“Sounds interesting,” Nessa murmured, more than a little engrossed with her and Aoife’s thoughts.
“Not really,” Jerome said, flagging down a server and signalling for another drink. “Most of the time it’s just listening and keeping an eye on people. And since we’re so careful with whom we invite before we even invite them, there’s not much to do really. These days I mainly keep an eye open for new talent who might help us with furthering our ventures.”
The server appeared, saving Nessa from having to give an immediate response. He swiftly deposited two glass tumblers on the table, and collected Jerome’s empty one and her abandoned drink. With relief, Nessa saw that both of the drinks were whiskey. As Jerome thanked the server, she picked up a tumbler and took a tentative sip.
For someone who’s meant to keep the den’s secrets secret, Nessa mused, he sure is mentioning a few of them.
Maybe it’s another test of sorts, Aoife said. He throws out a few titbits of information and waits to see if anything comes back to him.
You reckon?
That, or he’s just chatty.
Hmm.
Maybe you should throw out some of your own titbits and see what happens?
I thought you said no more questions.
So I did, but I wouldn’t count these as questions per se. More like throwing out a line and seeing if anything nibbles.
And what should I do, Nessa asked, if something bites rather than nibbles, and if it has big, gnashy teeth?
Then I would recommend using the little knife you have hidden in your boot.
Nessa sneaked a glance to her right boot, where the handle of the switchblade was digging into the flesh of her calf. Hunter had gifted it to her shortly after arriving in Ellor, saying that every respectable young lady should always have a concealed weapon upon their person. It was small, dainty; the hilt fitted perfectly in her palm, and the blade was only a few inches long, although razor sharp, making up for its diminutive size. It was a more feminine version of the knives both Hunter and Orm had hidden on them somewhere.
Hark at you, Nessa said with a touch of delight. Giving me orders to uncover the inner workings of a criminal organisation, and instructing me to stab anyone if they get antsy.
I’m not telling you to go around stabbing people willy-nilly, Aoife huffed, just if they look like they’re about to get a bit stabby themselves. Besides, I’m bored, and this has the potential of being reasonably interesting.
How can you be bored? Don’t you have a cave to decorate?
There’s only so much cave decorating a dragon can do in a day.
Ungrateful dragon. The three of us spent days collecting all those pillows and blankets, not to mention the small fortune it all cost. And dare I remind you of the effort taken in getting all of it to your little hidey spot? Did you have to choose the most difficult cave to reach? Wasn’t there a more accessible one?
No, Aoife sniffed, there were no other satisfactory caves. I would know. I did try out almost twenty before settling on this one. The entrance is in the perfect position, and the size is just right.
If you say so.
I do.
Alright, then.
Now, hush up. Jerome is looking at you with a peculiar expression. I’m pretty sure he said something to you.
Oh crap. What? What did he say?
I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention… Aoife withdrew to the back of Nessa’s mind, leaving her to flounder.
Nessa blinked owlishly, slowly coming back to herself. After having a debate with Aoife in her head, Nessa found her surroundings overwhelming, bombarding her with light and noise. It was disconcerting, almost painful.
It nearly always was. Sharing yourself with someone else, with someone you are so irretrievably bound to, was an otherworldly experience. It seemed that each time Nessa fell deep into herself, her mind merging with Aoife’s, which was becoming ever more frequent as the bond between them strengthened, they became more one and the same. The world suddenly became infinite and silent, like they were floating in a pocket between space and time, where there was nothing but Nessa and her bonded partner, no one but her and Aoife.
“You there, lass?” a voice asked softly, breaking through the fog in her mind.
The den was filled with boisterous laughter and the bellowed calls of half-drunk men placing bets. The lighting, which before had been low and atmospheric, now seemed borderline blinding.
Forcing her eyes to focus, Nessa looked over and saw that Jerome was peering at her curiously, his eyebrow cocked in question.
“Pardon?”
Jerome shook his head, raising his glass to his lips. “You were in a different world just then, weren’t you?”
