The first thing I did was kick off the godsdamned shoes.

The ballet flats tumbled across the Aubusson rug with its colorful motif and skidded beneath a small table with bird's claws for feet. Then I was gone, fleet-footed and sleek. Fast like a mouse scurrying through a maze searching for a way out. But not this mouse. This mouse was searching for Zrenyth's mites.

My skirt and the ends of my scarf snapped wide as I darted from underneath the outstretched wing of Brangwene and dashed around the corner where I couldn't be seen by either Graysen or the Purveyor of Rarities. I disappeared between a row of mismatched shelving units, much like open apothecary cabinets displaying their wares for sale. Florin's lair wasn't a large place, but it was oversized to accommodate the Horned God's height. The cabinet's shelves were spaced wider apart, their framework solid and tall, reaching up towards the lofty ceiling. Even the fat glass jars sitting on the shelves were huge.

I burst into a frantic flight. My movements were jerky and harried as I poked my head over small tables to furiously inspect the centerpieces of strange items before I rushed across the brightly woven rugs to crouch down low and sift through the silvery stems shoved into an urn. My hair sprang around my eyes and bounced against my back as I zipped from one cabinet to the other, frantically scanning the glass jars. My darkest fear was that Florin had either sold the mites or he'd locked them away in a treasure trove because they were so rare. I prayed to Skalki that they were somewhere in a secluded part of the shop where I could get my hands upon them.

I couldn't stop myself from racing onward, nor could I curb the mounting desperation strangling my nerves at such an enormous task. My mind screamed hurry, hurry, hurry, as I threw myself into the hunt, my gaze skipping all over the place. Everything became a blur of indistinguishable shapes and blended colors. A whirlwind of fragmented thoughts spun inside my head. All of them were screaming at me to move faster, search quicker, find the mites before I lost this chance. Now! Now! Now! I turned my jittery attention back to the glass jar in front of me and flipped the label over with shaky fingers to read it before shifting to the next jar, the one after that...

Hells, hells...

I was panicking so much I wasn't taking in the names properly, nor fully identifying what was contained within the jars. I was searching without a plan, without a clear direction of how to tackle this monumental task. Toxic panic charged through my bloodstream, jackhammering my heart. What if Graysen cut his conversation short with the Horned God? What if I only had five minutes? This was my only opportunity. I'd never find my way back to Florin's lair for the mites if I couldn't locate them right this very moment.

As I stumbled around to take in the room, I knocked into the edge of a solid stone table. Thorny heat stabbed my hip bone and I bit back a startled cry of pain. Stress coated the back of my neck and the palms of my hands in sticky perspiration. I rapidly calculated what I couldn't see from this vantage point, what remained beyond this spot that needed to be searched. My breath came quicker, shallower. I became lightheaded. I'd need a solid week to comb through this place and turn it upside down. And I didn't have the luxury of time.

It was a male voice, gentle yet firm, that echoed through my mind.

Calm, Nelle, calm...

I forced myself to squeeze my eyes shut and inhale deeply. As I always did when I needed to settle my wild emotions, I focused on a voice, deep and warm, rich with love and pride. It was my father's voice intoning...Calm Nelle, calm...while I unconsciously began to knead imaginary adamere beads with trembling fingers and work through the length of the necklace that used to wrap around my wrist like a bracelet.

Warm air expelled from my lips and I dragged in a breath through my nose, letting it fill my lungs before pushing it slowly out of my mouth. To find the mites I needed to be logical and clear of mind. All I needed to do was concentrate on where I was, what was in front of me, and search through the shop quickly, systematically, and carefully.

The bleak anxiety seeping through my veins bled away and my hammering heartbeat slowed, slowed, slowed. I rubbed a sweaty palm on my hipbone where it still smarted and opened my eyes, starting afresh. Steeling my spine, I restarted my hunt with purpose.

I can do this.

I will do this.

Tippy-toeing stealthily to the end of the row. I curled my fingers around the edge of the wooden cabinet and leaned sideways to peek around the corner.

