Page 64 of Death of the Glass Angel
“And where do you think we’ll find one?”
“In the mountain pass, if I had to guess.”
“Great,” Talon muttered sarcastically. “That narrows it down.”
Following the south street, Des stood on her tiptoes, scanning the mountains. Janus would know precisely where to look, but unfortunately, she would barely remember today.
“Des,” Talon whispered.
“What?” She hissed back.
“Does that guy seem like he’s following us? The one in the brown coat.”
Resisting the urge to spin around, Des twisted, pretending to adjust her bun. She surveyed the crowd, attention landing on an ordinary-looking man in a brown coat, his face unremarkable: brown hair, beard, and eyes. Yet his gaze was plastered to their backs, and he looked away when Des turned around.
“He might be,” Des muttered back. “Should we shake him?’
“No. Why don’t we turn it around, follow him?”
“How do we do that?”
“Let me show you.” Talon spun on his heel and approached the man. “Excuse me. We’re looking into the recent disappearances. Do you know any of the victims?”
“No.” The man said standoffishly, marching away.
Talon raised his eyebrows. “That worked better than expected. Shall we?” He winked at Des and followed the suspicious man.
Bend after bend, the man weaved through the slums. Talon tailed like he’d been born in a back alley, effortlessly slipping into door frames and corners to avoid notice. Des hung back, following the bright blue coat Talon always wore. They kept the chase up until they reached a quiet, empty alley behind what appeared to be a warehouse.
“Where did he go?” Des asked, spinning around in search of their quarry.
“I don’t know,” Talon muttered, peering around corners and eyeing the locked gate of the warehouse. “Think he’s the one responsible?”
“Maybe. You are a young male stormborn. Maybe he was interested in you.”
“Let’s hope not.” Talon shivered. “Well, that’s that, I guess.”
“One minute.” Des insisted, pacing around the alley again.
These roads were hardly defined, nothing more than packed dirt. Scanning for footprints, Des noticed a disturbance where someone had run through, stepping heavily. The scuffed dirt ceased in a corner behind the warehouse, where a heavy latch led underground.
“Here,” Des said, leaning down to pull the hatch open.
The heavy-looking latch opened with surprising ease, revealing a square hole set with a ladder, descending into darkness, not the cellar Des had been expecting.
Reaching into his bag, Talon pulled out a small hand lantern and flinched as he struck a fire inside. “If someone leaps from the shadows and stabs me. . .” He looked pointedly at Des before descending the ladder.
About ten feet down, Talon’s lantern illuminated a rough stone floor. Consumed with a sudden urge to impress him, Des carefully placed a hand on the ladder, eyeing the distance to the ground before sliding to the bottom in a smooth motion.
She landed more gracefully than expected, her heart thrumming. Swallowing her surprise, Des ran a hand through her hair and placed a hand on an exaggeratedly bent hip.
“Wow,” Talon said sarcastically. “I prefer to use ladders like a normal person.”
Des waved him off. “He’s getting away.”
“Mhm.” Talon spun around and carefully progressed through the tunnel, the lantern held away from him.
Noticing his trepidation with the flickering flame, Des reached for it. “Let me.”
