TWO
Zarek did not follow her. He never did. But what bothered him was that every instinct inside demanded that he follow that female. Instead, he turned back to the alley to finish the job.
And with three confirmed kills in one night, it was three too many.
Zarek adjusted his grip and stepped into the shadows as the alley folded around him and the light thinned into nothing. The city dropped away where brick was replaced by stone as the black walls of the Vanguards Keep rose out of the darkness.
He crossed the threshold, and the veyll sealed behind him.
Greeted by healers, the mortal was transferred without ceremony. The healers moved fast and would deliver him back to the mortal realm unharmed.
Zarek didn’t need to stay; his part was done. The memory wipe would hold indefinitely, like it always did.
Except tonight it was different.
He stripped off his coat as he walked down the wide corridor, his inner fire dampened to embers under his skin. He didn’t remove his gloves but flexed his fingers, feeling the heat curl and settle, obedient again.
Yet he could still smell her.
Not her fear, but apples, pears, and a human honeyed warmth beneath the shocked expression and teary eyes.
Surprisingly, her mind had not fractured after what it had seen.
But it would. Most mortals could not cope with the abrupt cruelty of his world.
To see the Black Cloaks turned to stone and ash made mortals go mad.
That was why he wiped their memories. It wasn’t a kindness, but a necessity from a man who knew only cruelty and command.
Zarek stopped in the corridor of high stone walls and steady torchlight. He went over the moment the way he’d been trained to after each battle—the sequence, reaction, contain, wipe, and forget.
This was the only time he’d failed to finish his mission. Because of her.
She shouldn’t have seen him, but she had. Flinching at him when he’d raised his hand to apply the magick.
No one had ever resisted.
Mortals forgot. That was the law written from bone, blood, and history that made up the Accords.
Yet, his power hadn’t worked on her.
Martar was waiting near the archway, arms crossed, posture loose in a way that fooled no one of the lethal warrior he was. “So, how many?”
“Three,” Zarek replied. “Thanks for the help, by the way.”
“I couldn’t track you. Somehow you dropped off our radar. You know I would have been there to help.”
Which was true. They’d been patrolling together only moments before.
“Where did you go?” Martar asked.
“Other side of the city.” Zarek resumed walking towards his chambers.
“How?”
Zarek tossed his coat over his shoulder. “I heard her.”
Martar frowned. “Heard what?”
“The scream.” More like he’d felt that scream stab into his chest then wrap its icy fingers around his heart and squeeze.
Martar grabbed Zarek’s shoulder, thick with leather plates and etched staves designed not to burn anyone who touched the Captain. “We were patrolling over forty miles out.”
“I know.” Zarek resumed walking.
Martar fell into step beside him. “And?”
“She saw them,” Zarek murmured.
“Saw what?”
“When I got there, this woman was being strangled by a Black Cloak. I hit it with the blade. And then I…”
“Did the mind wipe.”
But did he?
Zarek’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. In this place, the walls had ears. “Two more appeared behind me. I didn’t sense them. But she did.”
“That’s not possible,” Martar said carefully.
“I know. All she did was flinch, as if she were smelling something wrong, and that was before they’d even fully formed.” And how she’d warned him, too.
Martar’s eyes narrowed. “She smelled them?”
“Yes.” In his world, they sensed the Black Cloaks by their power, but smell was never part of the process.
“She also saw you—” Martar added.
Zarek’s jaw tightened.
“—and did not break?” Martar finished.
No hysteria. Or madness.
Yet.
“She’s shaken up, bruised, but intact. As a human.” A human with one green eye and one blue.
“Did you wipe her memory?” Martar asked again.
Zarek said nothing.
Martar’s mouth thinned. “Zarek?”
Helviti. “I tried.” Zarek turned away, staring down the corridor from what was supposed to be the end of a normal patrol. But there was nothing normal about it. “I don’t know if my magick worked on her.”
Normally mortals didn’t see them; yet she had said his name and thanked him.
“That’s a breach of the Accords,” Martar said quietly. “Were you cloaked?”
“Always. And I didn’t make myself visible to her. Technically, no Accords were broken.” But how did she see him and the Black Cloaks when they’d been cloaked?
“And you?”
“I maintained control.” He had to. Zarek didn’t dare let his power out of its cage. He pushed through the door. “We’ll increase patrols in that area. But having three Black Cloaks in the mortal realm raises questions.”
“I’m on it.” Martar nodded as he began to turn, only he paused. “And her?”
Zarek didn’t answer immediately.
He couldn’t. Not when the memory of how she had looked at him with so many questions. And the way she had thanked him. No one ever did that.
“She is not to be approached. I will monitor her from a distance to re-apply the magick if need be.”
Martar shook his head. “We know that’s dangerous. You could—”
“Turn her brain to mush.” He knew the consequences of his powers that was a constant struggle for control. “But the Accords will demand it be done.” It was part of the job. And it was his duty to see to it personally because the woman needed to forget, lest she be plagued by the impossible.