He was breathing.

  I could tell almost immediately. My knees hit the floorboards and both hands grasped his shoulders- the cloth beneath was wind-blown, cold, and soaked with sweat- and upon heaving to one side I could feel the distinct rise and fall of heavy breaths.

  “He’s alive!” Renner swept to the fallen man’s other side. Gloved hands appeared beside me. One held a glinting length of wicked-looking steel. The other reached out to clutch a limp shoulder and he helped me turn the man onto his side.

  He inspected Gil’s face, then let go and straightened. “He’s drunk.”

  As if to confirm, the stablemaster stirred. His cracked lips parted, revealing yellowed teeth, and he peered up with red-rimmed eyes. They were dull and bloodshot, with obvious tear-tracks smeared through swathes of dirt beneath them. His beard was shiny and crusted with half-frozen drool.

  “Wha… who’s here?”

  I looked at my companion, unsure of how to proceed.

  I’d thought we’d find him… I don’t know. Acting suspicious, like using dark magic or summoning up monsters. Not… passed out in a drunken haze.

  “Why’s your door open?” Renner turned in a slow circle. I swallowed and watched as he stalked through the small kitchen. He seemed tense, coiled; as though every muscle was ready to spring into action. His eyes were flicking all around, taking in every fragment of the man’s home.

  Which was… dismal. The kitchen was threadbare and dirty. Every surface was long-browned with use and being propped up by molded, damp wood. There were a few pieces of wrinkled fruit sitting in a woven basket- even the basket seemed to be withered and bent- and an iron washbasin piled high with smeared pewter plates and bowls.

  And there were bottles. Everywhere. Some half-full, some fully drained. Some tipped over, some neatly stacked, some lying shattered in heaps against the bases of molding walls. As if they’d been thrown.

  The smell of it all made my eyes water. Gil’s home was dank and sour, almost rancid. I covered my mouth and stood, stepping back as he sat upright and blinked up at me.

  “You… I saw you. Saw you. Left… left you.”

  A shiver ran down my spine. “Left me? What do you mean, you left me?” My mind spun and I fought not to dig too deep into that statement. Because ‘leaving me’ implied that there was an alternative, that he could have ‘not left…’ I dared not follow that thought.

  I feel sick. Gods, what if Renner’s right? Is this going to end in violence?

  He coughed. I flinched as yellow spittle sprayed onto my cloak. He stared at me with red, rheumy eyes, lips cracked and quivering, then grunted and turned his gaze away.

  “Don’t mean nothing. Get, hey, get away from all that.”

  Renner was prodding at bottles and cupboards. He didn’t respond.

  The stablemaster heaved himself upright, face turning red. “Why’re you in my home? Didn’t ask you here.”

  “We’re looking for-”

  “Seems like you had a rough night,” Renner interjected, shooting me a look. Then he gave the shivering man, who was scowling back at him, a half-smile. “Want to talk about it?” The knife tip tapped against another bottle, then was pointed towards a pile of half-frozen glass and sour-smelling liquor not far from my boots.

  Gil’s red eyes followed the weapon’s movement. After a moment he lifted both hands and rubbed at the wash of dirt and spittle smeared across his face. The twisted stumps of his two fingers, I noticed with a wince, were stark red from the cold.

  “No.” He kicked at the glass. “Got nothin’ to say to… to… what, robbers? Thieves?” He barked a harsh laugh and stumbled forwards, half-falling forwards into the room’s sole, warped-wood chair.

  “As if I got anything to take! Hah!”

  I stepped forwards. “Sir, please, we’re not here to take anything. Our friend is missing.”

  He went very still. Renner, nearby and watching him with the attentiveness of a hawk, followed suit.

  Bloodshot eyes met mine. Wide. Alarmed. I recalled, with nerve-wracking clarity, the same expression on his face last night.

  It’s like he’s frightened of me. Of us. But… why?

  Well, Renner and his dagger were certainly one answer. But the weapon hadn’t elicited the response; it had been my words.

