by Laura R Cole
*
Rhys watched the visitors like a hawk, waiting for an opportunity. None came, however, and he was forced to simply enjoy the feast as best he could. From what he heard of the herald’s homeland, there was more wealth where that which adorned their clothing had come from. They were not in the least bit shy about singing the praises of their empire or the Empress.
They spoke of her with awe, like a young boy might speak of a favorite instructor. Both were situations of a crush that one cannot even hope to comprehend because of the differences in status. If what they told was to be believed, their empire had nothing of disease or famine because of a mysterious Alchemist. This would explain the odd bottles. Their magic was not used by manipulating the pure power around them but rather only by utilizing the potions. Unlike charmed objects which required at least a small amount of talent to activate, the potions required no additional magic from the user, nor were they obviously magical themselves. It was as though the potions themselves became intrinsically magical rather than simply holding and channeling magic as a charm would.
Some plants and animals here in Elaeld had evolved to this state, especially in the chaotic lands to the north. Rhys supposed that it would be dangerous for an animal to be directly connected to the channels of power in the untamed lands. At any point it would be possible for one to experience a surge or sudden draw that could wreck havoc on their bodies or minds. He surmised that the potions were like these creatures. Unfortunately, not much research had yet been done to understand them so this realization didn’t help much.
Rhys was sure that Layna, Phoenix, and many of the mages and scholars of the court would be chomping at the bit to learn more about this Alchemist and his practices. Rhys wondered why it was only the Alchemist who made the potions. He tried to come up with some possible reasons: Was he the only one capable? The only one allowed? Or the only one who happened to possess some secret? If this last possibility was the case, if Rhys could get his hands on that secret it could be profitable beyond his wildest dreams by selling it to the highest bidder. Then, there would be no doubt that he could accomplish his aim.
When the feast finally died down, Rhys could hardly wait to be out of his constricting clothing. He slipped back out of his rooms before Jayson had a chance to detain him, and he slinked through the gardens towards the west wing. The moon was nearing its fullest, but the night was cloudy, making it difficult to see. This was all the better for him to fade into the shadows.
He reached the wall that led up to the rooms on the west wing and took a moment to get his bearings. Regardless of how many times he studied the plans for the palace, it still took a moment to reorient when looking at it from the outside. He counted the windows, searching for those with telltale signs of which room they were. The Countess Esmeralda insisted on white daisies on her windowsill. There was a broken pane in one, a small board nailed over it, from when the twins of Dyanasta, or the twins of Disaster as they were more commonly called, had come to pay a visit with their mother.
Once he was certain that the window he was beneath was the one that opened up over the desk in the rooms of the strangers, he glanced around once again to make certain he was alone. The guards would be passing this way again soon, but he had another five minutes before they rounded the bend. He had thought about mentioning the predictability of their movements to the Queen, but seeing as how he had numerous times taken advantage of this fact, he had so far kept his mouth shut.
He exhaled in a short burst and began scaling the wall. He found handholds out of crevices and knobs on the stones and heaved himself up the face. As he reached the window, he balanced himself with one hand so he could reach out and open the window.
To his surprise, he found that it was locked. Windows this high were never locked. Rhys grumbled to himself and shifted his weight while he dug one-handed into his pocket for his lock picking tools. He had just wrapped a hand around them when suddenly a light burst on in the room beyond.
This startled him so badly that he completely lost his handhold, and he teetered outwards. He windmilled his arms in a desperate attempt to regain his balance but to no avail. He went over backwards in free-fall towards the ground many feet below. Luckily, he landed with a soft thump on a bush which, while not completely comfortable, did cushion the blow. Still, he felt his healing charm come to life and a warming sensation in his arm where moments before had been a sharp pain as it collided with something solid. He sent a silent thanks to Jayson for having insisted he start wearing it again.
Cursing softly, he picked his way out of the bush and hastily looked around. Torchlight was flickering just around the bend. He had to get out of here – fast. But before he could make his move, someone grabbed him from behind and dragged him behind the cover of a large tree mere seconds before the torchlight rounded the corner and lit up the area where he had just been.
Several branches from the bush were laying haphazardly on the ground, and the shrub itself looking rather worse for wear. The light moved quickly over it, the bearer seemingly oblivious to anything out of place. The hand which had been clamped over his mouth was removed.
