Dark Dealings (6 page)

Ava pressed her knuckles to her mouth, her blunt teeth biting against the bone, and pulled in a slow breath. The scent and taste of her own skin eased the need in her. She was able to speak again. “Three are obvious. A fourth was more...restrained.”

“Anything else?”

Heyerdar’s question was cool, calm, and for a long moment she was grateful for it. It made her need to run, to disappear into the city and feed on the living, not seem...out of place.

She looked up at him, meeting the flat gold of his gaze. “That they left anything is a surprise. They hadn’t fed in a long time.”

“So Searlaim is our first victim.” Heyerdar rubbed his hands together. “You knew he was a flusherman how, Sahar?”

“He wore a guild chain.” She pulled a sliver of silver from a pocket in the leather folder. It gleamed in the soft light from the ceiling. “And if Ava is correct, and this was a feeding frenzy, it would explain why we found it around his neck.”

“Why not destroy the corpse?”

Sahar stared at her. The shine of disbelief burned in her eyes. “If a thief destroys the husk, all power rips from them.” She tucked the chain back into its pocket. “Hence the finding of the guild chain around his neck. They couldn’t risk removing it.”

Ava felt heat in her cheeks. Did everyone know more about her rhythm of magic than she did? Reist and the mages had never shared that with her. She was embarrassed, but she couldn’t remain ignorant. It wasn’t in her nature. “Only that particular thief?”

“Yes. Which is why they usually feed in groups. To lessen the chance of the power they took pulling free. Still, if they hadn’t fed in awhile, they wouldn’t want their first, fresh taste ripped from them.”

That something she devoured or consumed could pull free from her was another revelation. Damn, had the mages, had
Reist,
been playing her for so many years? Or were they simply worried that if she knew the truth she’d be tempted to sink into her empty soul and never reemerge?

“The guilds keep a record of their members.” Heyerdar’s frown deepened. “Something about his man was important. More than the first feed. More than hiding themselves.” He snorted, his attention moving over the disturbing rings of jagged holes covering Searlaim’s remains. “We can’t take teeth imprints to find them. No, he had another purpose.” He dug his fingers into his shoulder and worked the muscle there, his gaze turned inward. “They wanted something from him.” He expelled a slow breath. “Sahar, I have your work on the four others. Send a messenger for me if you uncover anything else.”

He pointed and Ava had to follow his command to leave the vault.

She straightened her spine and willed strength into her legs, wanting focus. “How did you find thieves in the past?” Heyerdar was centuries old. He’d seen other times when thieves had breached the city wards.

“They start out careful. These bastards hid the body. But then cockiness and greed, the need for more blood, more flesh, the addictive taste of life, will always catch a thief.”

Ava almost groaned. Did he have to put it like that? She needed food, meat, as rare as she could get it, before she did something insane like sink her teeth into Heyerdar’s firm belly. Even an elemental’s sour, muddied blood would go some way to sating the need gripping her, pounding out with the fast pulse of her heart.

The thief in her rose, dark, empty, and the heavy want burned ways into her skull to use the shadows against him, to feed and twist his power through her soul and bind him.

The thick door of the vault thudded shut behind her and she jumped, her thoughts jolting. She couldn’t do this. She’d fought the emptiness of her soul for years. Why was it now out of control?

Shadow swept around her, and the hunger surged.
Fuck.
Her fingers scrambled for the smooth wall and dug into cracks and crevices. Ancient remnants of magic splintered under her grasping fingers, but it wasn’t enough. Her belly growled, a raw rumble. The hints of old magic only whet the craving. It wasn’t
nearly
enough.

“Take this.” Heyerdar’s words were a growled order. And before she realized what he meant, he shoved her back against the cold stone and covered her mouth with his.

She didn’t hesitate. Golden threads of energy warmed through her, sinking down into her hollow soul. The heat of his mouth, the clash and bite of his teeth, how his thigh pushed between hers, his hand squeezing her breast, burned through her body and tore his power from him.

Heyerdar groaned. Not pain. Want.

His hand gripped her backside, pushing her harder against the solid muscle of his thigh in an increasing rhythm. Tight shocks of white light burst behind her eyes, coalescing with the fierce, hot gold of his magic. Heat rose up through her, her pulse wild. She grabbed at his shoulders, her nails digging into the tough leather of his tunic, and met his fierce thrusts.

She wanted skin and flesh, the slide of his against her own. To bite him. Fuck, to
devour
him.

Heyerdar broke their kiss but buried his face against her neck, his teeth grazing her. Breaking the skin. “You shouldn’t feel so fucking good.”

She could echo his words. He wasn’t the man she wanted. He was a means to an end, not the end itself. But the power of him surging into her, his hands, the way his thigh deepened the throb in her sex almost,
almost
made her forget.

