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"Wait."
Whatever it is, the thing moving high in the trees lining the property gates doesn't belong there. It's too large to be a squirrel, though it almost moves like one.
ThenI see it. The shadow of a human figure running, then leaping from one of the branches of the trees lining the street to the metal fence. It jumps again, and reaches an oak tree in the back garden of theRhodes town house.
I'll be damned. I've never seen a person move like that, with the grace and agility of a wild thing. It must be a demi of some description. Probably someone sent by the guild of assassins. Part of me wants to leave good oldRhodes to his fate, but I can't. I have too many questions, and my regent might find it hard to speak around a knife in his throat.
I get out of the craft, immediately followed by the two guards seated in the front compartment. I wave them back, gesturing for them to wait. They're used to such orders from me and they know better than to question it.
I cross the street.
At this time of night, the gate's closed, but before I have a chance to buzz the interphone, they open in front of me. The night guard must have recognized me through their camera.
The large green doors of the main house open as I cross the courtyard.
Salvar Rhodes stands in evening clothes, though his cravat’s untied. A tall man appearing to approach his sunset years, with silver threading his dark hair and a walking stick, he’s still quite handsome. Salvar’s only in his third century, and the Devar blood in his veins should have kept him younger, but he aged like a common in the last few decades, thanks to a curse he never talks about.
The woman standing in a robe in front of him is stunning, I'll give him that. Perfect blonde ringlets and a pouty mouth made for taking cocks, she's any straight man's dream. So, that’s his new wife, the common he saw fit to bring to my court. She's a pretty sight, and far too young for what he looks like now, which makes her an unapologetic gold-digging slut, and I can respect that.
"You'll excuse my intrusion," I tell her, rather than her husband. "I'd like to see your gardens."
The couple exchanges a bemused look, the duke recovering first. "Of course, Your Grace. I'll be glad to take you around."
"No need, old boy. I'll find my way just fine by myself."
I leave them to their bafflement, and walk to the back of the house, hoping I haven't missed the intriguing intruder.
I pass two guards who stare at me in confusion, before falling into a low bow. I could do without the interruption, but if there’s one set of people I prefer to stay on the good side of, it’s the Ravelyn military. “By god, what a shitty night. Aren't you sweltering in those cloaks?"
"No, sir, thank you, sir," the first barks.
He must be lying to avoid complaining in front of me. A pulse of familiar magik I feel around them tell me they're coldbloods, like me. We're native to the poles and fare badly under the mainland sun.
"The duke provided us with amulets," says the younger one, a boy barely out of his teens, with brown skin and silver-white curly hair. He pulls a charm dangling around his throat from under his shirt, holding it up at my eye level. "They help in the summer."
I'm reluctantly impressed. Spells of the sort cost a pretty penny, and I didn't expect Rhodes to be the kind of man who'd spend any of his resources on guards. "I should get one of those. Was today eventful?" I ask casually.
Both guards assure me that their shift was quiet and move to the courtyard, letting me enter the back garden.
I don't see anything strange myself, not in the trees, or behind the statues and lamp post and benches. I might have believed I was entirely alone, if not for an awareness in the pit of my stomach.
We demis can usually feel each other at a distance, especially when the other person has a power of consequence. This feels different, however.
When I'm around the likes of Natheran Reiks, or some of the Frejr, my instincts tell me to watch a fellow predator. Right now, I'm not vigilant.
I'm playful.
Whatever this is, it's something else.
Something I want to catch.
CHAPTERFIVE
MIDSUMMER FROST
The guard in the garden is seriously slacking off. Shouldn't he have moved to the front of the house by now? But no, he planted his ass right in front of the water fountain. He’s clearly chilling out, enjoying the moisture in the air. I want to groan, but I can’t risk any noise. Someone ought to rat him out to his boss.
My legs and the right arm I'm using to balance myself up on the branch of the old oak tree are starting to strain, and I’m dying to shift position, but if I move even a muscle, he might see me. My body's twisted at a strange angle that follows the lines of branches, but I can't keep it up forever.