  He looked away. “Didn’t do nothin’ to your friend.”

  Renner snorted. “Now, why don’t I believe you?”

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  He lunged upright so fast that I jumped backwards with a startled cry- and Renner stepped forwards. In one smooth motion he kicked the chair away and lifted the wicked blade crosswise before him.

  Gil, wild-eyed, seemed to not even notice the weapon. He roared out, sending spittle flying and slapping his good hand against the stained countertop. “Damn it all, I didn’t do a thing! Not a blasted thing!”

  Renner, rather than flinching back from the man’s sudden wrath, narrowed his eyes and snarled, “Maybe not, but you sure as salt thought about doing something.” Gil winced. Renner leaned forwards, triumph flashing across his face in the form of a vicious leer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Tell us about your night.”

  The stablemaster’s eyes cut towards me. “My night? I drank. That’s it.”

  I wrung my cloak. “And… and what did you mean, you ‘left me?’” He flinched.

  “Didn’t mean salt.”

  “Liar.” The knife tip prodded forwards, tapping at his soiled tunic, and Gil stumbled back.

  I took a step forward, heart hammering. The stench of sweat and sour ale filled my mouth. “Sir, please, we’re just trying to find Teela. It… it seemed like you were watching us last night.”

  He shifted, looking me up and down, and rubbed the back of his neck. “So? New faces in town, I’m not allowed to be interested? Doesn’t mean anything.” He cut his gaze back towards Renner and, grimacing, shuffled backwards to lean against one of the moldering countertops.

  And with the movement… there was very little light in Gil’s home; just what pale gold and pink was creeping in through his mud-smeared windows. But there was just enough to make out the warped shape behind him.

  It was twisted. Wrong. Arms wrapped around itself, legs thin and bent at an odd angle. The black somehow too black, as if it was swallowing up all nearby glimmers of dawn.

  I cried out, in equal parts vindication and fear, and whirled towards Renner.

  “Look! Look, do you see it?!”

  He swung his head towards me, brows furrowed. “See what?”

  “On the wall- his shadow! Look!”

  Gil turned, too, shoulders hunched and a hand out as though to ward away danger. Both men spent a moment observing the wall.

  “It’s a shadow, ladyship.”

  “It’s all twisted and- can’t you… don’t you see it?” My triumph died along with my voice. Gil turned back, bloodshot eyes wary and puzzled. I looked at Renner, frustration welling up like boiling water.

  He doesn’t see anything. So it’s me, then. There’s something wrong with me.

  The stablemaster curled his lip. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with my… get out of my home, the both of you, or I’ll call the Watch! Now!”

  Renner sidestepped, positioning himself between Gil and the front door. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Yellow teeth bared, but all I could look at was the horrible black shape on the wall. It shivered. Spindly fingers curled and its drooping head swayed, and deep inside of me something snapped.

  “Vir!”

  Gold coalesced into my palm. Renner bit out an oath and lunged for the back door. He slammed it shut.

  “Are you insane?!”

  I managed one step towards the wall, hand outstretched. Wordlessly daring the awful shape to respond, to react, perhaps even to retaliate against the holy light.

  And in the blink of an eye, it was just a normal shadow.

  “It’s gone.” I let out a breath. My brows knotted together and my teeth clenched as I tried to puzzle through what the implications of that could be.

  I didn’t have long to think. Gil, his beard and hollow eyes lit with hues of gold, sank to his knees. He was looking at my hand in awe.

  Awe. Not fear. He knows it’s divine magic. The thought came like a bolt of inspiration. I bit my lip and stepped forwards, glancing towards Renner. His expression was livid, but he didn’t seem- for the moment, at least- like he was about to intervene.

  “I’m blessed,” I murmured, holding the light out. He shook his head, mouth moving but no sound coming out. “Please, sir, please, I’m asking you, as a runekeeper, as someone touched by the gods; please, anything you can tell us…”

  He continued to gape, mouth open, and then slowly shook his head back and forth. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the light.