Reist.

Ava pulled her hands away from him. The hunger had eased. She could focus. “Captain. Enough.”

Heyerdar laughed against her neck, the warm huff of air sharp against the marks he’d left in her skin. He stepped back, and even in the shadows, with her empty soul so full of him, she could see the golden threads of his magic weaving around his head, his body. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I may have you sooner than I planned.”

Ava let out a slow breath. The fierce ache had receded. She didn’t feel bloated, simply...calm. She was still hungry, but it was for meat that wouldn’t drop death on her. “I get food and I won’t need your...assistance.” It was a lie. He no doubt knew it. “Rare meat, still bloody is best. Cooked enough not to scare the squeamish.”

“Who do you plan to eat?”

It was a bad joke. But the memory surfaced of how she’d used her blades to tear up the bites she’d taken from the three men she’d killed. Reist had had the bodies burned quickly. Her gut twisted. Protecting her again.

Heyerdar paused. “I know of a place you can eat. But the minute you ache to sink your teeth into a good subject of the emperor, your head’s on a block.” His hand dropped deliberately to the thick pommel of his bastard sword. “I’d remove it myself. Understood?”

“I can control myself, Captain.”

Heyerdar snorted and urged her forward. “I’ve yet to see it.”

Chapter Six

“You’re a regular.” Heyerdar stared back at the burly stall owner who had given Ava a reluctant smile and handed over a warmed wrap.

“The Highest Mage has come to an understanding with a number of stalls through the city. It means I can work more efficiently.” Her answer was as smooth as the flow of his power in her body. It eased the sharp need she had to sink her teeth into the barely cooked kidneys and liver wrapped tight in the thin bread. To tear and devour the meat. She breathed in the warm, bloodied scent, finding it over the stink of people and animals that swept around the high palace walls. The stall came closest to keeping the meat raw. Her stomach growled and she could no longer resist. With a few snarling bites and quick swallows, the meat-filled wrap was gone.

“I wouldn’t trust that mouth of yours anywhere near my dick.”

Ava almost choked on the last crumbs of bread still in her mouth. Heyerdar slapped her on the back with a heavy hand. She staggered. “You don’t have to worry.”

“I wasn’t.” He pointed to the narrow alley crowded with hawkers, merchants, wild children and yet more of the city’s stench. “This way.”

Ava trotted behind Heyerdar, people breaking in a vee around his massive frame. What was she doing with this man? She had to blame the physical want on his magic. The writhe of it around his flesh was constant, lines of luminescent gold that brought with them warm hints of the earth, the sky, open grassland. Ava stopped herself from breathing him in. It was an irony that she had enough of him flowing through her to give her the strength to resist him.

Of course, she’d seen his magic in his early morning displays, but being close to him, consuming it, was becoming addictive. Especially with the ever-present stink of people. At least the shortcut through Cook Alley with its pies, pasties and cooked meats offered another distraction from his enticing scent.

It was short lived. She rubbed her hand over her tired face and turned with Heyerdar as he strode through Tanner’s Lane. His pace increased. Even he couldn’t stand the overwhelming stink of curing hides.

The Street of Guilds wasn’t far beyond it, the stench of the tanning yards trailing after them as they crossed into the wider paved street. Stone guildhalls lined either side, all constructed in the same style with thick facades, built with black stone quarried from the Armavir Mountains and broken up by plain columns and narrow windows with dimpled glass.

Carts trundled over the cobblestones, and apprentices swept the shit and rubbish into bags. Others dragged them on low carts down the alleys running between the guildhalls.

Heyerdar stopped at the wide black steps of the first building, ignoring the dark glares of senior guild members descending the steps, thick with perfume, flowing silk and gold. “Gentleman. Ladies.” He gave a short nod.

“What does the Guard want with us?” The nearest of the men flicked a dismissive gaze over Heyerdar and then her. Obviously the plain tunic had fooled him into forgetting who Heyerdar was. “On your way.”

Heyerdar’s mouth thinned. He pulled a thin sheaf of paper from an inner pocket of his tunic. The gold of the imperial seal gleamed in the late morning sunshine.

The man frowned, a second of anger tightening his heavy forehead before he waved a gold-ringed hand back up the steps. “The Water Guild is of course always ready and willing to assist the Left Hand of the Emperor in any way that we can. Our hall is open to you—”

“I won’t keep you.”

Heyerdar’s low words broke into the man’s false eloquence. Then he waited, his mouth thin, his spine straight, his meaty hand heavy on the pommel of his sword. The guild members scurried past, all pomp gone. He turned his attention to her. “Stay here.”

“What?”

