Chapter Thirty-Eight Dominic
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dominic
I hate seeing Inana in pain. I hate that I can feel her blaming herself, all because of what that woman said.
Her innocent condolences followed by that sinister fucking whisper.
I heard it. My Shades heard it. I don’t know what Tera Holmes was playing at, but if I were a worse kind of man, I’d show up at her door and make her pay for upsetting Inana.
Maybe she didn’t mean for it to sound the way it did, but it doesn’t matter.
Inana took those words the worst possible way.
I hate that I can’t reach her in this state.
She’s stubborn and prideful, and I know she needs time to grieve. To process. Yet I hate it all the same.
The others notice too, and it makes our evening patrol a somber affair. I do my best to remind Inana that I’m here, I’m close, with small touches and lingering looks. I need her to know she can lean on me if she feels like she’s breaking, yet all she gives me is “I’m fine. Really.”
She’s not fine.
She’s not fucking fine.
I give her the space her body language demands.
When the sun rises and my crew retires to our suite, I file my daily report with the mayor. Another peaceful night. Another successful watch.
After that, I’m still on edge, still too awake, so I visit the bakery across the street from the inn.
I may not be able to do much for Inana until she’s ready to let me, but I might as well ensure my crew is fed when they wake this evening for our next patrol.
The inn will provide dinner as usual, but their fare is almost as bland as Calvin’s.
The bakery, however, is known for serving even better meat pies than the ones at the market.
“A Shadowbane,” the middle-aged baker says, blinking in surprise at my sword as I walk through the door. “I heard we had one posted up here, but it’s still rare to see one of you, much less two.”
She’s right. Shadowbanes keep to themselves during their posts, rarely leaving their temporary residences aside from the occasional meal at a local tavern.
Partly because of their nocturnal schedules, but also because my kind are often met with trepidation, especially when there are active attacks that result in inquisitions and arrests. But—
Wait.
My mind lingers on her words.
“What do you mean two?” I ask.
“Oh, there was another one, just a few days ago. Stayed at the inn across the street, probably. A friend of yours, yeah?”
It’s an easy assumption, that all Shadowbanes are comrades. Friends. She would be wrong, especially regarding one man.
I clench my jaw. It takes all my restraint not to speak through my teeth. “What did the other Shadowbane look like?”
She pales, but delivers her description. My fingers curl into fists, tighter and tighter with every word. I’m out the door, my order abandoned, before she’s even finished speaking. I rush back to the inn, up the stairs, and into our suite—
Inana is gone.
Her bed is empty.
My shadows thrum in echo of my rising panic. Sloth paws at her blankets, slithers beneath her covers. His low growl has me pushing the pillow aside.
My rage darkens as I read the note I find there.
I crush it in my fist.