“No electricity.” I can’t feel anything, not even a lightbulb. A cord of tension releases in my chest. Rosen is long gone, and offers us no harm. “Check the windows.”
They follow my example, wiping the glass storefronts with already dirty sleeves. I squint into the smallest of the still-standing buildings, barely a closet squashed between a smashed Security outpost and the half-collapsed schoolhouse. When my eyes adjust to the dim light, I realize I’m looking at rows and rows of books. Cluttered onto shelves, thrown into haphazard piles, spilled across the grimy floor. I grin against the glass, dreaming of how many treasures I can bring back for Ada.
A smash splinters through my nerves. I whirl to the sound, only to see Farley standing by a storefront window. She holds a piece of wood, and there’s glass at her feet. “They were trapped,” she explains, gesturing into the shop.
After a moment, a flock of crows explodes from the broken window. They disappear into the ashen sky, but their cries echo long after they’re gone. They sound like children in pain.
“My colors,” Cal swears under his breath, shaking his head in her direction.
She only shrugs, smirking. “Did I scare you, Your Highness?”
He opens his mouth to answer, the corners of his mouth pulled in a smile, but someone cuts him off. A voice I don’t recognize, coming from a person I’ve never seen.
“Not yet, Diana Farley.” The man seems to materialize out of the ash. His skin, hair, and clothes are just as gray as the dead village. But his eyes are a luminous, horrifying blood red. “Though you will. You all will.”
Cal calls on his fire, I on my lighting, and Farley raises her gun in the direction of the gray man. None of these things seem to frighten him. Instead, he takes a step forward, and his crimson gaze finds me.
“Mare Barrow,” he sighs, as if my name brings him great pain. His eyes water. “I feel like I already know you.”
None of us move, transfixed by the sight of him. I tell myself it’s his eyes, or his long gray hair. His appearance is peculiar, even to us. But that’s not what keeps me rooted to the spot. Something else has put me on edge, an instinct I don’t understand. Though this man looks bent with age, unable to throw a punch let alone brawl with Cal, I can’t help but fear him.
“Who are you?” My quavering voice echoes over the empty village.
The gray man tips his head, staring at each of us in turn. With every passing second, his face falls, until I think he might start crying. “The newbloods of Pitarus are dead. The king waits for you there.” Before Cal can open his mouth, to ask what we’re all thinking, the gray man holds up a hand. “I know because I have seen it, Tiberias. Just like I saw you coming.”
“What do you mean, saw?” Farley growls, taking quick steps toward him. Her gun is still tight in her hand, ready to be used. “Tell us!”
“Such a temper, Diana,” he chides, sidestepping her with surprisingly quick feet. She blinks, perplexed, and lunges, trying to grab him. Again, he dodges.
“Farley, stop!” I surprise even myself with the order. She sneers at me but obeys, circling around so that she’s behind the strange man. “What’s your name, sir?”
His smile is just as gray as his hair. “That is of no consequence. My name isn’t on your list. I come from beyond your kingdom’s borders.”
Before I get a chance to ask him how he knows about Julian’s list, Farley charges with all her speed, sprinting at the man’s back. Though she makes no sound, though he can’t see her, he easily steps out of her path. She falls into the ash face-first, cursing, but wastes no time getting to her feet. Now she has her gun aimed at his heart. “You going to dodge this?” she snarls, letting a bullet click into place.
“I won’t have to,” he replies with a wry smile. “Will I, Miss Barrow?”
Of course. “Farley, leave him be. He’s another newblood.”
“You’re . . . you’re an eye,” Cal breathes, taking a few shuffling steps through the ashen street. “You can see the future.”
The man scoffs, waving a hand. “An eye sees only what they look for. Their sight is narrower than a blade of grass.” Again, he fixes us with his sad, scarlet stare.
“But I see everything.”
TWENTY-ONE
Only when we enter the burned-out husk of the Rosen tavern does the gray man speak again, introducing himself as we take seats around a charred table. His name is shockingly simple. Jon. And his presence is the most unsettling thing I’ve ever felt. Every time he looks at me, with eyes the color of blood, I get the sense that he can see right through my skin, to the twisted thing I used to call a heart. But I keep my thoughts to myself, if only to allow Farley more room to air her grievances. She alternates between grumbling and shouting, arguing that we can’t trust this strange man who appeared out of the ash. Once or twice, Shade has to calm her down, putting his hands on her arms to still her. Jon sits through it all with a tight smile, staring down her oppositions, only speaking when she finally shuts her mouth.
“The four of you are well known to me, so there’s no need for introductions,” he says, holding up a hand in Shade’s direction. My brother makes a strangled kind of noise, drawing back a little. “I found you because I knew where you would be. It was nothing to coordinate my journey with yours,” Jon adds, turning his gaze on Cal. His face whitens in a flush, but Jon doesn’t bother to watch. Instead, he looks to me, and his smile softens a bit. He’ll be a good addition, albeit a creepy one. “I have no intention of joining you at the Notch, Miss Barrow.”