The first thing I noticed wasn't pain, but taste. My mouth tasted of copper and ash, as if I'd been sucking on old coins.
I tried to spit, but I had no saliva.
—...leave the boots. They're worn. Look at the rings, idiot.
—What rings? He doesn't have any. He just clutches that thing in his hand.
The voices sounded like sandpaper on stone. My head hurt, a dull throb behind my eyes that kept me from thinking. Where the hell was I? It was cold. The ground beneath my back was damp and sticky.
I opened my eyes. Bad idea.
The sky was a giant bruise, violet and black, sickly. There was no sun, only a filthy light that wasn't enough to illuminate the alley where they'd thrown me. I sat up, or at least tried to. My body weighed a ton.
In front of me were three… things.
They weren't people. They were sacks of bones wrapped in rags, with gray skin and jaundiced eyes. They smelled of rancid meat. One of them, the one who had a dagger that looked like it was made from a leg bone, laughed. It sounded like someone stepping on dry leaves.
—Look, the corpse moves. —He bared rotten teeth—. Too late to run, friend.
My brain slipped. I searched for a name, a memory, anything.
Alaric.
Right. My name is Alaric. Okay. What else? Where do I come from? Why am I in an alley that smells like a chemical slaughterhouse? Nothing. Empty. It was like trying to grab smoke with my hands.
—Where…? —My voice came out broken and deep.
—In the dump, little prince. Lapis Noctis. —The one with the dagger stepped forward, playing with the blade—. We sell everything here. And you seem to have… interesting spare parts.
He looked at my hands. I looked down too.
My right fist was clenched so hard my knuckles were white. I opened it slowly, almost afraid.
There was a coin. Black. No, darker than black; it absorbed the little light in the alley. Obsidian. It had an engraving that made me nauseous if I stared at it: a broken crown. To the touch it was burning, but it didn't burn skin. It vibrated. As if it had a pulse.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The three scavengers stopped laughing. The air grew dense, heavy, static.
—That's a Mark —one of the ones in back blurted. His voice trembled—. Don't touch that, Grish. It's from the Sovereigns.
—I don't care who it belongs to —the leader grunted, though I saw him swallow—. Give it to me. Now. And I'll slit your throat quick so you won't suffer.
My instinct, a primitive alarm at the base of my skull, screamed: Don't even think about it.
I knew that if I let go of that coin, I'd be dead. I didn't know why, but that piece of metal was the only real thing in this shitty world. And it was hungry. I felt it connected to me, like a parasite waiting for the order to feed.
I stood up. I swayed a little, dizzy.
—Come and get it —I said. It wasn't bravado; it was pure survival instinct.
The guy, Grish, lunged. He was fast, too fast for a human. I saw the sharp bone coming straight for my neck and knew I wouldn't have time to dodge.
The coin burned in my palm.
A voice thundered in my head. No, not a voice. A certainty. An impulse.
Pay.
I raised my hand. I didn't think. There were no magic spells or pretty words. Just panic and a furious demand.
—Claim! —I shouted.
The world shattered.
I felt a brutal tug in my brain, as if someone had shoved their hand into my memories and ripped out a page at random without care.
[COST CHARGED: MEMORY — MOTHER'S FACE]
I didn't even have time to process what that meant.
The alley's shadow came to life. It peeled off the ground like a pool of boiling oil and shot forward. It struck Grish in the chest with the sound of a hammer on wet meat.
The scavenger was sent flying. He crossed the whole alley, smashed into the black brick wall and collapsed like a rag. His chest caved in. The dagger was in pieces. Dead before he hit the ground.
Silence.
The other two stood like stone. They looked at their leader, then at me, and then at the darkness that still smoked around my arms.
—Warlock… —one whispered.
And they ran. They took off squealing through the maze of streets, tripping over their own feet.
The black smoke dissipated. My knees gave out and I fell into a sitting position, panting like a dog. My heart felt like it was going to burst from my chest.
What the hell had that been?
I looked at the coin. It no longer shone. It looked like an ordinary stone.
Then it hit me. The cost.
I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. Think of home. Think of your mother. I knew I had one. I remembered her voice. I remembered that she sang to me when I had a fever.
I tried to picture her face.
Nothing.
It was like looking at a photo where someone had burned the face with a cigarette. I saw the hair, I saw the dress… but where the eyes, the nose, the smile should have been… there was only a gray blur. Fog.
—No… —I brought my hands to my head, pressing my temples—. No, fuck, no.
Real panic, the cold kind, sank into my bones. I'd killed that monster, yes. But I'd paid with my mother's face. The coin had eaten it.
I felt like throwing up, but there was nothing in my stomach. A nervous, hysterical laugh escaped me. I was alone, in a city that looked like hell, with no memory, and with a weapon that devoured me from the inside every time I pulled the trigger.
I forced myself to stand. Staying there was death. Grish's body had started to give off a sweet, disgusting smell.
I adjusted the leather trench coat. It fit me well, like a second skin. At least I had clothes. I put the damned coin in my pocket, making sure not to touch it with bare skin more than necessary.
I walked toward the mouth of the alley, where I could hear the noise of people.
Just before stepping into the light, I felt something. A gaze fixed on the nape of my neck. Heavy, intense.
I turned quickly.
Up above, on a gargoyle of a ruined building, something moved. I only saw a flash. Red eyes, glowing like embers, looked at me with predatory curiosity. It wasn't fear they conveyed. It was hunger. Or interest.
I blinked and it was gone.