Hour of Mischief (31 page)

I didn’t know if gods could die. I mean surely some bad things could happen to them. They weren’t invincible. Maybe the weapons of the gods caused them more permanent damage or maybe all the power can be sucked from their body. Regardless, a week passed, and I could not find Itazura. He
hadn’t
ended the pact yet, so I had to lie low as much as possible, scanning every crowd for red-eyed shape shifters and creepy wendigoes.

I couldn’t go to Laetatia for help either. When I woke up, she had disappeared and though I stayed in her tavern all day, she never showed up again. That night, I managed to sneak into the center ring to the White Library to search for the Wisdom twins. But when I reached the center I only found Vaylerius, sitting amongst a pile of dusty scrolls.

“They’re gone,” he said simply. “Something big is happening with the gods. I think it has something to do with the war.” He leaned forward slightly. “Have you heard? About the war of the gods?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard,” I muttered.

I spent most of my time in the old clock tower where my team and I used to meet before our heists. I had to stay out of the house because my mother was especially busy with her work now. The world’s end brought good fortune to one business at least.

I tried to imagine things as they were before, that day just over a week ago as we prepared to rob Amontillado’s temple. Parker playing with his explosives, Sid loading up his pistols and Sylvia winding that same thread around her finger, over and over again. I tried to imagine our casual banter and the sound of their laughter echoing off the walls. That day, we really believed we were going on a routine heist.
I
believed it.

But when I woke up each morning, all I found was an empty clock tower with broken bells. No Parker. No Sid. No Sylvia. I was alone.

Slowly but surely, the rumors in the city took hold. Rumors of the stirring Elder Gods. Panic set in among the population. More nomads packed the streets more than usual. Kabila already faced the wrath of the Elder Gods and tensions were mounting in Tiyata. Religious figures swarmed the crossroads, preaching for the masses to repent and put their faith in the Clockmaker, for the twelve clockwork gods had led us astray. Each time they stopped me and thrust his sign at my face I sighed and held up my ticking pendant.

“I’m covered. Relax.”

Though, lately, the God of Fate and Time was pissing me off.

Beasts of the Abyss became more frequent visitors to Fortuna as well. Sightings of wendigoes and shape shifters shot up, and so did the death count. Not only did I have to deal with avoiding monsters targeting me, but I also had to avoid random encounters with creatures who just wanted to devour my soul for the fun of it.

The trouble came on the day I ran into an old friend.

“Hello, girl.”

I whirled around to see a familiar shape shifter standing at the head of the clock tower, red eyes glowing in the dim, evening light. Honestly, many shape shifters looked the same with their sharp teeth and crimson eyes but this one was hard to forget. He had, after all, nearly killed me.

“You again.” I sighed. “Damn it, there’s no
point
in killing me. The humans are already warned of the apocalypse. Leave me
alone
.”

“On the contrary,” the shape shifter said. “I think there is a point to killing you. I can still bring down a god with your death.”

“Well, tell him that, because he hasn’t been around for a week.” I sighed.

The shape shifter did not reply. He simply drew an assassins’ blade from his cloak.

“Fine.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Your move . . . um . . . I never caught your name.”

“Mist.” The shape shifter replied. “Though I hardly think it matters.”

“Guess not.” I shrugged. “Just curious.”

I let Mist lunge at me first, easily blocking the fall of his blade with my left arm. He appeared amused. “I see you fixed your limb.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” I leapt away from him, catching myself against the silver bell. It clanged hollowly. “This time it’s even better!” I cocked back my fist and tried to punch him but he caught my wrist before I could touch him.

“Better? Perhaps I should test that,” he said, clenching my wrist in his hands.

“You probably shouldn’t,” I warned, just before he accidentally pressed down on my favorite button. My blade shot from my arm, spearing him through the stomach. His eyes widened in surprise, and he stumbled away, pulling himself off of my blade and falling onto his back.

“I told you it was better.” I swiped my blade to the side, flicking off his dark blood. It splattered the dusty ground at my feet. “Now you can’t easily disarm me. And if you try to crush my wrist, you’ll get a nasty surprise. Handy, isn’t it?”

Mist didn’t answer. He was too busy healing himself and coughing up blood into black pools on the ground. Slowly he rose to his feet again, but his movement was heavy. Next to Cleptos, this guy didn’t seem so threatening. I could actually
hurt
him if I just stabbed him through the heart.

“You postpone your imminent death as always,” Mist said.

“Yeah, you know, for my death being so imminent, I sure do seem to avoid it a lot,” I said, holding my arm in front of me. “But come at me again if you want. Prove that my death is imminent.”

Mist looked as if he wanted nothing more than to do just that. But before he could something small and black flew through the air, followed by a gleaming silver chain. A pocket watch. It hit the ground with a soft clink, snapping open and sending up a great cloud of smoke.

“Pocket watch bombs,” I whispered. “But. . . .”

A huge silhouette moved through the smoke and two gunshots echoed through the clock tower, followed by a thump.

“Get lost, creep,” a familiar voice called. “Geez, these things are everywhere, aren’t they Sid?”

“Sid?” My voice nearly cracked in surprise. “Parker? Is that you?”

The smoke began to dissipate and through the dark clouds, Sid caught my gaze. He held twin pistols in his hand. When the smoke faded a bit more, Parker’s much smaller body came into view.

