by H. D. Gordon
“Why wasn’t the demon poison removed as soon as it happened?”
Theo gave Gregory a hard look, and he snapped his mouth shut. “Because,” Theo said, “at the time it happened, the Black Stone was missing.” Gregory’s jaw unhinged, and Theo nodded. “I know. Sounds impossible, but it’s true. That’s not the issue, however, as the Black Stone has been recovered and returned to the Dark Mountain. The issue is that the man who stole it is still on the loose, and he has some very… unfortunate accomplices.”
Samson held perfectly still as Theo recounted all that had happened in the past week to Gregory. His heart was beating fast, and he wished it wouldn’t. It was making him antsy, making him want to move. Not just to move, but to drop down on these men’s shoulders and tear…
He lifted his head and gave it a small shake. He was worried about her, was all. Hearing all the events of the past week put into words by Theodine Gray was setting him off, reminding him of the mess his Surah had found herself in. The last time he’d seen her had hardly been a couple days ago, but already he missed her. Without her, he felt completely out of place in this castle, in this city filled with Two Legs and conspirers. But he was learning things. Important things. Gaining information that may help keep his Surah safe. He settled his head back between his paws and concentrated on the secret conversation going on below him.
“So let me get this straight,” Gregory was saying. “The Magic is gone and you don’t know why or how. Syrian is in a coma. Some lowly outlaw who calls himself Black Heart wants to kill him and my niece, and has already killed two Highborn ladies to prove he’s dangerous. The royals are demanding blood. The commoners are demanding answers… and where did you say Surah was in all this? Didn’t you say she escaped Black Heart and brought the Stone back to heal Syrian? Where is she now?”
A long silence followed in which Samson found it hard not only to sit still, but to breathe. He had no idea how Theo would answer this question, and for some reason unknown to him, he had a feeling in his gut that whatever that answer was, it would set a chain of events in motion. Either for the good of his Surah, or for the bad. Also, with the way his animal instincts were roaring inside him, the answer Theo gave to this question may put his life at risk.
If Samson suspected Theo and Gregory were planning to kill his Surah, neither man would leave this room.
At last, when Sam was just thinking he could no longer take it, and he should indeed kill them right now, just to be safe, Theo spoke.
“Surah is with Black Heart’s brother, a man named Charlie Redmine,” he said, speaking the name with so much disgust it must have tasted foul in his mouth. “She helped him escape. Teleported him out of the dungeons right before my eyes. I caught them… in each other’s arms.”
Theo’s voice had started out indifferent, but had slowly morphed into a near growl. Gregory sat back as he absorbed this. Samson sat forward, his rear legs bunched and tight and ready to spring.
“It doesn’t surprise me, really,” Gregory said, rubbing his smooth chin in thought. “She was always a defiant girl. Never good at taking orders. Always getting herself into trouble and—”
Theo slammed his hand down on the top of the wooden table between them, making Gregory jump like a frightened child and bite his words off mid-sentence. Theo was seething now, though his face was still calm and cool. Samson could smell his sudden anger radiating all the way up to where he was perched.
“You will not speak ill of the Princess,” Theo said, his teeth clenched and his eyes cold. “She doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into. It’s that fucking scum Redmine and his worthless brother. They’re brainwashing her, using her because she is the easiest target. She just needs help to see things the right way.”
Gregory said nothing for a long while, probably too afraid to do so. Finally, he cleared his throat. “So what are we going to do about her… involvement with Redmine? What if she can’t be made to ‘see things the right way’?”
Samson had risen off his belly now, a hair’s width away from leaping down on top of them.
“She will,” Theo said. “After we take care of Black Heart and Charlie, she’ll have to.” He stood and walked slowly around the table until he was standing over Gregory, his black cloak gliding smoothly behind him. “I’ve only told you these things because you are the Head of the Council, and when King Syrian awakens I’ll need an advocate on my side, someone who can attest to the truth, as I fear it will come down to my word against his daughter’s. Also, at the meeting in the Square tomorrow, I want to know I can count on you to stand beside me and keep the peace. The people mustn’t know the King is ill.”
