Chapter Ten Abel
I’m up to seven solo kills. I’d prefer to see your face as you absorb this undoubtedly devastating news, but number eight beckons.
Chapter Ten
Abel
Once upon a time, Hanna walked into Lyle’s shop while I was eyeing a short sword.
After a minute of pretending to ignore each other, we gave each other the stink eye and sparked a bidding war for the damn thing.
Hanna outbid me at quadruple the sale price.
She walked out of the shop with that sword so smugly, Lyle couldn’t stop laughing over his pile of silver lunes.
I insisted he forge me an identical sword at half price for my embarrassment, but he refused.
In his own words, discounts don’t pay the bills.
Lyle would never give out product for free. Not unless he feels guilty.
Claire crouches in front of him and offers the flask from her satchel. “Here,” she says. “It’s wine.”
He gulps a mouthful from the flask, then returns it.
“I’m being extorted,” he blurts.
“How?” I demand.
Claire tucks the flask away. Probably satisfied with herself, given the knowing glance she casts me. “Tell us everything,” she says to Lyle. “We can help you.”
Lyle retrieves a polished maple-wood box from his pack, like something my parents might’ve used to store a trophy dagger.
He opens the lid—and the three of us collectively gag from the scent of rotting flesh from a puffy human hand.
But the hand isn’t so decayed that I can’t see calluses on the fingertips. Evidence of decades of needlework.
I cough. “Is that—”
“It’s Ma’s,” Lyle chokes out, shutting the box. “She was taken hostage.”
I let my pack slip from my shoulders. Heavy with the new equipment, it hits the ground hard, startling Lucy.
“I just visited her in Ravinfort a few months ago,” I reply in disbelief, then add for Claire’s sake: “Madame Afi padded my new helmet.”
Claire covers her mouth, pity shining in her eyes. For all her lies, I can’t imagine her horror is fake. She knows what it’s like to lose a parent.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I really was helping Ma move up north,” Lyle says. “But I lied to you. I wasn’t on my way back right now. I returned to Ravinfort the night of Ignition Day. I’d only just unlocked my shop when I was cornered by two assailants. They wore blue cloaks and—”
“Silver masks?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
I exchange a strained look with Claire. “That’s how Ravinfort’s attackers were dressed.”
“Well, one of them held a sickle to my throat while the second one revealed Ma’s hand as proof that they’d taken her hostage.
It was already rotting by the time they gave it to me.
” He puts his face in his hands. “Gods. They must’ve attacked her right after I left Varsonne.
If only I’d stayed a day or two longer…maybe I could’ve protected her. ”
“If they took a hostage, they must’ve made a demand,” Claire says.
“Sort of.” He fidgets on the bench. “They interrogated me about Abel’s research.”
“My—” A lump blocks my airway.
“I told them I didn’t know anything about it,” he insists, leaning forward, “but they threatened to kill Ma if I didn’t confess. My pleading must’ve convinced them after a while, because eventually they riffled through my customer notes, settled on Hanna’s lead, then made a different demand.”
“They forced you to pass her lead to me?” I assume.
“That and more. They told me to tell you a dragon killed her.”
Claire’s eyes widen. “That’s why they set Ravinfort on fire. It was staged to look like a dragon attack.”
I tense, recalling how easily I had believed it. The Ignition was just one day prior. By the time the Gendarmerie send a brigade to investigate the aftermath, Ravinfort will be reduced to a pile of ash. They’ll attribute the crime to an unidentified dragon and close the case.
My brow furrows. “So they kidnapped Madame Afi and assassinated a town full of slayers just to pass Hanna’s lead to me?”
“I swear to Diu, that’s all they asked for,” Lyle replies.
“Her dragon would’ve died no matter who hunted it. How does that connect to my research?”
“I don’t know,” he insists. “But they threatened to kill Ma if I went to the Gendarmerie. So I packed up every piece of equipment I could and left Ravinfort to find you. They said if you slay Hanna’s dragon on the next Ignition Day, they’ll release Ma at the church in Jardincourt.”
Jardincourt. The capital city of Florent.
“That’s where Hanna’s notes predict the dragon is headed,” I say, lifting my pack. “Fine. I’ll kill it. We need to get to that church.”
“Not so fast.” Claire halts me. “There’s a reason they assassinated the whole town, and not just Hanna.” She hums in thought. “Could anyone else in Ravinfort have known the results of your research?”
I brush her off. “I haven’t told anyone.”
“You’re positive? No late nights in the tavern with one too many cups and a friendly stranger?”
“I’m more professional than that.”
“That may be so, but massacres are a subjugation tactic,” she retorts.
“If the assassins want your research, then it’s likely the motive for destroying Ravinfort was to suppress information.
Not simply to get Hanna out of the way. Someone must’ve leaked the idea that your journal contains something significant. ”
Lyle raises his hand like a timid student. “Would it matter if people thought they knew the journal’s contents?”
My stomach hollows. “What did you do?”
He winces. “Before I left for Varsonne, Hanna and her brothers were defaming you and Micah in my shop. I defended you…loudly.”
Great. “What exactly did you say?”
“The truth. That you’d ended your experiments, and you were hunting again.” He gives a sheepish smile. “I might’ve added a tiny embellishment, though.”
“Which is?”
“That your research is revolutionary, and that it will change the slayer industry forever. Rumors must’ve spread around town during my absence.”
“Lyle. It’s not your job to save my image.”
He gestures helplessly. “I’m an optimist, all right? I hoped that what happened to Micah…meant something.”
The way his stare falls extinguishes my urge to argue with him. I’m not the only one who wanted better for Micah.
“That explains it.” Claire whirls on me. “Abel, the assassins aren’t targeting the Slayers Guild. They’re after the cure.”