Raff fell to his knees, cradling his hand as blood poured from the fresh wound. A wash of black, like ink in water, pulsed through the groaning man’s veins, traveling from the wound, then up his arm. It pulsed three times, then faded as if it had never been. “What in the hells was that?” he cried, tears welling in his eyes as he looked up at Cleo.

The woman flicked her blade, scattering a fresh bit of blood upon the floor and Minerva grumbled something about making even more of a mess. “Insurance,” she hissed, a devious grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Now get out before I decide we’re fools to trust you,” Cleo snarled.

Raff stood, stumbling out the doorway leaving behind the corpses of his companions and a trail of bright blood.

Nathan shot a look toward Cleo, but the woman just shrugged. She didn’t want to disclose anything about her abilities any more than he did. They were not friends, just unwilling traveling companions.

Arnold stood up with a huff out of his chair, his bald head soaked with sweat and his leather work clothes splattered with fresh blood. “Thank you, Nathan,” he said, nodding. Then looking over toward Cleo, “And you, Cleo. Glad you both were on our side. Things would’ve turned real ugly real fast had you not been here to help.”

“Figured I had to pay back all those ales somehow,” Nathan said.

Arnold let out a hoarse laugh that devolved into a cough. Minerva took his arm, letting him lean on her. “That you have, son. Seeing the look on that bastard Raff’s face was worth every drop a thousand times over.”

“So this Night Hunt,” Nathan said, “do they force you to pay some sort of protection money?”

“Something like that,” Arnold said as he made his way toward the staircase at the back of the tavern. “They’re a former monster hunting guild that fell on a bit of hard times. Went through a change of leadership a few years back and are now more monsters than monster hunters.” He looked back over his shoulder and waved a hand toward the two. “Follow me. I’ll answer the rest of your questions upstairs.

“After I deal with the boy,” he added under his breath.

Nathan and Cleo followed Arnold and Minerva up the stairs and into the residential portion of their tavern. Arnold insisted that he didn’t need any assistance walking, but Minerva insisted harder, and so he got assistance.

They arrived in the sitting room right outside the bedroom that they had slept in the previous night. There were two plush looking chairs and a blue loveseat all situated around a short, dark wooden coffee table. An unlit hearth was built into one wall and a large, pointed window looked out onto the street below. The stars outside shone bright, casting everything inside in a cool, white glow.

Minerva led Arnold to one of the plush looking chairs, which he promptly sank down into with a groan. David was already waiting in the other chair beside Arnold’s. The boy looked like a cat that had just been told it was on its ninth life, and his foot was continuously tapping on a soft looking orange carpet.

That left only one other seat in the room. The small loveseat opposite the two chairs.

“You two can take the loveseat,” Minerva said with a smile. “I’ll stand.”

“I’ll stand, too,” Cleo said with a grimace.

“More for me,” Nathan smiled as he plopped down onto the cushioned seat, stretching out as much as he could. Cleo scowled at him and Minerva kept looking back and forth between the two.

Arnold turned to face David, but the younger boy refused to meet his gaze, staring down as if his shoes were the most interesting things in the world. “See what you’ve caused us?” Arnold said, hands gripping the armrests of his chair as if he were keeping himself from throttling the kid. “Really? Did I not hammer it into your skull hard enough before, boy? You can’t go hunting the Night Hunt.”

“I’m sorry,” David mumbled, still refusing to look up.

Hunting? Was that what David had been doing in the alleyway? Luring in the man to kill him?

“What was that?” Arnold asked, leaning closer, brows casting shadows over his deep-set eyes. “My hearing ain’t what it used to be, but it sounded like you said you were sorry.”

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“I did.”

“You ain’t sorry,” Arnold yelled, cutting David off. “If you were sorry you wouldn’t have done it again.”

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Nathan said, sitting up in the loveseat and leaning forward, forearms on his knees. “But if this is about the man in the alley–”

Arnold held a hand up toward Nathan, silencing him. “I appreciate all of your help, young man. I really do.”

Cleo scoffed. “Young,” she muttered, laughing softly to herself.

Arnold shot her an odd look, but otherwise continued. “This is between me and my nephew right now. It’s about more than just killing the man in the alley. If some asshole tried to hurt him, I’d wring the bastard’s neck myself, but this…”

David sunk deeper into his chair. Arnold sighed, some of the anger leaving him, his body deflating like a balloon into the cushions.