He tugged her forward by her sword belt, his knuckles pressing into her belly. His bulk blocked the sun and dropped his face into thick shadow. He leaned in until his breath burned against her temple. “Messengers don’t speak. You’re my runner. The physical connection to the palace. Now stay here and guard a flagstone with your life.” He jabbed a finger down to the pavement. “That one.”

The lick of magic swept around him, the scent of warm earth and open skies sliding over her senses. The need to take his energy rose again. Every moment he was a temptation.

“Don’t even fucking think it.”

Ava bit at the inside of her cheek, welcoming the pain and the taste of her own body. She fought for calm. Held it. Breathed. “I work for the Highest Mage. Not you.”

“You wear my uniform, you work for me.” He pressed a hard mouth against her forehead, his tongue, teeth, grazing her skin. “Or would you like me to strip you here, little thief? Fuck you on the steps of the guildhall?”

Her heart jolted. The quick fire of his lips against her skin mixed with the sudden image of him, of them. She swallowed and closed her eyes. “Our deal was set for your rooms, Heyerdar. Not in the palace. Not here.” She paused and willed down the need to turn her face up to him, to meet his mouth and lose them both in a searing kiss. “
She
may let you stick your dick wherever you please, but I want your strength for one thing only. Reist is mine.”

Heyerdar stilled. “I agreed to no such thing.” He drew in a heavy breath, before a low growl skittered a reaction across her skin. “And Fallon? No. You can’t talk about her.”

He might want to strip and fuck her, but Fallon was the woman he needed. And that wasn’t a regretful knot in her chest. Heyerdar’s magic was her sudden and unexpected addiction. Not the man himself. She willed herself to step back and made a point of standing on the flagstone he’d pointed out. Her fingers flexed around the leather-wrapped handle of her short sword. “Then keep your hands, your mouth, your threats off me.” The ghost of his touch still burned against her forehead and the promise in his voice...
Fuck. No.
“Captain.”

Heyerdar grunted and turned on his heel.

Ava didn’t watch him thud up the steps, but the low rumble of his voice, threaded with anger, and the nervous reply of the apprentice drifted back just before the heavy doors thudded shut.

She let out a tight breath, her chest aching from holding it in. And she’d thought her life was fucked up
before
she’d dragged a dour elemental into it.

Time dragged. Ava let her mind slip into blissful blankness as she watched the apprentices, the carts, the ordinary guild members fill the streets. The warm spring sun heated her skin, driving out the shadows. She had to ignore her very real need to scuttle back into the alley, to wrap darkness over herself. The light was her disguise.

“This way.” Heyerdar clamped a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Searlaim lived deep in the Handgate Ward.” He pulled his hand free. “He had a family.”

Ava’s gut twisted. More bodies.

She kept pace with him, cutting through backstreets, pushing through the crowds on main thoroughfares. Heyerdar knew every twist and turn in the city as well as she did, though where she used agility and stealth, he used hard muscle to shove his way though. The stink grew as the afternoon sun warmed the dirty streets, the refuse, the rising stench of slaughtered remains. It grew stronger as they plunged into the dark, narrow alleys that formed Handgate Ward.

With the comfort of shadow cloaking her, her mind focused on the job and pushed back whatever was going on between them. Thieves hadn’t invaded the city in ten years. Not since she’d turned up on the Institute doorsteps with no clear memory and no way of explaining how she got into the city. And in the years since, she’d learned nothing new about herself or her past. She’d almost sprung into life on the kitchen steps of the Institute. It was yet another emptiness within her.

“Here.” Heyerdar stopped on the filthy street in front of a narrow house. The door was almost lost to the darkness of the overhanging balcony. Small dirty children shrank back against cracked walls, wide eyes fixed on the dangerous length of his sword. He flipped a coin to the nearest child. “Find me some ward constables. Bring them and there’re more coppers in it for all of you. It’s an order from the Left Hand. Got that?”

Every one of them gave a short, quick nod and disappeared into the shadows faster than a thief.

“Ready?”

Ava held his gaze. “Ready.”

He lifted the latch and the door creaked open on ancient brass hinges. A new stink cut through the fetid odor of the alley. Ava pushed down a curse. They had more bodies.

Heyerdar drew a dagger and Ava missed the comfort of her small blades. The sword she pulled free of its leather scabbard was too heavy in her hand. Her balance was off. But she followed the man into the darkness.

She breathed through her mouth, but the sickly odor of death touched her tongue. Floorboards creaked. Other than their presence, the house was silent. Heyerdar closed the door, and the thick odor of death swept around them. Her eyes were used to the dark. She picked out the dark lumps of furniture, three chairs, a table, the long-cold fire and its surrounding mantle. No signs of a struggle. Nothing smashed. Nothing broken.

