The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey

by Melissa Myers

  Shade leaned back in his seat and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag to buy himself time to think. He had never heard any rumors about Hemlock having mind magics, but then one never knew. And the assassin’s words echoed too closely to what he had been thinking for him to feel comfortable. He blew the smoke out slowly and watched it curl toward the ceiling. “She is a Temple orphan, Hemlock, and her parents were farmers. The only reason anyone would want her dead would be to hurt me,” he answered finally. “In truth, I’d rather you take the contract on me. She is innocent, and you and I both know how rare that particular trait is.”

  “See, there is the problem with a good liar, I’ll just have to guess on whether you are telling the truth or not.” There was a faint hint of amusement in the Assassin’s voice.

  “You don’t have to guess, you know I am,” Shade returned calmly. He took another drag on his cigarette and signaled Sadie to bring him a beer. The woman gave a hesitant nod obviously not wanting to approach the table. Shade looked back at Hemlock. “I know you won’t tell me who has asked for her death, but if you will tell me the price I’ll double it to keep you from taking the contract.” It was a slim hope and he knew it. Men like Hemlock didn’t thrive for being sentimental. Of course, it was also rare for them arrange such meetings.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve been offered contracts on you, Shade?” Hemlock asked, once Sadie had set the beer down on the table and hurried away. He watched her go as he spoke and slowly turned back toward Shade for the answer.

  “I’ve no idea. I can’t imagine I’d be sitting here if it were many,” Shade replied. He raised the mug and took a long drink of the dark bitter brew, and continued to pretend he was at ease. He’d only met Hemlock on a couple of occasions - once on a darkened roof chance meet, another time at a card game. He had never gotten a good look at the man, for Hemlock always seemed to be swathed from head to toe in cloaks the color of shadows. Both times had left him unsettled, and this time was proving no different. There were few men alive that had the same presence as Hemlock. You couldn’t disregard this man, no matter what station you held.

  “Twenty-three,” Hemlock said. He ran a gloved finger down the handle of his beer mug while Shade sat reeling from the figure. After a long moment’s silence, he leaned back. “Now, ask me why I’ve never taken the contracts.”

  Shade let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and flicked the ash of his cigarette onto the floor. “Well, that is a question I’d like answered, for I’m rather curious. Apparently I’m doing something right, and I’d like to know what to continue doing.” His voice did have a bit of a tremor in it now despite his efforts to control it.

  “You are not a typical High Lord. I’ve seen what you do for the people of Sanctuary. You actually care about the commons,” Hemlock answered, his voice not quite as cold as normal.

  “I actually prefer them,” Shade admitted. It was the honest truth, he realized. It was easier to find simple happiness on these excursions as Chris. He found it hard to believe, however, that the leader of the Assassin’s guild had any true compassion for the commons. “I’d rather have an old worn woman speak truth to me, than have a beautiful young High Lady lie in my face. These people are real while the High Lords are all actors. They never say what they mean, and they are always waiting for an opportunity to stab you in the back.” He regretted his choice of words the moment they left his mouth. No doubt Hemlock was fond of stabbing people in the back, if he took offense though he gave no sign.

  “You don’t belong with them, nor do you belong in the Academy, for you have a way about the Shadows. Join the guild and I’ll see that you learn what you need to know,” Hemlock said.

  Shade sat silent, repeating the words in his mind. He had never thought of himself as an Assassin, but an offer like that from this man couldn’t simply be thrown off. Hemlock was arguably one of the most powerful men in the world, despite his lack of a House. He took another sip of his beer. To never be Christian Morcaillo again. The thought was sweeter than he had ever imagined it could be. He looked back up to find Hemlock watching him, and wished, for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night he could see his face, for you could tell so much from a man’s eyes.

  “I’ll let you think on it Shade. Such a decision should not be done lightly,” Hemlock said as he rose smoothly from the table.

  “Wait, what about Jala?” Shade asked hurriedly before the man could move a single step.

