Chapter 17

17

S abre pushed open the grimy door of The Howling Moon. The stench of stale beer and wet dog assaulted her senses. Neon signs flickered weakly, barely illuminating the motley crew of supernatural outcasts hunched over their drinks.

Jinx wrinkled her nose, her eyes scanning the dingy interior. “Charming place. I feel dirty just standing here.”

“You don’t have to come in,” Sabre reminded her. She’d run into Jinx on her way out of the palace grounds. Jinx was looking a little lost, so she’d invited her along. There was nothing like a little bloodshed to cure what ailed you.

“I’m coming,” Jinx said, determinedly stepping over the threshold.

Sabre smiled, her hand instinctively brushing the hilt of her gorgon sword as she strode toward the bar, drawing wary glances from the patrons. A hulking figure hunched at the end of the bar, nursing an oversized mug of something thick and red. “There's our mark,” she murmured.

They made their way through the crowded room, ignoring the curious stares and whispers that followed them. The satyr barely glanced up as they approached, his attention focused on his drink. “Excuse me,” Jinx said, leaning against the bar next to him. “We were hoping to have a word with you.”

The man grunted in response, taking a long swig from his mug. Sabre studied him closely, noting the thick fur covering his arms and torso. His upper half looked very human if you discounted the two curling horns on his head. But from the waist down, he was all goat. His powerful legs were covered in coarse brown fur, ending in cloven hooves, and he wore no clothes.

“What do you want?” he snarled, still not looking up.

“We're looking for someone,” Sabre chimed in, resting her elbows on the bar. “A satyr who goes by the name of Azim. We heard he frequents this establishment.”

“Did you just?” Azim grunted, draining his mug. He slammed it down before finally looking up. His creepy goat eyes widened in fear when he saw Sabre. “I-I don't know what you're talking about,” he stammered. “I don’t know no Azim.”

“Is that so?” Sabre drawled. “Because you sure look like him.”

Azim jumped up, bleated, then ran for the door. Sabre and Jinx looked at each other before bursting into laughter. “Did you hear the sound he made?” Jinx asked, moving after Azim.

Sabre laughed, walking swiftly outside beside Jinx. Nobody tried to stop them. “I sure did. I wish I could have recorded it. I would have set it as Draven’s ringtone.”

Outside, they stood watching Azim run. It was more like a frolic, really, but he had some speed. “That man runs with conviction,” Sabre noted. She turned to Jinx. “It was my cardio day this morning. Would you mind?”

“Sure,” Jinx readily agreed. She stripped off, handing Sabre her clothes before allowing the tigress within her to rise to the surface.

Jinx's bones cracked and shifted, and within moments, a magnificent white Bengal tiger stood, muscles rippling beneath her striped coat. She stretched, flexing her massive paws, razor-sharp claws digging into the earth.

Sabre grinned. “Enough biscuit-making.” She nodded toward the distant figure of Azim, his form growing smaller as he continued to flee. “Try not to hurt him too much. We need answers.”

Jinx bounded forward with a low growl of acknowledgment, her powerful legs propelling her across the parking lot. Sabre watched as Jinx caught up to the satyr within a minute. Azim glanced over his shoulder and let out another bleat of alarm that Sabre heard before Jinx executed a powerful leap, landing on top of him and pinning him to the ground. Sabre strolled to them leisurely, trusting Jinx to secure their little friend.

By the time she reached them, Azim’s breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled against the weight of a tiger. The acrid stench of fear permeated the air, mingling with the metallic tang of spilled blood. Jinx’s claws had pierced his shoulders.

“Thanks, Jinx. You can get off him,” Sabre said, petting Jinx’s head. “Azim isn’t going to run, are you Azim?”

Azim didn’t answer, his eyes looking everywhere but at them. Jinx rubbed against Sabre’s thighs, chuffing loudly before she sat her furry butt down and began to lick the blood from her claws.

“We have some questions for you, Azim,” Sabre began. “You can either answer them honestly and quickly, or I’ll have my knives ask you nicely if you get my drift?”

