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“Kassemyr does not joke around. Which is why the city is his and you are here.”
“All right, all right,” Tresson said hastily. “I know. I understand. But this place. We’re not made for it. If only you’d do what you promised. Help us—”
“Help you?” Darrow sounded amused.
“Well … turn me?”
Darrow laughed then, while Nadia grimaced. The werewolf was actually asking to be made into a hybrid. If he thought the Shade was messing with his mind now, wait until the two forces of werewolves and vampires began battling it out inside him. He’d beg for the torment of the Shade then. Thankfully, Darrow was not inclined to help.
“If you can’t handle simple guard duty, then what makes you think you deserve to be in our ranks?”
“I can handle it.”
“Make sure that you do.” The soft sound of small metal trinkets clanking reached Nadia. “Here. Take these and put them with everything else.”
“Can I have one?” Tresson asked.
“What do I care? Just take them off my hands.”
“Of course, Trecandís. And I swear, I’ll make you see I’m worthy.”
“Good for you,” Darrow snorted and left.
Nadia heard the front door close with a bang but focused more on Tresson’s movements and the direction he went.
When he returned, he was back to his muttering self. “They’ll see. I’ll make them. I’m worthy!” he snarled. His bravado had returned too now that Darrow had gone. Still, Nadia waited patiently for a long time, not trusting the hybrid to leave at once. He would likely linger to assess the guard they’d put in this place.
She remained in the bedroom for over an hour, biding her time, only stretching now and then to prevent her muscles from stiffening. Despite being inside the Shade, stalking an enemy werewolf brought a sense of elation to it all. This might not be her duty anymore, but it was what she’d been trained for among the Wraiths. Seldom had anyone felt any kind of positive thoughts at being inside the Shade, but she truly did. Not too much, though. She had also been trained to be calm, collected, and in control.
She watched the werewolf through various cracks from the upstairs floor and went over to the stairs again when he moved away from it.
She needed to take him out fast and be done with this. She had places to be and people to find. Especially the latter. But Harmiston had asked if she could locate something vital for him, and she couldn’t say no to that. He was working on creating a weapon for them, after all. She couldn’t do that, but this, this she could do.
She walked down a narrow corridor, nearing the bathroom where he’d gone inside a couple of minutes earlier. Whatever plumbing had once been in the house, it was no longer working. Finding the right door by smell was too easy.
Nadia drew her sword, ready to attack. She eased her way over, back to the wall, reaching with her free hand to open the door, when it slammed open, smacking her hand in the process.
Nadia jumped back just when Tresson leaped out with a roar, waving a metal rod toward her. She parried with her sword, the clang more than the man’s roar, alerting her to the noise they were now making.
He struck his free fist toward her abdomen, which she tried blocking, but her hand was numb from the impact with the door. He hit her halfway, waved the metal rod again, and when she raised her sword to take that blow, kicked her hip, so she flew backward at his immense strength.
Nadia crashed to the floor and her shoulders hit the wall behind her. She blinked and forced air down into her lungs.
“Your bland asphodel is wearing off,” Tresson told her, a cruel smirk on his lips. “I can smell your half-breed scent all over.”
Nadia got up, ignoring the pain in her back and shoulders. It would ease. Nothing was broken. When she stood straight, Tresson’s eyes roamed over her clothes. Her indisputably dark blue long coat and garments. She was heavily armed, but only to the point of moving with ease.
“A Ghost?” he uttered. “You’re all to be killed.”
“Think killing me will finally get you turned, Tresson?” she taunted him. He widened his eyes at her use of his name. Then rage filled his eyes, which turned yellow when he realized what she’d said.
Nadia knew what was coming. She didn’t wait in the narrow hallway for the shift to be complete. Instead, she turned on her heels and ran through the kitchen, a broken-down room with only a hotplate for cooking. She heard the barks of the werewolf behind her, and the house shook as the beast bounded through the hallway and after her through the kitchen.
Nadia ran past the front door and up the stairs, taking two and two steps. Then, instead of running further up and risking his claws slicing into her legs, she jumped up on the banister and gripped a lamp hanging from the ceiling, which would never hold her. It gave her enough of an edge though, and her swinging kick hit the oncoming lupine form in the head. The beast reeled back and fell hard down the stairs. Nadia let go of the lamp and barely landed on the steps. The lamp followed and hit her shoulder, and she jumped sideways despite herself. Only then did she get a good look at the werewolf’s true form. He was larger than his human one, huge with a scraggly and thick gray fur. If those thick arms managed to embrace her, he’d break her bones and kill her instantly.
Tresson snarled and got to his hind legs, the claws of his front ones, ready to strike. Before he took more than two steps up, which were three at a time for him, Nadia drew her dagger and threw it at him. It burrowed into his eye, and he screamed. Werewolves weren’t much for vocal noises except the occasional howls and growls, but the pain of the blinding dagger made him panic. Nadia didn’t hesitate. She drew her silver knife and threw that, too. Her aim was true, and it struck his other eye, right next to the furry and clawed hand covering his already wounded one.
That was when true dread set in. But in that panic, his rage ruled and as he rambled up the stairs, she knew he was locating her by smell. If he’d been able to talk in that form, the death threats would have been plentiful.
