Excerpt from Hawthorne’s Journal – September 21, 4-1883

  The little human girl is growing up. I’d almost forgotten about her—almost—so when I saw her at my mother’s burial site just outside Firen this morning, it took me a moment to recognize her. She’d lost some weight and grown a couple of inches, but what I really noticed was her clothes and hair. She had learned how to manage the unruly mane of hair I’d noticed before, and she was now dressed in a pink, floral skirt that suited her—nothing like the baggy clothes she wore before.

  But when she turned to look at me, her eyes confirmed her identity—wide and green and so innocent, but still, I saw defiance there. She’d been crying—probably because of her mother, based on the murmurings I’d overheard as I approached. Poor child. I’d been a man when I’d lost my mother, but she was probably young when she lost hers.

  The girl was drunk at far too young an age. She said she was sixteen, but she was still just a child in my world. And with the alcohol in her blood, she was bold—hardly afraid of me, if her demeanor was anything to go by. In truth, I found her amusing. Most humans wouldn’t dare challenge me, and this little drunk girl was ready to fight me as if I wasn’t well-over twice her size.

  Though I’d managed to purge the girl from my mind before—to forget about the connection between us—I again found myself curious. What game is God playing? Why does he push me towards this seemingly ordinary human child? I see no reason to notice this girl. In fact, I wouldn’t have remembered her at all had it not been for that strange spark of familiarity before. Someday, maybe God will reveal his plan. For now, I’ll simply keep this child in the back of my mind. Maybe someday, she’ll become more interesting.

  Dahlia

  It was nearly midnight, but the streets of Firen were busy as I stepped out from Portia’s office to begin my patrol. It was all too easy to collect the evemant dagger she’d hidden away in a back room. I knew Portia well, and I knew all her favorite hiding places. So when I found it tucked away in a wardrobe, I smiled to myself—it was too easy. Now, that dagger was mine—hidden away at my waist where no one would see it.

  On the street, people seemed to have collectively decided to enjoy the relatively cool night air rather than trap themselves in their warm homes. This was normal in the summer months here—even I would have been out on my porch at this time of night if given the opportunity. This was probably why the Reaper hadn’t shown himself in so long. For someone who liked to work in the shadows, Firen was not an easy place to operate in the summer. Even the Imm intruders made themselves scarce lately—if due to the heat, crowds, or risk of death, I didn’t know.

  Despite these crowds, I roamed the streets anyway and imagined the Reaper was here in the fray—wandering the streets like every other person in Firen—every person, to include the Imms. Perhaps he even went without a mask on nights like this. Blending into the crowds just like me.

  It didn’t take long for me to run into a group of Imm soldiers standing sentry at the entrance to the Prospect neighborhood—widely considered the busiest part of Firen. These Imms watched closely as each person walked into this neighborhood as if they thought the Reaper was stupid enough to show himself here. He was far too smart to appear in a crowd in a way that might make him obvious to onlookers—the Imms should have known that.

  Idiots.

  I watched as one of the Imms stepped forward to tear the hood off a man’s head with barked instructions, “Head coverings are now forbidden at night by order of Eloise Calo!”

  Well, that was concerning.

  While I wasn’t wearing a hood now, given how busy the city was tonight, I usually covered myself as much as possible to avoid scrutiny. When I was out on a job for Portia or sneaking out of the city to meet with my father, I kept my hood on and covered the lower part of my face with a cloth mask. Even on nights like tonight, I often wore a hood.

  Before the Imms could have an opportunity to touch me themselves, I pulled my hood down with a sigh of frustration.

  From now on, I would need to take more measures to remain completely unseen—sticking to the shadows, travelling by alleyway, or remaining uncovered as a precaution. I looked around at the closest alleyways and frowned—they were far too bright for my liking. I let my eyes wander over the street as my Sight fell into place to give me a better perspective of the area, but I still didn’t see a great solution to my problem. The Imms were almost certain to notice me slinking around in the shadows eventually.

  I continued forward—not seeing a solution—but I stopped when I saw a small bat swoop down from overhead before returning to the dark sky. Against the black sky, the creature was imperceptible to anyone else around me. No one would even think to look up. They were too busy with what was on the ground around them to look to even the rooftops—let alone the sky. Even if they did look up, could mortal eyes see a dark figure? Could the Imms?

  I stilled—a smile sliding into place on my face as a thought came to me.

  The rooftops.

  Considering most people didn’t look up, the rooftops seemed an excellent way to travel unnoticed. I’d jumped from rooftop to rooftop with Erich as a child—just for the thrill of it—but I’d never considered using them as a means of travel.

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  With newfound confidence at the thought, I stepped forward and casually approached the entrance of the Prospect neighborhood—all Imm eyes turned to me as I passed them. It took every ounce of strength in me to stay calm and keep my heart rate steady. So, I nearly panicked when I heard one of the Imm women call out, “Halt—you there!”

  I turned to look at her, only to find her taking a human man by the front of the shirt and lifting him nearly half a foot off the ground until he was at eye-level with her, “Are you following that woman?”

  She gestured in my direction, and I looked around—wondering who she was talking about—only to realize she was talking about me. I was so distracted tonight, I hadn’t noticed the man. My focus had been entirely on the Imms—a mistake.

  “N-no,” the man gasped—terror nearly choking him.

