Revelation

by C. A. McHugh

  “I’m on it,” Raimel whispered a split second before plunging into the other realm. Instead of seeing what he expected to find, he saw a mere mortal man crouched with a blowgun aimed at the procession below.

  Which was a good thing. He’d react slower than a demon.

  But the shadowy distortion he’d witnessed earlier didn’t mean the man didn’t possess the ability to blink like a demon.

  A fraction of a second later, Raimel reentered the mortal world behind the figure and cast an anchoring spell on him. Then he clamped his hand on the man’s shoulder and yanked him back into the Shadow Realm. “You’re coming with me.”

  He was back on the same roof as Ceryst within a blink of an eye.

  “Hello,” the knight greeted the assassin, punching him solidly in the face.

  The man fell backward from the blow and rolled off the edge of the roof into the alley below.

  “Excellent shot,” Raimel praised.

  Ceryst gave him a wolfish grin before jumping down after the assassin, teeth bared and eyes shining with the excitement of a potential kill. At times like these, Raimel could understand how he had earned his nickname of the Lone Wolf.

  The former knight drew his sword and stalked his victim. The other man stumbled to his feet and reached for the rapier and dagger that hung from his belt. Raimel stayed on the roof with his weapons drawn, watching as the two men circled each other. Two predators had met each other, and only one of them would walk away alive.

  The assassin attacked first with speed. Ceryst easily deflected the rapier with his broadsword and dodged the second attack from the dagger. It was a bit closer than Raimel would have liked. He leaned over the edge of the roof, preparing to enter the fray.

  Ceryst glanced upward while blocking another attack. “Stay out of this. He’s mine.”

  He needed to be quick about it, before the city guards heard them and came to investigate. The alley was a bit too close to the main road to allow this to go on for long.

  The man suddenly bolted for the main street, weapons still drawn.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Raimel sent a streak of blue magic to the end of the alley.

  The man crashed into an invisible wall, knocking him down once again.

  Ceryst adjusted his grip on his sword and slowly moved forward.

  The assassin glared up at the roof with glowing red eyes.

  Raimel flinched. That was no ordinary man fighting Ceryst below. This man had somehow obtained demonic powers, even though he was as mortal as the knight he was fighting.

  The alley grew darker, and thick smoke emanated from the assassin. Although Raimel could see clearly through the obscure darkness, Ceryst wasn’t so gifted. Metal rang against metal as he attacked the assassin. Then a sickening clang echoed off the walls of the alley, and the broadsword skidded along the cobblestones. Ceryst lay sprawled across the ground, cornered and unable to reach to his sword. Now it was the assassin’s turn to play the role of predator.

  As much as he hated blinking, it was the only option Raimel had. He dove into the Shadow Realm and reappeared behind the assassin one more time. Before the other man could respond, Raimel grabbed his sword arm, whirled him around, and prayed he didn’t get skewered in the process.

  Ceryst took advantage of the opportunity and reached for his sword. The assassin swung back around and suddenly halted. The tip of Ceryst’s sword peeked out from between his shoulder blades, covered in red blood. The rapier and dagger fell from his hands, and his body went limp.

  Using his boot for leverage, Ceryst pulled his sword out from the assassin, and with a final swing, sliced his head off.

  The head rolled past Raimel into a pile of garbage. “You know, it would’ve been nice to keep him alive long enough to ask him a few questions.”

  “I’ll try to remember that next time I’m fighting a demon.”

  “But he wasn’t a demon.” Raimel pointed to the body, now surrounded by pooling red blood. “No black blood. No instant incineration.”

  “Then what exactly was he?” Ceryst said, his volume rising to that dangerous level that might draw too much attention.

  “If you’d let him live, we could’ve found out.” He knelt beside the assassin and checked his palm.

  Sure enough, a long scar streaked across it.

  He held up for Ceryst to see. “One of His Majesty’s subjects.”

  “Are you sure His Majesty is on our side?” Ceryst asked with biting sarcasm.

