The City of Crows by Bethany Lovejoy (great books to read .txt) 📕

roamed? How frightening. Lucky for them, Pat’s political aspirations far outweighed her morality. Another year in this office, and then it’s on to the senate. Pat was tired of her family’s long tenureship in the mayor’s office and only the mayor’s office.” He hummed, his hand reaching for the knocker as he stated to me, “I suppose to her it’s a curse just like Leo’s. Though you and I would argue otherwise, I think people just don’t like her.”

He had no struggles pulling open the door, exposing the interior of the large hall to me. To him, this was easy, he’d come here fully dedicated to signing his life away, every step closer just made it easier. He didn’t have anyone holding him back, and those who would have tried mattered very little to him. To be here, to be approaching something foul, it didn’t even process in Rowan’s mind now, nor did it then.

The entryway to the city hall was a rotunda, a circular entryway with no clear path in sight, the middle of the room recessed into the ground and was formed from a white marble that echoed the columns outside and contrasted with the dark wood of the floor on which we stood. Supposedly, that was symbolic, the lowered area being where court was once held, where they sentenced hundreds of witches to die every year. Now they put it a little closer to hell, inscribed a fancy Latin saying into the tile, and declared that they had repented. Meanwhile, just outside these doors, one bus stop away, people lived in poverty in buildings that were crumbling, if they had any problems, they could just fix them themselves with magic, never mind the fact that the city knew it wouldn’t last. Law makers were supposed to circle the pavilion, respect the lowered platform and never walk onto it, lest they risk damaging the thousands of names of those who had passed on from the laws of their successors.

Pat Lobdel used it as her personal photography set.

“She’s not a witch,” Rowan clarified, knowing exactly what I was thinking of before I did. “Not in our sense of the word. I suppose he wanted easy prey for the first one, and there she was. She didn’t ask for power, not the kind that witches have.” He sighed, “Politicians.”

“Politicians,” I agreed, still unable to tear my eyes from the floor. She viewed herself to be so high and mighty, this shouldn’t have surprised me. I was sure that there was at least the name of one Wynne on that floor, innocently slaughtered all those years ago, dead at the hand of Lawrence Lobdel. “Does it hurt?” I asked, wary of what the future may hold. “Did it hurt you when it happened?”

A chuckle, that wasn’t reassuring.

“Did it?” I pressed, struggling to keep up with Rowan. “I mean, could you feel it? Is he going to be okay, or is he in pain?”

“I’d rate it as one of the worst pains in my life,” Rowan said, as if that was an obvious thing. “Unmatched by anything else. Your soul is ripped from your body, and you can feel every single stitch torn out of you as the seams fall apart, then you’re left with a hollowness that will never fill.” Dryly, Rowan added, “I’m sure he’s worth it, though.”

“You’re joking,” I said, far more hopeful that he was than anything else.

“You wish that I was, don’t you?” Rowan turned back to me, finally looking alive. “But wouldn’t it be more frightening if I told you that you won’t feel anything at all? That it happens and you see nothing, feel nothing, and for a moment you wonder if you dreamed it? Wouldn’t that really break your heart, to know that the soul is something that you don’t really notice when it’s gone?” He turned away from me, shaking his head to himself, “Don’t answer me Lyra, I already know. I was the same once.”

I grimaced, creeping closer to Rowan, my eyes still scanning the room. It wasn’t empty, per say, but the few people who were there didn’t give us so much as a second look, they were absorbed in their own world. “Are you sure he’ll be here?” I asked, voice cracking. It was far too quiet considering the amount of people wandering around us, it was eerie.

“No, I heavily suspected that my ex-girlfriend would jump off a roof to follow me, lay a hefty guilt trip, and then force me to bring her here,” Rowan sarcastically drawled. “In fact, when setting my trap, I thought to myself, what better option is there than the building in the exact center of the city, filled with lawmakers who would want nothing more than to take a misbehaving warlock and shove him into jail. Astounding logic, Lyra, they’ll be calling you for the noble prize any day now.”

It sounded a little ridiculous, but still. “What if you’re not you?” I asked, eyebrows raising. “What if you’re him, what if you’re the man—”

“Why bother coming to get you when he knows you’ll be on your way anyway?” Rowan’s eyes rolled as he cast a mocking face back in my direction. “Honestly, it’s not worth the trouble of putting on a disguise and collecting you, particularly if he’s aware of your feelings towards me. Which, by the way, he most certainly is. Believe it or not, I am not the one who went to your apartment in Magictown.” Exasperated with his situation, he snorted, “Try as I might, I am still capable of acknowledging a lost cause when I see one. Heading to your apartment that day would have gained me nothing and done me no favors. But I suppose, it’s all my fault to begin with,” he mused, pulling open another large set of doors, allowing us into the west chamber of the building, “he wouldn’t have even known that you were here if it weren’t for me. I suppose, in a