Gregory nodded once, his beady eyes never leaving Theo’s. “What are you going to tell the people? Word about the murders has spread beyond just royals, and I know I’ve said this before, but the Magic is gone. People are scared. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a little worried myself. An untended throne is like a dinner bell to wolves. And this news about Surah…”
Theo grabbed Gregory so quickly even Samson was surprised. He gripped the older man’s cloak-front and nearly lifted him out of his chair. Gregory gave a small squeal and fear sparked behind his eyes as Theo leaned in closely, putting them nose to nose.
“This news about Surah,” he said, talking again through tightly clenched teeth. “Never leaves this room.”
Samson’s head tilted as he watched this exchange, wondering how Gregory was going to respond to this, because while it looked like he was at a disadvantage, Samson knew that Surah’s uncle was cleverer than he received credit for—something that worked to his advantage most of the time.
Gregory reached up and slowly removed Theo’s hands from his cloak, his gaze holding the Head Hunter’s with impressive stubbornness. Samson knew Gregory was physically afraid of Theo, but he refused to back down despite this. If Samson didn’t know better, he thought he might respect the man. At the moment, all he wanted was to eat him.
Theo stepped back and gave his head a small shake. “Forgive me, Lord Brightstar,” he said. “I only wish to ensure the safety of my king and his kingdom. Tomorrow we will simply tell the people we are investigating the reason behind the missing Magic and expect to have answers soon, and then we will distract them.”
Gregory ran a hand down his cloak, smoothing it out. “And how will we do that, Hunter Gray? Some of these people will have made a two-day journey to the capital city to find out what is going on, which is why I’m not so sure sending out those fliers was such a good idea. You sure you want to gather a bunch of scared people and feed them lies?”
“How long did it take you to get here, Lord Brightstar?” Theo asked.
Gregory’s brow furrowed. “To the castle? A day and a half ride, of course. I live near the mountains. Why?”
“Then how did you arrive so quickly? I only sent those fliers out earlier this afternoon.”
“I headed here very soon after I felt the Magic leave me.”
“So you didn’t see the flier until after you were already heading here,” Theo said, nodding as if that proved his point. He continued on when he saw Gregory wasn’t following. “People have been arriving here since the Magic left. People from all over. You weren’t the only one who got scared and decided to turn our way for answers. You’re right, everyone is scared, and because their leaders are here, this is where they are coming. All of the hotels and inns in the city are nearly at capacity, and some of the common folk are setting up campsites nearby.” He shrugged. “I figured it was better to make them feel like invited guests rather than unannounced visitors.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Hunter Gray.”
“No, I’m not.”
Gregory laughed and stood, the legs of the chair he was sitting in scraping against the wooden floor in a way Samson hated. Gregory put his hand over his heart and looked Theo in the eyes. “You have my word that my niece’s indiscretions will remain between the two of us. That will probably be the least of
our troubles if the Magic is not restored soon anyway. I do hope your plan for distraction is a good one. I’ve seen how fast a group of scared people can turn into an angry mob.”
Theo gave a tight smile. “That’s why we are going to open the castle’s brewery and let the people drink free tonight. I’ve also arranged for all the food in the city to be free to anyone who should be hungry. People won’t remember they have anything to be afraid of, or be angry about having travelled such a long way when their bellies are full of ale and good food, and I’ve asked a few bands to play in the streets. We’ll keep the mood light.”
“Sounds like you’re having a festival. How did you arrange all of this without the Council’s permission? I’m not sure Lord Nightborn would have signed off on such a thing, and all expenses are supposed to be approved by him, as he is the King’s treasurer. I doubt he would have allowed it, as the budget may not be there for it.”
