Page 11 of Blood & Claw

She’d been short with Lilias, and she was sorry for it. She genuinely liked her. But the woman had been like a terrier after a rat with her questions.

The only conversation she wanted to have this evening was with Kayla.

A short while later, she turned onto the narrow lane that led home. She and her mentor always used the back door. The front door led onto a wider street, lined by shops and filled with people during the day. It was for customers only and always bolted after dark. Their nocturnal visitors knew to knock six times.

A few yards from home, she passed the beggar once more. “Lass!” he rasped. “I—”

“Shut it, would you?” she cut him off, not in the mood to be messed with. Lilias had delayed her slightly.

Pushing open the door, she let herself in.

“I’m back,” she called out.

No one answered.

Surprised, Ailsa set the lantern down by the flickering hearth and moved across the living space, her boots crunching on rushes. She grabbed an earthen cup for the wine on the way and pushed aside the curtain.

The shop beyond was empty. But that wasn’t all.

A heartbeat followed as Ailsa’s gaze swept the interior, taking in the scene.

The table had been shoved to one side, and the stools next to it, where the customer and her mentor had been seated, were lying on their side. Kayla’s tools were scattered, and the dish of pigment had been knocked over; a dark-blue stain spread across the table.

The door leading out onto the street was still barred, but the customer’s weapons were gone.

And so were he and Kayla.

Ailsa’s heart started to slam against her breastbone. Her mind churned as it tried to make sense of what her eyes were seeing.

There had clearly been a struggle.

Dizziness swept over her, and she clutched the door frame to steady herself.

Kayla had been taken.

4: OPEN THE GATES

“DID YOU SEE anything?”

Ailsa rushed up to the beggar, panicked.

“I tried to stop you before,” he replied, his voice sullen. “But you weren’t interested.”

“I’m listening now.” She stopped before him, not caring this time about the stench that rolled off his blanket-shrouded body. “Talk.”

In the ruddy light of the lantern she held up, his face was saggy and hollowed, his eyes two deep pits. He was probably a lot younger than he looked, but the drink had aged him. Nonetheless, his expression was now belligerent.

Ailsa pretended not to notice. “Did you see the tattooist leave? Was anyone with her?”

His gaze glinted. “Maybe.”

Pressure exploded behind her eyes, a red haze dropping over her vision.

The same blistering anger that had seized her at Harvest Fire.

There was no time to be cowed by it though.

Kayla had been taken, and he wanted to play.