Etched in Silver: An Otherworld Novella

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “So beautiful,” he whispered, tracing my chin with his fingertips, gently running his fingers over my mouth. I parted my lips and he slid his index finger inside. Closing my lips around his finger, I swirled my tongue against the flesh, gently running my teeth over his skin as I pulled away.

  He caught a harsh breath. “Do you know how lucky you are that I am not like the majority of my kinsmen?”

  “Do you realize how lucky you are that I’m not like my sisters?” I countered, wishing we were anywhere but here. I hesitated. Would it be so bad to forget about Roche? To pretend I didn’t know he was here, to run off to an inn with Trillian and slide my naked body across his? But then my father’s training kicked in and I let out a long sigh. “Roche shouldn’t be able to recognize me now. Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”

  Trillian laughed, then. “Camille, somehow I think that if you lose anything, it won’t be your courage. Come, pretend you’re with me and keep quiet until we find him. They don’t like women in the dens but they’ll allow them if they’re with a man. We can get a feel for what’s going on and go from there.”

  He paid the man and we headed back to Bes’s den. Trillian motioned for me to hang back a few steps while he talked to the two guards at the entrance.

  The vagabond gambling dens were usually owned by criminals. Gaming wasn’t illegal, but the safer dens were found in buildings and guaranteed the gambler safe passage in and out of the game rooms unless they invited trouble. The vagabonds’ dens were strictly enter-at-your-own-risk.

  Suddenly chilled, I realized how grateful I was that Trillian was with me. I could fight down and dirty, but the dens were dangerous places, and without my sisters, I felt vulnerable. I shifted from one foot to the other, wanting to get this over with.

  Trillian motioned for me to follow him inside. The tent was a two-room affair, with the main room taken up by the den. There were two low-rise tables, around which sat a dozen men—six at each table. I glanced over the crowd and there he was. Roche.

  His eyes were glazed and he looked rough, his face covered with stubble, his hair unkempt, and his clothes filthy. Worse yet, he was stinking up the place. I wondered how long it had been since he’d had a bath. A pile of coins sat in front of him and he toyed with them, rolling them over and over in his hand.

  Trillian sauntered up to the table and spoke to the dealer, who nodded curtly and pointed to a chair. As he sat down, he motioned for me to stand behind him. As I slowly crossed the floor, my gaze demurely pointed at my feet, something felt off. Very off. As though hidden eyes were watching me.

  I leaned over Trillian’s shoulder to whisper to him but then stopped. Roche was still turning over the coins in his hand, but his gaze was firmly fastened on me. Catching my breath, I placed a hand on Trillian’s shoulder, squeezing in the hope that he’d get my message that something was up.

  “In or out?” the dealer asked him.

  Trillian tossed a few coins on the table. “In.”

  Roche glanced down at the pile of coins in front of him and anted up, then added twenty pen more. The bets went round the table, with each player meeting or raising the bet. Roche held up the dice and pitched them on the table. Out of five dice, they landed a total of twenty-one pips. He frowned as the dealer jotted down the number. Round the table they went, each man taking his turn. By the time Trillian was up, Roche was still the leader. Trillian scooped up the dice and neatly tossed them. They rebounded off the bumper on the other side and came up four sixes and a three.

  “Twenty-seven. You’re the current leader. What’s your pleasure? Let stand or bet for the second round?”

  Trillian shook his head. “Stand.”

  Roche snorted. “That the best you can do, Svartan?” He tossed another three coins on the pot. “Reroll.” The dice came his way and he shook them in his hand, blowing on them for luck, then tossed them.

  The dealer grunted. “Twenty-three pips. Still under. Next?”

  Roche slammed his hand on the table but said nothing as the other four players took their turns. Two walked out, their pockets clean. The other two bet again but neither one hit the mark and they both folded.

  Trillian glanced at Roche. He could either match what had been added to the pot and toss again for the third and final round, or he could stand on his mark and see if Roche bested him.

  “Stand,” he said, giving Roche a faint grin that bordered on patronizing.

  That’s the way, I thought. Push him over the edge.

