Page 30 of Blood & Claw

Yet he had to be practical. He was almost out of coin. And if he did fail to find Kayla tonight, this young woman might be of use to him.

“Very well,” he said after a lengthy pause. “You have my blade.”

She exhaled sharply. “Right.” She put her cup of ale down. “I’ll get your coin.”

“Those men … you followed into an ale-hall today,” he asked casually. “Did they see you?”

She cut her gaze away, a muscle flexing in her jaw. She then dug into her purse and counted out ten silver pennies before handing them to him. “They might have done.”

Darach’s pulse sped up. Shit. She probably stared at them with those unnerving black eyes until their skin crawled. Looking away so she wouldn’t see his frustration, he slid the part payment into his own coin purse.

“They couldn’t have gone far.” She leaned forward, urgency creeping back into her voice. “They had a pony and a wagon. They’ll have needed to find lodgings with stables attached.”

True enough. Farnoch wasn’t that large. If those mercenaries were still here—and they likely were, since they’d need to rest and resupply—he’d find them.

Once he knew where they were sleeping, he’d deal with them and take Kayla. The lass would only complicate matters.

What if they’ve killed the tattooist? The worry surfaced then. What if, when you find her, she’s too injured to help you? His jaw clenched. If they’d hurt her, if they’d damaged her hands or her ability to work, he was in deep shit.

“When can we start our search?” the apprentice asked, her eyes bright now.

“Not tonight,” he said gruffly.

Her brow furrowed. “But any delay might cost us.”

“Listen to me.” He ensnared her gaze with his. “It’s dark outside. We don’t know where they’re staying. Going after them now, blind and desperate, is a good way to get us both killed.” He paused, letting that sink in. He didn’t need this lass bungling his plans. “We do this properly. We track them down in the morning, watch them, and learn their patterns. Then we make our move.”

“But what if they leave before then?”

“They aren’t likely to. They’ve been traveling hard … they’ll rest here for tonight at least.”

He made a silent prayer to The Mother that he was right.

The apprentice looked ready to argue, her jaw tight, those black eyes burning. But then she deflated slightly, nodding. “Very well. We start looking for them at first light then.”

He nodded before rising to his feet and gesturing for her to do the same. “Where are you staying?”

“In a roundhouse on the third tier.”

“Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Aye, it is.” He nodded toward the shadowy figures still watching them from across the ale-hall. “You announced you carry a coin purse ripe for thieving. Half the customers in here are probably thinking about how easy it would be to take it from you in some shadowy wynd.” He paused then. “And the other half likely have darker deeds on their mind.”

A nerve flickered in her cheek, and Darach swallowed a sigh.

Every moment spent babysitting her was another moment Kayla remained in enemy hands.

He had a job to get on with, and time was running through his fingers like dry sand. But the woman had just pinned a target on her back, and since she’d hired him as her bodyguard, he might as well play the part. Tonight, at least.

Keeping her alive made sense too. If Kayla were dead, her apprentice might be the only one able to help him.

Cold settled in his gut at the thought. Only as a last resort. After the last time he’d gone under a tattooist’s blade, he was loath to let anyone but the former druid work on him.

Luckily, the lass didn’t argue this time. Instead, she got up and followed him toward the door.

Outside, the night air was cool and sharp. The Whistle had died down to a low moan. Darach kept his stride measured, aware of her limping beside him on blistered feet. Sometimes, especially first thing in the mornings, he had a limp too.