Taer had made sure to keep the smile plastered on her face as Korvain told her to get some sleep. Restful sleep just wasn’t on the cards for her. Not anymore. She’d come to that realization and accepted it. Besides, she had work to do, and all this waiting around was making her skin itch.
She watched Korvain disappear into the master bedroom he shared with Bryn, waiting until she heard the door click closed before she slipped inside the room she shared with Eir.
Moving quietly, Taer retrieved the Beretta 92 Steel she’d ‘acquired’ to replace the one she’d lost in the fire, checking it over. Pulling on the leather holster, she slid the weapon into place and threw a jacket over her sweats and tee, making sure the collar would cover up her scar.
The quiet determination she had been sitting on for the past few weeks was finally paying off. Her injuries had prevented her from going out and tracking down the Mare who had murdered her brother, but now she was healed. Now she would be able to follow the leads she’d come up with while she rebuilt her strength.
She could hear the shower running from behind the door to the master bedroom. Soundlessly, she slipped from the apartment and made her way down to the lower levels of the club, stepping out of the rear door and walking into a wall of icy air and the bitter perfume of car fumes and rotting garbage.
She walked towards the end of the alleyway that ran along the side of the club, emerging on the sidewalk. It had rained recently and the cement was slick from the recent downpour; puddles of water stood in the depressions of the bowed sideway, their surfaces shivering with the wind that seemed to blow straight through Taer.
Wrapping the jacket more tightly around her body, Taer walked away from the club, making sure she was a few blocks away before fading to one of the last known addresses of a Mare who was one of Darrion’s longest serving Walkers. She figured if anyone knew where the former guild master was, it would be him.
Stepping from the shadows of a dilapidated house, Taer looked up at the apartment building Nieven was rumored to live in. It looked as depressing as every other building on the street, and seemed a fitting home for that piece of shit.
She watched the place for a few minutes, her eyes darting over to the surrounding buildings every time there was the slightest hint of movement. The minutes seemed to drip by and yet nothing happened. It was quiet … perhaps too quiet.
Just as she was about to pull away, about to give up on Nieven as a possible lead and return to the club, a man walked up to the property—his walk a little too casual to be really casual.
“Nieven,” Taer spat under her breath, his name a curse on her lips. She took a step closer to her target, her gaze predatory as he walked up the stairs of the apartment building and disappeared inside. Taer let out a breath and faded to the top of the stairs, watching the front door close. Waiting a few more minutes, she ghosted inside the building, remembering some of the skills Korvain had taught her while she was recovering from her wounds.
She kept her footsteps light, following the Mare undetected. She sneered to herself. How in the hell had this fucker become a Mare when he couldn’t even tell when someone was following him? The cocksucker deserved to die for his ignorance, but not until Taer had pumped him for the information she needed.
Down the hallway and around a corner, Taer continued to follow him, her fingers touching the grip of her Beretta as she moved along the wall. Nieven took one last corner before his footsteps stopped.
Taer stayed hidden, listening carefully as his key slid into the lock, the teeth chattering along the tumbler like gunshots in the silence of the building. Keeping herself flat to the wall, she peered around the corner in time to see the Mare enter his apartment, the door slamming behind him. Taer walked towards the door, looking the doorway over. There were no runes to protect against fading. There was nothing extraordinary about the security measures either—just a deadbolt.
Nieven had become complacent—after only a few weeks. With Darrion gone, it appeared as if every member of his guild had lost their fear. Fading directly into the room would be too dangerous, but luckily she didn’t have to wait too long to figure out what she was going to do.
The dull rush of a shower running vibrated through the thin wooden door, telling her that Nieven was no longer in the room. Giving it a few more minutes, Taer faded directly into the apartment, just beyond the front door. Palming her weapon, she looked around the apartment, taking note of everything she could see.
The white walls were grubby with marks and nicotine stains. Not one stick of furniture was new, nor was it complete. Each piece had something broken, or something missing. Taer had to wonder why the Mare lived like he did. From what she understood, many Walkers made good money, and when they didn’t, they would work in the human world like … he had.
Shaking off her unwanted thoughts, Taer followed the sound of the water, navigating through the one and only bedroom to the bathroom door. It had been left slightly ajar, a sliver of dirty yellow light cutting across the dingy, olive green carpet. Taer’s feet straddled this light as she waited for the Golden Second.
