Shadow's End
Page 17
Disliking his overly familiar attitude and how close he came, she held herself stiffly. She refused to let this creature see how he affected her. Have you seen him today? she persisted. Do you know where he might have gone?
The Vampyre inclined his head and assumed a mournful expression. My deepest regrets, but we at Malfeasance consider the privacy of our patrons to be one of our highest priorities. Whether or not the Elven heir mentioned where he might go upon taking his leave here is not for me to s—
The insincerity in his voice was as abrasive as his oily manner. Bel did not often feel the urge to violence, but as she considered him, she imagined taking his head in both hands and twisting it off his shoulders.
She interrupted. I’ll make it worth your while.
His dark gaze flickered, and the corners of his mouth indented as he repressed a satisfied smile. How might you do that?
Lifting the edge of the hood again with one hand, she met his gaze and said softly, I’ll let you live.
The Vampyre froze, and all hint of a smile vanished. Ma’am, he said, his attitude stripped of pretension. I’m not supposed to divulge that information. Please understand, this isn’t personal. My employer is – he’s not a man to be crossed.
After the traits he had exhibited, she had no pity for him.
It will be much worse for you to make an enemy of me, she said softly. I know your face. I will find out your name, and where you live. Whereas, if you tell me what I want to know, your employer need never know that the information came from you, or that I was even here. You have an opportunity right now to make an intelligent choice.
Breathing heavily, a sure telltale sign of stress in a Vampyre, he glanced sideways with just his eyes at the nearest Orc standing against the wall. Your son was invited to attend an exclusive game at my employer’s country estate. He left shortly after arriving here.
She felt another pang that Ferion would have chosen to leave without letting her know. What kind of grip did this need to gamble have on him?
Perhaps he had left a note at the house. Even as she thought it, she knew she was grasping at straws.
While the Vampyre did not mention his employer by name, she knew he meant Malfeasance’s owner, the pariah Djinn Malphas. A Djinn had no need of a physical residence, unless he chose to entertain creatures of other Races.
She asked, Where is this place?
I – I’ve never been to his country estate, personally. The Vampyre loosened his cravat with pale fingers. From listening to other patrons talk when they’d been issued an invitation, I do know that it’s a day’s ride out toward Wembley.
Wembley, she repeated, searching her memory of the geography of the outlying areas. That’s west.
Yes, my lady.
What else can you tell me of this estate’s location?
The patrons complained about one of the inns on the highway, close to the estate. They said the food was terrible and it took forever to get service for their horses. A touch of desperation entered his mental voice. Truly, that’s everything I know.
All he had offered were minuscule bits of information, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. In a clench of despair, she turned away, just as a volcano of fury entered the room.
For a moment, she almost didn’t recognize the towering figure. While she stared, she heard everyone in the room take a collective breath as they moved away.
Only then did she realize it was Graydon who stalked toward her, his face pale and set while his Power boiled in a chaotic, hot corona around his clenched body.
She felt the blood leave her face and forgot to telepathize. “What is it?”
His white, taut lips barely moved. He said in a low voice, “He’s not here. We need to leave before I start murdering people.”
In the background, to his right, a couple of men slipped out a doorway. They were inconsequential. As soon as she saw them, she put them out of her mind. She took one of Graydon’s hands. It was bunched into a rigid fist. Even his skin was hot to the touch.
She could not imagine what had happened to fill him with such rage. As soon as she touched him, his hand loosened, and he curled his fingers around hers.
“Come on,” she whispered.
Together they strode for the front door. She noticed that the Orcs standing against the wall wouldn’t look at them any longer.
Once outside, she gratefully took deep breaths of the chill night air. Not even the whiff of stench from the street rubbish could dampen her relief at leaving the stifling smells inside Malfeasance.
Graydon strode down the street so fast, she had to trot to keep up. His anger was still palpable, and his expression so dark, she bit her lip and kept silent for several blocks, until they had left all the activity behind them and reached a quiet, dark section of street.
With immense relief, she shoved back the confining hood. A slight, cold breeze, still damp from the recent rain, brushed against her overheated cheeks.
“I’m going to burn that place to the ground.” His whisper was so forceful, it came out as a hiss. “I didn’t do it because you were there. I know how much you need to find your son, but I’m going back to level that building.”
“Dear gods,” she said. She stopped walking, which meant he had to let go of her hand, drag her along behind him, or stop walking too.
He stopped. As she gently tugged, he spun around to face her. He had clenched her fingers so tightly, they had gone numb, but she didn’t protest. Overhead, the cloud cover had broken, and a pale spray of stars arced across the clear night, silhouetting his tawny head.
Even though his rough features were in shadow, she still tried to search his expression as she asked, “What happened?”