“What can I say?” Nessa said with a tight smile. “I’m a bit of a daydreamer.”
“That you are.”
“So, what were you saying?”
“Oh, nothing of importance.” Jerome shrugged, his eye casually running over the den. “I just remarked that whisky seems to go down a lot better with you than the fire wine.”
“Fire wine?” Nessa glanced down at the table, but the dainty glass was gone, cleared away by the server. “An apt name, I think.”
“Yeah,” Jerome chuckled. “It warms the cockles, no?”
Mumbling, “Not sure if the cockles were being warmed or burned,” Nessa took another sip of whisky. It wasn’t her favourite drink, but it would do, seeing as it was there. It was strong, settling in her stomach with a heated glow.
“And before the server came,” Jerome continued, “I do believe I had started talking about sourcing potential new talent.”
“Oh?” Nessa said, pretending to act surprised. Throw out a line and see what you can catch, she told herself. “Potential new talent? Judging by our invite here, you must have thought that we fit the bill in some way?”
Jerome inclined his head. “It wasn’t just me who thought that thought. The others had to agree too before the three of you were invited.”
“The others? There are other people who run places like this one?”
“Of course, there are,” Jerome snorted. “What did you think, that this was the hub of our operations? That it’s just me and the boss running things with a handful of happy helpers?”
“Umm…”
Jerome downed the rest of his whisky in one go, throat working as he swallowed. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and set the empty tumbler heavily on the table.
Oh dear, I think I’ve angered him again…
No, Aoife murmured, I think the drink is starting to hit him.
“This is just one of many similar establishments,” Jerome continued, signalling to the barman for another refill. “A little pebble on a rocky beach.”
“That’s very impressive,” Nessa said hesitantly, taking a sip of her drink for some liquid courage.
She was in unfamiliar territory, and that made her increasingly nervous, although she tried her best to hide it. She prayed that she was pulling off her disguise successfully, that she wasn't making a fool of herself, that she wasn’t being too obvious with the type of enquiries she was making.
Nessa was the listener in their little group, the one who was almost invisible and who hung around the fringes, observing and learning what she could as Hunter and Orm worked the scene, chatting and slipping in subtle questions here and there when the time was just right. Nessa didn’t have the natural knack like they did. Before now, other than being a little rueful, she had been quite content with the role she played. However, that had changed, and Nessa wished that she had paid more attention to how they worked people so well.
“Oh, aye,” Jerome agreed. “Me and the boss have built this network from nothing. Built it from the ground up. It’s been hard work, dangerous, but it’s paying off slowly.” He paused as the server handed him another glass, whisking away the empty one faster than you could blink. Jerome had a mouthful before he continued. “We have people working in almost every trad
e imaginable, in almost every single town and city across all of the Twelve Kingdoms.”
“That must have taken years,” Nessa murmured, nudging him gently into continuing.
“Aye,” Jerome nodded. “Perhaps eighteen years, almost nineteen.”
Nessa found herself smiling. “That’s longer than I’ve been alive.”
“Is that so?” Jerome mused into his glass. “I suppose that’s right, eh. What are you? About seventeen?”
“Thereabouts…” Nessa said, barely able to stifle a grimace. It was getting to be a bit of a sore spot for her, not knowing how old she was, when her birthday was.
Any day now could be her birthday, and Nessa wouldn’t know it, not unless she came into her Old Blood powers at that precise moment. Each night she went to sleep, Nessa would faintly wonder if it would be the last time she’d be all but powerless. When the morning came, though, and she opened her eyes, Nessa knew instantly that she was the same, that nothing had changed.
The power that had briefly awoken in Arncraft had since remained dormant, coiled up somewhere deep inside her, unwilling to be found. The waiting and uncertainty were bordering on painful. Nessa wanted to do more than observe and listen, sifting through hours' worth of boring drivel in the hope of gleaning something useful.