He whirled around to face his assailant. Or savior. He wasn’t sure which yet. He was surprised that he didn’t recognize the young woman at all.
“That was not overly impressive,” the woman commented scathingly. “I’ve half a mind not to bother with you, bollocks to the consequences.”
Rhys was about to respond with a rude comment when it hit him why she was here. “I assure you,” he said instead, “that was not my finest work.”
The girl snorted. “You’d better hope not.” After a moment of staring at him disapprovingly she said, “A friend of yours bade us hear you out about some nonsense. The Mother has seen fit to assign me the task of evaluating your worthiness before you will be allowed to meet with her.” She smiled, pointed canines gleaming in the moonlight. “I have a feeling my association with you will be over quickly.”
Rhys bit back a rude response. “How do I know you are who you say you are?” From her mention of The Mother, Rhys conjectured that she was the representative from the Shadow Sisters. Therefore, her presence must mean that he was about to hear the first of the three requests Michael had said to expect.
The woman smiled again. “Michael sent me.” She held out a small object which Rhys had given to the boy for precisely this purpose.
He nodded shortly.
She looked around to make sure the guard wasn’t returning. “Have you heard about Lord Caverson?”
Rhys contemplated the question. As an attendee – however unwillingly – at so many court events, he was sure to have heard of the man. He seemed to vaguely remember his face, but could recall nothing interesting about him. Nothing worth stealing – or so he’d thought.
He nodded. “I know of him.”
“Good. He’s been putting together a sort of menagerie of animals, and The Mother doesn’t like it too much. Thinks they’re being mistreated. Has sort-of a soft spot.”
Rhys wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing. From the smirking look she gave him and the tone of the woman’s voice, he doubted that The Mother’s supposed concern over the animals’ welfare was not the true intention of this job. More than likely she would simply turn around and sell the animals to the highest bidder as soon as Rhys ‘saved’ them.
“Your job is to get in there and release the animals.”
She handed him a small stone. It glowed faintly and tingled as he touched it. It was obviously charmed in some way. The woman explained, “When you touch this to one of the creatures it will open a momentary gate, transporting them to a predetermined area. You don’t need to worry about where. Just make sure that you touch all the animals with it.” She turned away, but then paused and looked back. “I almost forgot,” she added with a smile. “The Mother wants the snake personally. Don’t touch it with the
stone but rather take it with you to bring directly to her.”
“How will I know where to bring it?” he asked her retreating form.
She didn’t even glance back. “We’ll find you,” said a voice in the shadows as she disappeared.
Rhys gave one last longing look up at the window before the torchlight flickered into view once more. Abandoning his previous plans, he slipped out of the gardens. Taking a shortcut through the courtyard, he exited out the front gates of the palace. The guards hardly gave him a second glance; they were quite used to him coming and going at all hours of the day.
He weaved around the city and into The Bottomless Mug. Plopping himself down in the corner booth, he slid a few coins across the table to the patron sitting there. The roguish man looked at him through one eye, the other scabbed over and long-gone. The days-old stubble on his chin was catching stray pieces of food. A hand slithered out from beneath the table and grabbed the coins. He brought one to his mouth and licked it before giving it a firm bite. Rhys tried not to gag at the sight of the man’s teeth. Perhaps he’ll use the money for a bath, he thought hopefully.
“Another round over here,” the yellow-toothed scoundrel yelled to the barmaid, holding up the newly acquired coins.
Or not. Out loud Rhys asked, “Don’t you want to know what they’ll cost you before you go spending it?”
“Thought you were giving me a gift there, laddy. Should make yer deals befer handin’ over monies.”
He waggled his fingers at the barmaid, urging her to hurry. She refilled his empty mug and took one of the coins, dropping it into her ample cleavage. Rhys spared a thought to wonder if she had a coin purse hidden in there somewhere or if her bosom just swallowed it up.
“I need to know about Lord Caverson and the interesting hobby he’s taken up.”
“You mean his beasties,” the rogue said knowingly.
For a man who never seemed to leave the tavern, he was full of useful information. Then again, information was his trade. Bought and sold here at this very table. The man took a long swig of the drink. The foam clung to his upper lip like a mustache, and dripped off his face as he spoke. “Aye, he’s got five little beasties now. Keeps them in the old dungeon beneath his manor. Nots a very nice place for animals if ya ask me.”
“Do you know how to get in? How many guards does he employ?”
