CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I opened my mouth to dispute Bellan’s claims. Because Papa had always said—no. No, I wouldn’t think about Papa, or the soft smile and trove of wisdom he had wielded like magic before he was snuffed from existence. I mulled over the councilman’s words, instead.
It’d taken two days of stumbling through the trees, half dazed and wholly confused, to reach Bardon’s Landing.
Half the time I’d slept, curled up and shivering from the bone-shattering cold.
The other I’d chanted, “Bardon’s Landing, Bardon’s Landing, Bardon’s Landing” over and over again, as a constant reminder of where I was going.
And then I’d spent the next thirty-six hours in bed, eating and drinking enough to sustain a small army, as my head slowly cleared from the beating it had taken.
On the afternoon of the fourth day since escaping Falcos, I finally dragged myself out of the now-filthy bed and drew a tub of piping hot water.
I studied my rather unsettling reflection as the basin filled.
A necklace of black and blue encircled my neck.
A tilt of my head exposed the maroon caked to my skull, stark against the strawberry blond of my hair.
I was the kind of filthy where the innkeeper had to think I’d stolen the gold I paid for the room with.
My green eyes were pale, the black flecks around my pupils stark against the washed-out color.
I sank into the water and crinkled my nose as it turned a rusty brown.
Gods, I was disgusting. I scrubbed the back of my head and arm, wincing as my nails raked over the fresh scabs, and sent the filth down the drain before drawing fresh water.
I wasn’t entirely sure why I bothered—I didn’t intend to be clean for long.
A knock sounded on the door. “Miss Blake? I have the clothing you requested,” a servant called.
“Set them inside!” I yelled back. “Payment is on the chair.”
The door quietly opened, then shut, and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face.
An hour later, I was all but bouncing down the main avenue that ran though the center of town, my body spotless and head clear for the first time in days. My hair was unbound around my shoulders, face dolled up with cosmetics. The bruises were carefully buried under a thick layer of them.
The gown the servant had dropped off suited my needs perfectly, breasts peeking over a deep neckline, its warm coppers and bronzes making my eyes pop.
Men would certainly be looking. Most of the time I didn’t care.
But today, beauty was just another weapon.
One with a different methodology of use, perhaps, but no less sharp an edge.
I bought more clothes I didn’t need, baubles I’d never use, and ordered food and drinks as I hunted.
Most of those sharing the streets with me were oblivious to the rot that had invaded their home.
To the monsters who stalked the night and the evil that festered in the dark.
The few residents who were observant enough to catch a whiff of the taint were wise enough to keep their mouths shut.
And the few outsiders who learned of Bardon’s darker side rarely lived long enough to carry the secret anywhere but to the grave.
The Shadows were careful. Quiet. But I knew.
I knew they crawled through this city like rats through a sewer.
The gargoyles might not even know they operated so close to Falcos, even though they were as much a threat to humanity as the da’kai were.
But I supposed it had never been the gargoyles’ obligation to protect us from ourselves.
I preened under the admiring glances of Bardon’s men, feigning interest to study their faces.
I’d never seen the man I was hunting. But the image of his brother’s corpse was seared into my brain, right alongside the description of one of his tattoos and a scar.
Enough, to pluck the Shadows’ leader from the crowd.
I was utterly sick of flashing coy smiles and batting my lids by the time the clock tower struck eleven.
My jaw feathered as I trailed along the edge of Bardon’s town square and the traveling troupe sketching a skit in its center.
The winter solstice had nearly arrived, but these performers were ahead of their competition, collecting easy coin from a populace denied quality entertainment since Gideon and his autumnal reign had been celebrated.
I settled against the wall and watched their next act, a snarky parody of the gargoyles that had even my tired lips twitching into a smile.
I sighed and shoved off the wall when the skit was over, then swung back toward the tavern.
My gaze snagged on a man seated in the terrace who was engrossed in an entirely different kind of performance.
I froze mid-step. His resemblance to his brother was uncanny, with his short, chestnut-brown hair, easy smile, and roaming eyes.
And there—a scar just above his right eyebrow, and a wispy tattoo of a dagger on the back of the hand that roved over a writhing torso.
Handsome. A far cry from Griffon’s regrettably chiseled perfection, but easily the most attractive man in attendance. Good. Approaching a hideous beast of a man would have screamed, “I know who you are!”
I pulled the neckline of my dress down and shoved my cloak out toward my shoulders. The smile that played on my lips was very real as I sauntered toward him.
I strolled to a stop closer than was strictly necessary.
Disgustingly greedy eyes raked up my navel and over my prominently displayed cleavage.
“I was walking back to my room and couldn’t help but think a man as delectable as you would know how to use those big hands.
And other”—I glanced toward his crotch—“appendages.” I cocked my head and studied the woman grinding against his leg.
“Might you prefer more appealing company for the night?” I flicked my eyes to his, my grin turning wicked.
A lazy smile tilted full, admittedly kissable lips. Why were gorgeous men always the ones that made me want to vomit?
“I think I’ll have you both,” he drawled. Of course he would.
“Hmm.” I crossed an arm under my breasts and hiked them up as I tapped a finger against my chin. I shook my head. “Pass. I’m a greedy bitch.” The smile slid off my face. “And I don’t like to share.”
I dropped my arm and started to walk away. Like every man who thought he was entitled to the whole damned world, his hand closed around my wrist.
I glanced back. “I have rooms at The Winged Tap. Ditch the cheap whore and I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”
The woman in his lap had murder in her eyes. But she’d thank me if she knew what vermin she was rubbing herself all over.
I let a shred of the mischief dancing through my heart slip through, though it was for an entirely different reason than he imagined. “I’ll even pretend to fight back, if that’s your thing.”