Theo gave him a droll look. “We have more than enough ‘budget’ for it, and you know it, Lord Brightstar. I’m sure if King Syrian could say, he would agree this is a worthwhile expense. We don’t want to have any riots breaking out with things in such a fragile state. I’m sure we can at least agree on that.”
Gregory held his hands up. “Oh, well of course. We certainly don’t want that. It’s just a shame King Syrian isn’t in a position to say.”
Samson didn’t particularly like Theo, but something kept him from attacking, kept him crouched on his perch, muscles bunched like springs. Sure, Theo wanted Charlie Redmine dead, but he sounded like he genuinely wanted to keep Surah and her father safe, and Surah was the only thing that mattered as far as Samson was concerned.
Gregory, on the other hand, was a different story. For one reason or another, Samson didn’t trust the man, and he wanted to bite Theo’s arm off for sharing such sensitive information about Surah with him. Theo probably thought Gregory was the best bet for a confidant because he was Head of the King’s Council and Surah’s uncle. Whereas Sam had always thought of Lord Brightstar as an overly ambitious man. And the last thing those kind of men needed was powerful information.
His amber eyes snapped back to the action below and he pulled out of his thoughts to pay attention, shaking images of severed arms from his mind.
Gregory laid a hand on Theo’s shoulder and patted it twice. “All right, Hunter Gray. It sounds like you have everything under control then.” He paused. “But have you thought at all about what would happen should Syrian fail to heal and Surah fail to return? I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but as the head of the king’s council, I feel it my duty to consider the possibility, with everything you’ve told me.”
“No,” Theo said. “I have not considered such a thing, because it is not a possibility.” His tone left for no argument.
Gregory held his hands up in surrender once more. “All right,” he said, and that was all.
The men shook hands and left the room, and from thirty feet above, amber eyes watched their retreat. When the door closed behind them, Samson crept along the wall and over to the window he had slipped in through earlier, pushing it open with his nose and stepping out into the fresh night air. He looked down on the courtyard below, with its thrum of activity, and spotted Theo and Gregory exiting the hidden arched door that was covered in vines and placed behind a tall fountain. They slipped into the crowd unnoticed by anyone but the tiger.
On the roof, Samson held his body low and his ears flat, his tail flicking back and forth behind him. When the two men split ways, he wondered for just a second which one he should follow. The answer came to him when he flashed back to the conversation he’d heard just a moment ago.
Gregory had asked, “Have you thought about what would happen should Syrian fail to heal and Surah fail to return?”
Theo had said he hadn’t. But Samson bet Gregory, who’d only just learned all the details of the situation, already had.
He leapt to the roof adjacent the one he was on and followed Gregory out of the courtyard, his stomach growling despite the fact he wasn’t in the least hungry.
CHAPTER 25
SAMSON
He wished he had been able to take a few naps today, and last night he had not slept well, either. He had followed Gregory to his chambers, and hid now under the enormous bed that sat in the middle of the room Gregory had been given in the castle. He was flat on his belly, seeing only bits of light peaking in from between the bed skirt and the floor. Gregory was in the bathroom, had been in there so long that Samson wasn’t sure he could keep his eyes open anymore. It was cool under here, dark and quiet, save for the water running in the bathroom. He could just close his eyes for a little…
His eyes snapped open when he heard the door to the bathroom open and footsteps as Gregory came into the room, bringing the smells of lavender and papaya with him. Samson tried to breathe through his mouth because the scents were so overwhelming, but it was not an easy task for a cat, despite the fact that he’d been attempting it since he was a cub. Two-Legs could always be counted on for unpleasant aromas. He was grateful his Surah wasn’t the kind of human who liked to wear perfume.
When Gregory dressed in his nightclothes and began to crawl into bed for the night, Samson let out a silent sigh of relief. He had been following the man around all night, had sat outside a restaurant while Gregory had indulged in a late night, three course meal. Had endured a down-wind position as Gregory had puffed on a particularly pungent cigar. Had put his paws over his head as the man took a paid woman into an alley and had his way with her against the wall.
