Silver Huntress

by Nia Night

  Bless children for their naïve little hearts, I thought. No matter, I’d kill him if he tried to harm her.

  This latter thought came out of nowhere, surprising me with its appearance. I glanced down at the silver marking that had appeared on the inside of my right palm, the keyhole that stared back at me.

  I needed a Gods damned drink. There had to be a bar cart nearby.

  I scooted on the bench over to the door, careful to move with silence. The Demon and the child continued sleeping across from me as I studied Ibrahim’s dark barrier around the door. Lifting my hand, I summoned a bit of my fire magic to my fingertips and probed at the dark magic. It recoiled from where it held around the door’s lock, peeling away like burned parchment. Glancing at the Demon told me that if he was aware of what I was doing, he was ignoring me.

  I pushed open the door and stepped out of the compartment, watching as the dark magic unfurled back into place around the lock. Satisfied, I went in search of libations and found them three carts down.

  The scent of the booze was enough to make my mouth water as I entered the cart, seeing that quite a few other passengers had been afflicted with similar cravings. Adjusting the hood over my head, I made my way across the space, passing various supernatural creatures as I did so. They stood around tall, round tables, drinks in hand, having conversation amongst their respective groups. I went straight for the bar at the other end of the cart. I was not here for socialization.

  The bartender was a Leprechaun; a short creature with pointed, hairy ears and big facial features. He stood upon a stool behind the bar, brown teeth with gold fronts flashing as I approached. He raised his thick brows in question.

  “Double neat of moonshine,” I said, and slipped a gold coin from my pocket. I’d lifted a few from the Demon when he hadn’t been paying attention, and was quite pleased with my petty self for it. Plus, I’d never retrieved the money I had stashed on the other side of the Veil before breaking into the Academy, and I needed a damn drink.

  The Leprechaun poured my serving and made my change, sliding back three silver coins. I tipped him one and gathered my drink. Tugging down the scarf around my face, I took a deep swig.

  As I was turning to leave, I nearly collided with a male who’d been approaching the bar behind me. I was about to snap some shit about him moving out of the damn way before I realized how attractive he was.

  Taking another sip of my shine, I eyed him from head to toe and held my position, earning a toothy smile in return.

  Tall and corded with muscle, head shaved at the sides with a long, dark blond braid down the middle. Sharp canines and pointed ears. Slightly angled eyes that watched me as sharply as a hawk. And scented like the forest, a delightful mixture of pine and rain.

  I’d always found the Elven people so beautiful, so alluring in their otherness. And from experience, I also knew they were excellent lovers.

  “Hello, beautiful,” said the Elf.

  “Hello, handsome,” I replied.

  Canines flashed as he grinned, sharp eyes lingering on my lips, traveling down over the curves of my body while I made my own assessments. The fine cut of his clothing and the expertly crafted weaponry told me that he was likely a soldier in the Elven army, and a high ranking one, at that.

  “Can I buy you another drink?” he asked in his thick accent.

  I drained my shine and handed it back to him in answer. He returned with another double a moment later and offered it to me. “I’m Aidric,” he said.

  I nodded slowly and took a sip of the shine. “And do you have a private cart, Aidric?” I asked.

  The Elven soldier grinned, surprise and then excitement coming over his handsome features. He held a hand out to me. “It just so happens that I do.”

  I returned to the compartment where I’d left the Demon and the child an hour prior, feeling much less tense than I had been before. My old tonic of booze and booty had done the trick.

  When I tried to open the door, I was blocked by the dark magic, and had to probe at it with my fire magic again before it yielded to let me inside. Vida was still soundly asleep, but Ibrahim glared up at me with judgment obvious in his expression.

  “What are you looking at?” I snapped when the Demon just kept staring at me with narrowed eyes as I claimed the bench across from him. My tone was sharp but low, so as not to disturb the sleeping child.

  His lips twisted in distaste, a look that was bound to get slapped off his face if he kept throwing it at me with such frequency. He shook his head and said nothing.

  I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees as I pushed into his space, still speaking in a whisper. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. Don’t be a little bitch about it.”

  The insult did the trick. “You disgust me,” the Demon said, the words spoken quietly but plenty audible.

  I snorted a short laugh. “Oh, the feeling is mutual, believe me.”

  “I can’t help my dark magic,” he replied in a whisper. “It’s not my fault you’re afraid of it. You, on the other hand, chose to be a murderer. You choose to sneak off to satisfy your carnal urges while the literal fate of the world sleeps in this compartment.”