  “I would bet my life on it.” Raimel dropped the corpse’s hand and searched for any other clues. Dead men might not talk, but they could still tell a story. He patted down his pockets and discovered a score of poisoned darts, eighteen gold coins, and a small scrap of paper with Aerrin’s name written in blood. “He was a careless assassin. He should’ve known to burn the target’s name as soon as he got the assignment.”

  “You would know.” It was as close as Ceryst would come to acknowledging Raimel’s former career.

  “But there’s still one question I want answered.” He kept searching and found a severed cord around what was left of the assassin’s neck. He traced it down and found a key piece of evidence. “At least we know who he was working for.”

  Ceryst snatched the medallion bearing the Raven Bringer’s mark—a raven plucking the eyes out of a skull. “This confirms it.”

  “As if we didn’t already know.” He stood back up and shook his head. “What I’m curious about was how he was able to use demonic abilities even though he was a mortal man.”

  “You so sure about that?” Ceryst challenged.

  “Even half breeds have tainted blood. You know that.” Raimel stared at the body, making sure he hadn’t missed anything that would lead him to suspect the assassin was part demon. So far, it all led him to conclude that the man had gained his powers through something other than ancestry.

  Something the Raven Bringer had been able to do, as well. And if he was teaching his methods to his minions, then they were in more trouble than he’d first suspected.

  Raimel turned his attention to his friend. “Once again, it seems I saved your life.”

  Ceryst wiped the blood away from a nick on his ear. “I would have handled him.”

  A burst of flames erupted behind them as the body was consumed in fire.

  Ceryst pointed to the burning carcass. “Demon.”

  “You’re wrong. He can’t be.” Raimel scanned the alley twice, once in the mortal realm, then again in the Shadow Realm.

  He pointed to the figure standing at the opposite end of the alley. A woman clad all in black. One who looked remarkably like the female apprentice they’d fought a few months ago.

  “I told you I had a bad feeling about this.” Raimel said as she ran away.

  “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” His sarcasm implied otherwise as he grabbed the edge of a windowsill and hoisted himself up to the roof to get a better view of her. “Why doesn’t she blink?”

  Being much lighter and more agile than Ceryst, Raimel reached the roof before him and caught sight of her just before she disappeared into another alleyway a few blocks away. He pointed to the sun shining above. “It’s daylight.”

  “So?”

  “Not all demons can blink whenever they feel like it, and I doubt the apprentice is powerful enough to blink without the cover of darkness.”

  “Where did she go?” Ceryst asked when he climbed onto the roof.

  Raimel grabbed his friend’s cloak. “That way,” he explained before dragging Ceryst into the Shadow Realm and blinking to within three feet of her.

  The bitch was waiting for them. The second they came back into the mortal realm, she greeted them with a blast of black magic that knocked him back.

  Raimel’s head slammed into a wall. Dark stars danced on the edge of his vision, and pain shot down his spine, paralyzing him for several long beats. When he tried to draw a breath, the crunch of bone on either side of his chest announced a set of cracked ribs. But
despite his injuries, he managed to roll back onto his knees in time to see her enter a door to the underground tunnels.

  “Get off your ass,” Ceryst ordered, even though his sword arm hung at his side at an awkward angle. It didn’t seem to bother him so long as his other arm could hold the weapon. His expression darkened, growing predatory once again. His voice lowered, a feral growl that caused Raimel to shiver. “I’m in the mood to go demon hunting.”

  Raimel moved toward the main road and away from the place that would open Ceryst up into all sorts of trouble, especially after their run-in with Fesser the last time they were in the city. “But Aerrin’s that way. You follow him, and I’ll track her down.”

  “Too late.” He pushed aside the same section of a stone wall the apprentice had vanished behind, revealing a passageway that led to the tunnels under the city streets, and ran after her.

  Raimel scrambled after him. “You’re going to get into trouble with His Majesty.”

  “Aerrin won’t mind.”

