Chapter 28

chapter 28

Lizzie

There’s a sadness about Maeve that I don’t understand. She’s trying to hide it from me, too. I almost pull her aside and hash it out right then and there, but she’s a blur of motion, dragging me along behind her to the first tavern on our list. Drash is large enough to house half a dozen taverns that seem to be making good business off sailors, tourists, and locals alike. The city may feel different than any of the others I’ve visited since arriving in Threshold, but the first bar Maeve leads me to is familiar enough. There must be some universal law that says all dockside taverns must have low light, sticky floors, and a clientele that smells ripe from spending so long at sea. This one is no different.

Maeve is right that I’m not particularly skilled when it comes to charm, so I order a round of beer for us and sit back and watch her work.

She’s a master at it. I can see why the rebellion recruited her, because people of every gender and age immediately melt upon exchanging words with her. If I were a different person, jealousy might flicker through me in response to how they flock to her, bees to a particularly intoxicating flower.

What am I saying? Of course I’m fucking jealous. Watching her dole out those smiles, flirting, and just being generally kind makes me want to wrap her in a cloak and haul her out of here. I’ve never been overly territorial, but I want to keep all that sunshine just for myself.

I’m in trouble. There’s no two ways about it. Last night more than proved my feelings, even if I’ve been in denial ever since. Honestly, the trouble goes back even further. I’m not sure when she crept beneath my barriers, but she’s taken up residence and I don’t have the heart to eradicate her. Or the desire to. I like spending time with her. I like the fact that I’m continually finding out new things about her. I like that she keeps surprising me.

It takes about two hours for her to fully make her rounds, including the bartender who hangs on her every word and offers to let her drink for free for the rest of the night. I can tell that she wasn’t successful by the way her brows draw together and her smile dips as she makes her way back to me.

Maeve drops into the chair next to me and leans her head on my shoulder. She exhales a long, slow breath. “No one has seen the Crimson Hag in months. Most of the people here have southern routes or stick close to Drash, though, so that’s not to say we won’t find more information in the next place.”

I nudge her beer toward her and watch as she takes a small sip. “We had our allotment of luck in finding your pelt without having to wait weeks for Bronagh to return to Khollu. It stands to reason that this part of the hunt won’t be easy.”

She lifts her head and smiles at me, and I’m surprised to realize I can tell the difference between her smiles now. This one isn’t the expression designed to charm and disarm people. It’s a little crooked, a little bittersweet, and purely Maeve. “Let’s keep going, then.”

But at the next bar, it’s more of the same. And the next as well. Drash lays at the tip of the arch of islands that swing north from Lyari. Most ships on a north-to-south route will stop in here, whether to trade or just as a break for their crew before moving on. The fact that the Crimson Hag hasn’t stopped in in months, not since well before Bowen was voted out as captain, seems to suggest they’re still in the western part of Threshold somewhere.

That should narrow things down a bit, but this damned realm is littered with islands. Even if we pick the right direction to sail, there’s every chance we could miss them entirely. Literal ships passing in the night and all that.

The thought should fill me with deep frustration, but it doesn’t. I press my fingers against my chest, but I don’t have a chance to examine that lack of sensation before the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Someone is watching me. Watching us.

I look up without lifting my head, surveying the room. I’ve already forgotten the name of this tavern, but it’s situated much like the others we’ve been to. Groupings of smaller tables orbiting one larger long table with bench seats on either side, all filled to the brim. There are stools at the bar itself, each occupied by people well past their prime. With Maeve in the mix, no one seems to be paying much attention to me.

But my instincts are never wrong.

I’m about to call for Maeve when she moves back to our table. Her shoulders have dropped to a dejected degree, and she doesn’t pick up the beer that I nudge in her direction. “It’s more of the same. Some of these people came from the Three Sisters to the west, and they haven’t seen them, either. I don’t understand. Historically, that ship likes to stick to this particular route in between hunts. The fact that it’s not is strange. I don’t like it.”

“Must be the new leadership. Maybe they have an entirely new route. We just have to find it.” But I’m still scanning the room, still trying to find the source of the raised hairs at the nape of my neck. I cover Maeve’s hand and bring it up to my face, urging her to lean close enough that I can speak directly into her ear. “One more bar and then we’re done for the night. I think we’ve garnered some attention, so be careful. I’ll handle it if they attack.”

She stiffens but then seems to make a conscious effort to relax. “I hadn’t realized anyone was paying that close of attention.”

“I don’t think they’re in this room. Whoever they are, they’re good at avoiding detection.”

We pay our tab from our dwindling expenses and head for the door. I keep close to Maeve, ready to whisk her out of danger at the first sign that something’s gone wrong. But no one jumps out at us as we move through the increasingly empty streets of Drash. The next tavern is up one level, but it’s late enough that the lift is shut down for the night. We pass it and head for the stairs.