He surged from the chair, all but dumping the other woman in the grass, and followed me as I tugged him through the maze of chairs.
Three men peeled themselves off a nearby shop, but a flick of his finger sent them back to their stations.
A man’s ability to underestimate a woman would never cease to amaze me.
Once we extricated ourselves from the terrace, I wrapped my hands around his arm and let him guide me back to the tavern. “What shall I call you for tonight?”
He glanced down at me, his eyes dancing with the secret he thought he held. “Are you asking for my name?”
“I’m asking for whatever name you want me to scream for you.”
A moan rolled out of his chest and he licked his lips. “How about god.”
The arrogance. It took every ounce of self-control to not roll my eyes. Our proximity to the tavern was the only thing that coaxed a sweet smile to my lips instead. “As you wish, my god.”
I led him through the still-busy common room and drunken patrons stumbling along to a quick jig, and up the stairs. I opened the door to my suite on the top floor and tossed him one last coy smile before slipping inside. He followed a moment later and shut the door behind him.
I drifted to the window and kept my back to him as I let the cloak slip off my shoulders and puddle at my feet, baring the open back of the gown. “I’ve actually got a better name. Would you like to hear it?” I glanced over my shoulder at him.
He feasted on me from across the room and smirked. “I’ll humor you. But I’m certain I want to hear god come off those lips.”
There was nothing sweet in the next smile I gave him. “Is Dane Carthwright pleasing to you?”
Dane’s desire-clouded eyes sharpened to razor points. His hand shifted toward a dagger at his belt.
I laced a twisting strand of flame around its hilt. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” I chided. “This is a civil conversation, Dane.”
He glanced at the blade, his features smoothing to a cold, hard mask. “Lydia Blake. I always knew it would be another assassin who tried to kill me, but I must say, I wasn’t expecting it to be you.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “I am Vengeance. Not an assassin.”
His chuckle was low and dark. “Self-righteous whore. Murder is murder. You’re a fool if you’ve convinced yourself otherwise.”
My stomach twisted, but I managed a smirk and cocked my brow. “Sane enough to debate morality, yet depraved enough to take the low road anyways?”
“I just don’t give a damn about right or wrong. Only coin.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Now, how do you know my name?” His voice was velvety smooth. “So I know who to kill.”
I fussed with a tiny crack in one of my nails.
“That won’t be necessary. He’s already dead.
” He raised his brows expectantly and I sighed, long and dramatic.
“I’m sure you can relate to this, Dane, but at some point, the times and faces just start to…
shall we say, blend together. You’ll have to refresh my memory.
When was it that Aiden Carthwright’s corpse was dumped in a back alley over in Bellvey?
Three years? Four? I can’t seem to remember. ”
Dane took one, calculated step toward me. “You’re dead, bitch,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “And he wouldn’t have told you shit.”
I matched his step. “I’m not. And he did.
But don’t judge him too harshly.” I set a ball of fire writhing in my palm.
“You’re about to learn just how fast your tongue flaps when the alternative is burning.
” I dragged my hand up through the air. Bands of fire snaked around his legs, torso, neck and arms, each a few inches away from the next.
“Trust me, you don’t want to find out how hot channeled fire burns. ”
He sucked in a tight breath, his gaze skating over his flame-wrapped body. A thousand words sparred in his hate-filled eyes, but he wisely refrained from uttering a single one.
“It burns what I tell it to, and this is a very simple process,” I went on.
“Answer honestly and the fire behaves itself.” I took another step toward him.
“Lie to me, and one of these hungry flames feasts. Got it?” I didn’t give him time to answer.
“Who hired your Shadows to kill me at Dray’s Crossing? ”
He hid it well, but fear thrashed in his gaze as he glared at me. “Mine first. How the fuck did you find my brother? Even know who he was?”
I sighed dramatically and stepped back to lean against the wall.
“I suppose I can answer one question. An end-of-life favor, if you will.” I smirked at the tightening of his lips.
“I walked in on him gutting the best lead I had on a gargoyle I wanted to find very, very badly. I don’t like walking away from a job without getting something out of it.
And, well, the full compendium of all things Shadows was certainly something.
” I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. “And he sang like a bird. My turn.”
His hands clenched rapidly, that hatred rising back up to burn away the fear. “I don’t know who hired us. We never do.” The words were tight. Clipped. His eyes darted around the room, but my flames held him at my questionable mercy.
“See, I don’t buy that.” I released my hold on a band around his ankle and allowed a thin trickle of heat to seep through. His pants began to smoke. “Try again.”
His jaw worked but he remained silent. I glanced toward his groin and, for just a moment, released my grip on the flames encircling his upper thigh. His howl drowned out the ruckus from the bar below before I reined it back in.
“Fuck. My mistake. My control…” I shook my head slowly. “It just isn’t that great.” I set a patch burning over what I imagined were his favorite gems. “Liable to slip at any moment.”
He stood panting, his nostrils flared. His gaze slid to the fire that could melt his manhood in a breath, then back up to me. Light from my flames cavorted in those dark pits, and a minuscule thrill of fear slid down my spine despite my absolute control over him.
I shook it off and huffed impatiently. “I don’t have all night,” I snapped.
“You’ve got five seconds until I start letting these rings burn until you’re just slabs of meat.
I’ll go slow. Start with your hands and feet.
And don’t worry, there’s no concern of bleeding out on me. The fire cauterizes as it goes.”
“Gods!” he blurted. “On the fucking Quartet, you make the worst Shadow look like a saint!”
I draped a hand over my heart. “Fire makes people say the nicest things.”
His nostrils flared again. “The order came from within Vircann. I’d guess someone on the council.”
I sucked in a tight breath. “Why? Which member?”
“Because those bastards are some of our best clients! I’d guess—”
My ragged scream cut him off.