Every threshold ward needed three main components: a clear boundary, a binding agent, and a well of power. Because the supports were so very simple, there were a thousand ways to make a threshold ward. Most were straightforward and simple; others were far more interesting. Eko recalled reading up on an interesting ritual that involved braided flesh tattooed with the blood of the flayed that had to be hung over a doorway. It was supposed to keep evil spirits away.
Thankfully, she did not need to stoop to anything so drastic. For one thing – she was woefully short on volunteers for skinning. The blood however, that part had some weight to it. Blood made for a wonderful binding agent in many genres of spell weaving. Now, the use of blood was highly stigmatized – too many mages in times past had been caught wringing unsuspecting victims dry for their spell components. However, out here in Osso there was no one to report her indiscretion. Besides, Eko figured that as long as she stuck to her own veins, there wasn’t really anything to complain about.
Blood and flesh carried memory. Even though it was clean now, Eko’s blood had been touched with last night’s necromancy and now would always carry its echoes. That made it the perfect base for a repellent. The wrought iron fence surrounding her family’s home would serve as a clear boundary for the spell. And because she was using her blood, Eko was tying her own personal well of magic to power it – a technique would have also been frowned upon down south. Usually, mages took time to fill items with magic, storing it in something dense like crystal or stone to be used as needed. That way they did not have to rely on draining their limited bodily stores and risk Overwringing to power big spells. Eko had been born with an unusually large well of magic. In the past, she had seen her magic as endless. After a hard bought lesson, she knew better now. But today, Eko calculated the risk to be acceptable. For starters, storing magic did was not reliable in Osso. Wild magic tended to warp any other powers that it touched. Any item she could have imbibed would carry the risk of unpredictably changing the spell she powered with it. She was also betting that using power straight from herself would keep her spell that much more stable. Magic was sensitive to intention and Eko wanted this house protected at all costs.
Ever so carefully, she dipped her pen nib into the little teacup, letting the excess blood drip off. With nothing but her legs to keep her balanced as she straddled atop the Sulio home’s front gate, Eko twisted to scratch a new rune into the exposed wrought iron. She had been out here for the better part of an hour, painstakingly carving her ward into the gate. Her hands had long since gone numb from the cold and her legs ached from the effort of keeping herself steady. But she was almost finished. Eko could feel the ward taking shape, that hum beneath her skin starting up as the magic shook itself awake. Just a few more lines.
“Yo!”
The rusty voice jolted Eko out of her focus. With a disgracefully pitched yelp, she started, upended her balance, and spent a terrifying few seconds trying to regain her equilibrium with no free hands to spare. She twisted to glare at the interloper, only to find Syd’s obnoxiously long self leaning against the bricks of her courtyard wall. He had on his vest, Eko recognized a few patches that she had ensorcelled for him.
Syd shot her a sharp-toothed smile. “What’s goin’ on up there?”
“I was damn near about to break my neck thanks to you, that’s what,” Eko groused. She turned back to her scrawling. “What do you want?”
“Came to see if you wanted to go hunting with me,” Syd said, sounding not at all bothered by the possibility of Eko’s untimely demise. “Figured catching a mage requires a mage’s expertise.”
Eko scratched the last of the runes onto the gate. Once those were complete, she sat up on her perch and peered down at the Scarecrow’s Vicemaster. Eko crooked an eyebrow, secretly reveling in the opportunity to look down on him for once. It was hard to be intimidating when she was constantly having to glare at him on tiptoe. “What makes you think I need your help? This isn’t the first mage I’ve had to hunt down. It is not an overly complicated task.”
If Syd was surprised at her admission, he did not let it show. Eko had been fairly mum on what exactly her duties at Jadecrö had entailed. Most people assumed she sat in a stuffy office all day, buried in spell books. She had counted Syd among that number. After the last few hours, she had been not too careful on keeping that illusion up around him.
The Vicemaster simply shrugged. “I’m sure you could,” he said. “But we’ll be faster together, besides we’ve got competition. A couple of Magehounds are in town looking for the same necromage.”
For the second time in five minutes, Eko almost fell off the gate. She had assumed, their necromage was just a lone player causing trouble. The presence of Magehounds put a wrinkle in that. “Did they give you names?”
Syd’s face pinched in thought. “Anujak and Memphis Bass.”
All of the thoughts that had been spinning around her head went still as the name hit her ears. Eko was no longer at her home on a cold morning in Osso. Instead, she found herself in a memory. Standing on the deck of a riverboat in the pouring rain, a terrible promise on her lips. Without another word, Eko climbed down the gate, and went into the house. Distantly, she heard Syd’s footsteps at her back.