“I love you, David. Blood or not. I told your father I’d look after you and I still plan to do just that, but for god’s sake boy, you’re gonna get us all killed.”

“Some of us have already been killed,” David said, voice cold, his eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. Nathan had seen that look in eyes before. Angry, looking for revenge against an unfair world. It was a stark difference from the smiling boy that had compared Veils to magnets just half a day before.

“And this is how you plan to get retribution?” Arnold asked, a look of bewilderment on his face, his voice rising. “One poor sod at a time? Luring them in? Provoking them to attack you so you have a reason to kill them?” The tavern owner was all but yelling as he said the last words.

Nathan’s eyes shifted between the two men, watching the veins bulge on Arnold’s neck, and corners of David’s lip twitch in frustration. This conflict had been brewing for a long time. Perhaps years.

The boy got up without a word and stormed up the stairs to the third floor. Arnold just watched him go, letting out a heavy sigh.

Everything was awfully quiet and awkward for several moments. The only noise that of David’s footsteps stomping up the staircase. Minerva walked gingerly toward the chair David had been sitting in and then sat in it herself. Finally, Arnold spoke.

“He’s been like this ever since his father died,” the man said, suddenly appearing older than his roughly sixty years of age. “About a decade back now. The lad never got over it.”

“I’m sorry,” Nathan said, genuinely meaning it.

One of the greatest pains he often felt was the knowledge that many children back on earth grew up without fathers or mothers because of him. He didn’t regret the kills, or his line of work, most of the people he killed had been downright bastards that deserved it. But he’d be lying to himself if he said he was certain he’d never killed an innocent man. Perhaps this life was his chance at redemption. Now that he decided who he killed and who he let live, maybe he could do better.

Looking at the ugly scowl on Cleo’s face, he wasn’t sure he could say she felt the same. Heartless witch, he thought.

“I’m sorry as well,” Arnold sighed. “If I’d known how much trouble the kid would cause me, I’d never have promised his father such a thing.” He let out a sad laugh. “But I’m worried about him. He’s on a dark path and doesn’t want to ask for a torch. Damn kids can never see past their own two feet in front of them, and always think they know everything.”

Arnold paused and looked at Nathan and Cleo. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Nathan said. I keep forgetting we look like we’re only a few years older than David.

“The two of you are still welcome to continue using our guest bedroom should you like it,” Minerva said. She had her hand held tightly around Arnold’s as the tavern owner gripped the armrest of his chair. “Unless of course you have other accommodations, but I know you’re… um, tight for coin, I guess you could say.”

“We’ll gladly accept your hospitality,” Nathan said with a smile.

“I’d rather sleep in the gutter than in a room with him again,” Cleo muttered under her breath.

“What was that dear?” Minerva said.

“She said that you are too kind,” Nathan quickly interjected before Cleo could say something stupid again. “We would love to stay the night here again.”

Minerva got up from her seat, giving Arnold’s hand one last squeeze. “Wonderful. I always love having guests. Makes everything seem so much more lively.” She smiled, patting Arnold’s hand. “I’m going to go check on David.” She walked toward the stairs and disappeared up them.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Arnold stopped clamping his hand down on the armrest and turned to look at the two assassins, deadly serious. His eyes narrowed, and Nathan recognized his look. It was the look of a careful man, one that knew things were not exactly what they seemed.

“Now, I don’t know what’s really going on with the two of you, and to be honest I don’t care to learn more,” Arnold said. “I appreciate all that you have done for us, but I can’t in good consciousness let you two get wrapped up any further in our conflict.”

The man sighed. Starlight streamed in from the window behind him, the wind blowing flags and hanging signs out on the street. The hollow sounds of footsteps echoed upstairs.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, of course. The Night Hunt likely already knows of your involvement. I’m sure you trust that insurance of yours,” he turned to face Cleo, “but I don’t trust Raff. The coward would let his mate drown just to keep his boots dry. Fortunately for you though, their ire will be focused on me. I –”

“Arnold!” Minerva called from upstairs, her voice shrill. All three of them immediately turned toward the staircase, already on their feet. “David’s gone!”