“Two of the best spy squads were assigned to do a thorough sweep through the Talbot logs and compare it with Caligos activity we have been able to track ourselves,” Noire says. My gaze snaps to him. He stands calm and tall, his hands clasped in front of him. “We could confirm most of the movement recorded in the Talbot notebook, except for a few interesting cases.”
“That’s a good start,” I say. “What’s the issue with those few cases?”
“They don’t look like usual jobs, moving people, weapons, or illegal substances, and other things,” Noire says and looks over at the man. “It’s suspicious activity, and that’s what we’re trying to figure out with Dravik Norr here.”
The man in question, Dravik Norr, doesn’t even flinch at the mention of his name. I’m not sure he even registered it.
His head hangs forward as if he’s unconscious. The amount of burn and cut wounds on his flesh…I can’t even count.
Massive bruises litter his chest and sides. One of his ears is fully missing. From the red blood flooding down his side, I can tell it’s a recent injury.
But worst of all are the missing fingers. All of them. Of course, the Ezkai cauterized the open wounds so he wouldn’t bleed ahead of time.
Actually, this may be the worst I’ve seen.
Definitely worse than what I’ve done.
At least until now.
Technically, these Ezkai are under my command. They’re carrying out orders I have given them—figure out what you can from that notebook with logs.
And that’s what they’re doing. All this blood is on my hands. As is all the other blood that’s being spilled in other interrogation rooms I’ve passed and didn’t enter.
Those hundred souls aren’t that high of a price for you, General, Lorca drawls, startling me.
Mind your own business, I snap at the trickster god.
With a gentle caress of their claws over my mind, they’re gone. I roll my shoulders and refocus my attention to the…issue at hand.
I look over at Noire. “What have you found out so far?”
With a gurgle and a cough, Dravik stirs to life. Slowly, he lifts his head to reveal one empty eye socket. His only eye blinks and then lands on me.
“General,” he slurs.
His tongue is in place, but only spirits of the gods know what they’ve done to it for the man to sound like this.
I lift my chin. “Are you ready to talk?”
He watches me for a moment and then barks a laugh. It quickly turns into a fit of bloody coughs.
Once he’s finally recovered enough to speak again, he smiles. A bloody, crooked smile that chills my bones.
“First time in centuries, we’re united. All because of you.”
Blood in my veins chills.
“They’re coming for your throne, General. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it,” he says with malice in his only remaining eye.
Noire gestures for the Ezkai. One of them presses two fingers against Dravik’s artery and he’s out cold again in a couple of seconds.
I’m frozen for a moment, even my head empty of thoughts.
“What does he mean, Noire?” My voice is low, lethal.
“I’m not certain, General,” Noire says, his usual calmness gone. My head snaps to him. Worry settles between his eyebrows. “But it looks like Caligos are organizing something. They united for the trials to ensure one of them won, and even though they lost, the families are still sticking together.”
That’s bad.
