Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

inside.”
    “I already paid you,” I growl.
    “You paid me to find the information. You never said anything about letting you read it.”
    I grit my teeth, holding back a frustrated groan. “I don’t have any more money to give.”
    He chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, really?” Derrin steps toward me, until I can smell his breath that reeks of alcohol and decay. “Don’t think you’re fooling me,
princess
.”
    I stumble back.
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm…
    Derrin grins at my reaction. “Yeah, that’s right, isn’t it? The king’s little girl running around at night, trying to find a man. Let me guess, you fell in love with him, and he ran off without you. Right?”
    “Wrong.”
    Derrin scoffs. “Oh, really? Then why are you so desperate to find this guy?”
    “That’s not your business.”
    “Yeah, princess, I guess not. But that doesn’t change that I could tell the king what you’ve been up to. You think he’ll appreciate hearing that his daughter has been hanging around the Water District?”
    No, of course not. Everything about this place is wrong for a princess: the dark waters bordering the buildings, the smell of fish blood and burnt tar, the creaking sound the docks make as the wind rattles their rotted boards. But I’m not about to admit that to Derrin, and I glare at him, unsure if anything I say can make the situation better.
    He laughs at my expression. “I thought not. Tell you what, hmm? You give me all the money you have on you, and I won’t breathe a word. Plus I’ll give you this.” He wags the envelope in my face.
    I grind my teeth, unable to tear my eyes from the envelope. What Derrin holds is probably just another dead end and false lead, but… what if it’s not?
    “Fine.” I reach into my cloak and pull out a small bag of coins. It’s too light, and a harsh reminder of how much money I’ve already spent tracking down this man. I let my head hang as I approach Derrin, my hand clenched angrily around the coin bag. It doesn’t have to happen this way.
    But
none
of this should be happening. Because Ashe shouldn’t be dead.
    I stop a yard in front of Derrin, standing lightly on the balls of my feet, ready to react to any threat. The smell of his breath strikes me again, and I wince. Derrin thrusts his hand forward, wiggling his grimy fingers in a silent order to hand over the bag.
    Too bad I’ve never been very good at listening to orders.
    I drop the bag, Jackal’s voice echoing in my head: ‘
Step one: Distraction. Distracted foes are always easier to take down.’
    ‘But isn’t that fighting dirty?’ I’d asked.
    ‘Better dirt than your own blood.’
    Derrin lunges for the bag, tilting down and throwing himself off balance. I snatch hold of his thumb and twist it. My muscles strain with the effort, reminding me of all that weight I lost since Ashe’s death. But I can beat myself up for that later, after I finish beating Derrin. I jerk on Derrin’s thumb, twisting it behind his back.
    ‘Step two: Attack. Quickly. Don’t give your enemy enough time to figure out what you’re about to do
.’
    He cries out, and I jerk it a little tighter, a silent warning that I could easily snap his bone.
    ‘Step three: Kill. Either their spirit, their motives, or their body. Whatever it takes.’
    “Now listen to me,” I whisper in his ear. “You’re going to give me that envelope. Then you’re going to leave here. And you’re going to forget all about me and never breathe a word of this to anyone. Right?”
    Derrin doesn’t respond to my question, so I increase the pressure on his hand just a little. “
Right?
”
    He lets out a low growl, the sound muffled by his gritted teeth.
    “What did you say?”
    “Right. You’re right. I’ll never breathe a word. I swear.”
    “The envelope,” I snap. “Hand it over.”
    His free hand fumbles in his pocket, but it’s not the one he put the envelop in. I curse and shove my elbow into his back, forcing him to his knees. Derrin throws out his hand to steady himself, and I release my grasp on him. Before he can recover, I snatch the envelope from his coat pocket.
    I wag it in his face as Derrin stumbles back, clutching at his bruised hand. He reaches in his pocket again and pulls out a rusty dagger. I just scoff.
    “You try something like that again, and you’ll lose your arm,” I say. “Got it? I won’t just break it, I’ll slice it clean off.”
    He glares at me, teeth gritted in pain. “You