He knew what he was, then. Good. This should be fast.
“Regarding something of mutual interest—something I’m sure you would not want others knowing about,” Caspian said with a wave of his hand, gesturing to every eye at the table that had homed in on the pair on them.
To Arman’s credit, he didn’t flinch, and jumped to his feet. “No, you’re mistaken. Good day to you all.” In one swift motion, he bowed to his companions, slid a few coppers on the table, and departed.
Caspian smiled and counted to ten.
He dipped his chin at the gentlemen around the table. “Gentlemen.”
He exited the building and with a short burst of energy, he leapt onto the rooftops to hunt his prey. No sooner than he started, he found the man walking briskly in the direction of his house.
Foolish mortal. He might have gotten away if he hadn’t been laughably predictable and gone straight home.
Caspian dropped from the rooftop and landed in front of the man, relishing in his shock and horror.
Mr. Arman backed away slowly.
“So,” Caspian said, strolling to cross the distance between them. “The item. The one we seek above all others. You know of what I speak.”
The smell of perspiration wafted from Mr. Arman’s direction. His hands twitched at his sides, no doubt thinking of how he could defend himself and escape.
Caspian took a deep breath, scenting the man’s fear.Delicious.
“No, ‘fraid I don’t. ‘Fraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really,” Caspian purred. “I could have sworn you were seen saying you knew it. Had seen and held it … intimately.” He prowled closer, the distance between them shrinking. The man took two more steps back. Caspian lifted his cloak and knew from the mortal’s widening eyes, he saw his dagger gleaming in the moonlight.
The man’s heart was racing faster than a jackrabbit. Did he notice that he had backed himself into an alley?
Quick as an adder, Caspian pinned the man’s wrist into the wall with his dagger. The man’s scream was, regrettably, loud.
Caspian bared his teeth, and inhaled the scent of the man’s panic, his terror. Tears slid down the man’s cheeks, and his face scrunched into an ugly thing. He muttered prayers as if there was a god that could save him.
Foolish, mortal. There were no gods or goddesses. Not anymore. Only demons and angels that didn’t care enough to bother.
“Tell me what I want, and I’ll let you live,” he said casually. He spun another dagger through his fingers.
“I don’t know who has it but it’s not me! I don’t have it—I don’t!”
He impaled his other wrist, pinning it against the wall. Red sluiced over his wrists, dripping onto the ground.
“The witches have it. The witches have it!!” The man looked around frantically, blood dripping down his wrists. “You swear you’ll let me go?”
Caspian nodded, careful not to speak the words that would bind him to the oath.
“It’s been in a family passed down for generations. The witches have it. I don't know any more. Please!”
Another dagger glinted in the moonlight.
Caspian ran the dagger along the man’s chest, keeping the pressure feather light.
“All—all I know is that there were two created. One was given to a coven leader in Israr to hide. The other to a young witch tasked to venture into lands unknown and never return. She was told to keep it with her always, live in secrecy, and hide for all her days. This was long, long ago. No one knows where they are now.”
“And we are in Rhodea. It’s a big place. You belong to a coven, Mr. Arman the warlock. Tell me what you know of the piece.”
“I was boasting about it, but I never saw it! I never touched it, I swear!” Caspian smiled cruelly. “Okay! Okay! All I know is that someone told me it still existed. A travelling witch let slip that she had seen it, that she knew it was still safe. She described it as a purple gem surrounded by gold. No one knows who has it except the bearer themselves. It was meant to fade into myth at the bottom of someone’s safe.”
“A name. Give me a name,” he crooned, almost like a lover.
