Moriarty’s Men: The Complete Series by Chase Eva

Author:Chase, Eva
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-990338-08-3
Publisher: Ink Spark Press
Published: 2021-06-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jemma

“There’s one,” I said to Bash as we eased through the town marketplace. I gestured surreptitiously to a woman standing by a fruit stand.

He made note of her with a glance. “How can you tell?”

“They stand out in the sun for hours sometimes in meditation—there’s a specific pose. I can see it in her posture. The way she lifted her face toward the sky for a second.”

I veered away from the cultist toward a stall selling stuffed tomatoes. The smells of grilled meat and vegetables and a cacophony of spices tickled my nose. I’d have enjoyed it if it hadn’t been for the hints of the shrouded folk’s dryly rancid scent mingling with the local atmosphere. Some of the folk were prowling alongside their sycophants, invisible yet leaving a trace I could recognize.

The street ahead of us sloped slightly downward. I walked carefully, wary of my wobbly right leg, not wanting to draw any attention by falling. This place wasn’t exactly the best environment for someone who had enchanted jewelry gradually wearing away at her thigh.

The whole town sprawled across the side of a low mountain, turning into a patchwork of brightly colored buildings when viewed from above. We’d just come down from the open area along the mountain’s peak where I’d been scouting out the best spot to complete the bond-breaking ritual during the eclipse. The dagger was supposed to give me the powers of a shrouded one, and the shrouded folk liked to be close to the sky.

Since I wasn’t sure if this ritual was going to work at all, I figured I’d better increase the odds as much as I could. All I had to go on in my planning was what I’d observed of Bog when we’d made our pact, the part I’d had to play in it, and the fealty rituals I’d witnessed for the younger cult children.

It was going to be harder getting up to the mountaintop this evening with shrouded folk and their cultists prowling the place. I’d spotted a couple of men who’d rubbed my instincts the wrong way outside a church on our way back into town. Now, ducking past a shoe shop, I noticed another woman, this one swaying in a slight erratic rhythm for a second before she caught herself.

If I’d already seen four on our first real jaunt through town, how many more were wandering through here? The shrouded folk who’d been hanging around the commune might not have been able to see who’d stolen the dagger, but they’d know someone had and where a person could use it. And if even one of the cultists who’d gotten a glimpse at me had managed to pass on word to another settlement, all of them would know to look for a slim woman with bright red hair.

Which was why I’d picked up a wig on our rambling travels across the last week. I gave the dark strands a brief tug to confirm it was still secure after our hike, wishing I’d gone blond instead of black.

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