“Wha-what do you wanna know?” Azim stuttered. He made no attempt to get up.

“Word on the street is you’re trying to incite a riot,” Sabre said, making a show of unsheathing her sword. The razor-sharp edge of the obsidian blade glinted in the light.

“Inciting what? Me?” Azim shook his head frantically. “You got the wrong guy. I haven’t done nothin’.”

“Dendey told me differently,” Sabre said, tapping the sword against her boot.

Azim’s brow slammed down in a fierce frown. “Dendey? That dragon is a real fuckin’ prick.”

Sabre shared an amused look with Jinx. “That seems to be the general consensus. But it doesn’t change the facts. Have you, or have you not, spoken with others about overthrowing King Abraxis? Don’t lie!” she snapped, seeing calculation enter his expression. She carefully traced the tip of her sword along his jawline, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake.

Azim whimpered and pulled his head back. “It wasn’t my idea!”

“Oh, I believe that,” Sabre promised scornfully. “I’m sure you’ve never had an original idea in your thick head.”

“Some guy approached me,” Azim explained. His right hand moved slowly, wiping at the blood on his face. “But not just me. He was talkin’ big to anyone who would listen at The Howling Moon.”

“When?” Sabre demanded.

“I dunno. Last week?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Sabre questioned silkily, raising her sword.

“Tellin’!” Azim shouted frantically. “Last week. It was last week. Friday.”

Sabre crouched next to him, patting his shoulder as if he were a good boy. “And what did he look like?”

“Can I sit up?” Azim asked quietly, bracing his hands on the ground.

“Sure,” Sabre agreed easily. She nodded to Jinx. “But one wrong move and my friend here will eat you. I understand satyr shanks are very tender.” Jinx chuffed as if agreeing.

Azim eyed Jinx dubiously, slowly sitting up until his furry legs were outstretched. “The guy was disguised. I don’t know what he really looks like.”

Sabre frowned. “How do you know he was disguised?”

“Because he looked like a dead dude,” Azim answered.

She reached out, twisting her fingers in his chest hair. “What dead dude?” she demanded through gritted teeth, though she feared she already knew the answer.

“Ow! The guy was disguised as the youngest prince. You know, the playboy who got roasted alive in that nightclub?” Azim offered, glancing between Jinx and Sabre. “Looked just like him.”

“Motherfucker!” Sabre yelled, jumping to her feet. Jinx quickly shifted, staring at Sabre in shock. Sabre tossed Jinx her clothes, saying, “That sicko has some balls on him.”

Jinx pulled her clothes on, her piercing gaze fixed on Azim as he squirmed uncomfortably on the ground. “Are you positive he looked like Prince Zagan?”

Azim bobbed his head. “Spittin’ image of the guy. I swear. Clever,” he added.

“Yeah, he’s a real fucking genius,” Sabre muttered. The thought of Zagan pretending to be himself while he rallied people to rebel against his own brothers pissed her off. She raised her blade, ready to take out her need for violence on Azim, but Jinx caught her hand.

“No killy-killy yet, Sabre,” Jinx tsked at her.

“But I wanna stab something,” Sabre whined pathetically.

“Later,” Jinx soothed.

“Fine,” Sabre huffed. She looked down at a terrified Azim. He was trembling now, with sweat dripping down his temple. “She ruins all my fun. Now, what exactly did this Zagan look-alike say? And why does he want people to go against the throne?”

Azim gulped before licking his dry lips and replying. “He said that King Abraxis is weak and that we need a new ruler who is stronger and isn’t afraid to get things done. He said the new king doesn’t give a shit about us especially. You know, those of us who ain’t rich and shit.”

Sabre's laugh was sharp and sudden, like the crack of a whip. “And you believed him?”

Azim shrugged sullenly. “I dunno. Maybe.”