That’s when I hear it. The soft scuff of foot against stone. I don’t turn and look, instead sending my power out in a wave of sensing. No matter how good someone’s magic is, if they have blood in their body, they can’t hide from me.

There.They aren’t too far behind us, and there’s only one of them, which seems to suggest a spy rather than an intent to ambush. Or perhaps they’re an assassin.

I guess we’ll find out.

“Stay in front of me,” I say under my breath.

Maeve gives a jerky nod and shifts to walk directly in front of me. I love her a little more for trusting me and not arguing on principle. We pass building after building as we head for the stairs. I scan the space in front of us, trying to figure out where the person intends to strike. If it were me, I would—

Our stalker chooses that moment to pick up their pace. I push Maeve forward and spin around, grabbing them by their throat and shoving them against the wall. They’re taller than me, but that doesn’t stop me from lifting them until their feet don’t touch the ground. “Who the fuck are you?”

Instead of pissing themself in fear, they let out a strangled laugh. “Nice reflexes.” Their voice drops. “But not quite good enough.”

Something pricks my upper stomach, just below my ribs. I look down to see their fingers embedded in my skin, each digit ending in a claw. Shifter. A strong one at that, since most of their people can’t do a partial shift like this. They could have attempted to take my heart in my moment of hesitation, but they just wait to see what I’ll do.

“Answer my question.”

“Call me an interested party.” Their voice is low but lyrical. Their cloak hood is so deep that I can’t pick out their features in the shadows. Not even with my superior vision. They turn their head to Maeve. “I know you, selkie. You’ve been passing secrets for years.”

This person doesn’t feel like one of the C?n Annwn, but what do I know? They’re as varied as grains of sand on the beach, each unique to themselves. And what kind of ruling group would the Council be if they didn’t have a few pet assassins on the books?

But Maeve doesn’t seem to be terrified. She shifts closer and peers up into the hood. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve met once or twice.” They finally shift their fingers from my skin and hold up their hands. “Peace, vampire. I have information you might find useful. You won’t get it if you snap my neck.”

“I really want to snap your neck.” But I can already feel Maeve’s caution warning me not to. At this point, we can’t afford to ignore the possibility of answers. And so I carefully set them on their feet and release them.

They lift a hand to their throat and laugh again. “I appreciate the care. Let’s go somewhere we can talk more privately.”

This is absolutely a trap. I can’t decide if I want Maeve in front of me or behind me, and my indecision makes me furious. “One wrong move and you won’t have a throat to worry about.”

“Noted.” They don’t sound like they’re particularly worried. In fact, the gravel in their voice has already smoothed out as their magic heals the damage I did. Fucking shifters. They heal even faster than vampires, and that’s saying something. Even more inconvenient, they don’t need blood to do so. A bad injury might require a shift into their animal form to handle it, but I barely bruised them.

They lead us down the stairs into a small house that appears to be privately owned. I’m so tense that I’m practically vibrating, ready to spring into violence at the first sign of trouble. But there’s no one in the room, or even in the house. No one except us. The stranger shuts the door between us and the rest of the village.

“I believe some introductions are in order.” They push back their hood, revealing a person with tanned skin, a square jaw, and long straight brown hair. They grin, revealing straight white teeth. “I’m Siobhan.”

I glance at Maeve, willing to take my lead from her. Recognition rolls over her face and all her tension bleeds away. “Siobhan! What are you doing here?” She turns to me, holding out a hand in a way that cautions me to peace. “She’s a trader, though she’s usually not sailing with a crew. She’s come through Viedna a few times over the last few years. Tells some great stories. She’s okay.”

I have my doubts about that. The woman shrugs out of her cloak and drapes it over the chair, revealing a body that’s tall and muscular and looks like she can run through brick walls without slowing down. Trader, my ass. She’s obviously a warrior. Not to mention her instincts are stellar, because even as I was crushing her throat, she was poised to take my heart. That kind of reaction requires training. A lot of it.

“Please. Sit. Like I said, I have information that you might find helpful.”

“In exchange for what?” I ignore Maeve flapping her hands in a bid to keep me quiet. “We both know that nothing comes for free, and if you simply wanted to give us some information, you could’ve done it at any point tonight. Instead, you skulked around and stalked us. Explain yourself.”

Siobhan laughs, flashing teeth that suddenly seem a little bit sharper than they were a few moments ago. “I like you, vampire. Let’s just say that I’m not unaware of your plight and your aims. The Crimson Hag has become a thorn in my side, and I would like it removed. Permanently.”

Maeve’s jaw drops. “Why do you care what the Crimson Hag is up to?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t been perfectly honest with you in our previous meetings. Your work toward the rebellion has been invaluable. Which means that you’ve earned the right to know exactly who’s behind said rebellion.” Siobhan holds out a hand. “Me.”