Muffled conversations echoed from the rows of closed doors as I followed Kieran through the narrow, cramped hall of the low-rise building near the warehouse district. The cloying scent of sandalwood was heavy in the air, smothering the stench of too many people crammed into one spot. It was
the best the people of the tenement housing could do.
Word had gotten to Jansen that something had gone down in the housing building—something they hadn’t seen before. And based on the telltale scent of death that no incense could cover, I knew it was something bad.
At the back of the dark hall, Lev Barron waited, a brown cap pulled low.
The mortal Descenter pushed off the wall upon our approach. Although Kieran and I both wore cloaks hiding our garb of guard and patrol, he recognized us at once.
“What’s going on?” Kieran asked.
“It’s something you have to see,” Lev answered, his gaze darting between us. The mortal, who’d lost one brother to a fever and another to the Rite, reeked of anxiety. “I can’t…” He cleared his throat. “I can’t put it into words.”
Kieran exchanged a look with me. I stepped forward, keeping my voice low. “Show us.”
Nodding, Lev dragged the back of his hand over his chin and then crossed the hall, reaching for the handle. The door beside him inched open. “There’s nothing to see here, Maddie,” Lev said to the small figure who appeared in the crack of the door. “Go back to your momma.”
Lev waited until the child closed the door and then opened the one we stood in front of. The smell of death about knocked me over.
“Gods,” Kieran muttered, lowering a hand to the hilt of his short sword.
Lev stepped inside, stopping to turn on a nearby gas lamp. Dull yellow light flickered to life, casting a faint glow across the front room. A body lay
on the floor, wrapped in white linen.
“Who is that?” I asked, eyeing the pool of red that had coagulated on the wood floor beneath the head.
“Werner Argus,” Lev said, his hand pressed to his nostrils. “He turned Craven.”
“Was he a guard?” Kieran asked as a faint sound came from the back of the apartment. “A Huntsmen?”
Lev shook his head. “From what the neighbors say, he was a sweeper— cleaning the streets. Born and raised here. Never been out of the city. Not
once.”
“So he was fed on and left to turn here?” Kieran surmised, his tone thick with disgust. “The vamprys are getting even sloppier.”
Lev said nothing as I stepped over the poor soul who’d spent his days cleaning the streets of all manner of shit for the ones who inevitably slaughtered him.
I glanced into the small cooking area. The countertops were clear, the fire long extinguished in the hearth. I checked the kettle, finding broth that
had cooled. There was no mess. The people who’d lived here did their best to keep the place tidy. The sound came again, drawing my attention to the closed door of the back area, likely the bedchamber. I couldn’t quite place the odd…gurgling sound.
“Where is the wife?” I asked, knowing damn well that Lev wouldn’t have summoned anyone for a mortal being turned within the city. Sure, it
was always somewhat shocking that the Ascended were so damn reckless, but it wasn’t that uncommon.
“Through there.” Lev nodded at the closed door. “She’s dead in there.” He wiped a palm across the linen shirt and vest he wore. His hand shook. “With…with it.”
“It?” Kieran repeated.
I approached the door, noting that Lev didn’t move any farther. A dead Craven or a victim of one wouldn’t have caused the man to linger back as he was. His reluctance had to do with whatever it was.
I pushed open the door, lowering a hand to the dagger at my hip. The foul odor of rot nearly gagged me as I scanned the one-windowed chamber lit by muted sunlight.
“Shit,” Kieran cursed from behind me, picking up something from the floor. It rattled. “There’s a babe here?”
I stepped inside the chamber and looked to the side of the bed. I’d found the wife. She lay curled in a fetal position on the floor, her brown hair matted to the side of her face. One arm was outstretched, baring deep scratches. Her fingers curled as if she’d died reaching for the…
A small bassinet lay upon the floor. Inside, a lumpy white blanket stained by a rusty brown substance stirred.
And that sound came again—a soft gurgling noise that gave way to a
low, keening wail from inside the bassinet. The hair on the nape of my neck rose.
I went still, staring at the fallen crib, unable to move for what felt like an eternity. It wasn’t until I felt Kieran draw near that I could even speak. “Please, tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”
“I…I wish I could,” Kieran said, sounding hoarse. “But I’m likely thinking the same as you.”
Neither of us budged as what appeared to be two arms beneath the blanket moved. Two small arms. Tiny ones.
“They had a babe,” Lev said from beyond the open door. He’d come close enough to be seen. Not too far, though. I couldn’t blame him. “A
little… A little girl. Less than a year old, according to Maddie’s momma.” “There’s no way,” Kieran denied. “They wouldn’t have…”
“I want to believe that.” I swallowed. “That not even the vamprys could be that depraved and cruel, but I would be lying.”
I forced myself forward, walking around the mother. A guttural noise came from beneath the blanket, a distorted cooing sound. My gods, I thought as I reached down, taking hold of the edge of the once plush blanket with gloved fingers. I tore it aside.
“Fucking gods.” Kieran staggered back, his hand falling from the hilt of his short sword.
A half-swaddled babe stared up at me with eyes the color of blood, the sockets like the darkest night set in ghastly pale chubby cheeks streaked in dried blood. It strained, lifting those small arms toward me, almost as if it
wanted me to pick it up. But those tiny fingers had sharp fingernails—claws that had dug at its skin.
The babe hissed and whined, opening its mouth wide. There were only two bottom teeth—incisors that had sharpened. They appeared fragile, nothing more than grotesquely disfigured baby teeth, but they were strong enough to tear into flesh. To infect.
I tilted my head, seeing the marks on one inner arm, at the inside of the elbow. Puncture wounds. Just two of them. The arm was too small for the Craven to lodge all four canines into it. That hadn’t been necessary, though.
“The babe was drained and left to turn,” I stated flatly, keeping myself in check, locked down. “And it did.”
“That’s what I think,” Lev said. “The babe infected the father and…” And the rest was history.
The child squirmed, thrashing at the air. I turned my head, closing my eyes. I’d seen a lot of messed-up shit. Things I thought could never be topped. But this? This was something else entirely.
Feeding on babes wasn’t anything new, as sick as it was. It was what they did in the Temples to all the third sons and daughters—to Lev’s brother. But letting them turn? There were no words. None.
I opened my eyes at the low, softer sound of a Craven’s wail. “They have to be stopped.” Lev took off his hat, thrusting a hand
through his blond hair. “They have to be.”
“They will be,” Kieran swore. “And they will pay for this.”
I looked back at the babe, anger tightening my gut. Did the Maiden have any knowledge of this? That this kind of horror occurred while she was sneaking off to the Red Pearl or taking her lessons with the Priestess?
I didn’t know.
And it didn’t matter as I withdrew the bloodstone dagger and did what I had to. What was necessary.
Just like I would continue to do.
