The Smoke Thieves (The Smoke Thieves #1)
Sally Green
It is illegal to buy, trade in, procure, obtain by any means, inhale, swallow, or use in any fashion the smoke from demons.
Laws of Pitoria, V. 1, C. 43.1
TASH
NORTHERN PLATEAU, PITORIA
“EVERYTHING READY?”
“No. This is a figment of your imagination, and I’ve been sitting on my arse all day eating honey.” Tash was adjusting the rope so its knotted end was a hand’s breadth above the bottom of the pit.
“A bit lower,” Gravell said.
“I’m not blind!”
“You need to check it.”
Tash turned on Gravell. “I know what I need to do!”
Gravell always got serious and pernickety at this stage, and it only now occurred to Tash that it was because he was scared. Tash was scared too, but it didn’t help to think that Gravell wasn’t far off shitting in his pants as well.
“Not nervous, are you?” she asked.
Gravell muttered, “Why should I be nervous? You’re the one it’ll catch first. By the time it’s done with you I’ll be long gone.”
It was true, of course. Tash was the bait. She lured the demon into the trap and Gravell finished it off.
Tash was thirteen and had been demon bait since Gravell bought her from her family four years ago. He’d turned up one sunny day, the hugest, hairiest man she’d ever seen, saying he’d heard that they had a girl who was a fast runner, and told her he’d give her five kopeks if she could run to the trees before the harpoon he threw hit the ground. Tash thought it must be a trick—no one would pay just to see her run, and five kopeks was a huge sum—but she did it anyway, mostly to show off that she could. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with the money—she’d never had more than a kopek before, and she’d have to hide it before her brothers took it off her. But she needn’t have worried; she left with Gravell that afternoon. Gravell gave her father ten kroners for her, he told her later. “A bit pricey,” he teased. No wonder her father had been smiling when she’d left.
Gravell was her family now, which was to Tash’s mind a lot better than the previous one. Gravell didn’t beat her, she was rarely hungry, and while she was sometimes cold, that was the nature of the work. And from the first day with Gravell she had been given boots. Yes, compared to her previous life, this one with Gravell was one of luxury and plenty. The money from selling demon smoke was good, although demons were rare and dangerous. The whole process of killing demons and selling smoke was illegal, but the sheriff’s men didn’t bother them if they were discreet. Gravell and Tash usually managed to catch four or five demons a season, and the money lasted the year; when they were in towns they stayed at inns, slept in beds, had baths, and, best of all, Tash had boots. Two pairs now!
Tash loved her boots. Her ordinary everyday boots were of thick leather with sturdy soles. Those were good for walking and hiking, and didn’t rub or pinch. She had no blisters, and the smell from them she considered to be a good smell, more leathery than the stale sweat that Gravell’s boots oozed. Tash’s second pair, the pair she was wearing now, she’d got when they were in Dornan a few months earlier. These were her running boots, and they fit perfectly. They had sharp metal spikes in the soles so she could grip hard and set off fast. Gravell had come up with the design, and he’d even paid for them—two kroners, which was a lot for boots. As she put them on the first time, he’d said, “Look after them and they’ll look after you.”
Tash did look after them, and she definitely, absolutely refused to be ungrateful, but what she wanted, what she coveted more than anything in the world, were the ankle boots she’d thought Gravell was going to give her when he told her he was treating her to something special. She’d seen the ankle boots in the window of the cobbler’s shop in Dornan and mentioned them a few times to Gravell. They were the most beautiful, delicate pale gray boots of suede, so soft and fine that they looked to be made from rabbit’s ears.
When Gravell showed her the spiked boots and told her how he’d come up with the idea for them, she made a good job, she thought, of looking delighted. Tash told herself not to be disappointed. It would all work out. The spiked boots would help in this hunt, and with the money from the demon kill she’d be able to buy the gray suede boots herself.
And soon they’d have their first demon.
Gravell had found this demon’s lair after only a week. He’d dug the pit, though these days Tash set up and checked the escape mechanism and, in fact, wouldn’t let Gravell near it.
Gravell had taught Tash to be careful, to double-check everything. She went through a test run now, walking back from the pit a hundred paces, then jogging through the trees, picking up speed where there was little snow on the ground, and into the small clearing where the snow was deeper but where she’d trampled it down to compress it so that it had hardened to a crisp, going at full speed now, pumping her legs, leaning forward, her spikes giving her grip but not holding her back, and then she was leaping over the edge of the pit, hitting the icy floor with a crunch, absorbing the drop with her knees but immediately getting up and running to the end and . . . waiting.
Waiting. That was the hardest part. That was the real shit-in-your-pants time, when your mind was screaming at you to grab the rope but you couldn’t because you had to wait for the demon to come down, and only when he was on the way down, just as he touched the bottom of the pit and screamed and screeched and slid toward you, could you grab the rope and release the pulley mechanism.
Tash pulled on the rope, bearing down on it with all her weight, her right foot resting on the lowest, thickest knot. The wooden release gave and Tash flew upward, as natural and lazy as a yawn, so balanced that her fingers were barely touching the rope, and at the apex of her flight she stopped, hanging in the air, totally free; then she let go of the rope, leaned forward, and reached for the fir tree, arms out to hug the branches. She held herself there before casually sliding down. A pinecone scratched her face, and she landed almost knee-deep in the pile of snow she’d banked there.
Tash walked back to reset the trap. Soil and footprints surrounded the pit; she’d have to clean the base of her boots to make sure they didn’t get clogged with dirt.
“You’re bleeding.”
Tash felt her cheek and looked at the blood on her fingertips. Demons got more excited when they smelled blood. She licked her fingers and said, “Let’s get on with it.”