The determination that overtook the expressions of pain and fear in the assassin’s eyes shifted into a disturbingly feral, disjointed stare. His head jerked wildly from side to side, much like the faltering, staggered motions of a failing sentinel. His lips curled up into a snarl that showed his canines as if he was a beast spreading its mouth wide for the kill.

  Risens sprang back from the man’s body as he felt the tremor rumble through his pinned form. Like a wave, it rolled from his gut to his throat as his spine arched and his head tilted backward at an awkward angle.

  “We want nothing to do with his flesh. It is tainted.”

  The normally bloodthirsty talons screamed in his mind, pleading with him not to strike. An awkward popping sound, like the snapping of bones beneath the skin echoed through the chamber as the man’s body went limp. A puff of thick green smoke billowed from his mouth.

  Risens needed no additional confirmation to understand that whatever mist poured from the dead assassin’s innards would have been lethal. Instinctively, he held his breath, covering his nose and mouth with the crook of his elbow. Something had triggered in the man’s body, a lethal defense against interrogation and a desperate final revenge against those who sought it.

  As quickly as their trap had been sprung, it had failed. It wasn’t, however, the attempt on his life that surprised him the most. His profession was fraught with risks. Over the years, he’d ended the traitorous lives of enough high-profile targets to justify the risk. Even more so lately. It wasn’t the act itself, but who had perpetrated it that was concerning.

  His final words had mentioned a phrase that Risen had never heard uttered.

  The Hunt.

  Risens was exceptionally well informed, yet this was not a name he’d read in any report. He stalked the shadows of the city daily, though he’d never heard a whisper of it in the places where people talk when they believe no one is listening.

  Corvus, the name that accompanied it, sparked a peculiar hint of familiarity, though as much as he tried, he couldn’t place where he’d heard it. There would be an opportunity for investigation and introspection at a later time and date. If the information was true and they were patrolling the shop—or shops—in shifts, it would stand to reason that others would soon arrive. They would find nothing but bodies.

  Unsurprisingly, he found nothing of note among the corpses. The shop keeper had large purse secreted among the folds of his cloths. Risens rarely had need for money, having his means provided by the Kingdom he served. But now…

  The extra coin would not go to waste.

  He was no petty thief. He hadn’t killed for the sake of the gold, nor for the goods. His revenge had been taken for the man’s betrayal. He changed into a new cloak as he’d exited the wreckage of the changing room door. He hastily stuffed a pair of bags full of supplies. From this moment, he would consider the various discrete shops across the city as compromised. He’d likely need to source his own goods from the vendors and make the necessary modifications himself. There were others not in the king’s employ that could be utilized, though none that he knew to trust.

  News of the deaths at this shop would reach the King’s ear before long. The kingdom would respond as expected. Operations at the rest would be shuttered until they could be moved to a new safe point.

  Risens stopped as his free hand reached for the handle of the iron door exiting the shop. There was one in the King’s employ that he knew had already given up far more information than this for the price of carnal pleasure.

  The stings of fate, it seemed, were in line, as he knew exactly where he could go to become more informed. It just happened to be where he was already heading.

  The alley behind the shop was deserted as always as the stone panel sealed itself shut for what he expected to be the last time. Risens had considered burning the place to the ground. With the ongoing drought and no clouds on the horizon, the resulting blaze would be catastrophic. Using the Conspiracy of Ravens, he issued the call, watching as the pair of birds descended lazily from the darkening sky above. Both alighted together on a ledge that extended above the hidden door. The faint aura that surrounded them was still red, though it no longer pulsed warningly.

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  “Can you watch over my path again, friends?” Risens whispered. “We don’t have far to go this time.”

  With the pair perched close together, he noted the subtle differences in their appearance. One was slightly larger, bearing more defined feathers at its throat. Whether it was older and more mature or perhaps male and the other female, he didn’t know. The majestic birds turned their heads as if communicating before returning their pointed gazes at him.

  With a subtle trill, both dipped their heads, then took to flight.

  Risens had not originally intended on using the eyes of the birds again so soon, yet encumbered as he was with the excess supplies, he decided the extra precaution was warranted. His trips to the clinic had recently been as frequent as his trips to the secrecy of the Roost. With a twinge of regret, he realized he was likely putting both Tawny and Marlaine in far greater danger than necessary. As of now, the assassins, whether sent by the King, the Dreamcatchers or whatever The Hunt was,only haunted his known locations. For the time being, his presence here was a secret from all.