  And then he cried out, gaze meeting mine, and his eyes were wide with fear and awe and tears. “Leave, my lady!” The words came out raw, as if they were tearing their way through him. He nearly doubled over; one hand reached up to clutch at his throat. “You must leave!”

  I sank to my knees. My own voice and lips were quivering. “Please, sir. H-her name is Teela, and she’s very kind and she has a mom who loves her and… and she’s my friend.” The words came tumbling out as tears spilled down my cheeks. Renner snarled something from behind, but my attention stayed fixed on the weeping man.

  “Please.” I dared to reach out and lay a hand on top of Gil’s mangled one. He flinched, as though I’d burned him. I pressed on. “Please, whatever’s happened… I won’t tell anyone, I won’t say a word, just please tell us where she is.”

  Renner muttered another oath. “We’re wasting time with this-”

  “Gone.”

  I hardly dared to breathe and leaned closer. My nostrils stung with the smell of sweat, soured ale, and something vaguely rotten. “What did you say?”

  He bowed his head, narrow shoulders hunched. The skin beneath my hand was cold and paper-thin, and shaking horribly. “She’s gone, lady. F-forgive me, gods above, I didn’t… I never wanted to…”

  I felt the sudden urge to reach out and shake him, demanding clarity for whatever terrible crime he had committed. My muscles grew taught as tears mixed with snot in the dark, fetid curls of his beard. “Lady, forgive me.”

  “Where is she?” Renner snarled from behind.

  “I don’t know!” He clutched at my cloak with one grimy hand. “I swear it. W-we were… supposed…” his mouth twisted into an awful shape and he cried out as thought he’d been struck. “I didn’t do it. I only drank and… and…” I could hear moving closer. “I left. I swear on my life, I left and I came here and I didn’t… take… t-take…” The sentence ended abruptly as he choked on whatever else he’d been about to say.

  “But you know what happened to Teela?” I struggled to find the right words. “What… took her?”

  Bloodshot eyes held mine. Fearful. Shamed. He nodded, then doubled over and clutched at his throat again.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He can’t tell us.” Renner crouched at my side. The look in his eyes was one so full of loathing, of cold hatred, that I shifted away. It was a look that promised violence. “It won’t let him.”

  I wrapped my hand around the man’s knuckles. He was shaking like a leaf, breath coming in ragged gasps. “It? The Fae, or…” I swallowed and said, dreading the answer, “Or, sir… your… pact?”

  He flinched. Heaved a sob. And then his face lifted to mine.

  And for just a moment, the world slipped away. Melted like shadows before a rising sun.

  He looked like Durst.

  It wasn’t the black hair. It wasn’t the weathered skin or the curling beard. It was the look in his eyes.

  Heavy. Haunted. Shadowed by grief.

  As if a great, heavy stone was weighing him down.

  And for a moment I was twelve years old, sitting in a tiny kitchen with my arms wrapped around my knees. Staring into a face that was haggard and weary and broken… but still looked at me like I was something precious.

  Like, somehow, I made his world just a little bit brighter.

  My heart may as well have stopped. Every shred of anger felt numbed, brought low before the grief on this weeping man’s face.

  Beside me, Renner stiffened; and with that subtle movement I was brought hurtling back into reality. Kneeling in a rotted kitchen before a man who was very likely inches from death. I could see the glint of metal in Renner’s hand.

  “Don’t answer.” The words came out ragged and torn, and fresh tears blurred my vision. I held my breath, praying that Gil would listen and too frightened to look at the man beside me.

  Surely Renner won’t… he doesn’t know for sure. He only suspects. Gods, it’s obvious, but without proof he can’t…surely he won’t…

  And surely not before we figured out what had happened to Teela. That meant I had time. Time to alert the authorities, or to think of a plan, or figure out the right words to say.

  Time to stop Renner from killing this man.