24. Chace
Scents and sounds accosted me on a whole new level now. I’d been trying to find balance with my awakening soul hunter senses when the strong whiff of crisp snow had drawn my attention to the activity in the pub above me.
Through the din of the lunchtime crowd, I recognized Winter’s voice: distinct, noble, self-important. The prince had exchanged a mere handful of words with Aoes before the two retreated to what I had always presumed was Aoes’s quarters at the back far corner of the building.
Assuming my heightened awareness was the gift of the hunter part, I hadn’t required the aid of the many vision scopes and sound tubes available in my place of lodging to track the male’s movements through the rooms above.
Since confronting the males and stepping into Aoes’s quarters, Raven’s scent had slammed into me and rammed up my nose. Every muscle tightened in response. She wasn’t present, but her unique aroma smothered Winter.
Shoving Aoes aside and the door open, I stepped deeper into the room.
He huffed. “Come on in, why don’t you.”
I ignored the pub manager, my sights tight on Winter. In several long strides, I stalked across the room toward the prince. The royal stiffened, his body jerking as if wishing to retreat, while his facial expression refused to show signs of weakness.
Until…
Winter’s eyes widened and nostrils flared, albeit slightly, and was he…sweating? Oh yeah. The prick was afraid, as he rightly should be, because whatever I was, I was created to hunt. At present, my prey cowered in a chair before me.
Winter grabbed at an ugly iron bracelet locked around his wrist, struggling to break it free. I barely spared the accessory a consideration or a glance.
I lurched forward, bundled Winter’s shirt in my clutch, and dragged his upper body close, placing the insufferable jerk’s face mere inches from my own.
Sniffing deeply, I took in every last scent clinging to him. Snow and pine and artic wind were Winter’s personal perfume, smudged with many other smells: other people with whom he’d recently come in contact, the food he’d enjoyed, a whole lot of liquor lingering from days ago, and…there she was…
Raven.
Jasmine and lilies, vanilla and cinnamon, sandalwood with a hint of citrus. Spicy and sweet, the myriad of aromas I identified as Raven’s clung to Winter’s skin.
Not his clothing but his skin.
“What have you done to her?” A growl in my throat darkened my voice. “If you’ve hurt her, so help me―”
“Raven?” Winter’s back straightened, and his chin tipped up. “I haven’t done anything to her.”
“You lie.” I inched my face closer, the words seething from my lips.
Aoes grabbed at my shoulder and tugged. “Back off, Ace. Give the gent some space.”
“Don’t.” I shoved Aoes away with one hand, heard him stumble, but didn’t divert my attention to discover where or how Aoes landed.
Instead, I sniffed Winter again, this time more subtly, zeroing in on only the scents that belonged to Raven. A fresh, light balm mixed with carrion clung from earlier that morning. Winter had clearly interacted on some level with her before coming to the pub.
The carrion suggested that she might have already received my crow-delivered message at that point. The nuances in that aromatic exchange suggested casual exposure, yet were tinted with apprehension, anxiety.
“You saw her this morning,” I said.
Winter didn’t respond. He merely glared at me. I wasn’t the least bit intimidated. I took another whiff, diving deeper into my investigation and Raven’s personal perfume.
The smells I regarded were older but more intense: irritation, curiosity, interest…arousal. Anger. Fear. And something else. Something distinctly death in origin. Her reaper’s magic?
My nostrils flared, and a growl ripped through my throat. “What have you done?”
Winter tugged at the iron bracelet as his eyes flashed a brilliant blue. No doubt the prince’s magic. “What makes you think I’ve done anything?”
“I can smell it on you. Smell her on you,” I said between gritted teeth.
Aoes stepped into my peripheral. “Kind of gross, but can we all calm down and discuss this matter like civilized gentlemen?”
Both Winter and I ignored him and continued to glare at one another. Sucking back a breath, Winter shoved his iron-banded wrist between us and attempted to push me back.
I snorted and thrust the prince’s arm away. “You can’t hurt me with your iron,” I said. “Fae blood does not course through my veins.”
“Then what are you?” Curiosity more than fear or intimidation toned the prince’s question.
Right then, I decided that Winter’s failure to fear death when it stared him in the face would be his eventual downfall.
I released the prick’s shirt and took a step back, crossed my arms. “Doesn’t matter. Now tell me what you’ve done to her.”
“Listen, Ace. You need to chill.” Aoes dropped a hand on my shoulder, and I immediately shrugged the touch free.
