Chapter 15 Killian
fifteen
Killian
The needles of the tattoo machine speared Killian’s skin as it dragged across his chest. He was sprawled on the bed in his temporary room in Drachen’s house, watching as a blue-haired Witch added to the cluster of symbols that spanned across his right bicep, shoulder and pec.
The elaborate tattoo had formed slowly over the decades, with a lot of the artwork etched onto his flesh by Kada’s hands.
Kada withdrew to wipe away a smudge of ink and inspect the design. She’d spent the last hour adding a black feather to the artwork on his upper body. With a satisfied smile, she switched off the machine, signifying her work was complete.
“This piece is really coming along.” Kada’s fingers drifted across some of the designs as her piercing blue eyes flicked to Killian’s.
“Your work is perfect, as always.”
“My work is only as good as my canvas,” Kada purred, as her fingers continued to trace along Killian’s bare chest.
Due to the rapid nature of Vampire healing, the ink had already been sealed within Killian’s flesh and her caress caused him no pain.
The touch was quite the opposite—it was the prelude to something that was commonplace between them whenever she contributed to the story etched upon his body.
But as he watched the movement of her fingers, his gaze snagged on the new addition to his flesh, and it invited a rush of thoughts that chased his desire away.
As he considered how to politely deny her, the work was done for him when the door to his room flew open. The tension was sucked from the air as Drachen stormed in.
Drachen scanned the minimalist surroundings of Killian’s room.
Killian hadn’t bothered to decorate during his stay.
His assortment of weapons were spread out on a desk along the far wall beneath the window.
His duffel bag that contained a selection of black clothing was open on the floor next to the desk, with various garments spilling out like entrails.
The rest of the room was as barren as it was the night he arrived.
Drachen’s eyes swept across Kada’s equipment, before shifting over to the tattoo artist. His eyes flashed with recognition and the voice that rumbled out of him was filled with malice. “Get the fuck out.”
Kada’s eyes widened, and she scrambled to collect her accoutrements.
She hurried from the room with her possessions pressed to her chest. She threw a rueful glance at Killian as she retreated.
Drachen’s eyes finally settled upon Killian’s, and they narrowed in irritation at the mere sight of him.
Killian offered him his most insolent smile.
“I just got back from the Council.”
“I don’t remember asking where you’ve been,” came Killian’s rapid retort. Drachen’s eyes flashed blood-red in response.
“Imagine my surprise when the Announcements were made for this week’s Black Letters, and it is off-handedly mentioned that Killian Maurell was responsible for the Ending of an Idthraki Fledgling.” Drachen paced the small room as he spoke.
Killian, knowing where this conversation was headed, eyed his Sire in silence.
“Naturally I think to myself, ‘he’s done it. He’s Ended Leseldh’s bitch’. But as I listen to the story unfold, not only do I learn that she’s still alive, but it was her Creation that tasted your blade.”
Drachen snatched the chair by Killian’s desk with a sudden, violent movement and swept it around to position it in front of Killian’s bed. He sat in the chair and leaned forward so that his face was inches from Killian’s.
“So, Killian, tell me. Why is it that you’re able to End every Fledgling in Noctis, other than the one I want most?
Don’t give me any more excuses about picture-perfect Endings.
I want destruction, and I want it now.” Drachen’s voice was low and threatening, and the pale red of his eyes slowly gained more colour until they matched Killian’s blood-red irises again.
Killian rose to a seated position and Drachen leaned back so that their eyes were level again.
“She has a constant protection detail, Drachen. If she leaves the property, it’s either to a blood bar with Voresta, or the theatre with Leseldh.” Killian ran his fingers through his black hair. Twin strands tumbled into his face, and he shifted his head to move them out of his eyes.
Killian’s plan to eliminate Ivy had deviated from the anticipated pathway and was hurtling down a side street. Two months had passed since the chance encounter at the rear boundary of Veldmoor, and his chances to hunt since then were limited.
“Are you saying you can’t End her?”
“I’m saying it’s going to take some time. The perfect opportunity has yet to present itself,” Killian countered.
“Why can’t you just throw one of your little knives at her?”
“Because they’re not made of silver. The wound will heal as soon as she pulls the blade out.”
“So, get some silver ones.”
Killian sighed.
“I’m serious. There’s a perfect opportunity, as you put it, in their private box at the Theatre Enthique.
Throw a fucking knife at her and be done with it.
Leseldh will witness it, and he’ll lose his fucking mind.
First Malia in a fire, then Ivy, at the hands of my Broodling.
” Drachen waved his hands in the air as he spoke, like he was painting the scene before him.
Killian’s mind worked through the details of the scenario, assessing it for feasibility.
An expression of distaste appeared on his features.
He didn’t like having the execution dictated by Drachen—if he was going to be forced to be the Hunter, he liked having the choice of how he performed the atrocities.
When Killian didn’t respond immediately, Drachen stood from his chair and glared down at his Broodling.
“Killian, we are running out of time! Her Ascension is fast approaching. And once that happens, it’s over.”
“It’ll take some time to commission the blades.
” Killian’s displeasure was evident in his tone.
He wasn’t ready for the game to be over yet, and he certainly wasn’t interested in Ending her with a blade thrown from a distance.
He wanted to be up close, watching her emerald-green eyes fill with fear as he closed in on her.
He wanted the scent of her blood in his nostrils as he pressed against her—
“—Even more reason why we shouldn’t delay. Order them. Do whatever it takes.” Drachen’s instruction knocked Killian’s fantasies out of his mind.
“Fine,” was Killian’s curt response.
Killian watched the passion light up in his Sire’s eyes at his confirmation, and it sparked the realisation of how obsessed Drachen was with Leseldh’s demise. As Drachen made his way to the door, his steps were noticeably lighter.
“Two dead Resonants at the theatre. Sounds like a perfect name for a play, don’t you think?”