  Roche took the bait. He motioned to the dealer. “Kysa.” As he lit up the hookah the dealer offered him, he glanced at me again. “What would you think of a higher wager—just between us? I’m sure I can make it worth your while.”

  Trillian grunted. “What do you have in mind?”

  “A night with your woman.” Roche gave him a lopsided grin. “Can’t see her face but from the walk, she’s got it where it counts.”

  What the fuck? The look on his face was that of a mad dog’s. I stiffened, then it occurred to me this was the perfect way to get alone with him. I forced myself to relax, wondering if Trillian would think of that little fact, too.

  Giving no sign that the request had unnerved him, Trillian leaned back in his chair, glancing up at me. “What makes you think she’s for rent?”

  Roche’s breath came heavy as he leaned across the table. “Every coin in my pocket against a night with her.”

  Trillian frowned. “Let me consider it while I have a drink.” He motioned to me. “We’ll be back. Have an account of how much you’re willing to wager.” He paused, not turning as we reached the door. “And don’t even think about lightening the pile on the table. I know exactly how much is there. I’m not lenient with thieves,” he added. He motioned to the boy who was running drinks for the players. “Tygerian brandy. Now.”

  The boy scurried off and within seconds was back with a shot of brandy. Trillian tossed him a coin and then motioned for me to follow him out of the den.

  “This is the way for me to get to him,” I said when we were out of earshot.

  “It’s dangerous. Did you see the glint in his eye? He’s hunting, and he’s after you.” Trillian shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with him, even for a few moments. I’ll follow you, of course, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to get in there in time to stop him.”

  “I need to take him down,” I said. “At first, I just wanted to save my job, but after seeing the look in his eyes . . .” My words drifted off as I glanced back at the tent. “Too many people are dead because of him, including his own family. They need justice. If I don’t do it, nobody else will.”

  Trillian leaned down and brushed my brow with a kiss. “And this is what I saw in you the other day in the bar. I may be a mercenary, but I’ve got a code of ethics. And you, Camille D’Artigo, exceed my standards.”

  I shivered. “I don’t want to do this, but I’ve got to. You’ll back me up?”

  He nodded. “I promise you on my honor. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent him from hurting you.”

  I patted my bag. “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. Let’s just hope I don’t have to use it.” Checking to make sure my stiletto was strapped to my thigh for easy access, I straightened my shoulders and drew the hood back over my head. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  Trillian parted the flaps of the tent. “As you wish,” he said, but his eyes told me he wasn’t at all happy about the plan.

  4

  ROCHE jerked his head up as Trillian slid back into his chair. He looked hungry, like he hadn’t eaten in a long time, but it wasn’t food he was looking for.

  Trillian glanced at the pile of coins, then nodded. Apparently everything was still there. “I accept your wager. Empty your purse and pockets. I want to see everything you have on you.”

  Roche tossed his purse on the table. He slowly reached into his pockets. I held my breath, but he brought his hands into sight again, filled with coins. Large denomi
nations, at that. He dumped them on the table as Trillian motioned to the dealer. The man, a burly bald Fae who was part-goblin by the looks of him, opened the purse and up-ended it over the pile of coins. The bet had tripled. I wondered if Roche had a stash of money hidden somewhere. He surely wouldn’t be stupid enough to wager everything on the chance of winning a night with me.

  Trillian glanced at me and I gave him a slight nod. He picked up the dice and tossed them to Roche. “Winner takes all.”

  Roche sucked in a deep breath and let the dice fly. Everybody who was in the tent was watching the game by now and leaned in to see what he would land.

  The dealer carefully tallied the points. “Twenty-six pips.”

  Trillian picked up the dice and tensed. I knew he was going to skew the numbers. Whether by magic or sleight of hand, he’d lose. He casually bounced them across the table. They skidded across the surface to ricochet off one of the bumpers and land squarely beside the pile of coins. Two fours, a six, a three, and a five. Twenty-two pips.

  “Twenty-two pips. You lose.”

  Roche triumphantly gathered up the coins. “She’s mine for the night. You aren’t going to try to back out on me, are you?”

