“I am,” I said, waiting as the shadow made his way over to me.
“Well, don’t just stand there—pick me up,” he snapped, baring two rows of small, sharp teeth. When I didn’t rush to comply, he rolled his eyes and flicked his nine tails in irritation, like a cat. I did the same with my own, the tawny muscular length of my lion’s tail swishing across the cobblestones. “If you want to help Brynn and …” Trubble trailed off with a sigh, lowered his front half to the ground in a tired stretch and sat back down, curling his tails tightly around his front. “Just pick me up and let’s go.”
“What happened here?” I asked, shifting my wings as I knelt down and took the small creature in my arms. If Trubble was out here without Dyre when clearly, they’d been bound together then I was right; something awful had happened. It was more than likely that the Vaennish prince was dead. My heart started to thunder, but I ignored it, pushing my pain aside. He’d said I could help Brynn, and I could sense her alive on the other side of this wall. That was all I needed.
“Hard to say,” Trubble murmured, crawling up and around my shoulders. “It all happened so fast …” He trailed off as he draped himself over my head and then, with a flicker of magic, shifted into that fox mask Dyre wore the night of the attack on the Vibrant dance house. “Look up,” his voice whispered into my mind. Rather than panic, I lifted my head and noticed the ghost of that professor sitting on the edge of the wall. What was his name? Spicer? Something like that anyway.
“If you want to get into the Royal College, you’ll need to use the catacombs,” he said, his mask a careful expression of neutrality. Pissed me off something fierce because I knew that there was something bigger going on and nobody was telling me shit. But at least I could see ghosts now. If anyone knew where to find Brynn, it would be a spirit.
“I thought you were bound to that building,” I asked, gesturing randomly to the west. Brynn had pointed out her first class of the day from the cityside gates and mentioned the professor trapped within the old stone. We were currently at the eastern end of campus, about as far from that building as one could get and way outside the range of a normal ghost.
“Long story,” the professor said, slicking his fingers through his hair until it stuck straight up. “Do you know where the old sanitation facility is?” I raised a brow at him, but I doubted he could see it beneath the mask—the living mask. Shifting, I tucked my wings in close and tried not to be disturbed at the fact that I was wearing an actual shadow on my face. But for Brynn, I’d fight through Hellhounds and razor wolves in a thunderstorm … and then worry about the weirdness of it all later. “Doesn’t matter. The fox does. I got him out the same way I’m going to get you in.”
“And don’t worry about guards—I’ve already killed them all,” Trubble whispered in my head, making me grit my teeth. Whatever guards were protecting the Royal College weren’t bad people and didn’t deserve to die. I guessed I’d rescue Brynn first and address that issue later. Had I not picked the worst possible time to leave on this supply run? Fuck Reisender’s hairy nuts.
“Hurry up. Every shift change, a few soldiers head down to check on the catacomb entrance. As soon as they find the body, they’ll know the campus has been breached. You’ll have minutes at best before they use a spell, find you, and hang you.” The professor smiled tightly at me before disappearing and leaving me alone with the shadow.
“The old sanitation facility is south of here. Three streets over, take a left, and then use the broken window in the back of the bakery to get in.” I shivered at Trubble’s voice in my head but took off anyway, using a brisk but reasonable pace. The last thing I wanted was to get stopped by a night guard for sprinting through dark alleys.
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here?” I whispered as I followed the fox’s instructions, finding myself standing next to a broken window in the back of Upper Crust Bread and Baked Goods, such a clever little name.
“Not until your ass is in the catacombs and running full-out!” Trubble snapped as I gritted my feet and used my boot to kick in the rest of the glass shards. There should be a spell on this place … “I already took care of the basics,” he added as I crawled in the window and onto a table, dropping my boots to the floor. “Spells, angry bakers, dragons.” I paused as I noticed a woman lying on the floor with a trickle of blood leaking from her scalp. Kneeling down next to her, I checked for a pulse as Trubble sighed. She was, in fact, still alive. “And yes, I said dragons. So go before it wakes up and stop questioning every fucking thing I’ve already done. You’re running on repeat, griffin.”
“The name’s Vexer,” I snarled, standing back up. “And if I don’t think what you’re doing is right, I’ll call your ass out on it whether you’re helping me or not.”
“Oh? One of those self-righteous types? Well, I don’t have time for piety and morality. My brother died tonight, and I need that spirit whisperer alive and awake.” A sharp pain kissed my cheeks on both sides, drawing tiny rivulets of blood. The son of a bitch was biting me! When I reached up to tear him off my face, he dug in even harder, tearing my flesh with each pull of the mask. “It’s futile to fight me. Once you’ve accepted me, I own you. Now, open that hatch there, the one they use to deliver flour and climb into it. There’s a false bottom.”
Releasing the mask with a growl, I did as the damn shadow asked, yanking open a hatch in the back wall. A cart would pull up outside, stacked with sacks of flour. The driver would put them at the opening on the outside, cut the tops, and then pour them in here. It was a huge, stone-lined little chamber, more than big enough for me to crawl into. As soon as I did, I felt around on the bottom for a lever, pulled it … and felt myself falling.
With a grunt, I landed on a wet slab of stone, a snarl of anguish slipping past my lips as my pelvis hit first and then the rest of me. For a moment there, I was temporarily stunned. As I struggled to my feet, Trubble slipped off my head and reassumed his small fox form, tails flicking in frustration.
“Hurry up,” he growled, the only light in the room coming from those white runes on Trubble’s forehead. With a ripple and shake of his coat, he sent little balls of purple-blue foxfire up to hover near the ceiling, lighting our way down a cramped, narrow tunnel with stone walls and tiny electric fish zipping around in the canal below us.
They were known as Heart Stoppers because one touch, one single touch and they would stop a person’s heart and then scatter. To start it up again, you’d either need a second shock from one of the slippery little fish, a flesh whisperer, or a weather whisperer. None of which we had on us. Clearly, the fish were kept here for a reason.
“This is the only spot with a walkway,” Trubble continued as I crouched and rubbed at the bruise on my side. The ceiling was a little too low for me to walk upright; my wings were already brushing against the wet, stone surface as I squatted in front of the small fox. I could shift, but my other form was hardly well-equipped for narrow spaces, particularly if it meant putting four limbs into that water with the Heart Stoppers. “Look behind you.” The small creature smirked at me as I struggled to turn and found a metal door, torn off the hinges and lying on the ground next to a shattered lock and the burnt marks of a broken spell. “There are rubber pants and boots in there; get them on and let’s go.”