Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
His own sire had died here, during the ancient wars that had left the land steeped in blood.
Now, millennia later, the crossroads served as a place of punishment and as a meeting area where demonic deals stole souls and extinguished hope.
How many who’d met here wished they hadn’t? The old wisdom seemed to whisper from the stony ground: Make no bargains with demons.
He scowled down at the vampire. “Why would your client specify this place?”
“I don’t know. Some do.”
Ink took in the scene: weather-gnawed gravestones on one side of the road; on the other, a hanging tree that refused to die. From a thick limb dangled a ravaged rage demon, neck cinched with a bermetal chain. His wrists were bound behind him, his face a ruin. Crows hopped and tore at it, taking turns.
When a gust scattered them, a sound escaped the demon’s mangled mouth, something like a moan dragged over broken glass.
Nadje didn’t move to help him. Neither did Ink. The demonarchies reserved this punishment for those who’d committed heinous crimes.
Still, best to eliminate a demonic threat completely instead of torture. Another old wisdom: Enrage not a demon for their vengeance is immortal.
Nadje tilted her head, attention shifting to the far side of the trunk. Ink followed her look.
Another immortal hung there, a woman in mesh. A sorceress. Her body fared as poorly as the demon’s, her organs consumed one peck at a time. In addition to the chain around her neck and the one binding her hands behind her back, she wore a sign that read:
THE SKEIN PUNISHES SORCERI WHO MADDEN KINGS. FEAST, MURDER, FEAST.
A murder of crows did feast. A dim, rounding light appeared where the sorceress’s heart should have been—regeneration and magic still struggling to save her—but her body was too weakened, her sorcery as bound as her wrists.
Who had she trespassed against, the king of Rhun or of Grimrock? Ink had heard no reports of such a crime. “Nothing good comes from this place.”
“Maybe.” Nadje’s gaze darted to the female and back, and Ink spied sympathy.
“Tempted to help?” he asked.
“The sorceress,” she admitted. “But—made beds. And I have no idea what her powers might be. Besides, I’ve spent all my altruism.”
“At risk to yourself.” Ink lowered his voice. “What makes you think you haven’t already been tied to a certain crime?”
“Because I’d currently be in a situation like the one that sorceress is in.”
“They might yet discover your involvement.”
“I’ll dig up more on them before they ever sniff me out,” she said, then clearly wished she hadn’t.
“What does that mean? You’re not spying on them?”
“It’s nothing. Forget about it.”
“You’d tell your partner,” he pressed.
Him, a partner? He’d never sought the sustained company of others. Even when he’d bedded females for food, he might as well have been alone.
A loner alone is never lonely, he’d told himself for eons. While most incubi yearned for a mate, Ink suspected his fated one had already lived and died—never found by him in all his millennia. Quiet contemplation and study had become everything to him.
“First job’s not complete, is it?” Nadje pointed out. “The buyer said midnight. Which is right now.”
“How did he find you anyway?”
She shrugged. “Word of mouth.”
“You’d think he’d be worried that the lava would cool.”
Her gaze flicked away. “You’d think.”
So the buyer knew the liquid would still be churning. The thought sat ill.
Silence stretched, broken only by the soft rip of beaks working. A crow dove deeper into the sorceress’s mouth, going for her throat. Perhaps their feeding could separate her head from her neck and free her.
Even more tension crept into Ink’s shoulders. “I don’t have all night.” But he actually did.
“Look, this job is important. I need this win and payout. But the warlock offered more than gold: a lead to a sorceress who can answer any question. Imagine what kings would pay for that.”
“Which kings?”
“The Lykae’s,” she said. “Thane has stopped drinking and taking lovers. My source says no one has called a physic.”
A source in the wolves’ stronghold? Ink had given up trying to breach that pack ages ago. “You think King Thane has found his mate?”
She tilted her head, and her knotted hair came loose in a cascade of curls. “It’s the season. So why wouldn’t he be with her? Seems like he might pay a fortune to pose a question to the queen of them. I can’t get an audience with a Lykae, but you can. And you can dangle this tasty treat to a motivated wolf.”
“Could I?” Ink said, skeptical and intrigued at the same time.
“Yes. But first we need to execute this deal.”
“Is that all life is to you? Complete one job just to chase the next—on and on, forevermore? Perhaps no amount of gold will ever be enough for you. You might die with a treasure in hand.”