That being said, a small sense of fear and uncertainty accompanied the longing for her powers, whatever they may be. Orm had mentioned some of the trouble he had got himself in during the first year of coming into his Old Blood powers, and while they made for amusing stories, Nessa was not looking forwards to experiencing similar situations.
“…almost eighteen.”
“Eighteen, eh?” Jerome grinned. “That’s when all the fun starts.”
So far, being seventeen hadn’t been all that fun. Nessa wasn’t holding out much hope that being a year older was going to be any better. Once Nessa came into her powers, if she ever came into them, they would have to go on the run again. Otherwise, they’ll risk the king or one of his cronies sensing and coming after her.
“What do you mean by that?”
Jerome shrugged, his eye twinkling with memories. “Ah, it’s just the right age to spread your wings and start exploring the world, seeing all that it has to offer.” He winked. At least, Nessa thought it was a wink and not a blink. It was hard to tell since he only had one eye. “Maybe a nice boy will catch your interest, eh?”
“It’s not the best time for romance right now.”
“Oh, really?” Jerome chuckled and nodded to the tables. “It seems to me that others might be inclined to think otherwise.”
Nessa followed the direction of his motion, her gaze swiftly falling on Hunter and Orm. “I don’t think so,” she croaked. “We’re just friends.”
“Just friends,” Jerome mused knowingly. “I’ve heard that before. Many a time.”
“And anyway,” Nessa continued, pretending that he hadn’t spoken, “even if it was the right time for romance, none of us are so inclined. We have other things on our minds.”
“Not so inclined?” Jerome chortled. “Ha! I haven't heard anything so daft for quite some time, lass. And I know some pretty daft people. It’s pretty damn obvious that a certain someone is so inclined, as you put it. And by how red your cheeks are getting, I don’t think I need to say who that certain someone is.”
“I’m pretending that this conversation isn’t happening,” Nessa said, clapping a hand to a burning cheek. “I’m just warm. That’s all. It’s a tad bit hot in here.”
“Make all the excuses you want, lass,” Jerome smirked. “If that’s what you want to do. But a word of caution, if I may?”
Feeling like Jerome was going to give his opinion no matter what, Nessa took another sip of her whisky.
“Time isn’t something everyone has a lot of,” Jerome said wisely, “and throwing out excuses is just wasting precious amounts of it. Make the most of what you have whilst you have it.”
Nessa’s eyebrows pulled together in a small frown, watching warily as Jerome’s throat worked, swallowing some kind of emotion.
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience?” she asked softly.
“Aye, it does sound like that, don’t it?” Jerome looked away from her, his eye misting with tears. “When you get to my age, you’ll have seen some things, experienced a few losses, but death always hits you hard, especially when it comes out of the blue.”
“I…I take it you’ve recently lost someone close to you,” Nessa murmured hesitantly, putting the pieces together.
“Aye, I did. A couple of people, actually. Close friends I’ve known since I was a wee lad.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No sense in being sorry, lass,” Jerome said gruffly. “It wasn’t your doing. No, it was King Kaenar and his devil of a dragon.”
Nessa stilled. Aoife’s mind pressed against hers, listening intently.
“The…the king?”
“The very man himself, so I’m told. He left Ellor a handful of weeks ago, which is a rare occurrence these days, and flew westward.”
Arncraft, Aoife whispered.
Jerome shuddered. “Don’t even know why he did it. It makes no sense. In one fell swoop, he destroyed an entire town. My friends were incinerated in Dragon Fire, their entire families wiped out in a single night. It wasn’t even one of our major bases, either.”
Nessa didn’t know what to say. He was talking about Arncraft. He had to be.
“It was only a small hub,” Jerome continued absently, his gaze far away. “A place where goods were held until they were sold off or split into different shipments. There are other places he could have hit, more important ones.”
