“The Black Death. Bubonic plague,” he says, as if I should’ve known. “Did Leo get all the brains in your family?”
I slide him a pointed grimace. “Ha ha. No.” I peer into the close despite myself. A cold wind sweeps over me from behind, and I jump back. “This place totally feels haunted.”
“Oh, the whole city is,” Caspian informs me happily, the mask disappearing.
It reminded me of a crow.
“In fact, there’s even an underground city where more people were left to rot and die a slow, painful death. Wanna check it out?”
“Uhhh…” My mouth hangs open, and I stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “I think I’ll pass. Shouldn’t we get on with the mission?”
But Caspian, clearly enjoying my discomfort too much, winds his hands around my waist and drags me farther into the close. A strangled protest escapes me as my claustrophobia kicks in.
“Let me go, you sonuva bitch!”
He just laughs and continues walking. The narrow walls close in around me, and I grasp at Caspian’s hands on my body, trying to pry them off. To my relief, he puts me down, but he closes the small distance between us. He stands so close that my back hits the wall and his minty breath fans my cheeks.
“You really brushed up on your history about this place, huh?” I ask, my heart thrashing.
He glances up from my mouth and smirks, placing a hand beside my head. “I take my job very seriously, songbird.” His focus strays back to my lips, and for a moment he just stares at me, and I at him. The marks etched on his face glow the softest colour, and flecks of it shine in his narrowed eyes.
“What are you doing?” The question barely escapes like a whisper.
The words “kiss me” echo through my mind. Caspian isn’t looking at me like I’m that annoying little lovestruck kid chasing after him. There’s desire pooling in his eyes, and longing. But the sound of someone walking past the entrance to the alleyway rouses his attention. After a moment, he meets my gaze again and holds it. I swear my heart is about to burst out from my chest.
Ever so slowly, Caspian reaches out to touch my face, and maybe I’ve gone crazy, but I close my eyes and wait for him to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He just ruffles my hair like he did when I was a girl. Confused, I open my lids and stare up at him. He’s grinning at me. What an assho—
“Let’s get going,” he says with a grin.
And then he saunters off, whistling, as if he wasn’t just about to kiss me.
What. The fuck.
I glare at his retreating figure for a minute before following.
Why is it Caspian Hardling can reduce me to that little girl again with just a mere look? I need to watch myself around him from now on.
Falling for half-demons is the last thing I need in my life.
Glaring at Caspian waiting for me outside the alleyway, I shadow him down one of the many winding, cobbled streets. Back to the task at hand. We need to capture this demon and take it back to Hell if we want to complete the mission. And get a point. The more points we get, the greater our chances are at being in the top ten.
I glance at the tracker and go over the details again in my head. Caspian literally told me, in a two-minute rush, about these demons and expected me to just be cool with it. The demon we’re hunting is a nyxie, a small water-horse that likes to drain humans of all the water in their body, thus leaving them dead.
Nyxies are also notorious for getting drunk.
This will be fun…
I keep scrolling through my tracker, all the way the bottom. My heart skips a beat when I read the notes.
“There’s a note on the file saying two of the victims were reported dead.” I peer up over the back of Caspian’s head as another cold breeze hits us. “Is the pub closed off to the public?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder. “The folk here like haunted shit. You should see all the tours they already do. Witches. Ghosts. Scotland’s built on all the folklore and mythology stuff.”
That could explain why the humans aren’t as freaked out about the ‘nyxies’ as they should be. Maybe they just think it’s superstition? Who knows.
I fall into step with Caspian. “Have you visited here before?”
He nods, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Got some friends in the Rivermare pack. Crazy, loyal fuckers that they are.”
I’ve heard that about them, too. The Rivermare wolves are slightly more feral than the rest of us. They prefer to avoid human contact and generally keep to their rivers and lochs. The ones in Scotland are said to be the link between this world and the fae one, though no one I know has ever seen them in real life. Even the academy’s textbooks are dubious about their existence; according to ancient folklore, anyone who gazes into the eyes of a fae turns to stone. Although they are unearthly beautiful, fae are also incredibly terrifying.
More so than demons.
Or haunted cities.
At the bottom of the winding pathway, we cross a cobbled road and emerge into a square surrounded by pubs and restaurants. The area is bustling with people, especially since it’s a Friday night.
“This is where they used to hang witches back in the day,” Caspian says without peering up, his focus on the device in his hand. “And shifters.”
A shudder rakes through my body, and I rub the chill from my arms. The souls of all those who were executed here lay heavy around me. There’s a tightness in my chest as if one of the ghosts is sitting on top of me. So many of our people were killed by humans, all because they were—and still are—scared of us. I hate that even