  “I was referring to the other king.”

  Ceryst stopped at a crossroad in the tunnels. “Which way did she go?”

  Raimel wrapped his arm around his aching ribs. Each breath was pure agony. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? What about those damn feelings of yours?”

  “It’s hard to focus on anything when it’s taking every ounce of strength that I have not to scream in pain.”

  Ceryst finally looked back at him. “What hurts the most?”

  “Ribs.”

  The knight pressed his palm against Raimel’s chest and cast a weak healing spell. It didn’t take away all the pain, but it took the edge off long enough for him catch his breath.

  “Now which way did she go?” Ceryst repeated.

  Raimel peered into the Shadow Realm, but there was no sign of her. “I don’t see anything.”

  Ceryst cursed and sheathed his sword. “We’d better find a healer.”

  Raimel assessed their surroundings and caught the faint trail of dark magic. He waved Ceryst to the left. “This way.”

  They managed to travel a hundred feet before a thin blade of cold steel pressed against Raimel’s neck.

  “You should at least close the door behind you,” a female voice hissed in his ear.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t the apprentice ambushing them again. “Forgive him, Your Highness. He’s always been this rude.”

  “He’s with you?” Princess Kat pointed to where six men with various weapons had surrounded Ceryst.

  “Unfortunately.”

  A snarl curled upon the knight’s lips, but he remained still until Kat called her men off. Once they did, Ceryst marched up to them, his temper seething. “Who are you?”

  Raimel winced. Time to make an introduction before the dumb knight got himself killed. “Ceryst, meet Katriona, Princess of Thieves.”

  Ceryst eyed her for a moment, and then he lowered his head and slightly bent at the waist, his attention never leaving her.

  It seemed to work. She gave him a satisfied nod in return and turned to Raimel. “My father wishes to speak with you.”

  “What a coincidence,” Raimel drawled, forcing a smile on his face despite his suffering. “I was hoping to talk to your father about a few things as well.”

  “You look like shit.” She held out her palm and finished what Ceryst’s spell had halfway healed. Within thirty seconds, Raimel forgot all about his injuries.

  Then she nodded toward Ceryst. “You take responsibility for him?”

  Translation: Not only will you have to pay a tribute for his entrance, but if he fucks up, you’ll be the one paying for it.

  Raimel cursed his bad luck. “Ceryst is harmless.”

  She didn’t agree with him, judging by the way she studied the knight. “Follow me.”

  “Please allow me to see to his injuries, Your Highness.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” She leveled her gaze at them, which was intimidating enough by itself without the six armed men taking aim at them behind her. “I like him injured.”

  Which meant she knew what he was capable of if he was fully healed and preferred him to stay handicapped until she knew she could trust him.

  Raimel gave his friend an apologetic shrug. They were on Kat’s turf, and they had to play by her rules if they wanted to get out of this alive. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  “Try and keep up.” Kat led the way, but Raimel jogged up to her side.

  “You didn’t happen to see a woman all in black a few minutes ago?” he asked as quietly as he dared.

  She nodded. “She killed four of my men before she vanished.”

  Enough said.

  He doubted his conversation with the king would be anything but pleasant based on that little tidbit.

  He looked back at Ceryst and prayed he hadn’t led them into a whole new mess.

  Chapter 16

  Aerrin was just settling into bed when he heard the scraping of stone against stone. He bolted upright and prepared to shout for the guards, gathering his magic as he did.

  A hand clamped over his mouth.

  “It’s just me.” A candle flickered to life to reveal Raimel. “Whew! Glad I got the right room.” He surveyed the bed. “What? Sleeping all alone? No pretty girls to wish you a happy birthday, Your Majesty?”

  Aerrin scowled. “Where’s Ceryst? Do you have news?”

  Raimel shoved his long hair out of his face. “Do you want the good or the bad first?”

  “The good, I guess.”

  “The marauders in Akershire were merely some cold and hungry farmers trying to survive the winter.”