  Trillian shook his head. “No, but I claim the right to wait outside.” He stared at Roche. “After all, you can’t expect me to trust you.”

  A dark cloud swept across Roche’s face, but after a moment, he shrugged. “Whatever you say, but no interference.” His voice was ragged.

  I shivered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He could do a lot of damage in the time it would take Trillian to bust through the door. But then I thought of the women and children Roche had murdered. Lathe thought he could break me with this one. I’d show him just how freakin’ strong I was and bust his balls, and in the process I’d take down a killer.

  Trillian stepped outside and I followed. Roche followed me. He was fixated—I could feel his energy sliming around in my aura.

  To calm my nerves, behind the cowl of my drape I kept my mind on the surprise he had coming. Maybe I should just use the death scroll the minute we were alone, but the Moon Mother’s energy was working on me. The hunt wouldn’t be nearly so much fun if I gave him an easy exit. No, if I could capture him alive, the families of the dead would have the right to request blood-vengeance. And they would be harsher than I could ever be.

  Trillian put himself between Roche and me. “Your name, first? I won’t let anybody touch her without a name.”

  Roche arched one eyebrow. “She must really be good,” he said. “They call me Roche. Follow me.”

  We followed him through the maze of vendors until we came to Azyur Boulevard, where he turned left into a long, narrow street. The streets were lined with worn cobblestones and the buildings were old, two-story stone and mortar. He stopped in front of a seedy-looking dive. The sign read CALISTO’S.

  “Second floor,” he said, leading us in through the foyer. The innkeeper—a short, squat rawhead—was sitting behind a roughly hewn counter, his feet propped up on the wood, a bottle of booze in his hands. He cast a quick look our way, then went back to his drinking. We couldn’t count on him for help. Rawheads were nastier than goblins, out for themselves and nobody else.

  We headed up the narrow stairwell to the second floor. Roche stopped in front of a door that was scarred with the wounds of past intruders. A patch job covered a fist-sized hole.

  He turned to Trillian. “As agreed, you stay out here.”

  Trillian shrugged. “Play by the rules and we won’t have a problem.”

  Roche unlocked the door and ushered me into the dingy room. It stunk of stale food and the faint scent of urine. I glanced around. The bed was a single cot with a thin mattress and ratty spread. Movement caught my attention and I looked closer. Fleas. Gross.

  In one corner were a table and chair, and a small stand with a water pitcher and a bowl sat near the bed. There was no sign of bath or private commode—whoever Calisto was, he was definitely a slumlord.

  My courage wavered and I decided to take the quickest way out. No chance in hell was I letting Roche lay one hand on me. If that meant using the death scroll, then that’s what it meant. I edged toward the table, gently setting my bag on the splintered surface. Roche was watching me, I could feel his eyes on my back.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said hoarsely.

  It was now or never. I covered what I was doing with my body as I fished around in the bag for the handcuffs. As I touched the iron, he grabbed my drape and yanked it off. I dropped the cuffs back in the bag and whirled around.

  “Just as I thought. A Moon witch.”

  “Is that a problem?” I asked, keeping my voice even. He hadn’t noticed what was in my bag yet. Score one for me, but I had to get them on him before he knew what I was up to.

  Roche stepped forward, the soft fall of his boots against the floor echoing in the stuffy room. For a moment he didn’t answer, and then, his voice taking on a nasty tone, he said, “Normally, I’d be thrilled. Fucking a Moon witch is like fucking an expensive whore, but considering you’re with the YIA and out to capture me, I don’t think I’m really all that happy to see you.”

  Crap. He knew who I was. I spun, grabbing the handcuffs as I scrambled to get out of his reach. The look on his face was all I needed to see. I’d been set up. Lathe had sold me out and I knew it.

  Roche lunged at me, and I screamed as I swung the handcuffs toward him, hoping to contact his face with the iron. There was a sound at the door. Thank the gods, Trillian!

  But before Trillian could break through, Roche muttered something under his breath and the world shifted as he grabbed my hand. I frantically grabbed for anything I could to steady myself, but the chair, the table, the floor all vanished and we were standing in the middle of a misty field.

