It was the first bit of good news I’d gotten since I left Haley back at camp. Traders—even ones strong enough to cross the realm—weren’t warriors. They were merchants.
In other words, con artists—my favorite fucking kind of asshole.
Con artists always thought they had the upper hand, which made them easy to kill; they were always so busy trying to separate you from your wallet, it rarely occurred to them you were planning to separate their heads from their bodies.
I tucked away the binoculars and made my way down the steep rise, doing my best to conserve my dwindling energy. The mile-wide swath of land that stretched from the bottom of the cliffs to the edge of Beggar’s Moat was bleak and barren, nothing but obsidian sand and the bones of those deemed too fetid for eventhesecursed grounds to swallow.
There were no shadows cast but those from the wagons. No places to hide.
I’d have to rely on my vampire speed and, if someone spotted me before I wanted them to, my influence.
I checked my pack. I’d sucked down all my extra blood bags hours earlier, but I couldn’t afford to screw up now. I needed one last burst of energy and speed—along with a little trickery—to get to the caravan.
At the bottom of the cliffs, I dropped the pack and dug out a change of clothing—an Amaranth guard uniform I’d stolen before we’d left last time. I had no idea if they were still using the same ones, but the travelers might not notice anyway. Just had to look close enough to the part, turn on the charm, and hope they weren’t as clever as they believed.
After I walked as far as I dared across the black sands, I blurred to the very last wagon, pressing myself against the back and taking a minute to catch my breath. Pinpricks of light danced before my eyes. I needed to fucking eat, and soon.
The entire caravan fucking stank. Rotten food, dead animals, personal waste, road reek. Somewhere near the rear was likely a cart carrying the few of their dead they’d managed to recover from whatever shit had befallen them on the trek, but that was always a wasted effort. Soon as they got to the bridge, the guards would force them to dump the corpses into the moat.
Amaranth City had enough of itsowndead to contend with,fuckyouverymuch.
I wondered how many travelers from their original party were left. Seemed kind of quiet—just the soft nickers of the mares and a few grumblings from the people who’d left their mounts and ducked inside the wagons to wait out the traffic jam.
From what I could pick up, it sounded like Keradoc had ordered extra patrols, though no one seemed to know why. I heard snatches of everything from “Darkwinter fae enemies” to “arrival of a weapon that would turn the tides of the war” to “Keradoc’s balls were hanging a little too far the left tonight, so he decided to take it out on his city watch and give them all extra work to do.”
Whatever the reason, it sounded like I’d be here for a while.
Most of the wagons were fitted with three doors—one in the back and two smaller doors on the sides to allow for shift changes on and off the mares without having to stop. It was also fun to flip off the guy behind you and piss out the back, but that wasn’t what I’d come to do tonight.
Certain no one had seen me, I stashed my pack under the wagon, then slipped in through the back door.
Two men—a human who looked about as old as the grains of sand outside the door and a fae whose face had recently been chewed on by something bigger than him—glanced up from a card game in progress, immediately reaching for the daggers on their hips.
“You’re no guard of Amaranth,” the fae said, taking in my red-and-black uniform. “They wear blue.”
“Good to know,” I said. “Would you mind standing up?”
He got to his feet and unsheathed the dagger. “What the fuck do you—”
I grabbed his head and snapped his neck, then turned the quivering old human into a juice box—not about to lookthatgift horse in the mouth.
The blood rejuvenated me at once, bringing with it a flash of guilt I quickly dismissed.
Wasn’t exactly consensual, but… I was pretty sure it would meet Haley’s qualifications for a break-the-glass emergency.
Working quickly, I stripped the fae and swapped my uniform for his traveling clothes—not much more than a pair of dusty cargo pants and a dark gray hooded cloak. I stashed the bodies in one of the hollow storage benches that lined the walls, just in case someone decided to poke their head in the door looking for these two.
I found a rucksack too, and when I left the wagon I’d forever think of as my dining car, I retrieved my pack and shoved it inside.
I looked like one of them now. Smelled like them too. Made my eyes burn.
I hoped like hell the place Gem found for us had running water.
Keeping my head low, I walked up the line, passing the corpse cart and another wagon that seemed to be filled with medical supplies, for all the good it did them. A few travelers were hanging out outside, trying to get a peek at whatever was holding up the line ahead. I grunted my greetings and kept on moving, not bothering to offer condolences for the bastard whose clothes I’d stolen.
By the time they all made it over the bridge and realized they’d left the last wagon in the dust, they’d be tucked away in one of Amaranth’s many taverns, and some terror or another—one much bigger than a vampire-fae—would have already destroyed the wagon and claimed the two corpses inside it as a meal.
I kept walking, searching for my jackpot—a.k.a. the booze cart.