  “You will know soon enough on that. If she isn’t dead in a week, I didn’t take the contract,” Hemlock replied and turned without another word for the door. Shade watched him go and took another sip from his beer. If he joined the guild, he could possibly stop Hemlock from moving against Jala. He stared down at his beer and began to weigh seriously the options, for this was a choice that required heavy thought.

  Chapter 15

  Sanctuary

  She stood on a black, wasted field. Ashes swirled around her feet. She turned slowly, looking around her. As far as she could see, the landscape was ruined and the sky was dark with storm clouds. Lightning flashed above her. The thunder that followed seemed to shake the entire earth.

  “Find me. Why won’t you find me?” A voice called in whispery tones, repeating the phrase over and over again. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. One time it was her father’s voice, the next Father Belson’s, once it had even sounded vaguely like Shade.

  “Find me,” it demanded. “I came when you called, but you were not here,” it hissed as if right behind her.

  She whirled, stirring ash with her feet. The air behind her was empty, as she had known it would be. Her heart raced and the panic rising in her chest was making her skittish. She knew this waste, once there had been a Jimpa tree here right beside a small brook. To her north was a hill where her father had died trying to reach her. Perhaps those I should have died with are haunting me, Jala reasoned.

  “FIND ME!” the voice bellowed, its tone no longer familiar. The air around her swirled with sudden wind, and she could feel the desperation and fury of the voice filling it. “I came to you, and you hide from me,” the voice growled, its words barely comprehensible.

  The air moved to her left then back behind her. She shifted her feet, unsure of where to go. She felt stalked and pressed from all sides like a doe among a pack of wolves. “I don’t know you,” she whispered. She could feel eyes upon her, but she couldn’t tell where from.

  “You must. You called me,” the voice replied, now seeming to come from her right. “NOW FIND ME!” It roared a last time as something large broke from the darkness coming right at her.

  “I don’t know where you are!” she called desperately as she scrambled up from her tangled blankets. She crouched there breathing heavily with her brow covered with a slight film of sweat.

  “I’m here, my love,” Madren’s voice whispered from nearby. He stood then and started to move toward her, yet she could barely make out his form in the darkness of her room.

  “What are you doing in my bloody rooms?” She demanded, and fell back off the other side of her bed. She stood quickly and smoothed her nightgown before fumbling on a robe.

  “I was watching you sleep,” Madren answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “And I drew you. You look like an angel when you sleep,” he added proudly and held up a small drawing book for her to see.

  With a snarl, she crossed the room and snatched the book from his hands. She looked down at it and felt her anger surge again. “Why am I naked?” she demanded, her eyes still locked on his drawing.

  “I used my imagination for that part,” he replied meekly before looking up at her hopefully. “Is it close to accurate?” he asked.

  She threw the book down onto the side table and glared at him. “I do not have a tattoo, and if I did, it would not be your name,” she growled and pushed past him angrily. She had been dealing with Madren’s affections since the day she had arrived, but
enough was enough. This could not be ignored. She knew she had locked her door, yet he had broken in and been watching her sleep. She shivered slightly and realized he was following her. “You stay right here, do not follow me,” she commanded in a voice that would brook no argument. He stopped in his tracks at her words, and to her annoyance seemed happy. She moved into the hall, her fury propelling her feet to a pace that was scarcely dignified. She didn’t even knock as she pushed her way into Shade’s room.

  “I’ve had it!” she began as she stepped into the room, and then realized abruptly it was empty. Her mouth closed and she looked around the room in surprise. Perhaps it wasn’t as late, and he was still in the sitting room with the others, she thought to herself as she moved back into the hall and closed the door softly behind her. She heard noises coming from Leah’s room then, a soft thumping noise followed by muffled moans. Her face reddened as she realized what she was hearing and her jaw dropped a bit. She flicked her gaze back to Shade’s empty room and tried not to draw conclusions.

