Chapter Three #2
They found the tavern easily since Dimri knew where they were going. He didn’t say anything else, but his judgmental silence made what he thought of this plan clear. Roque didn’t care.
He pushed open the tavern door and winced. The place reeked of unwashed bodies and spilled alcohol. The air was slightly cloudy from the demons smoking pipes and cigarettes. Imported from the human realm.
Roque had to duck slightly to avoid hitting his horns on the low-hanging chandelier with only half enough candles to illuminate the room as they entered.
“This is a mistake,” Dimri muttered as he scanned the room. His arms hung casually at his sides, but Roque knew he was ready to defend himself.
“We need information,” Roque replied. “And we need it now.” Before something happened to Berith or the people he cared about.
Like in any tavern in town, the patrons were a mix of demons. All of them turned to stare when Roque and Dimri walked in. It was intimidating, but Roque held his head high and forged ahead.
There was a demon behind the bar. Roque almost asked Dimri if it was Medea, but he didn’t want to gather even more attention than they already had on them.
The demon was stocky, with ram’s horns curving back from her temples and skin the color of dried blood.
Her yellow eyes narrowed at them, and Roque knew that Dimri had been right.
Dammit.
“Look who’s there,” she said loudly, her voice carrying across the suddenly quiet tavern. “If it isn’t Prince Berith’s favorite pet.”
Roque wanted to snap, but he couldn’t afford to. Instead, he strode toward the bar, hoping it would be enough to make this conversation mostly private. “I need to ask you some questions.”
Medea laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. “And you think I’ll answer?” She leaned forward and scraped her claws against the wooden bar. “I think you’re confused about where you are, pretty boy.”
Roque was offended. No one had ever called him pretty boy. He wasn’t pretty. He was rugged and powerful. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said, leaning forward. Maybe he could charm her.
“There’s only one way to do this, and you’re not going to like it because it ends with your blood on my floor. Pity, too. I just cleaned.”
Roque glanced at the grimy wooden floor. He seriously doubted that was true. Was that blood in the corner? Yeah, he was pretty sure it was.
Roque noticed Dimri reach behind his back, no doubt for whatever weapon he had hidden there. He kept most of his attention on Medea, though. She was dangerous, but he wasn’t done with her.
“We’re looking for someone,” he told her.
“And why do I care?”
“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Doesn’t mean you can’t tell me.”
Roque wasn’t surprised when she reached under the bar top. He’d expected her to be difficult. He lunged forward, but Medea was ready for him. She jumped over the bar as if she did so daily, her claws extended and aimed for his throat.
Roque caught her wrists, holding her back, but she twisted in his grip like a serpent. Her knee came up toward his stomach, and he had to release one of her hands to block her. That was the opening she needed. Her free claws raked across his cheek, leaving four burning lines there.
“Get them!” Medea shouted.
This was not going how Roque had hoped it would, dammit.
* * * *
DIMRI HAD KNOWN THIS would go to shit, but he’d hoped that against all odds, Roque would be right.
He hadn’t been.
The patrons didn’t need to be asked twice.
A demon with bat-like wings launched himself from a nearby table, while another with a scorpion’s tail lashed out from Roque’s blind spot.
Roque was busy with Medea, and since he and Dimri were working together, it was Dimri’s job to have his back, even though he wanted to kick his ass.
Dimri spun, his fist connecting with the winged demon’s jaw with a crack that sent him sprawling.
Dimri could fight, but he could tell this was a desperate situation.
There were too many people in this tavern who were seemingly eager to hurt him and Roque, and the confined space wasn’t helping.
Roque had even refused to take a few moments to tell the guards where they were going, which meant no one would be coming to help them.
They had to get out of there on their own.
Luckily, Dimri had a plan.
“Roque!” he yelled. “This way!”
As Dimri watched, a demon with tusks grabbed Roque from behind, trying to pin his arms. Roque drove his elbow back, and Dimri caught his wrist, pulling him toward the stairs. This wasn’t just a tavern, but also an inn. Medea had rooms upstairs, and those rooms had windows that led to the roof.
Medea’s voice rose above the screams and the sounds of things and demons crashing together. “Don’t let them escape!”
The staircase was barely wide enough for Roque’s shoulders, but Dimri didn’t care.
Behind them, the demons were coming, and they couldn’t afford to waste even a second.