“So many questions…” the man answered, looking to his already empty mug.
Rhys gritted his teeth and slid another coin towards him. This one, the man spirited away. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the little lady.”
Rhys jumped in. “Someone else asked about him?”
The man simply raised his eyebrow at him and eyed his drink again. Obviously, if he wanted to know who else was interested, he’d have to pay. Rhys clamped his mouth shut to let the informant continue. If someone else was asking questions, it may be part of his test. It would be just like them to set him up against another thief.
“There ain’t no way to get into the Caverson manor. He’s got personal mages on his payroll and his manor locked up tight. Gots wards and locks alike on all entrances, practically an entire army as a personal guard, and more than one setta eyes on everywhere ‘round there. Ya ask me, there’s more than just the beasties in there.”
“So how do I get in?”
“I just told you. You don’t.”
Rhys made an exasperated sound. “What did I just pay you for?”
“Good advice,” the man responded then reiterated that advice, “Don’t even try.”
Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “You owe me.” Giving him a hard look, Rhys dared the other man to argue. The man stared back a moment and then relented.
“Talk to Laris. You’ll find him in the Tap Room.”
He turned purposefully away from Rhys, and started humming to himself.
Rhys sighed. The Tap Room was at the other end of the city. He swung his leg over the stool and shoved it roughly towards the table in frustration. Weaving his way out of the now-full room, he breathed in the fresh air outside. Fresh-er air at least, he thought sourly. The streets just outside taverns tended to have a rather pungent odor. One bathroom in places like these was never enough.
When he finally got to the Tap Room, a brawl was taking up the common room. Rhys ducked in and out of the fighting bodies, asking people here and there if they knew where Laris was. Finally, a man pointed towards the back before taking a punch directly to his nose. Blood spurted out, and Rhys hastily removed himself from the scene.
In the back of the tavern, the private tables offered a chance for people to escape the rowdy nature of the common room as well as perform business transactions. One such transaction was currently underway as a man discretely handed a scantily clad woman a gold coin. She grinned at him and pulled him up the stairs. Rhys hoped that the man wasn’t Laris. He didn’t want to wait around for the man to finish his “business”.
He pulled a waitress aside and asked if she knew who Laris was. Not even bothering to give him a smile, she nodded her head to a table to the right. Luckily, the young man appeared to be alone. Rhys slid into the booth opposite him.
“Not interested,” the man said without even looking up.
“Are you Laris?”
His blue eyes met Rhys’s warily. “Who wants to know?”
“A Little Rat told me that you might have information about Lord Caverson’s new…hobby.” The roguish man Rhys had met in The Bottomless Mug thought his business name was quite clever – a variation on the old ‘a little bird told me’ saying. Rhys hated using it, but it did serve its purpose; people knew who he was talking about.
Laris looked him over. Then he scoffed and went back to staring at the table. “Quite a hobby, torturing innocent creatures like that. Just got sacked for sayin’ so.”
“You worked for Lord Caverson?”
“Until recently. Now, I’m a free man. Know anyone who’s looking for a good mercenary?” He held up his mug in mock-celebration.
Rhys shook his head. “What would you say if I told you that I know of someone who might be looking to free those creatures?” Rhys asked.
He eyed the back door, ready to leap to action should his comment cause an unfavorable reaction. Laris’s eyes flew back to his own in surprise. Their ice-blue hue seemed unnatural. After a moment, Laris spoke.
“I would say that that someone should know that there is a passage that runs from the dungeons where they are kept into the sewers. I would say that if someone were to go into the sewers on Canal Street and follow them northward until they hit the eighth one on the right, that if they took this passage and followed it to the end, they would find a strange contraption on the wall. If they were to put the correct key into this contraption, they would end up directly beneath the unholy menagerie.”
“Where would someone get a key like that?”
Laris smiled humorlessly. “You just have to be the one mucking out the poor creature’s pens.” He reached into his cloak and withdrew a key. Rhys opened his eyes wide.
“They let you keep the key after you left?”
Laris fidgeted. “Not exactly. I was hoping to free the creatures myself, but I have no means of getting them anywhere. I was planning on moving them through the sewers to safety, but the more I thought about it, the more impossible it seemed.” He held the key out towards Rhys. “Take it. Perhaps you’ll have more luck than I.”
Rhys put a coin under his hand and slid his hand towards the man. Laris watched him, then shook his head. “Keep it,” he said as he rose.
