Chapter Six #2
Roque didn’t say it would be better if he couldn’t. What Abath did outside of the palace was none of his business, even when it was clearly a mistake.
“Can you tell us a little bit about Vallin?” Dimri asked.
“I can tell you what I know, which isn’t much. I met him in a tavern when I heard someone place a bet with him. Initially, it was just a few times for fun, but it became more serious when I realized I could earn a lot of money. It’s great when I win, you know?”
Roque almost asked him if what Berith paid him wasn’t enough, but he realized it didn’t matter. Abath wasn’t gambling because he needed money. He was gambling because he enjoyed the sensations it gave him.
This had nothing to do with the spy, did it? Dimri had been convinced that Abath was the person they were looking for, but it didn’t look like he was. They were back to square one.
“Abath?” a woman asked from inside the house.
Abath’s eyes widened. “That’s my wife. Please don’t tell her about Vallin. She doesn’t know.”
Roque had no intention of outing Abath’s secret to anyone, least of all his wife.
He also had no intention of sticking around long enough to talk to her.
“Your secret is safe with us,” he promised as he hooked a hand around Dimri’s elbow and guided him away from the door. “I’ll see you at the palace.”
Abath looked confused but waved. To Roque’s surprise, Dimri didn’t argue when Roque pulled him away. In fact, he was surprisingly silent as they weaved their way through town on their way back to the palace.
“So it wasn’t him,” Roque eventually said.
“It wasn’t,” Dimri confirmed. “I recognized Vallin earlier when I saw his face.”
“You knew who he was?”
“I wasn’t lying when I told Abath that I know anyone who could be a danger to Berith. It’s my job.”
“What now?”
“Well, we’ve been over the list of possible suspects, so we move on to one of those.
” Roque was about to ask Dimri why he was taking the fact that he’d made a mistake so easily when movement caught his attention.
He didn’t get the opportunity to speak because he had to let go of Dimri’s elbow, which he was still holding, to defend himself from the blade coming toward him.
“Down!” Dimri shouted, tackling Roque sideways just as the blade slammed into the stone wall where Roque’s head had been a second before.
They hit the ground hard, Roque’s shoulder scraping against the rough ground of the alleyway. He was up instantly, scanning the area for threats as his hand went to his sword.
Figures appeared at both ends of the alley—at least eight demons, maybe more. They moved with coordinated precision, unlike the tavern demons Roque and Dimri had fought recently. These were professionals.
Roque and Dimri were in trouble.
“Assassins,” Dimri hissed, two knives already in his hands.
A massive demon with obsidian skin and curved ram horns charged from the left, raising a hammer that looked like it could crush bones to powder.
Roque had no intention of finding out if it actually could.
When the demon aimed it at Roque’s head, Roque twisted away.
The hammer slammed down where Roque had been standing, cracking the stone.
Roque struck with his sword, cutting a wound across the demon’s ribs, grinning when black blood spattered the wall.
But there were too many demons attacking them. A demon with needle-sharp claws lunged at Roque’s back while two others moved in from his right. Roque spun, catching the clawed demon across the throat with his sword, but he couldn’t block the dagger that sank into his left arm.
Pain flared, hot and urgent. Roque drove his elbow into his attacker’s face, satisfied with the sound of breaking bone, but another sword hit him over the ribs.
Dimri moved like a shadow, his long arms allowing him to attack them from angles they didn’t expect. One of his knives hit an assassin in the eye, and the assassin dropped instantly.
“There are too many!” Dimri called out, ducking under a sword swing and cutting the attacker’s inner thigh in retaliation.
Roque sank his sword into one of the assassins’ stomachs, but three more stepped forward to take his place. His wounded arm was weakening, and the blood dropping from the wound was making his hold on his sword slippery.
“We need to move!” Dimri was moving toward Roque, still fighting but clearly looking for an exit.
Knowing him, he had five different exit strategies, and for once, Roque wasn’t in the mood to tease him for that.
The demon with the hammer was moving toward Roque again. He wasn’t the only one, and the situation was getting desperate.