  I cocked my head at the woman—a Calo, by the looks of it. In fact, she resembled Eloise—the head of the Calo family. She was tall and thin like most Imm women, but her face was more delicate than most of the Imm women I’d seen—just like Eloise. This woman had inky black hair with the typical rainbow sheen of a Calo. Her cheeks had the same scale-like shimmer as Simon's, except unlike Simon, this woman seemed to have the same sheen on her hands and arms, too.

  I quietly wondered how much of her was covered in this shimmering color.

  “Don’t lie to me!” The woman threw the man down as his shirt tore in her grip, and he hit the ground hard enough to bruise human flesh. “I saw you stalking her! Now, I don’t know what humans find acceptable, but among my people, stalking women will get you killed.”

  The faintest scent of urine filled the air, and I realized the man wet himself.

  Pathetic.

  The woman noticed too. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and repeated my own thought, “Pathetic. Leave my presence, human—and leave that woman alone.”

  The man didn’t hesitate. He was up and running back the way he came in no time, stumbling as he tried to gain purchase on the brick road. Issue resolved, I started to continue into the Prospect neighborhood, but the woman caught up to me, “You really should be more careful. That man was preying on you—I could see his arousal as he passed me.”

  Gross.

  “I…appreciate the help,” I managed—meeting the woman’s coal-black eyes for only a moment before looking away.

  “What’s your name?” The woman asked, though she sounded entirely uninterested to me. This seemed to be her attempt at small talk.

  I considered lying, but decided giving my name wouldn’t be harmful, “Dahlia—Dahlia Vita.”

  “Well, Dahlia.” The woman stepped towards me, and I couldn’t help the quickening of my heartbeat. “I’d say you should be more aware of your surroundings, but human women are notoriously easy to sneak up on.”

  She leaned down so she was at eye level with me, “Just be careful. Most men are nice enough, but some are assholes, and a handful of them are so abhorrent…”

  The woman paused and looked to where the human man had disappeared, “…they deserve to be torn limb from limb for how they treat women—if you ask me.”

  I opened my mouth to thank her again—feeling strangely touched that an Imm would intervene on a human’s behalf. Most Imms wouldn’t have bothered.

  “Elaine!” A familiar deep voice called out—making me flinch.

  The Imm woman turned in the direction of the voice—Hawthorne’s voice. He was dressed much in the same way he had been when I’d last seen him—in dull, dark colors that were so unlike how the people of Firen liked to dress. Even tonight, I was dressed in deep-purple trousers and a dark-blue tunic—dark, but still colorful. The Imms—especially the soldiers—had a strange aversion to color, given their often-colorful features.

  I watched as Hawthorne’s dark eyes moved to meet mine—concern creasing his face, “Did this human do something wrong?”

  As if sensing familiarity between us, the Imm woman, Elaine, looked back at me as if she could puzzle out my secrets that way. But she couldn’t. I had already schooled my expression. Besides, there was nothing between Hawthorne and me—nothing worth knowing.

  With a frown, she returned her attention to Hawthorne, “She had a stalker. I intervened before he could harm her.”

  Hawthorne’s expression darkened, “Did you kill him?”

  Elaine smiled, “No—not yet—didn’t want to scare the woman.”

  “But you remember his scent?” Hawthorne asked, his tone more urgent now—stressed, even.

  Elaine’s brows furrowed, and she looked between us a couple of times before returning her full attention to Hawthorne. She lifted a hand to reveal the fabric that had torn from the human man’s crimson tunic when she had lifted him into the air. Clearly, Elaine had intended to hunt him down tonight—something she intended to keep from me. Again, I was strangely touched by the gesture—touched, but also disturbed.

  Hawthorne’s expression became hard, emotionless, as he closed the distance between them and snatched the fabric from her hand, “I’ll take care of him.”

  “What? Why? I can take care of it—this problem is far too minor for you to bother yourself with,” Elaine was clearly stunned by his behavior—as were the half-dozen Imm guards standing nearby and watching with identical confused expressions on their faces.

  Hawthorne shook his head and turned away as he called back, “Go home, Dahlia. You shouldn’t be out alone.”

  I wanted to argue with him—to disagree—but that seemed foolish. Any normal human would be shaken up at the thought of having a stalker. Any normal human would also want to go home after such a frightening interaction with the Imms. It didn’t matter, though. Hawthorne gave me no time to argue. He quickly disappeared down the street in the same direction the man had travelled.

  “Can he really track him by scent alone in such a busy place?” I wondered aloud as I watched his large form disappear around a corner—hoping the Imm woman would respond.

  “Probably—the trail is fresh enough, and he pissed himself, remember?” the woman replied before crossing her arms and cocking her head at me questioningly, “But the real question is, who are you to Hawthorne? He knew you—he even knew your name.”

  I waved a hand dismissively, though my heart pounded in my chest now, “I can hardly say he knows me—we met when I was a child.”

  Elaine studied me for a long time—her expression as neutral as my own, now.

  She was unconvinced, “Whatever you say, human.”

  I kept quiet—waiting for her to dismiss me or whatever Imms did when they were done addressing human nobodies.

  Elaine surprised me. She looked around before sighing, “Let me walk you home. He’s not wrong—you shouldn’t be out alone.”

  “I’ll be fine on my—”

  “I insist,” Elaine smiled broadly—showing her perfect teeth and the token sharp canines that all the Imms had, “Besides, then I can reassure Hawthorne that his little human made it home safely—otherwise, he may check for himself, you know.”

  I shuddered—making her giggle.

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not his human,” I bristled, making her laugh harder as she reached for my hand, gripping it gently as she pulled me along.

  “Whatever you say, human,” she repeated before winking at me, “Your secret is safe with me.”