Without another word, Laris went out into the common room, where it appeared that the brawl had been broken up. The barmaid was sweeping up broken pots and mugs, muttering to herself.
Rhys waited until the door had shut before getting up himself and sneaking out the back way. Canal Street was a mere two blocks from here, and there was still plent
y of night left. He may as well at least check the place out. But first, he made a quick stop at one of his drop points throughout the city. He had a few items stashed away here and there for situations such as these, and he grabbed one before making his way to Canal Street.
Finding the entrance to the sewers was easy. Rhys lowered himself in, trying not to touch the slippery walls. For once he was grateful for the copious amount of perfume that Jayson had insisted he wear for the feast as it now helped to drown out the smell of filth.
He immediately headed north, counting the passages on his right until he came to the eighth one. Even had he not been told to watch for this particular one, it still would have caught his eye. There was something different about it. It had a slightly acrid smell, more so than the rest, and it was strangely lit up by a sort of luminescent slime along the edges.
Rhys moved up the passage cautiously, trying to avoid getting any of the glowing slime on himself. About halfway up, he began to hear grunting and snorting, the sounds of shuffling feet, and every now and again an inhuman moan. This must be it. The smell of it burned in his nostrils. He couldn’t help but agree with Laris that this was cruel, even without seeing the animals yet.
At the end of the tunnel, he came across a door. Had Laris not told him about it, he would have assumed that this was simply the end of the passage. As it was, he searched around in the dim light to find the contraption into which to insert the key. Finally, he found it; a strange wheel with many arms extending towards the edges of the door. He placed the key into the hole and turned. One by one, the arms on the wheels hissed and popped as they separated themselves from the metal of the door. When all had come loose, the door swung inward.
He crept forward and craned his neck around to see above him. It appeared that the connection of the sewers to the prison cells above had been modified to accommodate the animals. Normally beneath a dungeon there was an extra channel of stonework so that prisoners could not crawl out through the grates and escape through the sewers. Apparently, the lord was not concerned that the animals would escape this way and had simply smashed out the no longer necessary stonework. Therefore, it was now only the metal grates that separated Rhys from the menagerie above.
Something large moved above and a hundred tiny pebbles clattered to the ground below, some splashing noisily into the water around Rhys. Eyeing the sagging flooring above him, he had to wonder if the stonework’s removal been a smart choice. He understood the convenience of letting the waste simply ooze through the grates rather than worry about it clogging an extra channel of stonework, but that same stonework had also added support. No doubt given enough time, this floor would completely give way to the sewers below.
Rhys shook his head and rummaged around in the bag he’d retrieved until he found his grappling hook. He also fished out a bag of tools and tied this onto his belt before securing the hook to a length of rope and throwing it up towards one of the grates. It only took him two tries to get it wound around snugly enough that he felt safe ascending. Once he was at the top, he secured his belt – which doubled as a harness in times like these – to a piece of metal showing within the stone. Then he peered up through the grate.
The pen above was too dark to see much of anything, but he could just make out a shape huddled in a corner. It was only about the size of a dog, and he could detect no sounds coming from it. He hung suspended for a long moment, contemplating his choices. He realized now that he had no idea what types of animals the man had captured save for some kind of snake. He wondered if perhaps it would be prudent to gather a little more information and come back.
The thought of wading through the sewers for a second time urged him on. He took out his tools. Slowly and methodically, he loosened the grate from the floor. After what seemed like hours, he finally pried it free enough to make it budge. He gently pounded on this a few more minutes and finally got it all the way off. Before sliding it sideways and completely exposing himself to the creature above, however, he took another look around.
The shape was still in the same corner, but now Rhys could see the reflections of two eyes watching him intently. It still made no sound, and no move towards him which gave Rhys confidence. He pulled the stone the woman had given him from his pocket and held it firmly. Carefully, he slid the grate aside and pulled himself up, never taking his eyes off the cornered beast.
Still, it didn’t move. He crouched to replace the grate and took a tiny step towards the creature. A low growl emitted from deep in the creature’s throat. Rhys had a moment of panic and cursed himself. What the hell am I doing here, anyway? This is hardly thieves’ work – I’m not some animal trainer! The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he drew one of his daggers as well. He held both the weapon and the stone out in front of him.