She remembered Korvain’s lesson on that. She had been laid up in bed for about a week, alternating between healing sessions with Eir and long periods of rest, so her body would heal naturally. She’d gone stir-crazy just lying there.
“How much longer am I going to be here?” she asked Korvain as he sat on the chair he’d dragged into Eir’s room from the kitchen.
He indulged her with a rare smile. “As long as it takes. You need to heal.”
They were not the words she had wanted to hear. “We’re wasting time,” she said, shooting him a fierce look. To her dismay, he only laughed.
“You need to get strong enough to start weapons training with me, and I won’t start until you’re ready. And right now, you aren’t ready.”
“I’m ready,” she replied hotly. She was ready to get her revenge, and the more time they wasted, the more time Darrion had to get away. She couldn’t let him. She just couldn’t.
Korvain’s weary sigh cut through the room. “Tay, have you ever heard of something called the Golden Second?”
She stared at the Mare. “What’s that?”
Leaning back in his chair, Korvain studied her face. “It’s that perfect second when you’ve come face to face with your enemy, and they’ve realized that they didn’t even know you were there. It’s that split second where you have the upper hand, and that advantage is hard for them to take back.”
Taer hadn’t really understood what Korvain had meant when he’d spoken about the Golden Second, but she understood it now—standing there, waiting for Nieven to appear. He had no idea she was inside his inner sanctum. He had no idea that he would more than likely be dead by the end of the hour.
The shower cut off with a sharp squeal from the taps.
The drip of water.
The snap of a towel.
Taer raised her arms carefully, the Beretta trained on the spot where Nieven’s head would appear. The door opened, more light spilling into the room and onto Taer. Nieven had a towel wrapped around his hips and was running another one roughly through his hair.
Her lips twitched up into a sardonic grin when he finally noticed her and stopped abruptly. His eyes darted around the room—no doubt looking for a weapon—but Taer had already anticipated he would do this.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said quietly, and stepped toward him. She pressed the cold steel of the muzzle against his temple to drive her point home.
“Who are you?” he breathed, dropping the towel he had been using to scrub at his scalp.
“I want information,” she replied.
His pulse fluttered against his skin. “I don’t know where Darrion is,” he replied.
“Who said anything about Darrion?” Her voice was cold and even.
“You’re not the first to come looking for him. I’ll tell you what I told the last guy: I don’t know where Darrion is. He hasn’t contacted me.”
Against her better judgement, she pushed on. “Who asked you where Darrion was?”
The Walker shrugged, and Taer pressed the muzzle in tighter. Nieven winced and his breath caught in his throat. “I didn’t get his name.”
Had Korvain already pressed this guy? When? And why hadn’t he told her? The muscle in Taer’s jaw flexed.
“Where’s Darrion?” she asked, moving her finger from the guard and onto the trigger. She had no problems with blowing this guy’s head wide open. Hell, it would probably improve the decor.
“I told you, I don’t know.” He tried to step away, but Taer moved with him. She would find the bastard one way or another. Nieven had the balls to stay tight-lipped for a few moments longer until Taer removed the gun from his head and pressed it against his crotch. The Mare yelped and attempted to step away, slamming against the wall beside the bathroom door.
His fear would prevent him from fading, and he damn well knew it. Taer repositioned her weapon, aiming right between his eyes, and cocked her head to the side. “His location. Now.”
“I already told you. I don’t know.”
Was he stalling, or would she be able to get more information from him? Or had his usefulness worn out? She met his defiant gaze, her lips flexing into the barest smile.
“Wrong answer.”
The sharp tang of gunpowder filled the room, the sound of the explosion ricocheting in Taer’s eardrums. Warm blood splattered her face and neck, her eyes closing against the spray. Nieven’s lifeless body sagged to the ground, the back of his head a mess leaking out all over the filthy carpets. Taer bent down, staring at the look of surprise on his face. Had he really thought she wouldn’t kill him?
It didn’t matter. Nieven had been disposable. There were plenty of other people out there who would have the information she sought. Taer stood up from her crouch, put the safety back on the Beretta and faded from the apartment.