“Janet!” Parker leapt from the putrid cloud and hugged me so tight
he
nearly crushed my arm. “Where have you been?”

“You two.” I breathed. “You’re alive?”

“Of course,” Sid said.

“But the wendigoes–”

“We got lucky,” Parker explained. “We–”

“One moment,” Sid said as Mist had begun to get up again. He shot him in the chest three times in succession. This time the shots sent him toppling from the clock tower and toward the cracked stone below. Sid watched him fall and gave a satisfied nod when he hit the ground. “All right.”

“You escaped then,” I said.

“Barely,” Parker said. “See, in the panic, a vigilant guard got thrown into the bars of our cell. He landed close enough for us to grab the keys and run. Other prisoners weren’t so lucky. We managed to get out in the chaos.” He cocked his head to the side. “How did you know about those things?”

“I . . . uh . . . it’s a long story,” I said, rubbing a hand behind my head. “I thought you were dead.”

“We thought
you
were dead,” Parker said. “When you disappeared from our cell? We thought they had moved you or tried to interrogate you. When you didn’t come back we all assumed the worse.” He looked down at my arm. “That’s awesome by the way. Did Dad make that for you?”

“Yeah,” I said, unable to manage a longer answer. I had come to terms with the fact that I would never see my friends again. I had accepted it. And yet here they stood in front of me, Parker beaming and Sid’s mouth twitching. The only thing missing. . . .

“Where’s Sylvia?” I asked. “Is she here?”

Parker’s face fell. “Um, well we made it out fine.” He rubbed a hand behind her head. “But one of those monsters got to her. We don’t know what happened but she just dropped. She’s nonresponsive. We’ve got her at my dad’s house and he’s trying to help her. She’s breathing but–”

“But her soul is gone.” I blinked hard. “I’m sorry. Maybe if I had been there–”

“You couldn’t have done anything. None of us could,” Sid said. “We’re just glad you’re all right.”

Parker and I stared at him. Thirteen words in one setting had to be a new record for Sid.

“Same,” I said after a pause. “I’m glad you’re both safe.”

If only I could say the same for Sylvia.

“We have something for you.” Sid reached into his pocket and drew out a scroll. The hand of Mischief was pressed into the seal.

I snatched the scroll from his hand and tore it open. “Where did you get this?”

“Some man gave it to us and told us where to find you,” Parker said. “But he didn’t give a name. We didn’t see his face either. He sort of disappeared as soon as he gave it to us. Like a ghost or something. But it sounded important.”

Then why couldn’t he talk to me himself?
I thought bitterly. But I read the note.

Janet,

Sorry I couldn’t come myself. Things are crazy up here. I could only spare a moment to get this to your friends. I know you’re probably angry with me and you have a right to be. I promise I’ll explain everything when we see each other again. I don’t know when that will be. But I will explain. For now our pact stands. Trust me, it might save your life rather than endanger it this time around.

I know you’re not keen on trusting me, but I do have a tip for you in exchange for your waiting. The wendigo hoards are massing in Kabila and the one that ate your friend’s soul will probably be there. Go to the craftsman’s temple in the city of Calcut. Artifex is there. He’ll be able to get you the weapons you need to kill the wendigoes and return your friend’s soul to her body.

Be careful, little thief.

~I.

“Who’s ‘I’?” Parker asked as he peered over my shoulder.

“That’s not your concern.” I elbowed him away. Anger burned through me. Even now, Itazura wouldn’t explain things to me. He had to keep me in the dark. I wished I had asked Axira for the truth before she tried to kill me. Then I’d at least know.

This note held a promise. A promise he’d explain everything the next time we met. I’d have to hold onto that promise for now. Because at the moment, I had things to do.

“We’re going to Kabila,” I said, rolling up the scroll.

Parker’s eyes bugged and even Sid raised his eyebrows.

“Kabila? Janet, are you crazy?” Parker’s voice cracked. “Have you heard the stories there? Beasts of the Abyss are overrunning the deserts and the bigger cities are getting attacked too. There have been terrible sand storms. We can’t go there.”

“We have to,” I said. “We have to get Sylvia back.”

Parker fell silent, surprisingly enough, and it was Sid who spoke. “How?”

“We kill wendigoes. We kill every one of them we find until we release her soul.” I stared down at my steel hand. “We didn’t abandon her that day in the temple and we won’t abandon her now.”

Parker nodded. “Right. Of course we won’t.”

“We’re with you,” Sid agreed.

All throughout the city, the clocks began to chime. Almost unconsciously, I counted the ringing of the bells. Seven rings for the seventh hour.

“The Hour of Mischief,” Sid observed.

“Guess it is,” I said, looking at the bell that hadn’t rung in years. I could see our reflections, just barely, in its dusty surface. Three merchants of mischief, ready for the most important job of our lives.

I didn’t have time to sit around lamenting Itazura’s absence or wishing he would give me the answers I wanted. Sylvia waited for us, somewhere in Kabila. Our time of harmless hijinks and heists was over. The world we knew had ended, but we wouldn’t crumble as the gods expected.

Like our patron, the God of Mischief, it was our job to catch the world by surprise.

Andrea Berthot
’s last name has a silent “t,” like the word “merlot” - which fits, since that is her favorite drink to have at the end of the day.