Rhys contemplated using magic against the creature as he had planned on doing with the snake. He tentatively touched the power and probed the beast. He immediately withdrew. The animal was a swirling whirlwind of fear and anger. Rhys’s spells would not be strong enough to contain nor subdue it.
The growling continued, but the creature still made no move. Rhys pondered his own course of action having ruled out the use of magic. He could leap at the beast, hoping to touch it to the stone, and hoping that the stone’s magic worked fast enough to take it away before it had a chance to bite him. Or he could try to sneak up to it. He glanced quickly to the door and examined the locking mechanism. It was a fairly simple one; he could have it unlocked in no time. The hairs on his arms were beginning to stand on end as the monotonous growl continued to echo eerily in the chamber. Perhaps he should get out of the pen and then lure it to the side where he could touch it with the stone without putting himself in danger.
He moved to the door and suddenly the creature lunged. Rhys jumped to the side, avoiding the creature’s snapping jaws. As it came into the dim light from the hallway, he could see it more clearly. It was a bear. A young one, granted, but Rhys’s heart leapt into his throat. He was stuck in a tiny cell of a pen with a bear. As it lashed out towards him again with claws the length of his pinky, he remembered the stone. Carefully timing it so that it was after the swipe of the dangerous paw, and out of reach of the mouthful of sharp teeth, he steeled his courage and touched the stone out to it.
There was a sudden bright light. As Rhys’s eyes readjusted to the dark, he found that the bear was gone. He let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the floor. He berated himself for letting his distaste for wading through the sewers override his better judgment. Next time he would listen to himself when he thought perhaps he’d better learn all the information before going on a job. Next time he’d go back through the filth to find out whether or not the cell he was breaking into contained a bear.
Once the adrenaline had subsided, he pulled himself to his feet. Picking the cell lock was short work, and he was gratified to see that there were no guards stationed this far into the dungeons. He crept to the next cell. This one held a large cat that he was unfamiliar with – a very large cat. Given the comparison, he was actually glad that he’d come up into the cell with the bear. It was pacing back and forth along the short length of its cell, its long tail swishing from side to side angrily.
He stationed himself just outside of reach from one of the paws should the beast choose to make a go at him and waited. The cat paused in its pacing to watch him for a moment, eyeing his movements warily.
Rhys was patient, and soon the cat grew bored and resumed its pacing. Timing it perfectly, he moved forward just as the tail was swishing his way. He just barely caught the tip of it with the stone and again the bright light flashed and the beast was gone.
He repeated this two more times, once with a beautiful white stag he had been sorry to see go, and another with a strange-looking bird he couldn’t identify. At last, he came to the snake cage. This one had glass placed behind the bars so that the creature couldn�
�t slither off. Rhys looked at it carefully. It was much calmer than the other animals and he thought he’d be able to make a spell work on it. He tucked the stone away in his pocket and looked around for something that he might transport the beast in. Even if he used magic to subdue it he wanted it secured for traveling lest something go wrong and have it wake.
He found an almost-empty burlap bag and dumped the rest of the contents unceremoniously onto the floor. Going back over to the snake’s pen, he whispered a spell that he hoped would put it into a deep sleep. Seeing as how the creature hadn’t been moving before the spell, nothing happened. The snake continued to lie still on the far side of the pen. Rhys unlocked the door and moved cautiously towards it. He knew nothing about snakes and had no idea if this one was poisonous or not.
He sidestepped up to it, watching carefully for signs of movement. Even when he was right up next to it, it didn’t move. It was a dark emerald green, with golden diamonds down its back. Here and there in the pen were small puddles of the glowing green slime he’d seen in the sewers. This must be where it had come from. He nudged the snake with his foot. It still didn’t budge. Satisfied that it was under his magical influence, he bent down and picked it up. It was hard to tell just how long it was when it was spiraled on the ground, but when he picked it up he found that it was about an arm-length long and was as thick as his forefinger. Rhys placed its tail within the sack and wound the rest of its body in after it.
Giving the dungeons another once-over, Rhys moved back to the cell which had previously held the bear. He grabbed the dangling rope from beneath the grate he had removed and clipped it back onto his belt. He lowered himself along it to the ground below and tugged at the hook to loosen the hook. He’d rigged it with a magical trigger – which cost him a pretty penny – so that he could release it from below. But this time, it didn’t move. It was stuck. Cursing, he tugged at it again. Still, it remained firmly in place though a few pebbles came loose. Rhys let out a short breath and glared up at the thing. He squared his shoulders and yanked as hard as he could, putting his whole weight behind it. More stones came tumbling down, and a moment later, so did the grappling hook.
