face, split by a sharp, appraising smile that formed as his eyes passed over me and Thalia. Those eyes appeared black, two dots of shining ink against golden brown skin, and his body looked alive and perfectly solid—as solid as the pair of short scythes he had strapped against his back.

Unlike the others, he carried no flame that I could see.

Rather than acknowledging us, he whipped one of his curved blades free and swung it through a clump of tall, freshly-grown flowers, watching the severed pieces carefully as they fluttered to the ground.

I drew closer to Thalia. We both stepped in front of Aleksander, blocking the girl from view—though I didn’t expect it would make much difference, should this man take an interest in her, given how outnumbered we were.

“Thalia Blackwood,” the scythe-wielding man said, swiveling his head lazily in her direction. “I heard you were darkening my city’s doorstep.” Replacing the scythe against his back, he pressed the toe of his boot onto a pile of the severed, fallen flowers, crushing them. His gaze lingered on the mutilated petals for a long moment before he glanced up at Thalia from underneath his long lashes. “But I didn’t realize you were traveling with such…strangecompany.”

Thalia stood up straighter. “You know I like to keep things interesting.”

“I do.” He dragged his boot through the grass, his movements swift with disgust, as if he was trying to scrape something far more foul than flowers from his sole.

“And we wouldn’t have been darkening your doorstep for very long,” Thalia informed him. “A mere pass-through was requested, and I willingly offered the rate of a much longer stay. You would have made out handsomely on the deal.”

“Is that so?”

“Atros could use a few more lessons in conducting proper business on your behalf, I believe,” she said. “The fool is losing you money.”

“Well, it’s hard to find good help these days,” said the man, tapping the last bits of colorful, crushed petals from his boots before sauntering closer.

Thalia held her ground, even as he came within an arm’s reach. I mirrored her movements, drawing myself up to my full height while Phantom stalked to my side, his teeth flashing and his ears flat against his skull.

The man gave us a cursory glance before asking Thalia, “And besides, we have less and less use formoneyas the years go by, don’t we?”

“All the same, you should be more selective about the ones you conduct your business with.”

He chuckled at this—a low, dark sound that sent a shiver of warning down my spine. “Advice I could also offer to you.” His gaze slithered over me once more, lingering this time, before darting to the rest of my company as well. “Which brings us to this little scene I’ve stumbled upon, doesn’t it?”

Thalia remained stoic. “Does it?”

He folded his arms across his chest, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he glanced around at the scene in question.“These interesting folks you’re clearly inbusinesswith…are they responsible for this display?”

She didn’t answer right away. She seemed to be sizing up the ones accompanying him, calculating our chances of winning, should it come to a fight.

My muscles tensed at the thought. I wasn’t usually one to back down from a challenge, but I had also learned, long ago, how to pick my battles, and that winning didn’t always require swinging a sword.

I sized up our opponent as well—but based on his words, rather than his weapons. He might have pretended to see us as an afterthought, but he had immediately spoken in the language of the living world. He’d come to greet our party, too, when he could have just as easily left us to rot outside the walls of his city.

He clearly had an interest in us.

Which meant I had leverage.

“We aren’t responsible for this scene ourselves,” I lied, “but we saw the ones whowereresponsible for it.”

I doubted he would believe my lie, but it didn’t matter. He seemed smart enough to realize that he wouldn’t get anytrueinformation out of us unless he first went along with my ruse.

“Grant us passage through your city,” I demanded, “and we’ll be happy to share what we know.”

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