Nightshade City by Hilary Wagner Page A

Clover, most would call this an impasse, but it’s simply a crossroads. We will find the right path. I promise you that.”
    The party lingered on well into the morning hours. Rats were stuffed and happy, full and then some. Victor and Petra sat together on thefloor, worn out from dancing. They leaned against the wall of Bostwick Hall, deep in conversation. Wobbly at first, Victor shortly found his footing, handling his newfound romance surprisingly well.
    Vincent reveled in his brother’s good fortune. He knew his time would come. His father always told him he’d know when love struck, for it would feel like the beginning and end of his world all in the same breath. He found Petra endearing but a bit too giddy for his taste, which made her a perfect choice for his excitable brother.
    Juniper stood chatting with a group of old ones. When he noticed Vincent, he politely excused himself from the conversation. He put a paw on Vincent’s shoulder and navigated them through the noisy crowd, exiting Bostwick Hall down a snaky corridor. Vincent welcomed the silence.
    Lined with doors, the passageway’s layout was identical to the Catacombs, but the doors were stained with various earthy tones and adorned with dried plants and other ornaments. Such décor was strictly forbidden in the Combs. There were chairs and stools along the length of the corridor, even a few children’s toys scattered here and there. A welcoming torch flickered every so often, giving the corridor a warm pumpkin hue, making Vincent’s eyes glow a sharp bottle green.
    As they reached the middle of the corridor, Juniper stopped in front of a door freshly stained the color of stewed tomatoes. “I think it’s high time you and Victor had a proper place to live, no?” He opened the door, exposing a space of four dirt walls with a small wooden table, a cupboard, and a fire pit.
    Vincent looked in. “Well, go ahead,” said Juniper. “It’s yours and Victor’s now.” Juniper sized up the space. “We’ll get you some bedding and necessary items for cooking and such. You two can do anything you want with the place, make it your own. We believe all creatures have a right to their own unique expression, unlike the HighMinistry, who think free expression will eventually lead to rebellion. In truth, it’s the lack of that freedom that leads to uprising. Your fire pit is over there, and a cupboard for your supplies is to the right of it. Ulrich and Ragan can get you some stain if you two want to color the place up a bit, unless of course you’re at home with these dirt-brown walls.” Juniper tapped a bare wall with his knuckle. “I dare say your time in the Combs has almost certainly made you sick of this particular shade of dry earth.”
    Vincent didn’t know what to say. He twisted clumsily, embarrassed. Generosity was a hard thing to come by in the Catacombs. “Thank you, Juniper,” he said awkwardly. “It’s more than anything I could imagine. This whole day has been beyond words. Thank you for your charity.” Vincent turned in a full circle, admiring the room.
    “It’s not charity I’m giving you—it’s your due. I feel like part of Julius has been brought back from the dead. I’m only giving you what would have rightfully belonged to him. Now it’s yours.” Vincent’s eerie likeness to his father still haunted Juniper. He hoped in the end the boy would meet with a happier fate.
    “Let’s go,” said Juniper, pulling a small iron key on a leather loop from his rucksack and locking the door behind them. He placed it over Vincent’s head. “This is yours now.” Vincent stared down at the key. It felt comfortable on his chest. “A new key for a new beginning,” Juniper said.
    They walked silently, passing more and more corridors, curving and coiling this way and that. The growing city had more new vacancies than residents, but not for long. With the help of the Council and their network of Loyalists inside the Combs, families were