With sharp, short motions, she poured the leftover blood into a clean vial and set it in her workbag. Memphis Bass, in her city. He had no idea that Eko was in Osso; she had never talked about her personal life around him. That small fact, however, was unimportant. Memphis was in Osso, and that meant he was entirely too close for comfort.
“Woah there,” a scarred hand clamped down onto her shoulder. Eko hissed, half a second before she remembered who it belonged to. Syd, right.
“Where was he,” Eko demanded.
“Who?”
“Memphis.”
Syd crouched down until they were eye to eye. His face had gone hard, but there was something close to worry behind his eyes. “Not until I get some answers,” he said. “What’s got you so worked up?”
“It is none of your business,” Eko said. She squirmed, trying to shove his hands away, but the Vicemaster held her fast.
He shook his head. “It is if you’re headed out of here to do a murder. Now, what’s going on?”
Eko did not have to answer him. Strength notwithstanding, she had other ways of making Syd move. For a brief moment, Eko considered them. But a small voice in her soul said that doing so would break something between them. Mad as she was, Eko found herself hesitant to do it. “I made that Magehound a promise,” she told him. “And I intend to keep it.”
Syd nodded like he understood, but his hands never moved. “Does that have to happen right now,” he asked. “Because if you’ll remember, we’ve got a loose mage making monsters and killing people at the moment.”
It almost wasn’t enough to sway her. Almost. But as Eko came back into her body, she noticed they were standing in her family’s parlor room. Just past Syd’s shoulder, she could see a faded sepia photograph framed on the wall right above the couch. It had been taken just after Mica had been born and Eko had been Tower ranked for a year. She had come home for a holiday. Incidentally, a traveling photographer had found their way to Osso and her grandmother had insisted they needed a proper portrait with the entire family. In the picture, all nine of them stood starched and pressed into their best clothes with her grandmother preening in the middle. Their nine were seven now, and Eko would be damned if they lost any more. Memphis could wait, the danger of the necromage came first.
Something in her face must have given her decision away, because Syd heaved a sigh of relief and stepped back. “All good?”
An embarrassed heat crawled up the back of Eko’s neck. She had lost control completely, and with a witness, no less. “Your dramatics were unnecessary,” she sniffed, putting on her most unaffected voice. “Of course I’m fine. Now, I assume you have some sort of plan?”
Syd chuckled. “Find the necromage, kill the necromage.”
Eko rolled her eyes. She walked back through the parlor, snatching up her bag from where she had dropped it. “Your plan is woefully short on details.”
Syd grinned down at her as they stepped out into the sunlight. “I was hoping you could help me fill in the blanks.”
Eko considered the task before them. Her stomach gave a low rumble. “We start with breakfast.”
She led the way up the road while Syd shared what the Magehounds had told him. By the time he had her all caught up, they had made it to The Indigo Kitchen.
Forty-two years ago, Madi Sulio had left the blood-soaked bayous of the Yoharil Delta, travelling to Osso with only the items she could fit in her carpetbag and her two surviving children in tow. Through nothing but spite and determination, she had built a life for herself and her children in this mess of a city, saving and scraping until she had stored up enough money to open a little teashop. By the time she died, the Indigo Kitchen had become a community institution with her daughter – Eko’s mother Aotani at the helm.
The intoxicating scent of blended teas and warm sugar met them as Eko and Syd stepped inside the little cafe. Today, just like every other, the teashop was packed full. As always, the tiled tables were polished clean. Imported glass teacups glittered in the mid-morninng sunlight. The bakery counter sported a trove of sweets and pastries, all artfully arranged like jewels in a jewelry box. Eko didn’t bother with any of it, instead, she pushed past the crush of folks, making a beeline to the back kitchen.
The waitstaff barely gave her a passing glance – they all knew better. The heat of the teashop’s kitchen settled over her like a warm blanket as she stepped through the heavy oaken doors. Inside, there was only one man. He stood at the massive marble worktable, deep in concentration as he carefully braided dough. There were eight years between Eko and her baby brother Aza. When she had first gone south for school, he had been a gangly mess of a boy with a creaky voice and a shy smile. Sometime while she was away, Aza had gone and decided to grow up. How utterly disrespectful of him. Now, at twenty, he had grown into his proportions, filling out with muscle earned from years of kneading. His voice had smoothed and deepened, and there was a confidence in his smile now that scared her a bit.
