A strong shove knocks the breath out of my lungs. Yuck! My inhale is filled with musky notes. I stumble, missing the first step. Fuck, here it comes! I tumble down the stairs, my shin and back hitting the hard corners of the stone. I’ll heal faster than a human and a fae would, but it still hurts.
He set me up!
But why?
As soon as I stop rolling, I stagger to find purchase and stand. With a wave of my hands, my magic flares to a dark, shadowy life. Darkness. It consumes me, covers me as my shadows curl around me like ringlets of hair.
“That was a mistake,” I growl as I unsheathe my sword.
Whoosh!Another attack assaults me, shoving my back into the stone wall.
Slowly, footsteps approach me. “You have earth magic, too,” the old man states. “Shadows.”
“And you have wind.” Lucky for me, I’ve trained with Ryker. I know how to fight against the wind.
“Yes. Now lower your shadows so I don’t trip and break my hip again.”
“You think I’m a fool. You tried to kill me.” I push my shadows out, blinding his path, until his steps halt.
“Kill?” he questions. “I merely gave you a little shove.”
“Down a set of stairs!”
I can hear his hand sliding over the wall, feeling for the path as he takes another step. “It’s not my fault you lost your balance.”
“What game are you playing?”
“I could ask you the same, boy. Mating bonds, my ass. If you did find your mate, it would bethemwho was running for the hills, not you. You’d be lucky to land a fish as a mate.”
“Then why did you lie and let me follow you?”
“Those books are heavy; I didn’t want to carry them.” He waits a moment until he releases an old bellow. “Joking. Pull back your shadows and lower your blade. I heard you pull it forth. I have what you need.”
My balls are starting to sweat. I don’t like this. Not one bit. Should I risk grabbing my snack bag?
I hear him take another three steps. I take a defensive position. He knows these stairs. Each step in the dark is controlled and measured. It’s I who is the prey.
Hiss. Hiss.
My shadow makes a slithering sound that echoes off the narrow stairway until the old man comes face to face with my sword.
Does he flinch? Nope. He still looks bored.
“Ahh, there’s the prick,” the old vampire grunts. “A man speaks before he pulls his sword. A prick thinks his sword will save him.”
He nudges his head like I’m a dog, then has the audacity to squeeze himself past me and my sword with the grace of a paperclip slipping onto a sheet of paper—so gentle it leaves no mark behind.
I hope I didn’t make a mistake by not driving my blade through him.
“Adolescent fool,” he grumbles as he raises his palm to the stone wall. “You pissed yourself,” he comments.
“What?” I raise my blade. “I did not!” Seriously, I didn’t! I look at my pants to double-check.
He laughs as he taps his foot. Sure enough, at the bottom of the stairs is a puddle of water. I… I did not! I’ve faced endless battles, and I’ve never pissed myself.
“You actually think you did.” His laugh hits me like cold water. “The walls leak; these old stones drink everything up; water, whispers. But eventually, everything hits rock bottom. Everything comes to my doorstep.” The old vampire raises his hand and chants a mage spell over the wall. The ring on his finger glows.
Aww, he’s got an enchanted ring. It allows others who are not mages to do simple mage spells, like opening mage-locked doors. The ring is rare. I’ve never seen one in person before.
