Chapter 5 #3
A small wisp of wind brushed her cheeks, and he was already far across the street and nearly out of sight. She looked down at her hand, still suspended in the air.
***
Caspian smirked and leapt off the roof into the night.
The girl was coming along as planned, but he had one more stop before the night was over. He made his way to the tavern where sure enough, his target sat playing cards. He’d been stalking his target for days, a stocky man with a trimmed beard.
His target was from the southern kingdom of desert and spice, rumored to have been seen boasting about things best left unsaid. He strode up next to the man and sat down.
“Five coppers to play,” grunted the dealer.
“I’m not playing tonight, thank you,” he said, fixing his eyes on the dealer, who averted his gaze.
“No problem, master, sir, no problem. We can play with five just fine.”
He turned to the portly gentleman, his heart beating rapidly with the thrill of the chase.
“Mr. Arman?” he said, his words honeyed.
The man swallowed. “Yes, do I know you?”
“No, but we have similar interests,” he said, letting the man see the surety of death in his eyes.
“Regarding,” The man sniffed, keeping his eyes trained on Caspian’s shoulder.
He knew what he was, then. Good. This should be fast.
“Regarding something of mutual interest—something I’m sure you would not want others knowing about,” Caspian said with a wave of his hand, gesturing to every eye at the table that had homed in on the pair on them.
To Arman’s credit, he didn’t flinch, and jumped to his feet. “No, you’re mistaken. Good day to you all.” In one swift motion, he bowed to his companions, slid a few coppers on the table, and departed.
Caspian smiled and counted to ten.
He dipped his chin at the gentlemen around the table. “Gentlemen.”
He exited the building and with a short burst of energy, he leapt onto the rooftops to hunt his prey. No sooner than he started, he found the man walking briskly in the direction of his house.
Foolish mortal. He might have gotten away if he hadn’t been laughably predictable and gone straight home.
Caspian dropped from the rooftop and landed in front of the man, relishing in his shock and horror.
Mr. Arman backed away slowly.
“So,” Caspian said, strolling to cross the distance between them. “The item. The one we seek above all others. You know of what I speak.”
The smell of perspiration wafted from Mr. Arman’s direction. His hands twitched at his sides, no doubt thinking of how he could defend himself and escape.
Caspian took a deep breath, scenting the man’s fear. Delicious.
“No, ‘fraid I don’t. ‘Fraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really,” Caspian purred. “I could have sworn you were seen saying you knew it. Had seen and held it … intimately.” He prowled closer, the distance between them shrinking.
The man took two more steps back. Caspian lifted his cloak and knew from the mortal’s widening eyes, he saw his dagger gleaming in the moonlight.
The man’s heart was racing faster than a jackrabbit. Did he notice that he had backed himself into an alley?
Quick as an adder, Caspian pinned the man’s wrist into the wall with his dagger. The man’s scream was, regrettably, loud.
Caspian bared his teeth, and inhaled the scent of the man’s panic, his terror. Tears slid down the man’s cheeks, and his face scrunched into an ugly thing. He muttered prayers as if there was a god that could save him.
Foolish, mortal. There were no gods or goddesses. Not anymore. Only demons and angels that didn’t care enough to bother.
“Tell me what I want, and I’ll let you live,” he said casually. He spun another dagger through his fingers.
“I don’t know who has it but it’s not me! I don’t have it—I don’t!”
He impaled his other wrist, pinning it against the wall. Red sluiced over his wrists, dripping onto the ground.
“The witches have it. The witches have it!!” The man looked around frantically, blood dripping down his wrists. “You swear you’ll let me go?”
Caspian nodded, careful not to speak the words that would bind him to the oath.
“It’s been in a family passed down for generations. The witches have it. I don't know any more. Please!”
Another dagger glinted in the moonlight.
Caspian ran the dagger along the man’s chest, keeping the pressure feather light.
“All—all I know is that there were two created. One was given to a coven leader in Israr to hide. The other to a young witch tasked to venture into lands unknown and never return. She was told to keep it with her always, live in secrecy, and hide for all her days. This was long, long ago. No one knows where they are now.”
“And we are in Rhodea. It’s a big place. You belong to a coven, Mr. Arman the warlock. Tell me what you know of the piece.”
“I was boasting about it, but I never saw it! I never touched it, I swear!” Caspian smiled cruelly.
“Okay! Okay! All I know is that someone told me it still existed. A travelling witch let slip that she had seen it, that she knew it was still safe. She described it as a purple gem surrounded by gold. No one knows who has it except the bearer themselves. It was meant to fade into myth at the bottom of someone’s safe. ”
“A name. Give me a name,” he crooned, almost like a lover.
“She was a travelling witch! Cloaked at the coven meeting. I didn’t see her face, didn’t catch her name. Haven’t seen her at a meeting since. I swear it!”
“Anything else?” he said with a slow smile.
“You’re … not going to let me go … are you?”
He smiled cruelly, revealing his teeth that had lengthened into fangs. “I think not.”
With predatory swiftness, he bit the man’s wrist and took several deep pulls. Warm blood dribbled down his lips and onto his chin.
Ripping a piece of fabric off Arman’s tunic, he gagged the man while he fed.
The man’s screams muffled and weakened, Caspian listened to the streets around them, lest he wake the neighbourhood and invite unwanted eyes.
After nothing stirred for a few heartbeats, he tucked into his meal, feasting on Arman’s cruelty, his misery, as he drank his essence.
His thoughts drifted to the amulet.
Unfortunately, all he had heard for years now were whispers.
Whoever had hidden the legendary item had done it well, but at least he had gleaned something of worth. It had been seen. Confirmation that it still existed.
His eyes grew heavy lidded as he gave himself fully to the monster that roamed beneath his skin. Talons emerged from his fingers and dug deeper into the man’s wrist, drawing fresh rivulets of crimson.
Arman's whimpers grew fainter as Caspian fed.
The thrill of the chase sang in his veins, drowning out all other thoughts except the primal satisfaction of predator claiming prey.Sated, Caspian withdrew.
He studied his victim with cold indifference.
The evidence of his true nature would not do.
He drew his dagger across the man's wrist with practiced care, shredding the puncture marks his fangs had left.
The mortals who discovered this corpse would see only a brutal robbery gone wrong—nothing to suggest a demon walked among them.As his features returned to their mortal guise, his thoughts turned to Elizabeth.
Interesting that his new chosen human was from Briarton, the very place where the amulet had been seen.
He tucked his dagger away, stepping back into shadow.
He would have to learn if the girl had any ties to the witches.
He doubted it—nobles rarely mixed with witches—but the possibility tantalized him.
How marvelous would it be if his new playmate unknowingly held connection to the very prize he sought?
The coincidence was too tempting to ignore.