Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Someone is watching me. Watching us.
I look up without lifting my head, surveying the room. I’ve already forgotten the name of this tavern, but it’s situated much like the others we’ve been to. Groupings of smaller tables orbiting one larger long table with bench seats on either side, all filled to the brim. There are stools at the bar itself, each occupied by people well past their prime. With Maeve in the mix, no one seems to be paying much attention to me.
But my instincts are never wrong.
I’m about to call for Maeve when she moves back to our table. Her shoulders have dropped to a dejected degree, and she doesn’t pick up the beer that I nudge in her direction. “It’s more of the same. Some of these people came from the Three Sisters to the west, and they haven’t seen them, either. I don’t understand. Historically, that ship likes to stick to this particular route in between hunts. The fact that it’s not is strange. I don’t like it.”
“Must be the new leadership. Maybe they have an entirely new route. We just have to find it.” But I’m still scanning the room, still trying to find the source of the raised hairs at the nape of my neck. I cover Maeve’s hand and bring it up to my face, urging her to lean close enough that I can speak directly into her ear. “One more bar and then we’re done for the night. I think we’ve garnered some attention, so be careful. I’ll handle it if they attack.”
She stiffens but then seems to make a conscious effort to relax. “I hadn’t realized anyone was paying that close of attention.”
“I don’t think they’re in this room. Whoever they are, they’re good at avoiding detection.”
We pay our tab from our dwindling expenses and head for the door. I keep close to Maeve, ready to whisk her out of danger at the first sign that something’s gone wrong. But no one jumps out at us as we move through the increasingly empty streets of Drash. The next tavern is up one level, but it’s late enough that the lift is shut down for the night. We pass it and head for the stairs.
That’s when I hear it. The soft scuff of foot against stone. I don’t turn and look, instead sending my power out in a wave of sensing. No matter how good someone’s magic is, if they have blood in their body, they can’t hide from me.
There. They aren’t too far behind us, and there’s only one of them, which seems to suggest a spy rather than an intent to ambush. Or perhaps they’re an assassin.
I guess we’ll find out.
“Stay in front of me,” I say under my breath.
Maeve gives a jerky nod and shifts to walk directly in front of me. I love her a little more for trusting me and not arguing on principle. We pass building after building as we head for the stairs. I scan the space in front of us, trying to figure out where the person intends to strike. If it were me, I would—
Our stalker chooses that moment to pick up their pace. I push Maeve forward and spin around, grabbing them by their throat and shoving them against the wall. They’re taller than me, but that doesn’t stop me from lifting them until their feet don’t touch the ground. “Who the fuck are you?”
Instead of pissing themself in fear, they let out a strangled laugh. “Nice reflexes.” Their voice drops. “But not quite good enough.”
Something pricks my upper stomach, just below my ribs. I look down to see their fingers embedded in my skin, each digit ending in a claw. Shifter. A strong one at that, since most of their people can’t do a partial shift like this. They could have attempted to take my heart in my moment of hesitation, but they just wait to see what I’ll do.
“Answer my question.”
“Call me an interested party.” Their voice is low but lyrical. Their cloak hood is so deep that I can’t pick out their features in the shadows. Not even with my superior vision. They turn their head to Maeve. “I know you, selkie. You’ve been passing secrets for years.”
This person doesn’t feel like one of the Cŵn Annwn, but what do I know? They’re as varied as grains of sand on the beach, each unique to themselves. And what kind of ruling group would the Council be if they didn’t have a few pet assassins on the books?
But Maeve doesn’t seem to be terrified. She shifts closer and peers up into the hood. “Do I know you?”
“We’ve met once or twice.” They finally shift their fingers from my skin and hold up their hands. “Peace, vampire. I have information you might find useful. You won’t get it if you snap my neck.”