Several times this night Samson had to remind himself of the task at hand and why it was important. He’d wanted to either stop stalking Gregory or just go for the kill already on multiple occasions. At one point—he couldn’t quite remember, but it was probably when he’d had to witness the grotesque form of human fornication—he’d had to say her name over and over again in his head to keep from bailing.
Surah, Surah, Surah…
He’d recalled his answer to a question Mila, a cat he had once been (and technically still was) betrothed to, had asked him about his Surah.
How much do you love her?
And his answer, an answer that cats only ever gave about their mates.
More than the moon loves the night and the sun loves the day.
So it was a great relief when it looked as though Gregory was turning in for the night, because Samson thought if he had to endure much more of these mundane human activities he might just decide to go on a rampage… after he took a quick nap…
For the second time, his eyes popped open, and above him, the springs of the bed creaked as Gregory sat up. If Samson’s ears were right—which they always were—someone had just knocked lightly on the chamber’s window.
His senses perked up immediately, his ears swiveling and his nose twitching. This was one of the tower rooms, which meant it was high up and circular in shape. The stones around the window did not protrude enough for someone to climb up. But his ears didn’t lie. Somehow, someone was waiting outside Gregory’s window.
He watched as Gregory’s feet landed on the floor in front of him and crept forward on his belly until he was looking out of the front right corner of the bed, where the bed skirt was hitched just a bit higher, giving him a wider gap to peer through. Gregory grabbed a heavy bookend from a shelf on the wall before creeping cautiously over to the window. When he got there, he just stood staring at it, the bookend held at the ready, as if he were afraid to get too close. Samson sighed silently at the man’s pitiful reservations.
The small knock came again, and Samson’s amber eyes narrowed when a face appeared in the window. Though Gregory’s back was to him, he must have known the visitor, because he set the bookend down after a moment and pushed open the glass of the arched window.
As soon as it was open, the caller stepped into the room and stood on the window sill, towering over Gregory in a way that made him look almost comically small and round.
Samson studied the Two-Leg, and knew he had met him before but could not recall his name. After a couple hundred years, it became impossible to remember the names of everyone you met, even if you did so more than once. But this Two-Leg would be hard to forget, because he had a smell about him that made Samson’s stomach growl loudly, and he never forgot the smell of a nice meal.
Also, the man had a look about him that left an impression. His hair was long and straight and silver, falling well past his wide shoulders. His eyes were also silver, and his skin was so pale it could nearly be considered silver as well. He was shirtless, his chest and stomach carved with muscle, and as he settled on the window, his black, dragonfly-like wings flitted twice and then folded against his back and over his arms. They melted into the skin there, looking now like nothing more than black tattoos.
“Arrol,” said Gregory, “What in the name of the Gods are you doing here?”
Arrol. That’s right. Now Samson remembered. His Surah had had dealings with this Arrol before. Samson studied him closer, remembering that he was what Two-Legs called a Fae, though if you asked Samson they were all just Two-Legs to him. Except Fae had wings, which explained how he had reached the tower window, but not at all why he was here. The last time that Samson checked, other races didn’t just cross over into the territories of another, and they certainly didn’t just show up at the king’s castle.
“I am not here in the name of the Gods,” Arrol said, his voice as silky as his hair.
Gregory crossed out of Samson’s line of sight for a moment, but by the noise he was making, Samson could tell he was over by the bar in the corner pouring himself a drink. He must have offered the Fae one, because Arrol held up his hand and shook his head. “I’ve a long flight to make, and it’s best if I have my wits about me so I may make it back to my land before sunrise.”
Gregory entered the scene again and leaned casually against the wall, taking a deep swig of his brandy before eyeing Arrol closely. “Not here in the name of the Gods?” he asked. “I was under the impression you delivered messages for the White Gods. Whose errand are you on now?”