Despite this, Eko was still the elder and harassing Aza was her sacred duty. She strode up to the workbench. “I need food,” she told him. “Enough for breakfast and lunch for two.”
Aza’s hands never slowed their work, but his eyes – black on grey like hers – flicked between Syd and Eko. He frowned, annoyed. “This is a business,” he informed her. “People pay for food. And where are your manners? Favors should come with a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.”
“Give me food please and thank you.”
Aza rolled his eyes, still working the dough, but a tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “What will you give me for it?”
The boy wanted to bargain. This was nothing new. Eko snatched food from her family’s business often and Aza always had something to say about it. As if a couple of missing sweet buns would be missed among the hundreds that he made each day. Unfortunately, they were short on time for haggling, so Eko pulled out her biggest leverage right away. She propped a hip onto the bench and examined her fingernails. “Maybe I should tell mama to invite Mr. Jusen’s son over for dinner, since he was so kind to walk you all the way home the other night.”
Hands finally pausing, Aza paled. “Eko, please.”
Eko grinned. She had him and he knew it. Aza having a boyfriend was nothing new, but stepping out with the son of the man their mother had held a decades long feud with was a different matter entirely. About what, she wouldn’t say, but the reason was not so important as the results. No member of the Sulio family was to speak, look at, or spit in the direction of a Jusen. For any reason. Ever. Her little brother was wading in dangerous waters.
Eko sighed dramatically. “I can be bought, brother mine. My silence for the low price of pastries and two lunch rolls.” She angled an eye up to Syd. “Lamb or chicken?”
“Lamb.”
“Two lamb lunch rolls.”
“Fine, fine,” Aza said, wiping flour onto his apron. “Just don’t tell mama.”
A low, feminine voice rang out from the doorway. “Tell mama what?”
Eko winced. Aza squeaked. Everyone turned to look at the woman who stood in the doorway.
Aotani Sulio was beautiful. Delicate laugh lines shifted in her chestnut-brown skin as she surveyed her children. Eyes the color of bitter chocolate, circled with feathery lashes and lined in heavy kohl narrowed down on Aza. She stepped into the kitchen, her bootheels clicking sharply against the tiles. From her father, Eko had learned social skills, how to read people and watch a room. But it was her mother who taught Eko the value of details. Aotani ran her family’s business with military precision. Her office was a fortress of ledgers. Every item in the shop was accounted for down to the last grain of rice and tin of tea. She regarded their little group with a look of suspicion only mothers could achieve. “What, exactly, is going on in here?”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Nothing, mama,” Eko cut in as Aza stood gaping. “Just asking Aza to part with a few of his precious creations for our lunch.”
Aotani raised an eyebrow at the merc looming over her daughter’s shoulder. “And who is this?”
Eko scowled over at Syd, trying to send the message to not inform her dear mother or precious baby brother that they were on their way to hunt down ghouls. The Vicemaster seemed relaxed, although she noticed he too had straightened his spine at Aotani’s tone.
“Syd Tejin,” he said, stepping around to offer her a shallow bow. He spoke slowly, and carefully, his usually rusty voice smoothened just a little. “Scarecrow Vicemaster. It’s very nice to meet you Missus Sulio.”
Her mother’s eyes widened in surprise. Eko bit back her own shock. Who was this man? Never in the two years had she ever heard him speak so politely.
Her mother recovered quickly. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said.
“He’s one of my clients,” Eko cut in. “I have a job that might take us all day.”
“And what would that job be?”
“We’re trying to find something he lost,” she hedged before Syd could say too much.
“And that takes all day?”
“It does.” Lying by omission was not a difficult thing to sniff out, and Eko was out of practice fibbing to her mother. Her obfuscations were not nearly as smooth as she wanted them to be.
“So, in the pursuit of this ‘job’, you came here to harass your brother for free food like an errant seagull? Not just for yourself, but for your mercenary friend.” She turned her squint back up to Syd. “Everyone in Osso knows about the Scarecrows,” she said. “Any work that you have my daughter doing for you cannot be good.”
Syd grinned, a smaller, warmer one than he usually gave Eko. “I promise, ma’am,” he said. “All the work Eko does for us is clear of trouble.”
Not quite a lie, depending on one’s definition of ‘trouble’.
On a disbelieving snort, Aotani over to the shelf where a tray of rolls sat cooling, wrapping them carefully in brown paper. She squinted harder at Syd and wrapped up two more before storing the lot of them in a paper bag. “Those are for lunch,” Aotani said, handing Eko the bag.
