'No.'
'A business partner? Some lady's husband?'
'No!' she shouted, and then sat still, frightened by her own anger. 'He had no enemies. No lovers. Just me. He was a good and decent man.'
'Decent men have plenty of enemies. I know.' He started to pace back and forth past the table. 'What was your father's position?'
'He was the exarch of Navarre when I was a girl. Afterward, he received the Golden Sword for his service and retired to a life of ease here in Othir. He was a great man. Infinitely better than a lowborn killer.'
If the comment stung, he gave no indication. 'Yes. That could be. It almost makes sense.'
'What does?'
'Never mind. Was your father involved in any overseas ventures? Did he belong to a social club?'
Josey remembered the nightmare of the people in funny robes meeting in the basement of their house, but shunted the memory aside.
'I don't know. I don't think so. He spent most of his time in the study, writing letters to old friends. Nothing to do with me.'
Caim didn't seem to be listening, so she stopped talking and studied him. Now that she had a better look at him, he didn't appear like she imagined a killer would. He was strong, but not overly big or brutish. In fact, his features were rather refined. He might have even been fetching if put into proper clothes. When he turned to look at her, she quickly glanced away, a shudder racing through her insides. He had a gaze like a corpse.
'No,' he said to the air over her head.
'What?'
'Nothing.'
The man was clearly deranged. What would he do next? One thing was sure. If she remained here much longer, she would never leave this dingy apartment alive. There was a window behind her, but it was shuttered and locked like the one in the bedroom. Josey glanced at the door across the room. It had to be the way out. There was a slide-lock holding it shut, but if she could distract him long enough to work the bolt…
'Do you want more tea?' he asked.
'Yes. Have you anything to eat? I'm famished.'
He nodded with his back to her. 'I might have some victuals about if you're not too particular.'
While he rummaged through a pinewood pantry painted with faded flowers, Josey slid off her slippers. They were soft lamb's wool, but she would move faster and more quietly in bare feet. As she watched his back, something stirred in the shadows above his head. She froze as a long, sinuous shape emerged from the corner of the ceiling. Without a sound, it glided down the wall. A violent shiver ran through Josey. It was the most revolting thing she had ever seen, a serpent of pure blackness, and it was headed straight for Caim. She almost called out a warning, but clamped her lips shut.
No, I won't help him.
Watching the awful creature slither toward her father's killer, Josey rose from the chair. She tiptoed across the room. A single sound would betray her. She reached the door without alerting her captor. The bolt was a thick affair of iron. She grasped it with both hands and pulled. The slide shot back with a loud click. Without looking back, she yanked open the door and dashed out into the dark hallway beyond.
Her naked feet slapped on the floorboards. Fear lent speed to her steps. She reached a narrow stairwell at the end of the hall and raced down the steps, and gasped with relief as she spied a large doorway at the bottom. With a grunt, she shoved open the door and ran out into the night.
Caim suppressed a sigh as he peered into the pantry This conversation was going nowhere. The girl, Josephine, obviously didn't trust him enough to give him straight answers. And why should she? In any case, he was beginning to doubt she knew anything pertinent. She was just a pampered socialite without any cares beyond the lacy confines of her perfect world. Kit was right again. Bringing the girl here had been a mistake.
He was pushing aside a sack of old flour to see what might be lurking behind it when the weird sensation returned, stronger than before. Fear was a thing he had learned to live with. It was part of his life and his livelihood. Every time he faced a drawn weapon or crept into a strange location for a job, it perched on his shoulder. He had learned to control it, to harness its energy to do what had to be done. This feeling was different. It refused to be repressed or ignored, but roiled in the pit of his stomach like a bad meat pie.
'Caim!' Kit yelled. Her shout made him jerk upright, almost banging his head on the roof of the cupboard.
He extricated himself and turned in time to see his captive dart out the doorway into the hall. With a curse, he took two steps after her and halted in his tracks as a bitter chill descended over him like an avalanche of snow. Kit stared up at the ceiling. Caim dove to the ground and rolled. A sharp pain pierced his right ankle, cutting through his boot. He kicked and spun around.
A great serpent reared above him. Its inky scales gleamed in the lamplight like diamonds of polished jet. The tail end disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling. The wedge-shaped head hovered before him, jaws wide enough to swallow a dog splayed open to display rows of glistening fangs.
Caim slid one of his knives free of its sheath. The serpent watched his movements with cold, cerulean eyes. Its head swayed from side to side.
'Are you all right?' Kit's gaze remained on the black creature as it floated nearer.
'What in the hell is that thing?'
'Something very dangerous,' she whispered, and dropped her voice even further when the serpent's head swung toward her. 'I could distract it while you run.'
'It can see you?' He gathered his feet under him and bit his bottom lip as a bolt of agony shot up his right leg. But it supported his weight. 'No, go after the girl.'
'But-'
'Go! We can't afford to lose her.'
With a last glance at the serpent, Kit vanished into the floor. Caim crouched and backed away as more of the creature's body emerged from the ceiling. All the while it moved closer, its great eyes stalking him. Caim studied its movement. Like him, the serpent was a predator. It would keep maneuvering closer until it pushed him into a corner. Then, in a sudden rush, it would lunge.
He retreated step by step. His ankle was throbbing. He drew his other suete and waved the knives back and forth to draw the serpent's attention, but its gaze never left his face. Caim got the uncomfortable feeling the creature wasn't a dumb brute, but possessed some semblance of intelligence. He remembered the invisible beast that had torn apart the Blue Vine. Was this it? Had this thing somehow come from him?
As he backpedaled onto the cushion of the woven-reed exercise mat, a pulling sensation stirred behind his breastbone. A familiar tingle of energy ran down his spine. He didn't need to seek out his fear; it ran through him in terse, nauseating waves. The shadows wanted to come out and play, but he pushed them away, back down into the dark recesses of his mind from whence they came. He couldn't afford the risk. If he had inadvertently summoned this creature, calling upon his powers again might make matters worse. What if more appeared?
The room shortened as the inky serpent backed him toward a corner. Caim ran through his options. The only window was shuttered and locked, but the front door hung open. He could make a break for it. The beast was large. He might be able to outrun it. As if sensing his thoughts, the serpent looped around to block his path. Calm's shoulder brushed against a target bag suspended from the ceiling. He didn't have much time left. A few more steps would bring him to the wall and nowhere else to go. He eyed the scaly hide and wondered if cold steel could even harm it. There was only one way to find out.
He lashed out with his left hand and set the target bag to swinging. The serpent kept coming for him, lowering its head to stay out of the arc of the swaying bag. Caim took a quick step to his right and punched another bag. As it swung toward the creature, he crept sideways toward the window. When the serpent reversed course to cut off his escape, he attacked. He lunged with his right-hand knife extended, the point aimed at the serpent's blunt snout. As the creature reared back, Caim threw himself forward onto his knees. He slid underneath its bulk and thrust upward with his left-hand knife. Its point skittered along the monster's belly, unable to pierce the tough scales.
Caim gasped as the pressure in his chest returned, twice as strong as before. Unprepared for the sudden onslaught, he almost lost control. Every muscle in his body tensed as he fought his powers. They clawed against
