And then we came to a screeching halt, the outside world slamming back into us as the darkness abruptly receded. I white-knuckled a fist against my stomach and glared at the assassin in Iky’s arms. His smirk was maddening.
The comfort of Midnight Jester was now what felt like a world away.
Slowly, I unfurled my hand and caught sight of my Charmer’s symbol, weighing Iky’s branch and my apparent insanity against his time. Every beast had a weakness, and his was a shelf life. Two hours of strength for every twenty-two hours of sleep. With every minute that passed, Iky’s limb retreated to the base until it would fade from existence, forcibly returning him to the beast realm to regain his stamina.
I had fifteen minutes, give or take.
Stepping to the side, I gestured to the woods. “Let’s get this over with. Iky, pick him up.” His hooks retracted a fraction, and Iky cradled the man to his chest like an overgrown child.
The assassin scoffed, unintelligible curses dropping from his lips.
The void had transported us close, but I still couldn’t see the hidden death grotto known as Cruor. Yet I could feel it. The weight of eyes and shadows. My hairs stood on end as we made our way through the suffocating foliage, darkness dripping from limbs like tacky sap. Above us, birds squawked and feathers scraped together as they took flight, swirling upward and chasing the setting sun into the horizon. A heavy branch creaked. A shadow more human than night rocketed from one tree to the next. The assassin stared after the figure without saying a word, but smugness laced his expression. One of his brethren, then, going to alert the others.
Icy hands wrenched my heart, and I gripped the book-shaped locket hanging about my neck—the miniature bestiary all Charmers carried—and begged the gods for favorable odds. I could have waited. Could have called forth another beast, but Iky’s strength took a serious toll on my power, and my arsenal that could fight off the legendary might of Cruor was small. Besides, summoning another could be the difference between a peaceful negotiation and a declaration of war. The latter I would surely lose. I needed every chance to run I could get, in case negotiations went south.
Mangled iron fencing battled against the overgrowth of the cursed forest, marking the edge of Cruor’s property, and I paused at the gates. In the distance, the evening sky birthed a manor shrouded in darkness. Alone on a hill and two stories tall, with more windows than my eyes could count, the guild was just shy of a castle.
Slate black and covered in vibrant red gems, a rycrim core glittered from between neatly trimmed hedges and the side of the house. Magic energy pulsed from it in an invisible dome over the mansion.
I’d begged Dez to invest in a rycrim core for months. Changing every candle by hand, warming the bathwater over a fire—I wanted the simplicity of self-lighting fixtures, a faucet that immediately poured scalding water. But convenience cost more bits than we could afford to spare. Murder apparently paid well.
Iky whined aloud, a low vibration thrumming through the air. Less than ten minutes left.
With a heavy breath, I pushed the gate open and tried to shake the eerie grating of hinges as I stared down the winding path leading me straight to death’s door.
Two
Noc
The wooden double doors banged open, and a gush of cool air swirled into the foyer. Wild, dark eyes lit with anger found mine. Slamming the doors in her wake, an assassin sped toward me.
“Sir, it’s Kost.”
All sounds, save the fire, died. Even the voices bleeding through the walls halted. With their senses heightened by death, the rest of the assassins living in Cruor would’ve heard the sentry’s panicked entrance.
I stared at the woman. A rare glimpse of fear threaded its way through her gaze, setting my pulse on high alert. I’d only passed along the bounty to Kost, my second-in-command, yesterday. “What about him?”
Emelia hid behind a sheet of glossy black hair. “The Charmer. Somehow, she got the best of him. She’s at the gate.”
My blood cooled. “Are you certain?” Jobs weren’t without risk, but given our talents, we rarely encountered issues. Fueled by fear and dark rumors, we were often met with stunned terror instead of the wrong end of the blade.
Calem, a top-tier assassin and one of my closest friends, turned to stone beside me as he glowered at the front door. “Want me to greet them?”
“No.” I fought for control. Cruor was the only family I’d ever be able to claim as my own, and Kost was the first of my newfound brethren I’d grown to callbrother. If anything had happened to him… “Is he still alive?”
Emelia cleared her throat. “Yes. She’s held him hostage somehow. I can’t see… There’s so much blood.”
My mind reeled. With night slipping through the windows, the bronze chandeliers winked to life throughout the manor. Shadows pooled in the dark corners of the room, crawling along the floor and snaking toward my quaking fingers. I was their leader. I had to protect my own.
“Where’s Ozias?”
Perma-smile wiped clean from his face, Calem only turned his chin away from the door long enough to offer me a quick glance. “Out back. Training some of the new recruits.”
Calem’s stiff spine told me he wasn’t going anywhere, and I couldn’t blame him. Kost was a brother to both of us. Slipping my hands into the pockets of my trousers, I hid my balled fists to keep the calm facade in place. “Emelia, get Ozias immediately.”
Since I’d sent Kost alone to deal with the bounty, I had little in the way of details. We only collected information we absolutely needed. Anything else invited room for judgment, and moral quandaries only caused problems.
Emelia disappeared in a plume of shadow and smoke, calling on darkness to speed through the night unseen.