She went to another shelf and grabbed a pair of large cinnamon and orange glazed sweet rolls. “These are for now.”
Eko handed one of the rolls to Syd and smiled at her mother. “Thank you.”
Aotani waved her off. “Be safe please,” she instructed. “And come home at a reasonable hour tonight.”
Eko winced again. So much for getting home unnoticed last night. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her mother turned back to Syd. “Whatever she’s doing, you will keep her safe.”
The big merc nodded, even though it had definitely not been a request.
Instead of heading back through the dining room, Eko led Syd out of a side door that spat them out into the alley behind the shop. It was shadowed and quiet, and clean thanks to the daily efforts of her uncle Kesso. Here was as good a place as any to get started on their task.
The overgrown merc took a large bite out of his sweet roll. “You mom seems nice.”
“She is,” Eko said. She caught sight of Syd’s expression and frowned. “What’s that face for?”
“When you’re at the Scarecrow’s, you’re abut as prickly as a cactus on your best day. But the Eko I saw in there was not nearly so snappish,” Syd said, face splitting into a taunting grin. “There’s a bit of squish behind your scowl after all.”
Her ears felt hot. She hadn’t always been this person. Many years ago, Eko had met strangers with not warm tidings exactly, but she had been friendly and open. Nothing good had come of it in her early days with Jadcrö. Now, Eko new better. She was soft with her family because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were safe to be soft to. She could not say the same for anybody else. But Eko did not tell Syd any of that. Instead, she simply grumbled an embarrassed, “Shut up,” and went back to getting her spell components.
She had saved a few of of the mushroom caps from the night before, wrapped up in a sealing to keep their magic from leaking. She removed one and rolled it in her palm. If the traces left in her blood were like breadcrumbs, the mushroom was effectively a beacon. Closing her eyes, Eko eased open her soul. Filled with necromancy, it sat in her hand, emanating a sickly aura. With just a small adjustment of her focus, Eko could feel the shape of the magic within the mushroom. It was a sticky, imposing affair, latching onto whatever it could and trying to force itself inside.
Opening her eyes, she extended a hand towards Syd. “Take my hand,” she told him.
Without any hesitation at all, his scarred palm covered hers. Strong fingers wrapped around her free hand as he arched an eyebrow in question.
“I am going to try to get us as close to the source of this magic that I can,” Eko explained. She held up the mushroom. “Using this as a guide to the magic I’m feeling for. Do not let go of my hand,” she instructed. “If I lose you in the dark, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find you again.”
Syd nodded. Eko took a deep breath, adjusted her grip, and led them into the thickest shadows.
The memory of the first time she shadow-walked was hazy. Eko had been four, maybe five. She had been wandering around the house at night, unable to sleep, hearing loose whispers from the dark. She had reached for a shadow – and found herself in an unseeing freefall. It had been like stepping inside of an inkpot. The darkness had a presence, like a thin mist. As she grew older and gained more practice, it got easier. Darkness was the space between all things, and space had no defined form. Navigating the dark was more about instinct and intuition. In this space, there was no up or down; no sure footing. Eko had to know where she was going before she went or find herself hopelessly lost.
Eko kept her awareness on the mushroom, feeling in the dark for a stronger thread of the power that it leeched into her palm. In her other hand, she kept an anchor onto the Vicemaster. But his grip had changed. Eko could have sworn her hand had to stretch farther to keep hold of his. Sight was all but useless here, but Eko turned to look anyway.
In the dense dark, she caught a glimpse of something massive, roiling, and barely restrained. It had no shape – nothing here did. Even so, it seemed more than just a body. It reminded her of a thunderhead waiting to break. Thrilling.
The mushroom pulsed in her hand, calling her attention back.
A new sensation pressed against her skin, horrible and familiar. Soft but present, Eko leaned into the feeling and let the presence of the dead lead them forward.
XXX
Memphis scowled as he re-checked the sight on his rifle. The meeting with the mercenaries had gone about as well as he had hoped, but the whole affair had left a sour taste in his mouth. The actual guildmaster had barely said a word, while her Vicemaster seemed all too informed about the necromage – and not nearly as concerned as Memphis felt he should have been. Not to mention, his hostility at the beginning before Tejin knew who they were in Osso to hunt.
