Fever Blood

Chapter 19: The Fallen City

Skaria was one of the reasons only the fools entered Skivering Street. Thieves were the real problem. And since Skaria had nothing on her to steal, she wouldn't have a problem. Most likely.

She saw the person immediately. She had a basket in her arms, full of bright red apples. Even from this distance, they made Skaria's mouth water.

She stuck to the shadows, right behind the woman. Now, it was time to strike. Skaria walked by the woman, dressed in bright robes, and studied her.

She had ebony skin and a kind face. Her hair was hidden in a wrap of the same colorful fabric that made up the robe. A priestess. Skaria felt a stab of guilt at that. Robbing mall sfrom a priestess... what had this life of hers come to?

She bumped into the priestess. "Sorry, ma'am," she said, as her hands, quick as ever, plucked three red apples from her basket. "Won't happen again."

She ducked over into an alleyway, and pulled out the fruit, and stared. For one, they were pitch black. And two, they weren't actually fruit. They were apple-shaped lumps of coal. What the heck? Skaria swore she had grabbed the apples.

"You know stealing is bad," the priestess said. Skaria jumped, turning around, the coal lumps dropping from her hand. "So, why do you do it?"

Skaria sighed. "Does it look like I have enough money to afford an apple?" she asked.

The priestess frowned. "No," she admitted. "Looks like you slept in that dress."

"For about two weeks. You should see the other guy."

The priestess winced. "Well, you could have just asked.I was just handing them out." She pulled out a small square of fabric, put one, two, three, no, four apples into it, and tied it. "For you. And your friend."

Skaria nodded. "Thank you."

"May God bless you, child." The priestess smiled, then left the alleyway. Skaria breathed a sigh of relief. The last time she had stolen from a cleric, she had been beaten upside the head.

With her small sack of apples, Skaria started back home. Or, well, back to the alley that held Magnus. She clutched the apples close to herself, making sure no one could steal them from her grubby hands.

"Magnus," she said, stepping into the alley. "Magnus, I got more apples than you asked for," she said. All she was met with was silence.

"Magnus?" she called, a tiny hint of panic creeping into her voice. He probably was just relieving himself. Of course. That was it.

Skaria turned around and noticed the small, white strip sticking out from under the threadbare blanket she had used. She reached down, tucked the sack of apples out of sight, and pulled the strip, a ratty piece of paper out. She unfolded it.

Dearest Skaria, it read. I am very sorry to do this, but tragedy has struck my family. My sister, my dear little Aoife, had been abducted. Skaria didn't care. She knew what it meant.

I must leave at once, to find her. I am truly sorry. Skaria let the paper fall to the ground, tears blurriy ng her eyesight. It was signed by Magnus, of course. It was signed by the man who protected her from the cruel witches. It was signed by the man who became her first real friend. It was signed by the man who Skaria considered her father.

It was signed by the man who abandoned her.

***

About an hour later, the tears stopped. Skaria sat up, nose stuffy, tears run dry. It was around then when something switched. Her anger and betrayal turned into rage.