“Answer the question.” I bore a deathly hole in Winter’s skull with my glare, and the prince didn’t squirm an inch.
He merely stared back.
“Ace—” Aoes attempted again.
Winter threw up a hand, halting Aoes’s appeal. “It’s all right. I’ll answer him.”
With a wary expression, Winter dove into his story without further hesitation, explaining how some of his magic had somehow curled up inside of Raven, and his attempt…or presumed success…at extracting the power from her had been intense. As he understood, a bit much so for her, scary to a degree.
Aoes poured a glass full of liquor and downed it in one gulp while he listened, then he poured a second glass and offered it to me. I refused, and so Aoes emptied that glass, as well.
Some of the events from my street fight with Raven were starting to make sense. If she had Winter’s magic at that time, that would explain the blue of her fingers and hands, the chill of her skin, and the ice glazing over her eyes.
Had the Killian wanted her dead because of the foreign magic living under her skin? And if that magic had now been syphoned out, would he grant her clemency?
I thought I’d helped her when I’d used the collector’s eye on her, and maybe I had, just not enough.
I hadn’t helped enough. I heaved a breath and clenched my jaw. Stared at the wall beyond Winter.
Whatever was happening to her wasn’t normal. Not for a reaper. Were the unusual events because of where we were, the undying Citadel of Veritas? Or did it have to do with exposure to me, a reaper who was also something else?
I had the keen sense that, despite the curse and all those frozen in age, time was not on my side. I needed to get to the bottom of things, and there appeared to be more dots to connect than years under the curse’s reign.
A low growl worked at the back of my throat, and I shifted to hold both males in my view.
Winter straightened in his seat, then tugged his shirt and jacket into proper form. Aoes scooped up a lonely glass of liquor left on the table, swallowed the contents, and then slammed the empty glass onto the table with a thump.
He wiped the back of his hand across his lips. “You guys clearly rub each other the wrong way, but can we all agree that you both want what’s best for Raven, and for the people here? You want to keep them all healthy and safe.”
I considered telling them both that I couldn’t care less about the people of Veritas. I’d been sent here to reap them all…or many of them, anyway. But such a statement would not endear me to them in the slightest.
“Of course I care about the people,” Winter blurted. “Raven included.”
Aoes eyed the prince before sweeping his scrutiny over me. “Then can we agree, at least for her sake…that we’ll attempt to get along? Maybe even work together?”
Winter pushed his hair from his face. “I’m not sure if what you ask is possible.”
Aoes’s gaze dipped to the iron bracelet encircling Winter’s wrist. A hidden meaning or communication seemed to pass between them for a brief moment, before Winter looked away.
“Fine,” he said. “I can try.”
I narrowed my gaze and inhaled deeply, taking in Winter’s current scented secretion. I detected no malice or deception, merely irritation and a hint of defeat.
As much as I found the idea of working with Winter displeasing, I was a professional reaper, and I suspected I was equally professional in my duties as a soul hunter. I could tolerate and, to an extent, combine efforts with the pompous ass.
Without slipping the glower from my expression, I responded with a nod.
“Great.” Aoes swung his hands together in a low clap. “So…what do we do now?”
With a swoosh, a canister flew through an air tube supported along the ceiling. It dropped into an awaiting depository bin.
Motioning for us to hold the conversation, Aoes read the delivered message quickly and grunted.
When he lifted his gaze from the page, his attention snapped to Winter. “They’re looking for you.”
“Not ready to be found,” Winter replied.
“Well, then.” Aoes bounced his attention between Winter and me, ultimately landing on the prince. “They will undoubtedly check here, so you know what to do.”
Hide in the space I now used as my home base, that was what Winter was to do.
I would have easily taken to the streets, but leaving Winter alone near my stashed reaper supplies wasn’t something I was keen on doing.
The prince lounged in the overstuffed chair, legs stretched out, heels propped on the low table situated in front of the sofa.
“You never answered me,” he said. “If you have no fae blood, what are you? I can think of a few things, but I’d like for you to tell me.”
I was sure none of those few things were flattering.
I’d been leaning against the wall with my hands folded behind my back and eyes closed, listening for anything useful from the chatter in the room above. Like the current conversation between Aoes and palace personnel.
I opened my eyes and dropped a glare on the prince. “Not only is it none of your business, but it shouldn’t matter to you. You should keep your focus on your own problems.”