In Memphis’ experience, mages as a whole tended toward the path of least resistance. A place like Osso, with its old rules and ill-tempered wild magic was a place they would typically avoid. Which begged the question; who was bold enough, arrogant enough to try their luck here anyway? Whoever it was, they were cozy enough with the Scarecrows that Syd had been ready to kill the Magehounds right there in his boss’ office. Memphis could smell killing intent a mile away, there had been no mistaking it on the Vicemaster.
The office door swung wide, breaking him from his mystery. It was probably for the best. Memphis needed to stay sharp, not be wondering about some wayward mage who was not their target.
The captain entered the room. She had traded her patrol uniform for a chest plate of woven leather along with a pair of infantry boots. A broadsword hung confidently at her hip and a matched set of talon knives were strapped to the small of her back. “Apologies for the delay,” she said. “Are you ready to go?”
The Magehounds stood. The loose energy that had been running through Memphis’ body since last night finally settled as he got moving. Their hunt was on.
Memphis took one step forward, and then paused. He twisted backward to see Anujak. “It’s time.”
Without a word, his partner began to strip.
“What is he doing,” Lily demanded.
Memphis fiddled with the strap of his ammunition pouch. “Clothes that don’t come off before a shift get tangled at best, torn at worst,” he explained. He fixed a stare on the captain. “Have you ever met a shifter before?”
Lily nodded. “There are several shifter clans in northern Tolko,” she said. “We have a few of them in the guard as well.”
Memphis nodded. The continent was such a large, varied place that it was often hard to keep track of what Folks you could find where. More than once, Memphis had needed to hurriedly explain the rules about shifters to the uninitiated. However, Lily did not need any instruction. She held herself completely still, making no move toward Anujak while he was in the throes of a change. This was good. The transformation from man to beast was a painful one, filled with the sounds of bones breaking and rearranging themselves around a new form, and the grunts of pain that went along with such trauma. Often, people felt the urge to help rather than just observe. That was always a mistake. Shifters weren’t often using their rational brain during the change, letting their beastly instincts take over to get them through it. A beast in pain was a dangerous one, Anujak would not know friend or foe until his transformation was complete.
He heard Lily’s sharp inhale and grinned. Even if the captain had interacted with shifters in the past, Memphis was certain that none of them were like his partner.
In his jaguar skin, Anujak was a sight. Nearly as long as a human was tall, with teeth the length of a man’s hand paws large enough to crack a skull. Anujak stretched, heavy muscles rolling beneath his dappled black coat. Brilliant jade eyes blinked up at Memphis, the sheen of awareness in them telling him that the man was fully in control.
“Now, we’re ready.”
The captain led them to a utility entrance of the sewers a few blocks away from the central guardhouse. The gate was heavily rusted and a large Keep Out sign had been affixed to the front. However, judging by the gate’s broken lock, the signage had not been heeded for very long.
“Watch your step,” Lily instructed as they filed inside. “The stonework down here can be unstable. Cave-ins are not uncommon.”
They marched single file, with Anujak in front, Lily in the center, and Memphis bringing up the rear. The air down here was thick with moisture laden with the scent of refuse. How Anujak could parse any scent around the reek of sewage, Memphis could not begin to guess. But, to his partner’s credit, Anujak seemed confident. By now, he was intimately familiar with the scent of Jeriko’s magic. Every few steps, he would stop to sniff the flagstones and lead them down yet another winding passage.
Maintaining a sense of place was all but impossible down here in the dank gloom. He was confident that they were travelling downward but that was the extent of his knowledge. All of the corridors looked the same. Just alternating cracked stones covered in ancient rune work, half obscured under and wet moss. Memphis could swear he saw the scratched symbols glow in the weak kerosene lamplight. He asked Lily about them.
The captain merely shrugged. “They were a part of the original city as far as anyone can tell,” she said. “They were almost definitely very important, but no one knows exactly what they were for. Today, the only thing they seem to do is keep the larger monsters out of Osso.”
Unbidden, Memphis found himself in a memory. A young mage, sharp-tongued and silve- eyed, ran nimble fingers over an old relic that had been covered in markings similar to the ones on the wall. The world that went before ours was full of wonderful things, her husky voice spoke in his mind. And the dregs of it have baffled our best minds for ages.
Idly, he wondered what that mage was up to these days. Plotting his demise most likely. Eko had not seemed like a woman to drop a grudge so easily. Right now, she was in the wind after the demise of the Jadcrö guild. Memphis prayed she had found happiness somewhere far enough that acting on her promise would be too much of an inconvenience.