“Which way?” Roque asked, stopping a sword that would’ve opened his throat with his. He pushed back and kicked the demon in the stomach.
“Let’s go!” Dimri yelled.
They fought their way toward the end of the alley, but for every demon they killed, two more seemed to take their place. They were never-ending.
Something hit Roque in the shoulder, spinning him around. Only Dimri’s quick intervention kept him from getting killed, and even then, it was a close call—too close.
“Run!” Dimri shouted. “Now!”
They rushed down a side alley barely wide enough for Roque’s shoulders. His horns scraped against the walls, but he didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t. He could hear the sound of someone coming after them, and he didn’t think they’d win if they were caught.
“The palace?” Roque gasped, his wounds burning with every step.
“Too far. They’ll catch us before we get there. But the safe house is close.”
They burst out of the alley into a slightly wider street. Roque could hear the demons behind them, getting closer. His legs felt heavy, and the blood loss was making him dizzy. “How much further?” He had no idea where they were. If it wasn’t for Dimri, he’d be completely lost—or, more likely, dead.
“Two blocks.” Dimri grabbed Roque’s uninjured arm. “Can you make it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Roque’s vision was starting to blur at the edges when Dimri finally pulled him into another alley and toward a door he vaguely recognized.
Dimri was quick, opening the door and pulling Roque inside. Roque stumbled and almost fell on his face, but he managed to catch himself on Dimri’s shoulder. He let go so that Dimri could do his thing and collapsed against the wall.
“Are they—” Roque started. Dimri had closed the door, and the silence in the courtyard was startling.
“They’ll look for us, but we’re safe here.”
Roque looked down at himself. His shirt was soaked with blood, and his left arm hung at his side. The adrenaline was fading, leaving him shaky and nauseous. It hurt to breathe, which was unpleasant.
Roque didn’t argue when Dimri guided him toward the house. He was glad they’d been here before because it meant he was comfortable enough here to let go. He knew that they were safe and that Dimri would take care of him if he fainted.
“Those were professionals,” Dimri said as he pushed Roque into one of the chairs in the kitchen. His white eyes were grim as he reached for the first-aid kit Roque had noticed the last time he was here. “Someone wanted us dead badly enough to hire the best.”
“Ramiel.”
“Has to be. He doesn’t want us to find his spy.” Dimri’s touch was gentle as he cleaned the deep cut on Roque’s arm. “That means the spy knows what we’re doing. We have to be close.”
Roque winced at the burn in his wound. “You saved our lives.”
“My paranoid over-preparation, you mean?” There was no mockery in Dimri’s voice, just exhaustion. Roque deserved to be mocked, though.
“Yeah,” Roque said quietly. “That.”
He was once again grateful for Dimri’s planning. Without the spymaster’s knowledge of the city, they’d both be dead in that alley.
Maybe Roque would help him plan next time.
* * * *
DIMRI WAS SO FOCUSED on helping Roque that he didn’t notice he was wounded, too, until the adrenaline finally left him. They were safe, and Roque had been taken care of. Dimri could finally relax, but that was when the pain hit.
He groaned and leaned away from Roque, who frowned.
“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“That didn’t sound like you were fine. Look, you helped me. Let me help you, too.”
Dimri wanted to say yes, but he was afraid of having Roque’s hands on him.
He didn’t know how he would react. He suspected that since he was in pain, he wouldn’t make a fool of himself, but he couldn’t be sure.
What he felt for Roque scared him, and he wanted to keep it at bay as much as he could.
Allowing Roque to take care of him probably wouldn’t help with that.
Roque got up from the chair he’d slumped into and gently pushed Dimri into it.
Dimri went because what choice did he have?
He suspected that Roque would tie him down if he didn’t obey, and while that was something he might want to explore in the bedroom, he’d rather do it when they weren’t both in pain.
“Okay, where does it hurt?” Roque asked as he looked down at Dimri.
“I think it’s more where it doesn’t hurt.”
“You know what I mean. Are you bleeding?”
