Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Asombre silence reigned over the forest, even the birdsong seeming subdued in the grey morning light. It was a risk to attempt this in the daytime, but Keeran had missed his chance last night, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave without finishing what he came for.
He checked around him, certain no one was watching but needing to make damn sure. There was no movement between the vast trunks; the paths that cut into the dense undergrowth were deserted, the wooden houses perched overhead showed no sign of life, and Keeran doubted they would for hours yet.
The Astraea had taken all the humans they hadn’t killed from the village, leaving the surviving artemians reeling.
Peregrinians and locals alike had grouped together to try and control the fire, tending to the wounded and moving the dead.
It had been a long night for everyone, and those who could had retired to the safety of their homes, whilst those too injured to make the climb were being tended to in the village hall.
Keeran had waited until he saw the last person slip into their wooden treehouse, the Peregrinians having long since disappeared to their camp. And then he’d waited some more.
Finally, he shrugged out from where he hid, and began to climb the stairs up the trunk to the elaborate wooden home that spanned across three trees, each building connected via a gently swinging rope bridge.
Violence shadowed Keeran’s eyes as he arrived at the front door, the ornate extravagance of the structure making the creature in his mind slink into consciousness.
The tap of its obsidian claws echoed round his skull as it paced back and forth.
War crime paid well, evidently. It was one of the rare times he and his other side were in agreement, but the man who lived here must die, painfully.
Keeran dropped to a crouch and picked the lock, fingers steady as he waited for the satisfying click of success. He turned the polished wooden handle and cracked the door open just enough for him to slip into the dark hallway beyond.
Shutting it silently behind him, he began making his way through to the bedroom, his steps silent on the heavily rugged floor.
Thanks to his investigations earlier that night, he knew exactly where to go.
He’d also made sure that his target lived alone.
Yet Keeran still felt a cold rush of relief as he teased open the bedroom door and saw just a single bump beneath the thick duvet.
The beast inside him rumbled an approving growl in the back of his mind as Keeran stalked towards the bed, pulling a dagger free, his other hand reaching to curl around the duvet. He yanked it back in one smooth movement, uncovering the bleary, blinking man beneath.
Fear flooded his black ringed eyes as he focused on Keeran, darting between him and the dagger with terrified surprise.
“General Morbeck.” It wasn’t a question. Keeran wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t certain, but the man nodded anyway.
“Y-yes?” he stammered.
“You have been found guilty of treason in the War of Two Kings. You successfully conspired to murder countless of your own comrades, an act which has gone unpunished for decades. I have come to remedy that fact.” Keeran felt nothing as he watched Morbeck’s expression turn from afraid to downright petrified.
“Who are you?” he choked out, his voice barely more than a squeak.
Keeran leant in close, letting the darkness in him shine through, revelling in the man’s terror as he saw the evil enter Keeran’s eyes. The beast in him snapped its teeth, impatient for the revenge Keeran was dangling before it. He made it wait a little longer.
“You don’t remember me?” Keeran said with a predatory tilt of his head. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t, I was just a child back then. It didn’t stop you killing us though did it, from ordering the death of every man, woman and child in the army.”
“You’re back.” Even in the dim light, Keeran could see the colour drain from Morbeck’s face. “How many of you?”
“Just me.” Keeran tightened his grip on the handle of the dagger. “But that’s more than enough for you to worry about.”
He slipped the blade between Morbeck’s ribs, making sure the tip pierced his pounding heart. Keeran grinned, making sure the last thing the man saw was the evil flashing in his eyes as he watched him take his last, gasping breaths.
He pulled the dagger free and sheathed it, the beast settling back, satiated for now. He eyed the unlit candles on the bedside table and tutted.
“You should know better than to have an open flame so close to the bed, Morbeck.” Keeran raised his hand and snapped his fingers, his magic jumping at his command to ignite a flame at his fingertip.
He raised the finger to his lips and blew, sending the flame skittering over the bedsheets.
He didn’t wait to see the bed erupt into flames, he didn’t need to.