Heyerdar stabbed a finger to the upper floors. Ava held back a wince. Had they taken them in their beds? What was happening? His family here, but Searlaim’s body buried half a mile east? It didn’t fit together.

She was a silent shadow in Heyerdar’s wake. She knew what she was, what she was capable of, but she wouldn’t eat sleeping children. Bile rose in her throat. Fuck. She wasn’t seventeen. And she doubted Heyerdar would hold her hair if she vomited.

The next floor was as dark as the one below, shutters pulled tight against the leak of daylight. The shapes of beds grew from the blackness. Heyerdar drew in a breath and the spark and shine of sunlight wove over his fingers. He released it into the stinking air.

“Bastards.” His growl was fierce and hot, and Ava staggered back from him, hitting the wall. “Fucking bastards.”

Two wide beds took up the narrow space, sheets pulled tight across the rush mattresses. In one bed, four children lay side by side in a mockery of sleep, their faces paper-thin husks. In the other bed an adult, a woman from the splay of dark brown hair across the flat pillow, lay next to a toddler.

Ava pressed her hand to her mouth, denying tears. Distorted bite marks ringed their necks, their cheeks, arms, chests. The toddler had lost half of his face.

Heyerdar’s magic surged and she could feel the anger, the fury burning up from him. He glared at her. “You fucking
dare
start salivating over these bodies and I swear I’ll kill you. Here. Now. No mercy.” His hand gripped his sword. “None.”

Ava couldn’t answer. Her heart pounded, fast, heat rushing through her. But her pulse felt strange, thready, and her thief was rising. She bit at her palm, drawing blood, wetting her mouth with it, because Heyerdar would kill her. What the fuck was wrong with her? She could smell flesh. Sweet flesh. The sweetest of all.

“I warned you...” In one swift move, his meaty hand gripped her throat and lifted her, smashing her back into the wall with the full force of an elemental.

His eyes shone gold, fire consuming them. She couldn’t fight it. Her hands scrabbled at his arm, leaving red tracks. The burn in her chest, the agony of her throat, swelled through her thoughts. She couldn’t find her center, pull on the empty power of her magic.

Blackness swam across her eyes. He was going to kill her.

“Baby.” Her word was a croak. He dropped her with a suddenness that crumpled her knees. She hit the floor. “A baby.” She rubbed at her neck, her fingers massaging the pain-filled tendons. “Somewhere.” She glared up at him. “You fucking lunatic.”

“Shut up.”

His frown deepened and he closed his eyes. Ava counted her slowing heartbeats until he opened them again.

Heyerdar crouched beside the children’s bed, the trail of sunlight following him down in a glowing arc. It lit cobwebs and broken pieces of smoothed wood that might have been lost toys. And a wrap of bloodied sheet.

Heyerdar pushed the bed back, the legs creaking and digging drag marks into the warped floor. Ava held her breath as his steady fingers parted the sheet. His hand balled into a bloodless fist above the bundle. “This was sport.”

“I thought...” She was sure there’d been the thready pulse of a heart. “Is it...?”

His fingers uncurled and he dipped a finger to stroke the baby. He blinked. “Here. Now.”

Ava scrambled to his side and he grabbed her hand. His magic burst around her in a wild rush, forcing her to cry out. She tried to wrench herself free. But his fingers were iron.

“Feed her. Heal her.”

“I...” Ava stared down at the tiny child. Thin scores of blood covered her skin, slicing deep into her little body. Words. Words that tugged at her. She knew them, tasted the shape of them in her mouth as if they’d been written over her own soul.

“Heal her.”

Heyerdar’s low growl jerked her hand forward. Her knuckles brushed the baby’s ribboned chest...and the little girl’s startled cry shot through Ava. She focused. She could do this. She
would
do this. Deception was her natural talent, but with Heyerdar’s furnace blast of energy she could mold anything to her will. The irony of being a thief. Having the instinct for every spell, but not the power to fire them.

His emotions swamped her. Warmth and protection surged and she turned and twisted them, creating a fierce curative, willing the child to heal. It flowed out through the contact of her hand against the panicking chest of the tiny child. Magic pushed under the baby’s skin. Ava could feel it pulsing, charging, surrounding her tiny heart and forcing it to beat, for her lungs to pull in air, for the magic to fill her small stomach. Willing the little girl to fight. To live.

The baby’s wails strengthened into cries and Heyerdar released Ava’s hand and pushed her away. He picked up the still-bloodstained little girl, cradling her to his chest. His lips pressed against her dark, downy hair, and the golden threads of his magic dipped over her. She calmed and a little gurgle escaped her before she settled.

Ava felt the warmth of the summer sun beating from him. The child’s skin glowed with its freshness. She ignored the tight fist in her gut. She was not jealous that a baby was sharing in magic that was hers
.
She wasn’t.