  With a heavy swallow, she moved to Lex’s room, her shock quickly giving way to anger once more. She pushed the heavy door open and stormed inside. Lex sprang up at the intrusion, and his sword was halfway from its scabbard before he realized who was in his room. She wasn’t looking at his sword though. He stood half naked in just silk pants, and her eyes were locked on his left arm, where several tattoos twined around his wrist, just as her father’s had. Lex followed her gaze to his arm and then looked back at her forcing her eyes to meet his. His expression was controlled, but she could see caution in his gold eyes even from across the room.

  “May I ask why you stormed in here?” He spoke quietly.

  “It’s Madren. Shade and Leah are apparently occupied tonight, and someone has to do something about him because he was watching me sleep.” The anger was no longer in her voice and she was having trouble keeping her eyes from the tattoos.

  Lex nodded and pulled on his shirt with a sigh. “He’s an idiot,” he muttered as he leaned his sword back against the wall by his bed and moved past her. She followed him silently with the desire to ask him if he knew Havoc or Victory, but biting her tongue. Better to ask him another time and let him just deal with Madren for now.

  Lex opened her door and stepped into the room and gave a short laugh. “Madren, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked, his voice incredulous. She heard a slight yelp from Madren and pushed her way in behind Lex. Her entire room was covered in flowers. Every flat surface held vases of them. Rose petals were strewn on the floor; as well as his clothes she noted with growing alarm. She looked up sharply, and her eyes found Madren in her bed, scrambling to cover himself in the blanket. A rose hung limply from his mouth, and his eyes looked frantic.

  “You aren’t supposed to be in here,” he said to Lex, his words garbled from the flower clenched between his teeth.

  “Neither are you,” Lex pointed out, smothering a laugh.

  Jala felt her temper reach a boiling point. She did not find the situation funny in the slightest. Finn was correct, the boy did have issues. “I’m glad you find this so amusing,” she said to Lex.

  He had the grace to wipe the smile from his face at her words. Lex crossed the room in two quick strides and picked Madren’s clothes up from the floor and threw them at him. “Get up and get dressed. You’ve started enough trouble for one night,” he ordered.

  Jala looked away quickly and busied herself trying to locate her possessions under the flowers. She shook her head in disbelief at the sheer number of Lilies, Irises, and Roses of every kind imaginable.

  “I had no idea you had a tattoo,” Lex said quietly, the amusement back in his voice.

  She whipped her head back around to them and found Lex waving a notebook lightly with a faint smile on his face. “That’s it,” she snapped and grabbed her coat from the door. “Tell Shade I’ll send for my things once I’ve made other arrangements.” She spun on her heels and headed for the door.

  “Jala wait,” she heard Lex call behind her but ignored it. She didn’t slow her pace until she was well away from the rooms and yards down the winding path. She bit her lip and leaned back against a wall, letting the shadows cover her. She didn’t even know where she was going. She wore her coat over a night robe and gown and was barefoot. She glanced back toward the hall and her eyes narrowed. With a slight growl, she wrapped her coat tighter around herself and pushed off the wall. She would not be going back there. She began to walk again, not sure exactly where she was going, but too angry simply to remain still. The anger burned off slowly and the dream seemed to fill the void it left. She could still hear the voice. Before she knew exactly what she was doing, she was through the portal and making her way quickly toward Sovann’s house.

  Sovann sat across from her quietly sipping the dark tea he had brewed soon after she had arrived. His hair hung loosely about his shoulders and by the rumpled look of his clothing she had woken him. He had not asked any questions about her arrival, though her bare feet had caused him to give her a strange look. He had simply let her in, brewed tea, and sat her down. He was watching her now, still silent, but his expression was concerned.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” she began.

  He cut her off gently with a shake of the head. “Tell me instead why you woke me; I can see you are distressed so there needs be no apology. I would like know what has upset you though. Should I send for Finn?” Sovann’s voice was so gentle she knew his concern was genuine.

