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A SQUEAL OF PAIN SOUNDED from just around the next corner. Sorcha cautiously approached the crossroads, then glanced around the corner to see a swarm of rats attacking one of their own. Her upper lip curled in disgust as the horrible rodents tore the rat apart. A few of them chowed down on the body, but the others just watched. Her gorge tried to rise when she saw the bloody, skeletal remains when they were done. She had to clap a hand over her mouth when the animals that had feasted on the corpse promptly threw up.
Turning away, she stopped when she realized something had been very wrong with the rats. She looked over her shoulder to see the swarm was hurrying along the sidewalk. Nothing remained of the body of the dead rat, except for bloodstains and scraps of fur. “What happened to it?” she murmured. Even if the other rats had finished off the fallen animal, its bones would still have remained.
One of the rodents paused and gave her a sly look before it turned the corner and left her view. Her eyesight was sharp enough to make out what had bothered her about the swarm. “They all had pale green eyes,” she said uneasily. They’d also been unnaturally still as they’d watched their friends devour the deceased.
A shudder wracked the sorceress as she continued towards her target’s house. Nothing in Nox should surprise her anymore, yet the rats had been more disturbing than she cared to admit. As far as she knew, they didn’t usually have green eyes. A crow cawed from a nearby rooftop and almost seemed to be laughing at her. She glanced up at it and frowned. “It has green eyes, too,” she said. A sliver of fear slid along her spine, but she started walking again.
Casting her mind back, she realized she’d seen a lot of crows and rats during her missions during the past few weeks. The pests usually hid themselves from sight, but they’d grown increasingly bold lately. Another crow cawed, but it had brown eyes rather than green. The green-eyed bird took to wing and zoomed straight towards the other crow. The pair clashed and Sorcha dodged away from the feathers that fell from their scuffle.
She was glad to leave the fighting pair behind when she reached the corner. The assassin headed in the opposite direction from where the rats had gone. Clouds had been gathering for the past hour. A light mist began to fall, but quickly became more intense. The assassin altered her shield so it kept the rain from reaching her. She avoided another streetlamp when she drew closer to it. It felt like hungry eyes were watching her from the darkness and shadows and they probably were. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself if she could help it.
If she hadn’t masked herself with the shield, the vampires would have been able to smell her scent and hear her heartbeat. She would have been swarmed and devoured by ravenous fledglings, just like the rat that had been killed by its own kind. “At least they wouldn’t have eaten my flesh,” she muttered.
The address she’d been given was only half a block away now. Sorcha could feel her mark somewhere inside the house as the spell became stronger. The prodding in her head was annoying, but bearable as she circled around the modest building. A high stone wall surrounded it. She looked around to make sure no one was watching, then camouflaged herself against the stone. She was just an indistinct blur of movement as she hauled herself over the wall and dropped into the yard.
Moving into a crouch in the grass that was long enough to reach her knees, Sorcha surveyed the building. The windows were shuttered from the inside, but low light filtered through the cracks of one window. She crossed the yard without bothering to be stealthy. Her shield muffled all noise she made. Not even the sharpest ears could detect her movements now.
Sorcha peered through the cracks in the shutter and saw into a living room. The kiss of five vampires were sitting on threadbare couches and armchairs. Their expressions were miserable and their faces were gaunt.
“Did you hear about Jardine?” her mark said as the sorceress was about to end his life. He was just another lowly fledgling. He would die because his master had done or said something to annoy Lord Kreaton.
Sorcha paused to listen to the gossip that filtered through the window.
“She found a willing blood donor,” the master said dourly. “She calls him her ‘consort’,” he added and rolled his eyes.
“I don’t care what she calls him,” another vamp said in a shrill tone. “I heard she’s now strong enough to conjure up blood for her kiss on a weekly basis.”
Accusing stares were sent at their master. “Where am I supposed to find someone who will be willing to let me drink from them on a regular basis?” he asked in exasperation, spreading his hands wide. “They don’t exactly grow on trees, you know!”
He wasn’t a true master. It was obvious he’d been chosen for the role from the way the others looked at him scornfully. True masters ruled their kiss with fear and respect. They wouldn’t have stood for their fledglings defying them.
“I wish the Night Cursed creatures weren’t locked away in their District,” Sorcha’s target said wistfully. “Remember when we used to kidnap the mimes and feed on them?”
“It used to be so funny when they’d scream soundlessly and plead for their pathetic lives through their overexaggerated gestures,” someone else replied. A few chuckles sounded, then morose silence fell.
“Why don’t we try feeding from the drained Night Cursed beings?” the shrill female asked.
“You know why,” the fake master said scornfully. “Their blood can’t sustain us now that their energy has been stolen from them.”
“They taste funny, too,” the target added, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“I’m so hungry,” the shrill female complained and rubbed her stomach.
“We’re all hungry,” her master snapped. “Shut up and stop whining about it!”
Sorcha ended their squabble by assassinating her mark with a spear of fire. She teleported away as they shot to their feet in terror. The sorceress had had enough of prowling around the Vampire District for one night. A moment later, she appeared in the living room of her apartment. She had no idea who Jardine was, but she couldn’t imagine who would be dumb enough to willingly become a blood donor for the leeches.
“He must have rocks in his head,” she said as she headed for her bathroom to take a shower. Dawn was only an hour or so away now. It was doubtful she would receive another kill order tonight. Her masters had no idea she could teleport. They assumed she would need to catch a carriage to reach her targets. Despite Lord Dallinar locking half of her power away when she’d been a baby, Sorcha was still more powerful than most of the magic users she’d met. She only wished she was strong enough to break the link in her head that tied her to the Immortal Triumvirate.
