“That bloody Gods damned idiot!” Arnold roared. He reached down and picked up his ax from the side of his chair. “He’d better hope the Night Hunt finds him before I do.”

Minerva rushed down the stairs, her face a mess of worry and panic. “I– I checked both rooms. He’s gone. His window was open.” A tear streaked down her face. “Arnold, he’s going to do something stupid.”

“He already has,” Arnold said as he pulled Minerva into a one armed hug. “But don’t worry, I’ll bring him back here safe and sound.” Arnold let go of her and started stalking down the stairs. “And then kill him myself.”

Nathan moved to follow Arnold down the stairs. Halfway down the steps, he turned around and saw Cleo sitting back in the chair, staring lazily out the window.

“Cleo,” Nathan said, turning and leaning against the wooden banister. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing?” She asked. The assassin stared at him, then blinked and started to chuckle. “Are you really planning on going out and playing superhero? God, you really are a senile idiot.”

Nathan took several steps back up the stairs. Down below he heard the front door open and then slam closed. “I’m not…” he started.

Was he? He was an assassin. He was supposed to be a trained, careful, methodical, practiced killer. There was no need for him to drop everything and try to save someone. Arnold had just told him that he didn’t need to be any more involved. The tavernkeep had left all on his own, not expecting Nathan to help.

But I could help. Those two will probably end up dead… and I could help. It doesn’t make me a directionless killer. Nor does it mean I’m beholden to anyone. I’m doing this because I want to.

“Geez, I can practically see the moral dilemma waging within your dementia-riddled brain,” Cleo scoffed from the comfort of her chair.

“We could help, Cleo.”

“We could get ourselves killed.”

“Has that ever been a worry before? I’m sure you’ve gone on more dangerous missions for less.”

“More dangerous?” Cleo said, leaning forward, her top lip curled up to reveal the tips of her white teeth. “You don’t have any clue how dangerous this is. These people could have magic we never even dreamed of. What makes you so sure that we’re still at the top of the food chain?”

Nathan paused. In reality, he knew it was foolish. He knew he was acting blindly. The old Nathan would never have gone on such a reckless mission.

But the old Nathan was dead. He had been over ninety years old and relied way too much on pain meds, and played too many rounds of bingo. New Nathan had an exaggerated sense of self-righteousness and a working dick. He decided he liked new Nathan better.

“Nothing,” he said. “But I’m going to do it anyway. Because I want to be more than I was.”

“Ugh, were you always this much of a bleeding heart back on earth?”

Minerva sat in the chair next to Cleo, slowly rocking back and forth, eyes to the ground. She didn’t look to be paying any attention to the conversation around her. Her husband and nephew were very likely going to get themselves killed tonight.

And I could stop it.

Nathan’s gaze met Cleo’s. The woman had a patronizing grin on her face, relaxing, unbothered. “No. But I also never had a chance to be.”

He turned and bolted down the stairs, quickly leaving Cleo’s shocked cries and protests behind. The cool air felt good on his skin as he burst out the front door of the tavern and into the street. His feet pounded against the cobbled stone of the street before he skidded to a stop amidst the starlight.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

The street was nearly empty. A few people walked around, hoods or cloaks pulled tight around them in the chilled night air. But it was nothing compared to what one would expect back in a city on earth – nothing compared to what it had been just hours before, during the day. Something kept most people inside at night and Nathan assumed that it was not the cold.

“Arnold?” Nathan yelled, stowing a blade he had taken from one of the corpses of the Night Hunt within the tavern. He slid it into a loop on his belt. “Where are you?”

A few people turned his way, looks of confusion or fear on their faces, but none said anything. Nathan cursed, scanning the surrounding buildings and streets. Bits of mist and fog curled around corners, someone in a window hurriedly pulled shut their curtains.

He didn’t even know where to start. What direction had the older man gone? “You,” Nathan said, stalking toward a beggar huddled against the side of a building. The man shied away, his face caked with dirt, trying to make himself look as small as possible. “Did you see a man with an ax?”

Nathan must have looked awfully terrifying. Large, muscled, blade at his side, covered in blood, and walking the streets that others seemed to avoid at night. The beggar nodded quickly, eager to be done with this conversation and rid of the blood-covered man.

“Where did he go?”

The beggar shoved a crooked finger to the side, pointing down a main street. Nathan thanked the man, then took off in the direction that he had pointed.

Buildings flashed past on either side, the road slowing underneath his feet. His ears were filled with the sound of his own breath and the rushing of cool night air. Starlight illuminated his path. “Damn it,” he whispered through gritted teeth. The stubborn old fool would get himself killed chasing after David. Then what? Nathan would have no one but Cleo, and a whole host of new enemies. That just wouldn’t do.

Nathan glanced down an alleyway. Nothing. He continued sprinting. The last time he’d chased someone through the streets had been when he was trying to kill them. Now, he was trying to save them. Funny. He found himself smiling.

Finally, Nathan turned round a corner and saw Arnold. The old man was huffing and puffing as he jogged between crooked buildings. He pulled up beside the man and slapped him on the shoulder.

Arnold jumped, spinning until he saw Nathan. “Hells, lad. I didn’t so much as hear you coming.” He shook his head and then leveled his eyes ahead of them, toward wherever they were headed. “But I appreciate it.”

Nathan smiled at the man. Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

Shit.

He didn’t have time to think. He just moved. Throwing himself in front of Arnold, Nathan whipped his new blade out. It sang in the air as another one collided with it.

A dark form leaped back. Night Hunt. Five men in familiar black cloaks moved out of alleys and shadowed corners. The starlight seemed darker now, more ominous. How had Nathan not noticed the men?

“Bloody bastards,” Arnold growled. The two stood back to back, surrounded on all sides by the men. “You took my boy.”

“We did no such thing.”

An Echo beckoned Nathan’s call, asking to be used. The ghostly, smokeless flames rose from his hand, trailing into the air. He answered the call and the lanky man from the alleyway formed from shimmering flames beside him.

For a moment, Nathan worried that the Echo might turn on him, try to cannibalize his master. But his worries were soon quenched. The cutthroat stood alongside Nathan, a crude dagger of fire in his hand, burning eyes fixated on the figures in black surrounding them.

Eyes were said to be windows to the soul, glimpses into a person’s true self. Nathan figured that it would be doubly true for the figures of flame if they truly were portions of a person’s soul. But all Nathan saw within the Echo’s eyes was smoldering anger.

The figures raised their weapons defensively, pulling them from cloaks as if they had materialized from the starlight itself. And then they descended upon them, blades striking toward Arnold.

No!

And then Nathan was there, his blade drawn and deflecting the strike. He spun, whirling his blade around him with a furious yell.

The flaming Echo pounced on one of the men, ripping into them like a savage beast and knocking them to the ground. Clawed, fiery hands tore at their clothing and face, while the blade flashed with ghostly light, cutting and stabbing. The man’s screams died on his lips as several of the others shied away from the Echo, fearful.

95 EXP gained

Nathan could see the man’s face now. His hollow brown eyes stared vacantly up at the sky, reflecting the starlight. His face was frozen in a mask of fear.

A blade hissed through the air like a viper, lopping off the Echo’s head and silencing the howl.

Echo Ushered.

Power gained: Increasing agility permanently by 2%

Ability temporarily gained: None

Echoes Stored: [0/3]

Total Echoes Ushered: [2/2]

Dammit.

There would be no burst of supernatural heat and speed this time.