Chapter 53
Crowds swarmed the bar again, just as before, with red citizens dominating the space.
The moment Rain stepped inside, the air felt thick; humid with breath, laughter, and the low rumble of dozens of overlapping conversations.
The scent of roasted meat, spilled ale, and too many bodies pressed together clung to the room like a second skin.
Rain had made sure to arrive before the rush, choosing to eat in a secluded corner where the shadows softened the edges of the chaos.
The thought of dining alone at the house was just as unsettling to him as eating alone anywhere else.
Thankfully, Elijah had been excellent company before his shift began.
He kept Rain distracted with his flirtatious charm, ensuring his cup was never empty and teasing him with gentle touches whenever he could; a brush of fingers along his forearm, a playful nudge of his hip, a lingering hand on Rain’s shoulder as he leaned in to speak.
Elijah seemed determined to claim Rain’s attention for the night, and Rain found himself grateful for the attractive distraction, needing something to pull him from the torment of waiting.
Despite Elijah’s efforts, Rain struggled to escape the feeling of being stuck in purgatory.
The sensation clung to him like a damp cloak; heavy, suffocating, impossible to shrug off.
He felt he had no choice but to wait: wait for communication from the girls, wait for his sister to return from the Green kingdom and call him back so they could try to decipher a way to access the prism codex, wait for council, and wait for any sign of movement.
It seemed as though his entire world was on pause, and he could do nothing but endure the endless waiting for everything and everyone.
He was not a patient male; it wasn’t his forte.
He may be an excellent observer, strategic in his advances, but it didn’t stem from patience.
Waiting made him antsy, wary of the unknown.
His knee bounced beneath the table, fingers tapping against the rim of his glass, his senses stretched thin like a bowstring pulled taut.
As Elijah refilled his ale for the umpteenth time, leaning close, pressing his lips to Rain’s cheek; Rain felt a presence within the crowd, watching, scowling in his direction.
The sensation cut through the haze of noise like a blade.
His attention homed in on the energy, taking but a second to find the source; the only other aetherial in the vicinity.
Undoubtedly female, but somehow her energy was different to any he had felt before, her energy reading like a pamphlet rather than the open books that surrounded him. Thin. Guarded. Deliberately curated.
Elijah sighed, sensing Rain’s sudden lack of interest and reluctantly sauntered back to work.
Rain barely noticed him leave; his attention was drawn elsewhere.
Though he could not see the female, Rain sensed her presence lingering across the room, confident in her stealth; unaware that he had already detected her.
Rising from his chair, Rain made his way to the bathroom.
It was a calculated move, intended to bring him closer to his observer without rousing her suspicion.
The hallway leading to the bathrooms was dimly lit, the hum of conversation fading behind him as he stepped into the quieter space.
After relieving himself, he remained alert, monitoring the distinctive energy signature as he washed his hands.
He noticed that she re-positioned herself, choosing a vantage point that gave her a better view of the bathroom exit. Her behaviour piqued Rain’s curiosity.
With his knowledge of the building’s exits, Rain chose to leave via the staff exit near the bathrooms. The metal door groaned softly as he slipped out into the alleyway, the cool night air brushing against his heated skin.
He circled around the building, re–entering the bar through the double doors at the main entrance.
The sudden swell of sound hit him again; laughter, clinking glasses, the thrum of music vibrating through the floorboards.
Navigating swiftly through the throng of patrons, Rain approached his observer from behind. As he drew closer, the female’s appearance filled him with intrigue.
She was dressed entirely in black, with no identifying colours that he could discern.
Her dark hair was swept up into a high, wavy ponytail cascading halfway down her back.
The strands caught the dim light, shimmering like ink.
Despite the low lighting, Rain could tell from the skin on her neck that she was of a dusky complexion.
Her posture was relaxed but alert, shoulders squared, weight balanced evenly; the stance of someone trained to react at a moment’s notice.
He approached her quietly, leaning close, speaking just over her shoulder with a teasing remark.