He blew out a forceful breath and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Then he rubbed his face as well. Through her palm, she could sense when the furious rigidity in his body eased.
The Vampyre inclined his head and assumed a mournful expression. My deepest regrets, but we at Malfeasance consider the privacy of our patrons to be one of our highest priorities. Whether or not the Elven heir mentioned where he might go upon taking his leave here is not for me to s—
The insincerity in his voice was as abrasive as his oily manner. Bel did not often feel the urge to violence, but as she considered him, she imagined taking his head in both hands and twisting it off his shoulders.
She interrupted. I’ll make it worth your while.
His dark gaze flickered, and the corners of his mouth indented as he repressed a satisfied smile. How might you do that?
Lifting the edge of the hood again with one hand, she met his gaze and said softly, I’ll let you live.
The Vampyre froze, and all hint of a smile vanished. Ma’am, he said, his attitude stripped of pretension. I’m not supposed to divulge that information. Please understand, this isn’t personal. My employer is – he’s not a man to be crossed.
After the traits he had exhibited, she had no pity for him.
It will be much worse for you to make an enemy of me, she said softly. I know your face. I will find out your name, and where you live. Whereas, if you tell me what I want to know, your employer need never know that the information came from you, or that I was even here. You have an opportunity right now to make an intelligent choice.
Breathing heavily, a sure telltale sign of stress in a Vampyre, he glanced sideways with just his eyes at the nearest Orc standing against the wall. Your son was invited to attend an exclusive game at my employer’s country estate. He left shortly after arriving here.
She felt another pang that Ferion would have chosen to leave without letting her know. What kind of grip did this need to gamble have on him?
Perhaps he had left a note at the house. Even as she thought it, she knew she was grasping at straws.
While the Vampyre did not mention his employer by name, she knew he meant Malfeasance’s owner, the pariah Djinn Malphas. A Djinn had no need of a physical residence, unless he chose to entertain creatures of other Races.
She asked, Where is this place?
I – I’ve never been to his country estate, personally. The Vampyre loosened his cravat with pale fingers. From listening to other patrons talk when they’d been issued an invitation, I do know that it’s a day’s ride out toward Wembley.
Wembley, she repeated, searching her memory of the geography of the outlying areas. That’s west.
Yes, my lady.
What else can you tell me of this estate’s location?
The patrons complained about one of the inns on the highway, close to the estate. They said the food was terrible and it took forever to get service for their horses. A touch of desperation entered his mental voice. Truly, that’s everything I know.
All he had offered were minuscule bits of information, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. In a clench of despair, she turned away, just as a volcano of fury entered the room.
For a moment, she almost didn’t recognize the towering figure. While she stared, she heard everyone in the room take a collective breath as they moved away.
Only then did she realize it was Graydon who stalked toward her, his face pale and set while his Power boiled in a chaotic, hot corona around his clenched body.
She felt the blood leave her face and forgot to telepathize. “What is it?”
His white, taut lips barely moved. He said in a low voice, “He’s not here. We need to leave before I start murdering people.”
In the background, to his right, a couple of men slipped out a doorway. They were inconsequential. As soon as she saw them, she put them out of her mind. She took one of Graydon’s hands. It was bunched into a rigid fist. Even his skin was hot to the touch.
She could not imagine what had happened to fill him with such rage. As soon as she touched him, his hand loosened, and he curled his fingers around hers.
“Come on,” she whispered.
Together they strode for the front door. She noticed that the Orcs standing against the wall wouldn’t look at them any longer.
Once outside, she gratefully took deep breaths of the chill night air. Not even the whiff of stench from the street rubbish could dampen her relief at leaving the stifling smells inside Malfeasance.
Graydon strode down the street so fast, she had to trot to keep up. His anger was still palpable, and his expression so dark, she bit her lip and kept silent for several blocks, until they had left all the activity behind them and reached a quiet, dark section of street.
With immense relief, she shoved back the confining hood. A slight, cold breeze, still damp from the recent rain, brushed against her overheated cheeks.
“I’m going to burn that place to the ground.” His whisper was so forceful, it came out as a hiss. “I didn’t do it because you were there. I know how much you need to find your son, but I’m going back to level that building.”
“Dear gods,” she said. She stopped walking, which meant he had to let go of her hand, drag her along behind him, or stop walking too.
He stopped. As she gently tugged, he spun around to face her. He had clenched her fingers so tightly, they had gone numb, but she didn’t protest. Overhead, the cloud cover had broken, and a pale spray of stars arced across the clear night, silhouetting his tawny head.
Even though his rough features were in shadow, she still tried to search his expression as she asked, “What happened?”
He blew out a forceful breath and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. Then he rubbed his face as well. Through her palm, she could sense when the furious rigidity in his body eased.
