Victor glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “I can’t very well allow him to keep killing people in my inn.”
“Orher,” I say, frowning. My sister Corallin is a sorceress. Could she have done this? It’s true that she was a part of my criminal empire in the past, she was a vampire, but her skills revolved around thievery and stealth. She never much had the stomach for killing.
I sent my other men for those jobs.
Still, there’s no knowing what she has become in the past thousand years. For all I know, my sister is gone, and she has been replaced by someone else entirely. Someone who would deny me?
Someone who might even kill.
I shudder to think of it, but that isn’t something I can rule out. Especially since I saw the look she gave Victor when Valentine handed him that book.
If my sister thinks she can get away with trying to kill my husband, then I’ll give her a family reunion she’ll never forget. I lived without her for a thousand years. I spent two decades believing that she was dead, I can keep on believing that if she crosses me.
Just after I make certain that it’s true…
Chapter Twelve
Victor
It’s a sunny day, and to be frankly honest, there is nothing wrong with the world.
Except for the demigod of chaos in my head, but on a day like this, he’s an annoyance at most.
I draw in a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as the crisp air, filled with flowery perfumes and the smell of grass and dirt, fills my nostrils.
This is a good day to be alive.
Makes me glad that I’m not decomposing in the middle of the ocean where fish and krakens can feast upon my remains.
That is until an inhuman cry of pain pierces through the air, interrupting the happy chatter of the birds and breaking through my appreciation.
I let out a sigh, my shoulders slumping. It may be nice to be alive, but this is still a merciless and unforgiving world. One where, if you aren’t careful, you can be cruelly murdered in the blink of an eye.
Which is why I find myself veering off the path and toward the sound of whimpers and yelps. After all, just because I met an untimely end doesn’t mean that someone else should.
“That’s exactly what that means,” Likho hisses in my head. “Untimely ends to go around!”
I ignore him, I think I’m getting pretty good at it, and focus on my path ahead. I catch the sight of flashes of fur through the trees before I hear the short snappish bark of wolves.
It’s unusual for wolves to hunt during the daylight hours, but then I did just recently see a kraken, which is a species that has been extinct for a thousand years. These are unusual times.
I wonder if perhaps they were driven from their home by some other ancient horror that hasn’t seen the light of day for longer than we’ve had a capital city.
I give my head a sharp shake. What a ridiculous notion.
I’m literally jumping to the least plausible explanation. And yet… it no longer feels like it would be a less likely than any other scenario. I’m not sure what this world has come to, but it’s definitely changed.
Maybe all that talk about the “end of the world” isn’t just rot.
I draw my dagger from my belt and quicken my pace just in time to see a black and gray wolf leap at a beautiful elven woman. She sidesteps him easily, moving with a practiced grace. She swings a large stick out and whacks it across the side. The wolf lets out a yelp and limps to the side.
She seems to be holding her own pretty well. The wolves have met their match, and they clearly know it, but one wolf, this one larger than the rest—perhaps the alpha—doesn’t seem ready to accept defeat.
It pushes back to its feet and turns to the woman, snapping its teeth at her.
I pull back my hand and send the dagger flying, pretending that I’m throwing it. Instead, I allow Likho’s power to fill the dagger, taking control of it and sending it straight to where I want it to. It pierces the wolf’s side, and the wolf lets out a wounded howl. It stumbles back several steps, and while it writhes, I quickly use the sorcery to pull the dagger out of the wolf’s side.
Only this time instead of the sorcery taking complete control of the dagger, the small form of a kraken appears on the wolf’s back. It’s Likho in as corporeal of a form as he can manage, a being of pure energy and in the shape of the very thing that led to my death.