A low hiss drifted from the darkened corridor before their party. Memphis’ blood ran cold. In half a moment, he had his rifle at the ready. The fact that his gun was loaded with cursed ammunition was less comforting than he wanted it to be. Anujak’s heavy shoulders were lowered, his legs bent and ready to pounce. More hisses joined the first, growing ever louder as they advanced.
Memphis whistled to the Captain. “What are those?”
He watched as Lily reached for her sword, took a second look around the narrow corridor and snatched her knives out instead. “Vorek’s,” she told him. “Feathered lizards about the size of wolves. We’ve most likely wandered into their territory. They like to hunt in these tunnels”
“I thought you said the runes kept monsters out?”
“Larger monsters,” Lily rushed. “There are plenty of things that slip in and make the undercity home.”
The captain inched forward until she was side by side with Anujak. “Voreks are nasty, fast, and mean, but they don’t like a challenge,” she said. “Kill enough of them, and the rest will go running.”
Memphis had five rounds in his rifle and seven in his sidearm. Not nearly enough for the number of voreks coming their way if he guessed by their noise. He could reload if they got lucky, but there were no guarantees that he would get the opportunity. “How many is enough?”
Lily’s face was grim. “That will be up to them.”
Drawing in a long breath, Memphis fixed his grip. There was nothing to be done, he had the ammo that he had, and it would simply have to be enough.
The voreks emerged in an undulating pile of feathers and fangs. Their sharp, hooked talons bit into the stone walls and ceiling as they advanced. Memphis aimed for the middle, focusing his sight one of the creature’s large, yellow eyes.
The crack of the rifle bounced around the tight space. His aim was true – as it always was. One clean headshot. However, the results were anything but. The vorek’s head began to swell around the entry wound, the flesh bubbling around an internal heat like soap suds before bursting like an overripe fruit. Blood that had once been benign sprayed the other voreks in a caustic mist.
The surrounding creatures screamed in pain and fear, but they kept on coming. Anujak jumped onto the first vorek to get close. He hit it broadside, knocking it against the wall. Without giving it a chance to recover, he buried his massive front claws into its chest, pinning it against the stone, and crushed its windpipe with his teeth.
Memphis fired another shot, careful to pick a target so the acid spray would not hit his partner. Lily had taken on the task of defender. If he hadn’t been fighting for his life, Memphis could have watched her all day. The captain moved like smoke over glass, so lithe and fluid that it distracted from her speed. She was never in the same place for more than a second, driving her daggers into the creatures as if she was using their bodies to pull herself along. She managed to clear and keep a space around Memphis so that he could shoot unimpeded.
And so it went, with Memphis laying down suppressing fire, and Anujak and the captain picking off the stragglers. All around him were the screams of dying and angry voreks, the labored breathing of his companions, and his own pulse in his ears. The stream of monsters seemed endless. When the rifle was empty, Memphis switched to his sidearm rather than waste time reloading.
He took a shot just as Lily launched herself forward, landing bodily on the nearest vorek. Memphis shot popped, Lily screamed in rage, Anujak loosed a roar, and the tide of the remaining monsters turned, running back the way they came.
Memphis kept his gun up until the last vorek had run out of sight. When he was sure they were not coming back, he turned his attention back to Lily and Anujak. “Anybody hurt?”
Anujak chuffed, padding back towards him. His partner had some bites and scratches, but none of them looked immediately threatening.
Lily shook her head. The eyes she turned on him were wide and incredulous. “What devilish weapon is that?” she demanded, pointing a bloodied knife towards his gun.
Memphis holstered his pistol. “It is a standard firearm,” he said. “But I have the bullets made special by a crafter in Garyu City.”
Lily did not seem convinced. Not surprising, considering that guns were not very common in their part of the world. They were illegal for regular citizens to own, and their crafting required a specially trained gunsmith. The gunsmiths of Krait were under direct orders of the Queen’s Ministry of Defense, which added to their rarity. His were actually antiques. They had belonged to his grandfather, who had served in a specialized sniper’s regiment during the Crown Conflict of ’47. When the war had ended, he smuggled his rifles back home with him. They had lived above the mantle in Memphis’ childhood home until the day he’d needed them. Now, the weapons never left his side.
A scowl cut into the captain’s face. “I have never seen such a thing.”
“They are meant for much tougher prey,” Memphis admitted. “Ghouls are hardy, and I needed something thoroughly destructive.”
It took a few minutes for Anujak to pick the scent trail back up. It was a miracle he could at all, with all the blood and gun smoke clogging the corridor. Further down they went. Memphis reloaded his guns as they walked, feeling Lily’s eyes on him all the while.