  Looking around, I realized that we were out on the astral. I recognized it from the nights I ran with the Hunt under the full moon. How the hell had Roche managed that?

  He was standing right next to me, but he’d dropped my hand as we shifted over—the landing had been rough—and I took the opportunity to swing the cuffs as hard as I could, keeping hold of one loop while using the other like the ball on a spiked flail. It hit him square on the cheek and the iron sizzled against his skin. Roche screamed and clutched his face.

  Swinging again, I hit the other cheek, then raced off. Though I’d burned and bruised him, the wounds weren’t enough to stop him.

  I made tracks, not caring which direction I headed in. I had to find some place to hide. The astral realm had its own flora and fauna, of a sort, and I spotted a stand of twisted trees up ahead. They weren’t real trees, of course, not like the ones we had back home, but they’d do.

  Racing through the mists that swirled around my ankles, I thought I might be able to reach the stand before Roche caught up to me. I had one thing in my favor: when I ran with the Hunt, I was used to being out on the astral and I could run like the wind here. I sped up, leaving him in a wash of roiling mist.

  As I slipped into the shadow of the trees, my mind was racing. How the hell was I supposed to get out of here? I couldn’t shift on my own unless the Hunt was summoning me or dropping me off. Come to think of it, where the hell had Roche learned to shift realms?

  I softly darted among the ancient beings, watching their gnarled knots and burls form into faces. With a little luck they’d be friendly. With bad luck, they wouldn’t and I’d be facing a whole new set of problems.

  There was no clearly marked path through the thicket—at least not that I could see through the mists—but the trees were parted to either side like they were flanking a trail so I headed down the center, searching for a fork leading off to the side. Maybe I’d get lucky and see a big sign flashing HIDING PLACE—YOU’LL BE SAFE HERE.

  Damn it, I hadn’t counted on Roche being able to jump realms. This was a definite kink in my plans. Maybe a deadly one.

  A noise in the distance caught my attention. I trie
d to pinpoint the origin and decided it was probably Roche, nearing the woods. He was swearing, or at least that’s what I thought I heard.

  Time to get out of sight. I glanced around at the thick undergrowth that surrounded the trees. The shrubs were just as menacing as the trees, but beggars can’t be choosers. It was either hide, or wait for Roche to knock me off. I plunged into the undergrowth, pushing through the waist-high bushes, trying to avoid leaving a trail.

  The bushes grew taller as I continued off-path, and I finally found myself in front of a stand of brambles that had grown like a dome over a rock. A narrow crawl space allowed me to slip beneath the tendrils and slide behind the boulder. Once I was in my hidey-hole, I arranged the thorn-studded suckers to cover the access.

  Of course, what I’d do after he left was another thing. Probably just wander around, hoping to find somebody who could send me home.

  I waited, wondering what Trillian was doing. If he was like a hundred men I’d met, he’d take off, chalking it up to fate. A little part of me dared to hope that he’d come after me, but I knew better than to count on it. The Svartans weren’t exactly the most loyal group of races around, and even if he defied the odds, very few from Svartalfheim had easy access to the etheric realms.

  The sound of footsteps caught my attention and I held my breath. The thorns poked at me. I tried to adjust my position, but realized that it wasn’t me bumping into them. Apparently the bush had decided to test out just what kind of creature I was, and one of the fronds was prodding me in the arm with its thorny tip. I grimaced and tried to gently wave it away. No such luck.

  As it tapped me again, I glanced around, ready to pull out my dagger and chop the damned thing off, when I saw eyes gleaming at me from the base of the tree. The face stared at me impassively, then slowly blinked. The bramble that had been poking at me moved to point toward a low tunnel through the thorn bushes. That hadn’t been there before.

  I glanced back at the tree and then sucked in a deep breath and dove for the tunnel. As I crawled through the mist, I heard a sound and darted a look over my shoulder. The brambles had closed again, cocooning me in a cave of thorns and leaves. I could barely see through the tangle of protection. As I settled myself, an odd little creature crossed through the place I’d just been crouching. A foul stench filled the air as it lifted its tail. A lycon—a friendly little mammal with a very strong defense. Mother had called them skunks.