Akemi hopped over the fence once more, strutting into the clearing without any attempt at subtly. Jore screamed as soon as he saw her, tripping over his hooves as he collapsed into the wild weeds.

“Kobe! it’s a… by the gods… it’s a person!”

“Yeah, right,” Kobe scoffed. “We’re in the middle of bumhell-nowhere. Are you sure you’re not just imagining were-rabbits?”

Kobe exited the tent next. He was a similar type of goat-person, nearly identical to Jore, except he was a bit taller, and with more muscle. Knee plates sat over his curved legs, and metal boots curved around his hooves. A dagger, freshly sharpened, was strapped to his hip.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said, reaching for his weapon. “You’re no were-rabbit.”

Kobe D’Crosse | Level 7 Bloodlust Thief

Akemi’s smile faltered. Shit. Level seven.

She knew she was reliably able to kill people above her level, sure, but only when they were of non-combat classes. She could try chloroforming him, but he was already on edge—and seemed to have better reflexes than the rest of the brutes she’d run up against.

Deciding it wasn’t worth it—at least not yet—Akemi threw up her hands.

“No, I’m not. And I promise I’m much less scary,” she lied. No persuasion die rolled, luckily. Maybe were-rabbits really were just that frightening. “I’m just an… associate. A fellow villain.”

“Oh yeah? An associate who stole our steak?”

Akemi grimaced.

Guess this one’s not stupid.

She held her stomach pitifully. “Been a few days without food, I fear. I thought you were heroes escaping from Kyndra. But my mistake, I’ll happily give the food back.”

Kobe looked at her skeptically. As a peace offering, she produced the steak on its platter and laid it back into the grass, shoving it towards them with her boot. The pika, displeased with its food getting farther and farther away, made a whining noise.

Jore jumped, screeching. “Were-rabbit! Were-rabbit!”

Kobe rolled his eyes. “Oh, be quiet, Jore. That’s just a weird looking dog.”

Akemi bit her lip to contain her laugh.

“We don’t share food, sorry,” Kobe said. “This is our steak.”

Jore slowly approached the pika, dropping into a squat to be at eye-level with it.

“Oh, you’re right, Kobe, this isn’t some scary were-rabbit,” he said, scratching at the pika’s fur. The creature purred, fire-tail whipping affectionately.

“Don’t get too cordial with the thief, Kobe.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I’m not getting cordial with the thief,” he protested. “Just with the thief’s dog.”

“Or the thief’s dog.”

“Look how hungry the poor mutt is,” Jore said, frowning at the pika. “Let’s be nice, can’t we? They’re fellow villains, after all. Aren’t we supposed to look after each other? Thick as thieves, isn’t that the motto?”

“Jore…”

“Kobe…”

The two stared at each other—exchanging a heated glance that Akemi assumed only two brothers could understand—until Kobe finally relented.

“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hooves. “You and your dog can have a bite. But only a bite, and I mean it. And we’re not about to share our tents. I need my space.”

Akemi gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

If she didn’t want information so badly, he’d be lying in the grass.

His brother, though… he was a little too amusing to meet that kind of fate. She’d probably leave him with the pika and a few fresh toadstools for the road.

Jore patted down his apron. “Agh, my chef’s knife… I must have left it at home.”

Kobe fixed her with an accusatory glare.

“You steal that, too?”

Akemi threw up her hands. “Not at all. But I think I can help.”

She brandished her knife fingers, and cut into the steak easily. It was a supple, beautiful thing. Perfectly rare. She cut into quadrants, offering the smallest to the pika, who gobbled it in a freakishly short amount of time.

Sitting cross-legged in the grass, accompanied by the jovial warmth of a good meal, the thieves began to get a bit more comfortable. Kobe’s tightly-wound shoulders fell.

“So, where you from?” he asked casually, driving a two-pronged fork into his steak and ripping into it. “Don’t see many accountants around here.”

“That word—accountants—why do you say it like that?” Akemi interjected, unable to stop herself from jumping at the mention of it. Her curiosity was morbid. “I’ve gathered that it’s not actually about paperwork, but everyone I meet is so goddamn tightlipped about the whole thing.”

“Wait, you don’t know?”

“Clearly,” she did, jabbing another bite of meat into her mouth.

The two brothers looked at each other, conveyed another unknown message, then Kobe shrugged.

“Assassins. Accountants are… assassins. Sort of. Technically, Nocturne’s variety is called the Shadow Auditors. They manipulate blood, and statistics.”

The fork stilled on its way to Akemi’s mouth. Blinking slowly, she set it back down on the plate.

“Then why the hell are they called accountants, and not Shadow Auditors?”

“Well, because…” Kobe trailed off. His nose twisted cutely, thoughts percolating in his head. “They’re a cover for the Shadow Auditor’s Coterie. The SAC is a real old guild. A very important one here in the Emberheart Plains. Their current leader, Nocturne, has led the guild since its heyday, back when most cities and villages were run by villains and crooks.” His eyes gleamed. “A real stupendous time to be alive, I’ll tell you that.”

By the time he was done talking, a large, proud grin was plastered on his face. It was clear he enjoyed the subject.

“You’re making yourself sound ancient again,” Jore mumbled, then turned to Akemi, whispering to her like they were sharing in some grand secret. “Kobe’s only twenty-two, but he’s an obsessive history buff. Don’t let him convince you that he’s some old head.”

Kobe glared at him, then shoved Jore’s portion of the steak into the grass. Jore complained loudly, and Akemi found herself laughing—something she rarely did in the presence of other people. It was probably because they were goats. Hard not to be amused by two goats bickering like human siblings. It felt like the stories she had told herself as a farm kid had come alive.

“A history buff, huh?” Akemi leaned forward, placing her chin on her hand. The embers of the fire jumped up and down, nearly falling into her hair. The warmth was nice, although not overly needed—the weather was humid as it was. She enjoyed the aesthetic of it more than anything, the way the light danced over the goat’s eager, chomping faces under the drape of night. “You’re just the goat I’ve been looking for, then.”

Kobe stifled the grin Akemi knew was fighting to win over his features. He was trying his very hardest to feign disinterest.

But the way he set down his fork gave him away; he was eager to drone on, like any common high school geek Akemi had ever encountered, only this one had hooves.

“What do you want to know?”