  “Why would you send for Finn?” she asked in confusion.

  Sovann raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “If someone has hurt you, he would deal with them willingly and for free,” he explained. “He is a duelist by trade and he makes a living defending others.”

  “No, no one has hurt me, it’s just Madren.” She gave a weary sigh and saw him nod in understanding. “You know him?” she asked in surprise.

  “Finn has told me of him before. He has a reputation for being rather troublesome for women,” Sovann answered.

  She rubbed her face and gave a slight nod. “He gave me a diamond necklace the day I arrived. Then he began reading really bad poetry outside my door at night. He showed up once outside my window to sing. It sounded as if a cat were being strangled. Then today he gave me a box of drugged chocolates that said “Marry me” on them.” She shook her head and sipped her tea. “I simply cannot take his attentions any longer; I woke tonight from a nightmare to find him watching me sleep. Do you know how unsettling it is to find someone watching you sleep?”

  He frowned at her. “Nightmares?” He spoke the word as a question.

  She gave another nod. “That’s another part of the reason I’m here. I need to go somewhere, Sovann, and I don’t think I’m trained enough to guard magical transport. Will you help me?” she asked, her voice almost a plea. She had decided it on the way to his home. The only way to assure herself that she wasn’t haunted was to return to Merro. An odd mixture of dread and longing filled her at the thought.

  “Where?” Sovann asked.

  “I need to go to Merro,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. She expected him to ask questions, ones she wasn’t sure how she would answer. He simply nodded, though, as if the request were not unusual.

  “You will need shoes,” he pointed out.

  She shook her head slightly. “No, not even rocks remain in Merro, I’ll be fine,” she replied. She would have to return to her room for shoes, and she had no desire to go there tonight. She took another sip of tea and then looked over her shoulder at the sound of the front door opening.

  She looked back to Sovann in question, but he wasn’t watching her. His eyes were fixed on the parlor door. A moment later it opened and Finn walked in. He wore fine clothing, a green silk shirt, and fine black linen trousers. His boots bore fresh dust on them from the street, and his swords were buckled on his waist. He turned to look at her as he pushed the door shut behind him and she saw no trace of sleep on his face. She wonde
red what entertainments Sovann had pulled him from and how angry he was with her right now.

  “I understand we are going to Merro before I kill Madren,” Finn said to her as he took an offered cup of tea from Sovann. He smelled of smoke, beer, and faintly of women’s perfume as he moved closer. She looked back to Sovann before answering, and he simply shrugged.

  “I’m sorry he took you from your entertainments, Finn. You don’t need to go with us to Merro, and you certainly don’t need to kill Madren. He is a fool, and an irritating one at that, but I’m not sure he needs to die for those crimes,” Jala replied.

  Finn looked her over, taking in her night robe and bare feet with a glance. He took a sip from his tea, and she squirmed a bit under his gaze. She longed to reach up to straighten her hair but fought the desire back down. Doing so would just bring further attention to her disarray. He sat his tea back down gently and looked to Sovann. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “That Madren is touched in the head, and either needs to have his mind repaired by a skilled mage or put out of everyone’s misery,” Sovann replied easily.

  “There we have it then. Merro, then I kill the little bastard,” Finn agreed with a nod and gave Jala a smile. “No worries. He has been annoying me for a while now, and I won’t mind in the slightest.”

  “You can’t just kill him,” she objected, trying hard to silence the voice inside her that seemed to rejoice at the thought. Madren didn’t deserve to die, she told herself firmly. Really, she couldn’t believe Finn was taking this so seriously. Why should this matter concern him at all? She barely knew him.

  He raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. “Well, no, I’ll have to challenge him to a duel first. From there it becomes quite simple.”

  “What makes you think he would accept a duel?” she asked. She could remember how quickly Madren fled before Cassia Avanti, and she had a hard time picturing him standing before Finn for any length of time.