Graysen stood next to the Purveyor of Rarities. Both of them worked silently side by side in front of a workbench inside the office. As tall as Graysen was, he was overshadowed by Florin's gigantic proportions. The Horned God was leaning down, scrubbing the surface of the workbench with a bristled brush. The emerald feathered cloak ruffled and elemental smoke wisped from the tips of his ears and shimmered around his ram's horns with the short sharp scrubbing motion.

Graysen fussed about with a vial. It contained something red that I couldn't quite make out from where I stood. A wintry sensation rushed along my skin raising goosebumps. His features were drawn and shadowed. He seemed pensive, a touch melancholy as he stoppered the vial. I gnawed my lower lip as conflict froze me to the spot. I needed to move on with my quest, but there was a part of me that wanted to curl my body around his, to reach up and soothe the sorrow from his creased brow and soften the despairing line of his mouth with a kiss.

I withdrew reluctantly and glanced around at my immediate surroundings. Every inch of available space in Florin's lair was crammed with curios. Stacked upon the cabinet shelves were row after row of glass jars containing an abundance of wonder. Scattered in between the cabinets were statues hewn from various materials. And all manner of slender wings, spindly branches, and long daggers were stuffed into urns beside tall round tables. Much like they did in giftware stores the tables displayed a collection of items. There were keys fashioned from iron and finger bones, roughly cut gems and stones that glowed like burning stars, and miniature books bound in human skin. Weapons honed from gigantic thorns and burrs, iridescent seashells, and gigantic pearls.

The rug softly cushioned my footsteps as I paced back and forth, thinking, thinking, thinking. There was vast power collected within the shopfront. There were items that bristled with dark magic—Zrenyth's magic—and even a few weapons that he'd forged in his smithery; a shield of mist and shadow leaned up against the foot of a beastly statue; an adamere dagger poked out of an urn. Florin couldn't afford for the mites to freely roam wherever they liked. They'd be contained. I could eliminate any open vessel, like the bowls of collections—gems and bones and dried husks of otherworldly critters. Nor would they be hanging from the ceiling.

The mites would be in a glass jar and they'd be feeding on something, a sliver or a chunky portion from an inanimate object that was infused with Zrenyth's magic. I also knew from the details written in the book that Dustin had given me that Florin didn't possess that many mites either.

A terrifyingly beautiful thought took hold and exhilaration cracked inside my chest. Of course! The creatures were so tiny the jar would appear to be empty. And if I was looking for an almost empty jar, that narrowed down the search considerably.

My back went rigid, my gaze slicing upward.

An empty glass jar...

Just like the one right up there.

Feverish excitement had me lurching forward, hurtling across the aisle between cabinets.

Thank Skalki!

Stretching up on my toes, I braced a hand on a mid-shelf for support and latched my fingers around the jar, carefully lifting it. My blood thundered in my ears and anticipation prickled all the tiny hair on my body. I couldn't believe I was holding in my hands, salvation.

I peered into the jar...

And frowned. The jar really was empty. I should have seen mites crawling around on the glass bottom, but there was nothing inside. However, I did feel something radiating from within, an undulating vibration that thrummed through the glass and against my fingers. I lifted the jar higher, near my ears, tilted my head, and sharpened my hearing. I swore I heard something soft, barely a whisper, a voice...several voices.

Wrapped around the jar's smooth round neck was a black ribbon on which hung an old-fashioned price tag. The tag was made from lightweight cardboard, long and narrow, and edged in an elegant black border. Written in a beautiful cursive script was the name of the item for sale: Whispers from the Guilty.

A flash flood of crushing disappointment washed through my limbs. My shoulders fell, the glass jar full of guilty whispers lowering to my side. Was I ever going to find the mites?

A second later I bolstered myself up with determination, tipping up my chin and sliding the jar back into place on the shelf. Just because this one didn't contain the mites, didn't mean they weren't here. I just hadn't found them yet.

