The man writhes in agony from the dagger planted in his spine. “W-What . . .”
“Sister Cyprilis gives her regards,” I say, crouching.
As he opens his mouth, I slide my sword across his throat, spilling open his neck with a torrent of blood. He gurgles, people in the room scream, and suddenly they’re all running riot. Four of them make it out the room before Vallan can block the exit for the rest of the shivering cowards.
A door crashes open from the other side of the lounge. A stout, burly woman with long gray-yellow hair steps in defiantly. “What is all the fuckin’ racket I—who are you?” Her eyes zero in on me and my mates.
I stand, wipe the dead man’s blood off my sword with my tunic, and saunter toward her. “You are the headmistress of this establishment? This brothel?”
She nods curtly, eyes swiveling smartly between me, Vall, and Garro. Seeing she’s outnumbered, and by vampires no less, her defiance lessens. “I am Belola.”
“That man was a slaver,” I say matter-of-factly, “who got on the wrong side of someone I care about. He needed to die.”
Belola throws her arms wide, bellowing, “Everyone in thisfucking roomis a slaver, you silly bitch!”
I perk my brow and glance back at the shivering men Vallan keeps trapped in here. “You don’t say?”
Belola says, “Just who are you, whelp?”
I lift the parchment in her face. “Do you recognize the other man here?”
“Well, sure, he’s the brother of the one you just murdered. Usually at the Stiff Tabernacle.”
I nod slowly and suck on my teeth. “Are you a slaver as well, Mistress Belola?”
She puts her hands on her sturdy hips and raises her chin proudly. “You’re looking at the Lady of the Stitchers. All us former seamstresses, y’see, found something better in life.”
My body goes rigid. “Selling other girls into servitude?”
Belola laughs heartily, like it’s all a joke to her. “And boys, if it suits a client’s interest. I’m the first lady-lord trader of the southwest—”
My sword catches her between her impressive cleavage, cracking her sternum and piercing into her chest. Her words cut off with a gurgle of bubbling red. Her shocked face looks down, mouth moving wordlessly, and the men behind us howl like castrated banshees.
Belola slides off my sword, staggering. She raises a hand—I suppose I missed her heart. With a quick slash of my wrist, I send the hand flying from her wrist with a spurt of blood, and my next one opens her throat like the dead man behind us. I leave Lady Belola of the Stitchers in a pool of her own gore, sheathing my sword.
Vallan steps aside. The remaining men scatter through the door, leaving us alone with two dead bodies.
Garroway tsks beside me. “I thought we planned to leave some alive.”
I point at the door. “We did. At least five escaped just now. She said they’re all slavers.” I look sternly at him. “Can’t look to be playing favorites, now, can we? You heard her: the first lady-led flesh-trader in the southwest. She broke ground for other morally corrupt, horrid women in Nuhav.”
We walk down the stairs and I glance over at the bar. My heart sinks because Rirth is gone—but then it soars becauseRirth is gone.
I hope you find yourself, old friend. Come find me when you do.
As we head out the door of the now-emptied brothel, Garroway pats me on the back. “Makes it that much worse when it’s your own kind doing the slaving, doesn’t it, little honey badger?”
I sigh. “Why do you think I killed the awful bitch, cub?”
Chapter 23
Sephania
We head to the Stiff Tabernacle following our eventful excursion at Lady Belola’s abode. The Tabernacle is a wayward tavern full of cutthroats and hardened thieves.
Rather than leaving a trail of bodies behind us, we decide on a more clandestine approach this time. Vallan and Garroway will stay outside so their pale skin doesn’t draw any unwanted attention. The place is packed full of rowdy drinkers and we’ve made enough scenes for one evening.
“The Bronzes will be investigating Perevis’ gambling den up north, since he had actual money and pull in Nuhavian society,” I tell them. “Then they might make their way down to Lady Belola.”