He could feel them devouring their target obediently, the dry timber catching alight in a heartbeat.
It was only when he began jogging down the stairs that he severed his connection to the fire, his magic receding into the corner of his mind, leaving the mindless flames in its wake, no less hungry for its absence.
By the time he reached the forest floor, the entire building was ablaze, the glass blowing out and raining down around him. A shard caught his cheek as he walked away, and he wiped at the thin trickle of blood, looking at the red stain on his fingers.
When he considered all the blood he had on his hands, he supposed it was only fair he added a little of his own into the mix.
Keeran slipped back into Aelia’s treehouse, worried she might have woken whilst he was gone, but his heart quietened when he saw her, tucked up on the sofa where he’d left her.
He crossed the room and knelt beside her, pressing his fingers to the pulse at her neck. When he was satisfied it was steady, he pulled away, allowing himself only a moment to watch her before he left. Okay, maybe two.
Even unconscious, expression slack and mouth open, he found himself transfixed, albeit with a slight smile on his lips.
Determined not to be a creep, or at least not to be caught being one if she suddenly came to, he rose to his feet and headed to the kitchen.
He’d become acquainted with the layout of the place when he’d first brought her here, right after that genocidal maniac had had her beaten to within an inch of her life.
Thanks to his intervention, she’d wake up feeling like she’d been double-barrelled by a horse, but at least she’d be up and walking.
Keeran turned the tap and frowned at the slow flow of the water. He leant over the sink and washed the blood from his cheek, the cut having already healed to a fine red line, running his hands through his now wet hair to slick it back.
He eyed the tap thoughtfully for a moment, wondering if fixing it might be crossing some sort of boundary, before deciding he didn’t give a fuck. With a low, decisive grunt, he turned on his heel and left the kitchen, checking on Aelia once more before he opened the front door.
Callodosis was waking up. He ignored the unmistakable smell of smoke, the frantic shouting letting him know the villagers more than likely had it all under control.
Besides, the wind was blowing the flames from Morbeck’s house away from Aelia’s, so they were safe enough for the time being, even if the fire did get out of hand.
Keeran stepped back as far as the balcony would allow, taking in the two-story design of the house, and decided on the best route to the roof.
He took all the running start the narrow balcony would allow, launching himself into the air to catch hold of the sloping roof of the gable end, and heaved himself up.
The roof was an undulating arrangement of jaunty angles to accommodate the huge branches that the building sat amongst. After a little exploration, he found what he was looking for.
The water tank was suitably full, but his suspicions proved correct when he found the filter to be blocked with silt. He washed it, replaced it, and was about to head back in when he spotted the chimney flues.
He might as well check those too whilst he was up here.
A little voice nagged at him the whole time he faffed about up there, clearing the flues of any debris, before giving the roof a quick once-over for potential weaknesses or water ingress.
When was the last time he’d concerned himself with the drudgery of a stranger’s life, let alone helped them with it? Had he ever?
He didn’t want to answer that, because the question that followed would be even worse. It flittered to the forefront of his mind anyway. When was the last time he’d opted to save a stranger’s life rather than take out one of his targets?
Last night had been awful, not the worst thing he’d ever witnessed, not by a long shot, but certainly in the top ten. Maybe top fifteen. But chilling as the whole experience had been, it was undeniably the best cover-up for the murder he’d come here to commit.
Morbeck had been in the clearing, pandemonium erupting around them, bodies piling up by the dozens. All Keeran had had to do was brush past him, slip a blade into one of his kidneys as he’d passed by, and no one would have questioned just one more body leaking blood onto the forest floor.
But he’d been halfway to Morbeck when he’d heard Aelia scream, the sound turning his blood cold in a way none of the violence of the evening had been able to.
When he’d seen her lying on the floor, eyes riveted on the body of the human woman he’d seen her spend so much time with, he’d frozen.
Torn between going to her and taking out Morbeck.
It was a no-brainer. Logically, he shouldn’t have wasted the opportunity, he should have turned his back on her and killed the traitorous son of a bitch right then and there. Minimal risk, in and out, job done.