I sprang into motion, mentally splitting the lair into small divisions. I hunted through Florin's shop, squatting down to check the glass jars on the lower shelves of the cabinets, stretching up to see things on higher shelves. I thoroughly searched the oddities, hastily moving through the rabbit warren of cabinets, and circling the back walls. Despite my speed, I was careful and systematic, checking off each row, double checking them once more. However the longer I went without finding the mites, distress began to strum my taut nerves with anxious fingers. A sense of urgency made me move faster. Time was marching on quickly, too quickly. Despite trying to keep calm, once more panic began to fester beneath my skin like poison. I chewed my thumbnail as a cold realization sank in. I'd hunted through the entire lair but for one place. And that was the area directly in front of Florin's office. I'd looked everywhere else and found nothing.

Loosening a frustrated sigh, I swiveled around and leaned a shoulder against a short squat statue, shoving the errant curls out of my eyes. With my fucking luck of late, I should have known the mites would be out there, right within sight of the Horned God. I had no idea which of them, Graysen or Florin, would be angrier if I was caught red-handed stealing. There was nothing else for it but to go out there and seek them out.

Pushing off the statue I slunk forward, hiding in the shadows and peeking around the cabinet. Graysen stood inside the office with his back to me and I could see Florin relaxing on a huge wooden chair. He leaned against a spread of bright orange cushions while eating a croissant stuffed with the squished opossum Graysen had scraped off the road. My mouth puckered and curled downward. Ew. Revulsion churned my stomach.

My feet pattered across the rugs as I scurried out of the shadows and stepped into the sphere of golden light thrown out by the candelabra with its fat candles dripping with wax. I'd circled back to where I'd first entered Florin's shop with Graysen. My skirt swished against my legs as I moved beneath Brangwene's outstretched wings, his enormous warhammer raised and ready to smash downward.

Here the aisle between the wares was much broader as if this were the main thoroughfare from the door to his office. More sculptures were positioned about with a few tables and only one or two mismatched apothecary cabinets faced outward.

Soft murmuring floated through the open door of the office, but I only paid mild attention to it as I sank into boredom, strolling around, hoping to appear as if I were meandering without direction or thought to burn through my time while I awaited Graysen to finish up with the Horned God.

However, it was impossible to stop the awe-inspired smile alighting my lips. Here it was a grotto, a treasure trove of the macabre. Against the backdrop of rich brocade that draped against the walls, motes glowed like fireflies as candlelight burnished them aflame as they drifted in a glittering swarm near statues carved from stone and some that were sculptured from bones. Dangling from the ceiling were blackened entrails strung together like butchery sausages; ropes fashioned out of fur or human hair; tapestries, not stitched with thread, but flayed lizard skin that had a strange slashing language painted on its center in dark green blood.

And right above me was a Stormbird feather.

A gasp whistled from my throat.

I'd encountered a Stormbird in the swifting void, the strange space between places where the otherworldly beast existed. I craned my neck back to stare in wonder at the magnificent feather floating high above. Beautiful. Majestic. It was enormous. The feather ran the length of the ceiling from one corner of the shop right across to the other. Energy pulsed along the ghostly vane like impending lightning gathering within a brewing thundercloud.

I wished I had more time to take in all the unique rarities that Florin had collected to sell. But I didn't. Time was a commodity I was quickly running out of. We'd been in here for so long, surely Graysen was going to end the visit and we'd leave without me being able to find the mites. My entire body instantly went taut. All I wanted to do was run around and search the shelves, but at any moment the Horned God could peer around Graysen's figure and spot me. Graysen himself could glance over his shoulder and catch me out.

But then...

Graysen unexpectedly stepped backward, one step, two more, a fourth, shifting his tall figure into the doorway's threshold, inadvertently shielding me as he slid his booted feet apart and widened his stance, continuing to talk and holding the Horned God's attention. With Graysen taking up most of the width of the doorway, I couldn't see where Florin was positioned in the office. I mentally crossed my fingers that he couldn't see me either.

I picked up speed, running past the metal rack of brutal morning stars to scan the nearest cabinet. In the corner of my eye, I caught a tantalizing glimpse of an empty jar on a higher shelf. Hope was a delicate burst of warmth that heated my clammy skin. I shot a swift glance along my shoulder toward the office. Graysen had left his position at the threshold of the doorway and had taken several steps deeper into the office.

Oh no, no, no...

I could be easily spotted.

But it was now or never.

