I suppose I could lie. Claim to have caught something in one of the many realms I’ve traveled over the last weeks, but I simply shrug.
“For rest. I’ve found myself a bit run-down after the last few jobs.”
Myron snorts. “You look healthy enough to me.”
I grind my molars together, chewing on everything I’d like to say. Better sense wins out, and I wait for him to render his judgment.
“No,” he says after a long pause. “I can’t spare you. Things have been tight around here, and I can’t have my best hunter out of the field.”
Things are tight because your arrogance and pigheadedness have driven away our best paying customers. They’re tight because those same fine qualities have made every hunter worth their salt who’s not debt-bound to you flee to better masters.
Again, I hold my tongue.
Saying it will do no good.
Since I’m neither a customer free to take my business elsewhere, nor in control of my own fate and free to find a better employer, it wouldn’t change a damned thing.
“So,” Myron continues, “find some work. I’m sure you can dig something worthwhile up.”
I’m sure I could.
There’s always a job to be found somewhere. A criminal who’s run afoul of a lord willing to pay for his capture, a stolen treasure to be returned.
It’s the specialty of Myron’s operation. In his younger years, I’ve heard he was as good a hunter as any, claiming some of the realms’ biggest bounties and making a name for himself. Setting himself up with enough success and fortune to hire or compel others to do the work for him.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll be on my way, then. I’ll send word as soon as I’ve found something.”
Before he can say anything further, I turn to go, reaching the heavy office door and closing my fingers around its handle.
“Callum,” Myron calls.
I turn to face him, and my blood drops by several degrees in my veins.
Though he may no longer be in his prime, Myron is still a demon with keen instincts. Keen enough to have him pin me in place with a hard crimson stare, as if he could lay bare everything I’ve hidden from him.
“The amount you owe for the sum I settled on your father’s debts is nowhere near paid, and your mother’s home is still held as collateral. And, as you know, I have no issue collecting if the occasion arises.”
As if I needed a reminder.
It’s always there, that threat, hovering between us.
My great mistake, the tether keeping me bound to this life.
Myron knows it, and I know it, and still the bastard feels the need to periodically remind me, as if I weren’t keenly aware of it at all times. Aware of what it requires of me, aware of the way it clips my wings and curtails my freedom, a debt that will likely take me half a lifetime to repay.
“I’m aware.”
The heavy pall of that reminder follows me out of his office, down a set of stairs to his building’s main floor and through the front door. It settles in my gut, fills my lungs, cloying, nearly choking the breath from me.
At least until I step out into the bright afternoon sunshine and am immediately assailed by a pulse of overwhelming instinct.
Quick as lightning, it thunders through me, viciously sharp with urgency and dread.
I nearly double over from the impact of it.
All the air’s forced from my lungs. My head spins. My stomach drops to somewhere near my feet.
And there, in the center of my chest, it feels like my heart might break in two.
