“What exactly can you offer that they can’t do themselves?”
“What’s your problem? My situation might not be great, but I did it for both of us. Did you forget that I dragged you all the way here from Darragh?”
“How can I? Not after your daily reminders.”
“I‘m sorry, it must be horrible to wait for me in the comfort of this well ventilated room, well fed, with plenty of alcohol, and very friendly women.”
“Those women . . .”
“What?”
“Never mind.” He gritted his teeth.
“What did you want to say? Spit it out!”
“I can’t.”
I pressed my lips tightly together, walking around Victor.
“You know, you could at least shapeshift so I could talk to you now and then.”
Victor clenched his jaw, but did not respond.
I looked down at the floor and shook my head before leaving the room.
It was difficult to say what I hated more. The fact that I would have to go back to the surface or the fact that he obviously was too busy to simply check in on me while I was out there. Howcould he say that he cared about me and not be even a little concerned about me?
I followed the narrow corridor, the sun came in hot and strong from up above. Its light was glaring down the surface of the walls, making every crevice and every line more noticeable. Half way to the market area, I saw Amira who appeared to be walking to fetch me.
“Are you ready?” Her eyes were cold, appraising.
“Yes.”
She turned and both of us went toward one of the tunnels that led to a guarded exit.
To my surprise, right by the steel door that separated the compound with the wastelands stood Mahin. No other guards were anywhere in sight.
“This is your last mission and I wish you the best of luck. I know our Mother Goddess will be with you every step of the way.” Mahin glanced at her wife, and Amira moved back down the tunnel, the way we had come.
I turned my head, watching the high priestess.
“I know what we agreed upon, but I have another favor to ask,” she said quietly.
Mahin waited for my reply, but every muscle in my body tensed. I did not like it. Everything about this meeting. The tunnel, the secrecy.
“What is it?”
“Veramorr. The leader of the Scars; a demon, a monster, and a sadist. He killed many of us. He doesn’t deserve the air he’s breathing,” the priestess continued.
I furrowed my brow, watching her large, dark eyes. Conviction was written all over her face and by her tightly pressed lips.
“You have to kill him,” she said.
I inhaled, not trusting myself to respond.
“I know this is not what we agreed upon.”
“You think?” I snapped.