  For how long?

  The thought sent an uncomfortable ripple of emotion through him. He had fought and killed for what he thought was the safety and security of Halthome. He’d followed his orders blindly, believing only the reality that he had been fed. Doubts crept into his mind. How many times had he been deceived? How many innocent lives had he ended on pretenses that were patently false?

  As quickly as he could, he stuffed the thoughts to the back of his mind, burying them beneath whatever justifications he could. They fought back with a fury, like a dam cracked open under the pressure. He’d plugged the leak with a pebble and the feeble hope that it would hold.

  The ravens circled lower, the pulsing red aura that surrounded them having grown faint. They hovered on the breeze, watching him from above.

  “Thank you, friends,” he whispered.

  A single call responded as they disappeared behind the building.

  His deliberate pattern of knocks, a solid thump, a pause and then three raps on the door brought the shuffled sounds of footsteps from within.

  “Who is it?”

  He recognized the cautious, partially disguised voice answer from within.

  He replied with the coded number of knocks—a single one in this situation. All was well.

  A jingling of the chains preceded the grating of the deadbolt sliding back.

  Tawny’s worried eyes peeked through the gap between the door and frame before swinging it open for him to enter. “You had me worried.”

  She placed her weight on one leg, bending the other slightly while resting her hand on her hip. The worry in her expression had waned, though it swelled again when her eyes settled on the heavy bags he carried. She quickly shook off the emotion, hastening to close and lock the door behind him.

  “Are you alone?” Risens asked as he deposited the gear taken from the shop in the corner.

  She eyed him with a look of curiosity.

  “I had only one spare bed and it’s currently occupied,” Tawny responded. “I’m sure Marlaine wouldn’t mind sharing if you intend on moving in.”

  She muttered something under her breath that he was sure he didn’t want to understand.

  He was surprised that Marlaine had chosen to stay. He had made it clear that she was free to leave and was bound by no ties beyond her silence.

  “No,” he answered, attempting to dodge the implied question.

  He was a master of death. He could kill a man in a thousand ways with every conceivable weapon with precision accuracy, yet his words landed like a child hefting a toy sword for the first time. “It would be irresponsible to put you in greater risk than I already have.”

  Her eyes squinted, her lips pinching to a pout before returning to a relieved grin.

  His eyes tracked the neatly organized room, stopping as they reached the blood-stained edge of a garment sticking out of the hamper in the corner to the side of the windSteps.

  “Where have you been?” she asked. “We’ve been worried.”

  “Who’s?”

  She followed his gaze to the bloody clothing. “I’ve treated more since I last saw you than I have in years. I’m sure I’m not alone in my healing. Now my question?”

  “It’s not safe to tell you where I have been.” He hurried farther into the room. “It seems Windwake is becoming a far more dangerous place. Can you…”

  “Hide the bags?” she interrupted.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I ask what’s in them?”

  “No.”

  “Are you planning on staying?”

  “No.”

  She sighed as she brushed past him, though her eyes lingered on him as she moved to the side of the selves set along the wall. Bending, she pried open a carefully concealed panel in the floor boards. He could see the first rung of a ladder just below the first step.

  “Hand me the mageLight,” she said, pointing to where it rested on the table as she swung her legs over the edge. “They’ll be safe here. You can pass one down and follow with the other.”

  Handing over the light, she removed the shutters before moving gracefully down the ladder. He passed her one of the packs before watching her descend into the darkness. A few meters below the floor, he could see the narrow passage open to a chamber of sorts though the details were lost from where he stood. It was only a few seconds before he was greeted by her smiling face. Bathed in the cool glow of the light, the curling strands of her hair looked like fire and ice.

  Behind her, the narrow arched ceiling of the passage extended until it reached a another room lit in an eerie, dim, green glow. The pathway’s walls and ceiling were lined with stone, but the area lacked the pervasive moisture, slime, and expected odors he’d come to associate with the underground catacombs. The aroma sent an involuntary shiver down his spine nonetheless. It was one he was far too familiar with.

  Every application was excruciating.