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A low growl emerged from the shape-changer. Verve caught a flash of scaly skin on the backs of her hands, and the wood began to splinter in her grip. What sort of monster did this mage turn into?
It didn’t matter. Verve’s body buzzed with liquor, and besides, she was done with mages throwing their sodding weight around. She slid from her stool and spoke to the shape-changer. “Are you deaf or just stupid? That mage isn’t here.” Her words sloshed a bit, so she paused before adding, “You’d best go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
The shape-changer glared up at Verve, her lip curling. She was alluring, in a bite-your-head-off sort of way. “Back off, dreg. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t,” Verve replied, gripping the now-unspooled wire bracelet in both hands. “You interrupted my drink.”
“Tough titties.”
Verve bared her teeth in a grin. “You have no idea.”
Around her, the tavern had gone silent. Someone had left the door open, allowing another swamp-scented night breeze to rifle Verve’s scarf. She stepped toward the mage, using her height and years of conditioning to dissuade the moon-blood from taking this bullying nonsense any farther.
But Verve’s incredible luck held true. The shape-changer slid into a threatening stance, body lowered, hands splayed. Claws grew from her nails, her head and body lengthened, and rows of razor-sharp teeth glinted from her long snout. Sickle-shaped claws sprang from her feet.
Verve swore inwardly. An ummaroc: a type of drake usually only found in the most distant reaches of the world. Why couldn’t it have been a wolf? They were so much easier to kill.
The shiftling worked fast, so Verve had to be faster. She sprang forward, flinging the wire around the monster’s neck, twisting to avoid slashes from those deadly claws. She then leaped backward, using her momentum to tug the garrote tightly around the ummaroc’s throat, causing the creature to stumble. Momentarily dazed, the ummaroc struggled harder, letting out a murderous screech that made Verve’s stomach turn and caused the final few tavern-goers to shriek and duck under their tables.
By the One, the creature was strong, more than Verve had anticipated. The shiftling struggled furiously in Verve’s grip, and despite her efforts to avoid the claws, a sharp pressure sliced down her calf. Shit. That was going to hurt like hell in a few minutes.
“Enough,” Verve snarled, tugging the garrote again, adding a kick to the creature’s belly for good measure. The ummaroc tried to slash at her again, but another tug at the garrotte stopped that foolishness. The mage struggled beneath the wire’s unrelenting grip, mouth open, tongue already turning purple. Verve tightened her hold. “I could slice off your head like a piece of cheese, you filthy—”
“Stop!” Alem cried.
Verve whirled to see him beside her, hands still raised, eyes wide and beseeching. “Don’t kill her,” he added.
Heart racing, head spinning, Verve ensured her grip was secure. “She’d kill you.”
“I know, but that’s no excuse,” Alem said. The ummaroc let out a gurgling screech and he flinched, but didn’t back away. “Let her go.”
The ummaroc struggled in Verve’s hold, eyes wide, tongue out, claws scrabbling at the air. A few more moments, and this fight would be over.
“Please,” Alem said. “There’s enough death in the world.”
Silly thing to say to an assassin. Verve’s hands trembled and her breath came short. The unknown amount of liquor she’d consumed was catching up to her, for the room tilted beneath her feet and for a moment she forgot she wasn’t the monster being choked. Alem’s dark eyes seemed to swallow her whole; she could see nothing else but him. She inhaled and tasted honey.
Her hands relaxed. The wire slid free from the ummaroc’s neck, but before the creature could recover, Verve sent her out of the door with a solid kick. “Find someplace else to be, dreg,” Verve heard herself mutter.
Footsteps clattered over the dock, going distant, but Verve hardly noticed. The world spun, her vision went spotty, and the void took hold of her sight and her mind as she collapsed to the tavern floor.