Dimri always wore black clothes, so it was easy to miss the blood. He gestured at his shoulder, not surprised when Roque instantly reached for it. He pulled at the fabric, making Dimri wince. “Yeah, there’s a cut here,” Roque said. “They got you good, but you should be fine.”
“Good. I can’t afford not to be.”
“I won’t be able to convince you to get some rest, will I?”
“Will I be able to convince you to get some rest?”
“Not until the war is over.”
“There’s your answer.”
Roque grabbed the scissors and went to work. It hurt, which meant that Dimri wasn’t in the mood to chat as Roque took care of him. It was probably for the best. He wouldn’t have known what to say, and this gave him the opportunity to watch Roque.
He was surprisingly tender as he took care of Dimri.
Dimri had half expected him to slap a bandage on his shoulder and call it a day, but instead, Roque cut off the sleeve of Dimri’s shirt, poked at the wound a few times, then cleaned it as gently as he could.
It looked like he was afraid to hurt Dimri, which was cute.
“Did you see who did this to you?” Roque asked, his gaze still on Dimri’s wound.
“What, you’re going to kick their ass?”
“I just might. I hate that you’re hurt.”
“You’re hurt, too.”
“Then maybe we should beat up whoever hurt the other.”
Dimri couldn’t help but grin. “That’s a good idea.”
It really wasn’t, but they were just joking around, so that was okay.
Dimri couldn’t remember the last time he’d joked around with anyone like this.
He’d certainly never done so with Roque.
Until recently, they’d been at each other’s throats as they tried to find a way to work together.
He had no idea where they stood now, but things were better.
He was glad. He didn’t know what would happen when they fought Ramiel or if both of them would survive.
Maybe if they did, they could talk. Dimri didn’t know what Roque wanted from life, so it might be pointless, but it was the first time in years that he actually wanted to see where things went.
He found Roque annoying, but dating Berith’s bodyguard would make things easier on Dimri.
He wouldn’t have to hide what he did for the prince.
Roque would understand when he had to disappear for a few days.
Hell, he might even insist on coming with him.
But Dimri was getting ahead of himself. They first needed to survive Ramiel and his spies, which was what they were trying to do, but it was proving to be harder than expected.
“How long do you think we’ll have to hide here?” Roque asked.
“I don’t know. I need to call Berith and tell him what happened. He needs to know. Once I’m done, I’ll check the area around the house. If I don’t see anyone, we can go home.”
“You can call Berith, but once you hang up, you’re going straight to bed. You need to rest.”
Part of Dimri was annoyed at the way Roque was trying to take care of him, but another part loved it.
He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had worried about him.
Hell, he wasn’t sure anyone ever had. Part of it was on him because he’d never allowed anyone close enough.
He hadn’t wanted to have to deal with the consequences of catching feelings for someone who might not understand his job or the secrecy that seeped into every aspect of his life.
It had been easier to keep everyone at arm’s length and never allow anyone close enough to hurt him.
But that was what he’d done this time around. He’d allowed Roque in, and he was falling for him. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that feeling? How was he supposed to deal with it?
Pushing it to the back of his mind would be a start.
He could allow it out once this mess was over and decide what to do.
Besides, from the way Roque kept glancing at him, he was pretty sure that he wasn’t the only one to feel this way.
He didn’t say anything about it, though.
If they were meant to be together, they’d find a way to each other eventually.
“All done,” Roque said as he finished fixing the bandage on Dimri’s shoulder. “Now we both need food, a bath, and rest. Call Berith while I put something together for us to eat. Once that’s done, we’ll lay low for a while.”
It wasn’t the best idea since they’d just spent four days spying on someone who had ended up not being the person they were looking for, but Dimri wasn’t sure they had a choice.
They were both wounded, and Roque had lost blood.
They needed a good meal and sleep. Berith would be worried, but he’d know where they were, so everything should be fine.
Everything had to be fine. Dimri wasn’t going to allow Ramiel to win, especially not after he’d finally found someone he wanted a future with. That wouldn’t happen if Ramiel didn’t leave them alone, which wouldn’t happen unless he was dead. The only way to win this was to kill him.
Dimri was more than willing to do just that.