“Make a habit of watching strangers go to the toilet?”
His presence was close enough for her to feel his breath against her ear.
She reacted instantly, whirling around with such speed that Rain nearly missed the dagger clenched in her fist. The blade glinted under the bar’s lanterns, a flash of silver slicing through the air.
He responded quickly, using his power to catch her wrist just inches from his jugular.
His fingers locked around her arm, halting the strike with supernatural precision.
His eyes flared curiously; he hadn’t predicted that move; hadn’t felt her intention.
“Now, now, no need for violence.” Rain said, meeting her narrowed gaze.
Her dark almond eyes, highlighted by smudged kohl, glared at him defiantly.
They were sharp, intelligent, and utterly unyielding.
He held her gaze, trying to read her emotions; he felt her stubbornness, but he couldn’t sense a single emotion.
It was like pressing his hand against a wall.
Carefully, Rain used his power again to pry her fingers from the knife, catching the weapon in his palm as it fell, then released his hold on her wrist.
“Don’t use your power on me!” She snapped, rubbing her wrist, her beautiful features matching the scold he had felt moments before.
“And give me back my knife,” she demanded, her hand outstretched with clear expectation.
Rain studied her intently, his gaze lingering over the lines of her body.
She held herself with the unmistakable confidence of a seasoned fighter; her physique was fit and lean, though undeniably curvy, further accentuated by the way her leather bodice and slacks hugged her frame.
Her stance was balanced, ready, her chin lifted in challenge.
Unmoved by her impatience, Rain continued to eye her, noting the way she carried herself, every detail reinforcing her combat training.
“Knife,” she prompted once more, her voice sharpened with annoyance as she insisted on the return of her weapon. The single word cut through the noise of the bar like a blade itself; crisp, impatient, edged with a warning Rain found oddly enticing.
Redirecting his attention, Rain looked closely at the blade.
It was crafted with remarkable extravagance: the sheath shimmered with pearl, encased in intricate silver vines, each adorned with delicate buds fashioned from orange aetherchrome.
The craftsmanship was exquisite; the kind of artistry reserved for nobility or elite warriors.
He observed that the aetherchrome had lost its usual charge, suggesting it had been some time since the knife had been near its source crystal.
The dullness of the orange stone made the weapon feel strangely dormant, like a sleeping serpent waiting to be awakened.
With a deft movement, Rain spun the blade in his palm, catching it by the tip before meeting her unwavering, expectant gaze that tracked every motion he made.
Her eyes followed the arc of the dagger with predatory precision, her posture coiled and ready, as though she could snatch it back at any moment.
Rain regarded the dagger with a casual air, holding it as if it were nothing more than a harmless trinket.
“Should I have allowed you to maim me with your pretty little dagger instead?” he asked, his tone laced with the hint of a challenge.
The female’s eyebrow arched in response, her expression clearly stating that she would have preferred just that.
With expert reflexes she gripped the hilt and yanked it from his grasp, nicking the skin at the pad of his thumb in the process.
Rain hissed softly, more in surprise than pain.
His eyes widened in disbelief; she had caught him off guard again.
Was he losing his edge or had he met his match, either way it was infuriating.
The sting of the cut was nothing compared to the sting to his pride.
She spun on her heels, pacing through the crowd, heading for the exit. Her movements were fluid, purposeful; she slipped between patrons with the ease of someone accustomed to navigating chaos. He couldn’t let her leave.
Employing every skill at his disposal, Rain subtly manipulated the crowd, positioning people in such a way that their movements blocked her path, while ensuring he himself had a clear route.
His power nudged bodies like pieces on a board, shifting the flow of the room without anyone noticing.
As a result, he was able to swiftly intercept her before she could reach the exit.
Flustered and preoccupied with weaving through the throng, she glanced back in frustration towards the spot where they had previously stood, losing track of his location as she struggled to force her way between patrons.
Suddenly, she collided with Rain’s unyielding chest. The impact startled her, and she instinctively reached out to steady herself, an apology already forming on her lips.