She poked him in the chest with the tip of her sword, uncaring if it pierced his flesh or not. The guy was a fucktard. “I’m going to tell you this once, so listen carefully. King Abraxis is one of the most awesome kings in Purgatory’s history. His heart is so big that you could fit a whole damn galaxy inside of it. And anyone who says otherwise can have their heart scooped out and shoved up their own arse. Would you like that?” Azim shook his head, his shaggy hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. “Then I suggest you never speak of ill of my mate again.”

“I-I promise. I think the current king is great,” Azim stammered, giving her a double thumbs-up. “S-super.”

Her expression remained hard as she pressed, “What happened after the guy said all this crap?”

“Nothin’,” Azim said, shrinking back under the weight of Sabre's intense gaze. “I just listened, and then he disappeared into the crowd.”

“Disappeared?” Jinx repeated in disbelief. “That’s convenient.”

Sabre agreed wholeheartedly. “Did this guy give you any kind of message or instructions?”

Azim hesitated before answering, clearly torn between telling the truth and protecting himself. But under Sabre's unwavering stare—and black blade—he finally relented. “He said that if I wanna make a change, I should meet him at midnight by the old abandoned well at the edge of the city.”

Jinx scoffed. “How truly cliché. Did you go?”

Azim coughed, avoiding eye contact with either woman. “I-I was curious,” he admitted.

“Of course you were,” Sabre said with a roll of her eyes. “What happened when you got there?”

“Well, there was heaps of people there,” Azim volunteered. “It weren’t just me.”

“How many is heaps ?” Sabre pressed, feeling itchy to get back to her man. She wanted to smooch him. And maybe sex him up. Anything to make up for the slight against his character. Plus, Azim’s grammar was making her eyes twitch.

Azim shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe fifty.”

That many? she thought, her face twisting with anger and frustration. “What was said?”

Azim rubbed the palms of his hands on his furred legs. “Everyone agreed that Abraxis?—”

Sabre reached out, snapping Azim’s middle finger like a twig. “ King Abraxis,” she corrected coldly. “Show some motherfucking respect.”

Azim howled, clutching his finger to his chest. “Yes, King Abraxis. King. They all thunk the same thing. That he’s failing in his duties and stuff. Innocent families are being slaughtered while he sits on his arse, pining for his dead brothers.”

“Let me get this straight, a bunch of dick-for-brains just like yourself met with a random stranger spouting crap about the monarchy, and you all smiled and nodded like a bunch of sheep?” Sabre demanded, her tone low and menacing.

“Kinda,” Azim confirmed, rocking back and forth. Tears were leaking from his eyes, and snot was dribbling from one nostril. “He said King Abraxis hasn’t been able to find the bad guy but promised he could. All he needed was a little backup from folks like us.”

Sabre stared at him for a moment, genuinely concerned for the satyr’s brain. “Were you dropped on your head at birth, Azim?” she snarled. “That guy is the one behind the plot to destroy the throne! He’s not giving you ways to fix the problem. He is the problem!”

He stilled, looking directly at Sabre, his broken finger momentarily forgotten. “That can’t be right.”

“Oh, it’s right,” Jinx said, pacing away a little. She spun back around, addressing Sabre, “What are we going to do?”

Sabre stood up, spinning the sword before sheathing it. “We let the boys know straight away. I’m sure this isn’t the first or last group of morons X has convinced. Who knows how many people are out there ready and willing to gang up on Brax’s rule.”

When Sabre began to walk away and signalled for Jinx to follow suit, Jinx asked, “You’re letting Azim go? I thought we were going to kill him.”

Sabre smiled, thrilled with how mildly Jinx spoke those words. She was darn proud of the weretiger. “I know I could cure his stupidity with a quick snap of his neck. But his finger will do for now. Although …” She backpedalled, reaching for her phone and hitting record. “Bleat into here.”

Azim’s goaty eyes widened. “What?”

Out of patience, Sabre punched him in the stomach. “Bleat, damnit!” The satyr did as instructed, loud and long. “Perfect,” she said as Jinx snickered in the background.