I wrung my hands in my lap, my worries hitting me again now that I was motionless and could do nothing but think. How could I explain how I knew there was a dead body somewhere in the city when I didn’t know where it was? If I had to guess, I’d say she died somewhere in the First Chime based on the smoke from the factory I’d seen, but I hadn’t even gotten a good look at any buildings. Maybe going to Iron Watch was silly when I couldn’t tell anyone who the killer was or where it happened, but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
I needed a cover story. Maybe I could pretend as if someone had reported the murder to me but was too scared to come forward. Then I could blame any vagueness on what I was or wasn’t told.
Outside, a tendril of fog curled around the street, the fluorescent blue light from a shop giving it an eerie glow. It twisted around the white plaster houses, reminding me too much of the smoke from my Slips. If only I could’ve seen more of the woman’s surroundings.
When the steamcab finally clanged to a stop, I checked to make sure my hood covered most of my face, then climbed out and tossed a knob to the driver. “Thank you. No need to wait. I’ll find another way home.”
Using my gloved hand, I pushed open the brass front door. A few heads turned my way, so I tucked my chin to better suit my camouflage. For a long moment, the only sound was the clock against the far wall ticking down the seconds.
I strode to the empty desk that stood like a wooden sentinel near the front doors, ignoring the squelch of my shoes and trying not to let my nerves get the best of me. The interior was a mixture of polished mahogany, rich leather, and exposed metal components like the copper pipes snaking along the ceiling. Vintage maps of the city, weathered wanted posters, and a few oil paintings covered the wall. The Blue Capes wrote reports at their desks, flipped through thick leather-bound books while taking notes, or checked the siphons—a series of brass pipes that ran under the city and used aether chips to direct messages.
After clearing my throat, I stuck my bare hand into my pocket and said, “I’m here to report a murder.”
Almost every head whipped up to stare at me, though a few men continued working. The sound of pens and quills scratching against paper felt like they were scratching at my nerves and anxiety.
A lanky man with a mustache strolled over wearing the traditional royal blue cape embossed with golden patterns that hung to his waist. Brass buttons, in the shape of the Iron Watch’s emblem, ornamented the front. His name badge read Barbany.
My mind raced to come up with some way to make his name stick as he stopped in front of me. Barbany—he was so bony that his knees would feel like barbs if they touched me.
“You say you’re here to report a murder?” he asked with a drawl that told me he’d come from another city. No one in Chronovale had an accent like that. “That’s quite the statement.”
“I’m here on behalf of my friend who witnessed it. She was too scared to come in.”
“Whose murder?”
I gripped the bracelet with my other hand. “A woman’s. She didn’t know her.”
“When did it happen?”
“Just a few hours ago.” At least that question I could answer with certainty.
“And where did the murder occur?”
“I’m...not sure. She thought it was the First Chime, but she wasn’t sure.” My voice came out too quiet. My story had sounded a little better in the steamcab, but now it felt ridiculous. But I couldn’t give up, not when someone had been killed.
In the background, a few officers snorted and went back to their paperwork. I fought to keep a blush from staining my cheeks. The tension in the room dissolved as they dismissed my story.
“Your friend saw a murder and isn’t confident where she saw it...” Barbany’s sharp eyes bored into mine. He fiddled with the goggles hanging around his neck, brass frames with tinted lenses.
“Yes.” I raised my chin.
“Bring in your friend or go home.” Barbany gestured me toward the door. “We’ve got work to do.”
“You don’t understand.” I grabbed his sleeve impulsively, and my hood fell down at the sudden motion. Quickly, I pulled it back up. “A murderer is walking free. We can’t let him get away with it.” The woman’s gasp would haunt my nightmares for weeks.
“What you don’t understand is that you’ve given us nothing to go on. My men have better things to do than spin gears with vague, pointless leads.”
At least his curt tone meant he hadn’t recognized me. But he was dismissing me.
“But I—”
“I’ll handle this, sir.” A young man, maybe a few years younger than Desmarc, placed a hand on Barbany’s shoulder.
Officer Barbany huffed and twirled his mustache with a finger, then stalked back to his desk.
“Sorry about that.” The man smiled, revealing even, white teeth, except for one incisor which was sharper than the rest, like it had been chipped in a fight. Unlike the other officers, he wore a button-up white shirt as if he’d come from a party, though it was rolled up to his elbow, revealing a tanned, muscular forearm. He’d covered it with the traditional leather vest and gloves from the Blue Capes uniform.
But his cape had a blue star sewn onto the right breast of his uniform, marking him as a detective.