“Perhaps it was an unfortunate coincidence?” Nessa said gently, feeling like she had to say something even as her thoughts went back to that fateful night. The ghostly echoes of screams filled her ears, and once again she could feel the heat of phantom flames against her skin. Nessa could remember the fires and the panic, the sheer terror, as King Kaenar and his black dragon flew overhead. She remembered the ruined square, the buildings crumbling and falling down around her, and the bodies… She could remember the bodies covering the ground, too many to count, heaped carelessly into a mound…a mound upon which King Kaenar and his dragon stood…
Nessa was trapped, held firm by the memory.
King Kaenar’s eyes met hers, locking them together as the dark entity danced around them, filling the square with…
“What in the devil are they doing here?” Jerome sputtered, jumping to his feet. Nessa was knocked from her waking nightmare with a sudden jolt.
Startled, Nessa could do nothing but blink and stare after Jerome as he stumbled away from her, a little unsteady on his feet, his almost empty tumbler of whisky held by his fingertips. He hurried over to the far side of the room where a small group of men stood. Nessa’s eyes ran over them, taking in their bedraggled appearances and the air of urgency that hovered around them.
Nessa frowned, watching as Jerome reached the group and started a hushed argument. I wonder what that’s all about?
Maybe he doesn’t want riffraff like them using the front door, Aoife sighed. It looks like your intriguing conversation with him has come to a sudden end, and on that note, I find myself bored once more. I shall take this opportunity to catch some shuteye. Should anything interesting happen, feel free to wake me.
In all honesty, I hope nothing interesting does happen. Then we can swiftly call an end to this little venture, and I can snuggle into bed for a day or two.
Mmm.
A man strode in behind the group, and Nessa was instantly transfixed. Spellbound. She hardly noticed Aoife’s presence fading from her mind.
The man was a commanding force dressed in all black, hooded and cloaked in such a way that he was little more than a shadow, unnoticed by almost everyone. His overcoat, long and dark, hung heavily over his shoulders, reaching to his ankles, concealing much of his form, leaving only his booted feet and h
is arms clearly visible. While he wasn’t particularly close, Nessa could still make out the lines of well-defined muscles beneath the leather of his tunic’s sleeves. Loosely wrapped around his broad shoulders was a hooded scarf, the edge pulled down low over his face.
Shifting in her chair, Nessa tried to catch a glimpse of the stranger’s face, but the hood was too deep and the lighting was too dim. She could see nothing but faint outlines of his strong jaw. Her eyes darted to Hunter and Orm, wondering if they had noticed the new arrivals. Their attention, though, was focused solely on the game Orm was playing.
The hooded stranger turned to Jerome and said something, an order perhaps. Jerome gave a nod of his head and began ushering the others away, leading them through the den to a doorway on the opposite side of the room. The hooded stranger went to follow, taking a few steps, then paused.
As if he could sense eyes upon him, his head turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over the room. Nessa told herself to turn away, that she didn’t want to be caught staring, but it was as if he could hear her thoughts. As soon as the impulse to look elsewhere entered her mind, his head snapped to the side.
Nessa was ensnared, instantly and completely.
The dimness of the room didn’t matter, nor did the shadows of his hood. Eyes of the deepest blue captured hers, gleaming with an almost magical quality. Nessa’s breath caught in her chest. Her Rider’s Mark tingled with warmth, with eerie recognition.
“I know you,” she whispered with surety.
Chapter 23
With blood roaring in her ears, Nessa leaped to her feet, sweeping up her tumbler as the blue-eyed stranger strode through the den, following after Jerome and the other newcomers with single-minded purpose. Although on the other side of the room, people and pillars between them, Nessa never lost track of him, keeping him in her sights. There was something about the hooded stranger that called to her, powerful and strange, pulling her after him.
Nessa approached the bar, the guise of getting a refill her reason for being up and about.
The bar took up almost an entire wall of the den, and would have if not for an archway that stood in the corner, the archway the hooded stranger stalked through. Red drapes hung on either side of it, and a long corridor ran parallel to the room. Nessa knew that the corridor was dotted with a handful of doors, one of which led to the tunnel they’d used to enter the den.
House of Blood and Bone Page 23