I grabbed hold of the cabinet and clambered up onto a lower shelf to gain height. I hooked my toes on the edge of the shelf for purchase, then climbed up one more shelf in a flurry of limbs, cringing at the creak of wood. Rising on my toes, stretching an arm higher to reach for the jar—

One of my feet lost hold—

And my toes slipped off the shelf.

I jolted downward, my body tipping backward. A shriek of fright almost tore from my throat as my hands scrambled to grab hold of something, anything, a shelf, the outside framework.

My sweaty fingers clamped around a ledge and I righted myself, thankful that the cabinet was sturdy enough not to topple over with my unbalanced weight. I blew out a pent-up breath, strands of wavy hair fluttering with the stream of hot air, and I tried again, careful this time to ensure my toes were safely balanced on the wooden shelf. My fingers curled around the bottle and I lifted it down so I could squint at its insides.

The reason why the jar appeared empty was because it was filled with a clear liquid that lapped at the sides of the container.

My stomach dropped with a sickening thud.

This was never going to work. I was never going to find the mites. This probably wasn't even the place the author had visited to be able to write about all the wonders detailed in the book that Dustin had given me.

The price tag had flipped over and my gaze flitted over the words inside the elegant black border as I wallowed in self-defeat. I blinked. My gaze sharpened and whipped back to the tag. The Purveyor of Rarities had written in midnight ink: Tears of the Brokenhearted.

My heart soared with hope.

This was the place the author had visited. Which meant the mites had to be somewhere nearby, unless they'd been moved, or he'd sold them.

Please, please, please, I begged Skalki.

I needed to find the mites.

And there, further along on the same ledge was a jar that looked distinctly empty.

Pinching the shelf's edge with my fingers and thumb, I shuffled awkwardly along the cabinet and reached up and sideways for the jar. As soon as the tips of my fingers touched the glass, a barbed sting of magic cracked down my hand and my senses sang wrong, wrong, wrong. Bringing it closer I peered inside and found what I'd been searching for. There was a tiny scrap of gray material at the very bottom of the jar, and crawling all over it were black mites. Tiny, tiny little creatures. The barest wisping of dark power shimmered like light glancing off rainfall as Zrenyth's power was inhaled in bites as the mites chewed through the leathery fabric.

There was no easy way to transfer the mites from the jar to my collar up here, so I clambered down from the cabinet with the jar cradled to my chest. The soles of my bare feet met soft loops of wool as I jumped down from the last ledge. Huddling with my back turned toward the office I worked fast. Freedom was within reach now that I had the mites, but with the adrenaline cranking through my body, my fingers felt fat and clumsy. Time seemed to move too fast as I struggled to pull off the jar's stopper and gently tip the mites into a cupped hand. A strange tickly sensation prickled my palm as they moved about. How many did I need to chew through the rope? I wasn't sure, and I certainly wasn't going to take any chances—I was going to steal them all. I only hoped that Florin only checked on the mites when they needed feeding, and by that time I would have escaped the Crowthers' estate and be long gone and so far away not even a Horned God could find me.

With my free hand, I pulled my hair aside, sweeping it over my shoulder, and tugged down the scarf that hid the rope that collared my throat. Gently, carefully, I curved my palm and rested it on the noose's knot, centered at the back of my neck. Anxiety quickened my breath and I stood there with my chest rising and falling rapidly, wishing that the mites would move faster. The voices coming from the office held an urgent note. I stole a quick glance. Graysen's back was still to me and he was gesturing with his hand to his neck.

Please, hurry, hurry—I mentally urged the mites.

Slowly, the mites were drawn to Zrenth's magic, and I felt them leave my hand in a tickly path, gravitating to the knot. I rearranged the scarf back into place to hide the noose and flicked my hair back over my shoulder, the long locks skating down my back. Replacing the jar's lid I went to climb back up the cabinet to put it back into place...

Too late, too late...

I heard him before I saw him. A bellow of outrage shattered through the lair.

I jolted in fright and almost dropped the jar.

There came another burst of anger.

A roar of "NOW!"

A crashing sound.

A storm of heavy footfall and heaving breath.

Holy shit!