  “And the bad?”

  “I’ve been getting a lot of bad feelings lately, if you know what I mean. They’ve been especially strong here in Dromore. Ceryst and I were watching when you entered the city, and so was someone else. We killed him, but there were some…complications.”

  His unease spread to the center of Aerrin’s chest and threatened to lock his heart in a vice. Raimel could detect demons better than anyone of them—even Seroney, according to Master Binnius—and he assumed those bad feelings had a demonic cause. “What are these complications?”

  He stopped. The inner struggle whether to tell Aerrin played out on his face. “Ceryst doesn’t want to involve you, but I think you should be involved since you’re the best person to help him out of his jam.”

  Raimel paused and ran his hand across his forehead. “You see, I have the worst luck. I go from pissing off one person—in this case, the apprentice—to pissing off someone even nastier—in this case, the other king of Dromore. Or to be more precise, Ceryst pissed him off, and I’m here to bail him out.”

  “Ceryst’s in danger?” Aerrin voice rose.

  Raimel clamped his hand over Aerrin’s mouth again. “Keep it down, dumbass. Do you want the Royal Guard to hear you practically shout his name?”

  Aerrin shoved his hand away. “What happened? Is he hurt? Another poisoned blade? I’ll summon Seroney.”

  “No need. There’s a better way to handle this. I just need to present His Majesty with a little trinket of yours, and we’ll be skipping through town as free men in no time.”

  He made it sound so easy, but Aerrin sensed there was more to this story, too. “How do you know the King of Thieves?”

  “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” But he held up his palm to reveal the scar that most of the thieves in town had.

  So Raimel was as shady as he’d suspected months ago. And yet, Ceryst and Master Binnius trusted him, so there had to be something redeemable about him.

  “But believe me when I say that the king’s on your side, just as he was on your father’s side fifteen years ago,” Raimel continued. “And he’s royally pissed that the apprentice we were chasing killed four of his favorite bodyguards today.”

  “Where does Ceryst fit into this, if this thief is on my side?” Aerrin refused to refer him by
any royal title. As far as he was concerned, the man was the biggest crime boss in the city and a target to deal with once they’d taken down the more pressing evil at hand.

  “Oh, that’s easy. He trespassed without permission. Luckily, he was with me, or he’d be as dead as those bodyguards.”

  Aerrin’s jaw tightened until his teeth ached. He hated giving into a criminal’s demands, but he had no choice if he wanted to save Ceryst. “What kind of trinket do you think will be acceptable?”

  “I would say your crown, but that’s going a bit too far, don’t you think?”

  Aerrin scowled at him. “This is no time for jokes.”

  Raimel ambled around the room, his finger pressed against his chin in a thoughtful manner. “Nothing too big—I don’t want to make myself a target down there, if you know what I mean. But nothing too ordinary, either. It has to be something that His Majesty will perceive as a gesture of goodwill and friendship.”

  There were a number of people Aerrin would rather have as a friend than the King of Thieves.

  “I see that look on your face.” Raimel grinned. “It’s the same one Ceryst wears when I mention His Majesty, but let’s just say tonight was very enlightening for him. I hope someday you’ll have a chance to experience his hospitality as well. For the moment, I hope you’ll realize that he can be a very strong ally. You’d be a fool to piss him off.”

  “I hear that about a lot of people.”

  “Then perhaps you should take it to heart and not scorn the help he’s willing to offer. He might end up being just as useful as your girlfriend from Oudesta.”

  “Seroney is not my girlfriend.”

  “Thank the goddess.” He wandered into Aerrin’s dressing room and returned with a sapphire ring. “Would you miss this?”

  Aerrin took it and examined it by the candle. The stone was small, but flawless. The design was simple gold, but the side, it bore the royal mark.

  His mother’s engagement ring.

  For a few seconds, Aerrin struggled with the decision to give away something so precious, but if Raimel thought it would appease the man holding Ceryst hostage, then he could give it up. “Take it.”