Dimri reached the top first and kicked open the first door they encountered.
Someone screamed when he barged in, but he didn’t pay them attention.
“The window,” Dimri said, moving toward it.
Roque looked at it. “I’m not going to fit.”
“You’ll fit.” Dimri was already climbing through. “Trust me.” He didn’t have a choice. Either he fit, or he stayed behind and got killed by the demons rushing up the stairs.
Dimri didn’t think Roque actually trusted him, but he didn’t argue. He squeezed through the window frame, his horns scraping against the wood, just as the first demon reached the room. The demon they’d barged in on was still screaming, but they’d curled up in a corner, so they were probably safe.
Dimri steadied his feet on the tavern’s roof. The tiles moved under him, but he did his best to ignore it and keep his balance. He could hear angry voices coming from behind them, and he wasn’t willing to find out what would happen if those demons caught them.
“Follow me,” he said, moving across the rooftops with a confidence he didn’t feel. He really hoped they’d be able to lose the demons coming after them.
Roque followed him, and they moved from roof to roof, careful but fast. Roque was bigger than Dimri, which made him stumble a few times; his size made him less graceful, but his strength allowed him to clear gaps that gave Dimri trouble. Dimri could still hear the demons behind them.
“There.” He pointed down to a narrow alley between two buildings.
They ran across three more rooftops. A winged demon was swooping down toward them, the sound of his wings too loud.
“Duck!” Dimri shouted.
Roque dropped just as the flying demon’s claws swept through the air where his head had been.
Dimri threw his knife, nailing the demon in the wing and sending them tumbling onto a roof behind them.
They wouldn’t be flying after Dimri and Roque anymore, but it was only one demon. There were plenty more behind them.
They reached the edge of the final building. The alley below was narrow and dark, and Dimri hoped it meant they’d be able to disappear.
“Jump on three,” he said, pulling a small, round object from his coat. “One, two...”
“What’s that?” Roque asked.
“A distraction.” Dimri sucked in a breath. “Three!”
They leaped into the alley just as Dimri threw his bomb back toward the tavern. It exploded in a flash of light and smoke, not large enough to cause serious damage but enough to make a good show that would give Roque and Dimri the time to vanish.
They landed in the alley. Dimri could hear the demons still on the roof yelling, but no one was following them down.
“That was your plan?” Roque panted, wiping blood from the claw marks on his face. “Jumping off a fucking roof? They know we’re going back to the palace. They’ll follow us.”
“That wasn’t the plan,” Dimri replied harshly. “That was your improvisation going as badly as I predicted it would. You’re lucky I had a plan B.”
Roque glared at him. “We got information.”
Dimri snorted. “We got attacked by the entire tavern. That’s not information, that’s attempted murder, and they nearly succeeded.” Maybe now Roque would listen to Dimri.
Dimri wasn’t holding his breath.
“She knew something.”
“She was taunting you, you idiot. She wanted you to attack her so she’d have an excuse to kill you in front of witnesses.” Roque might be a great bodyguard, but his position isolated him from most demons. He didn’t know them the way Dimri did.
“Come on,” he said, reaching over and pulling Roque along. “We need to get to the safe house before they find us.”
“We’re not going back to the palace?”
“Like you said, they know that’s where we’ll go, and I don’t plan on allowing them to catch us. We can spend the night in the safe house and go home tomorrow.” Which meant that Dimri wouldn’t be getting a delicious dinner from the palace’s kitchen. Maybe he should throw Roque back to the demons.
Roque was quiet as they moved, which wasn’t like him but was welcome. Dimri kept glancing at him and at the wounds on his cheek. They weren’t bleeding anymore, but they didn’t look good.
“Your explosive thingie saved us,” Roque said.
“One of many plans you found so unnecessary,” Dimri replied. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Roque touched his cheek and winced. “I’ll live. You?”
“A few scrapes. Nothing serious.” They’d both been incredibly lucky, but he couldn’t promise they’d stay lucky. “We should get out of here.”
Roque gestured at the entrance of the alley. “Lead the way.”
* * * *
ROQUE WATCHED DIMRI as he walked in front of him. The demon was beautiful, but right now, that wasn’t what Roque was thinking about. No, he was thinking about how lucky they’d been. If it wasn’t for Dimri’s quick thinking, they’d be in the process of being beaten to death.
And it would have been Roque’s fault.