He tucked this away and turned on his heel to get out of the disgusting sewers as quickly as possible. Rhys thought he saw a shadow move, but was distracted as his foot splashed in a particularly wet area and he wrinkled his nose. He’d hardly made it past the corner into the main tunnel when he heard a resounding crash behind him. He peered around the corner and saw dust and dirty water being kicked up. He jumped backwards to avoid the wave of sewage rushing towards him. Rhys sprinted towards the exit. He must have weakened the floor enough that the whole thing gave way!
Scrambling out of the sewers and into the deserted streets, he saw that the very first rays of early morning light were beginning to show. He raced back to the palace and into his rooms. Jayson, always the early riser, was already bustling around. When he caught sight of Rhys, he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“What in the world have you been doing?” he asked, but then held up his hand, “Never mind. I really don’t want to know. I’ll draw you up a bath.”
Rhys was grateful, as the drudge of the sewers was beginning to dry and cake onto him. It disturbed him that he was beginning to get used to the smell. He gently set the sack on his bed and stripped out of his ruined clothes.
Moments after Rhys had lowered himself into the tub, he heard Jayson behind him.
“I’m worried about you, Rhys,” the man said softly. “I know you have always been attracted to darker paths, but I always thought that your heart was in the right place. Stealing food from the palace kitchens to hand out to the poor, or befriending ruffians because you thought you could steer them towards a better life.”
Rhys didn’t turn around and didn’t respond. He stared at the wall in front of him, unmoving.
“But recently you’ve been…different. I feel as though you’re getting in over your head.”
Rhys remained silent.
“That’s all I wanted to say.”
Rhys heard Jayson’s retreating footsteps. He sank lower into the water. Contemplating Jayson’s words, he wondered if they held some truth. He had been so caught up in reaching the final stages of his master plan that he had allowed himself to commit some acts he normally wouldn’t. He’d convinced himself that the ends would justify the means. Once he’d broken his code once, it became easier and easier to do it again. Like a woman making her first purchase at the market; the next vendor knew she was sure to splurge now that the floodgate was open.
He held his breath and ducked his head under the water. Bubbling back to the surface, he shook his hair free of the excess water, ignoring the mess it made on the floor. The end would justify the means, he told himself firmly. Even so, he decided to rein in a bit of his dismissive attitude towards the morality of those means.
After he had soaked all of the grime off him, he redressed in fresh clothes, reveling in the clean feel. He went over to the sack on his bed and pursed his lips. They had said that they would find him, but how quickly? How long did he have to keep an unknown snake in a bag? He sighed and lifted it, wondering if he should find a better living arrangement for the poor thing while he waited, when something caught his eye.
There was a small hole in the corner of the bag, the edge of which was covered in glowing slime. He hurriedly felt around in the bag, and feeling nothing, turned it completely inside-out. Frantic now, he searched the rest of the room. But he found nothing. No snake, no slime. He didn’t know a whole lot about snakes but was pretty sure they weren’t normally slimy. Clearly, this one was, however. He tried to remember when he had set the bag down on the bed if it had still felt like there was something inside. He was pretty sure there had been, but he had been distracted by the draw of a bath.
He was exhausted, but he didn’t dare sleep with the threat of a possibly-deadly snake loose in his room. Besides which, if he didn’t find it before the Shadow Sisters found him, he’d have failed in his mission. He searched the room again but still came up with nothing.
He followed his footsteps back down into the city, keeping a sharp lookout for glowing slime. At least the Three had given him something to work with. Without this oddity, he’d have no idea whether he’d find some clue or not. Though since he hadn’t seen any slime either, it really wasn’t particularly helpful anyway.
With his eyes glued to the ground, he ran straight into someone. And that someone didn’t bother to move. Rhys looked up to mumble an apology, only to find himself looking into the cold eyes of Jak.
“I grow tired of waiting, Rhys,” Jak drawled.
“I’ve been working on it,” Rhys replied.
Jak raised an eyebrow and looked him over appraisingly. “You have two weeks. After that, you’ll pay by providing me with the pleasure of watching you die…slowly and painfully.”
He strolled off, and Rhys swore.