  Ah, so there was a little honesty, some of the first the son of a bitch had spoken since I’d met him. It seemed he had noticed my reactions to his dirty magic. My teeth flashed as I leaned forward a little further still, all the ways I could kill this motherfucker flashing through my mind.

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” I said. “Especially not some brooding male-baby who passes judgment without knowing shit about shit. You still haven’t told me why you’re even here. Maybe I should kill you, just to be on the safe side.”

  Ibrahim leaned forward now as well, careful not to disturb the sleeping child, whose feet were still resting in his lap. This brought our faces close, a couple inches between the tips of our noses. I could feel the Demon fire flaring in my gaze as surely as I could see the angry dark magic in the dark orbs of his.

  “You could try,” he said.

  “I didn’t choose any of this, dickhead. I was perfectly happy living my life.”

  “Right, because what’s not to love about murdering people for money?”

  “So that’s it, then. You’ve got something against Sisters. Well, guess what? I didn’t exactly choose that shit, either.” My eyes darted down to the sleeping child. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

  These exchanges were made in heated whispers, our faces close enough to kiss.

  Or to reach up and slit his throat.

  I didn’t even know why I was arguing. Why I should give a shit what this fucker thought? I didn’t. That was for sure.

  Ibrahim’s mouth opened, the words that might get him throat-punched rising from his chest, but before he could speak them, the child opened her eyes and sat up.

  She looked between the two of us, but I was the one her gaze settled on when she said, “No one asks for the hands they’re dealt. All we get to decide is how we play them.”

  Then she laid her head back down, closed her eyes.

  “That’s what Elias used to say,” she added with a yawn, and soon fell back asleep.

  Suddenly I felt foolish, somehow smaller than I’d been a moment before. I shoved away the unpleasant feelings as well as I could, taking no small amount of satisfaction upon noticing that the child’s words had had the same effect on the dumbass Demon sitting across from me.

  He should feel like a dumbass. Because he was a dumbass.

  I might really have to kill him just to survive this trip, to make it through whatever the hells came next.

  10

  There were two stops between us and the City of Shadows. The first would be the most dangerous. If we got past that, we would likely get through the Dark Alleys and to our destination with relative ease.

  The first stop was the place the Dark Alley was named for, a junction of tracks and tunnels, the latter of which needed to be passed through to get to the for
mer. All manner of lowlife creatures would be lurking there.

  The three of us hadn’t shared a single word since Vida had shut down our arguing with her plainly spoken wisdom. The Demon and I hardly looked at each other, likely because doing so made us want to knock each other’s blocks off. When the train slowed and came to a stop at last, I was more than ready to get out of the stuffy compartment we’d shared for the past seven hours, even the dank and dirty nature of the Alleys sounding like a reprieve.

  Pulling the scarves up over our faces and the hoods back over our heads, we stepped off the train and onto the platform serving the Alleys. Various creatures streamed around us, some boarding and others exiting. The area was packed, the commuters who didn’t need to trek through to the other platforms staying close to the lighted torches this platform offered.

  Ibrahim led us through the crowd, the child between us, as we descended a staircase and stepped into the belly of the Dark Alleys. Three tunnels split off in different directions, each marked with signs written in the various languages of the realms, proclaiming the destinations of each path. People came and went here as well, but the volume was much lower, and they moved with a swiftness and caution that wasn’t present on the platform above. Only one flickering green torch lit the area between the three tunnels, the shadows clinging to the edges.

  Vida scooted a little closer to me, and I got the strange urge to slip an arm around the child’s shoulders, but did not. This would be a show of vulnerability that had no place in the tunnels ahead. Scanning the signs, I saw that the tunnel on our far left would connect to the City of Shadows eventually. Ibrahim must’ve seen the same, because he headed in that direction at the same moment.

  The mouth of the tunnel was dark, a flickering light in the distance guiding us ahead. The air grew colder, the scents drifting on it damp and foul. Small creatures skittered along the edges, rats and Gods knew what else slithering through the darkness. A few other travelers passed by, tucked as tightly into their hoods as were we.

  Without a word, we slipped deeper into the tunnel, the sounds of the platform dying slowly behind us. Our footsteps and heartbeats echoed quietly off the stones surrounding us. My hands were shoved in the pocket of my black hoodie, my fingers around the knives Ibrahim had lent me.

  Silence floated on the cool, foul air trapped here, air we stirred as the three of us passed through. As we drew closer to the flickering green light ahead, sounds rose to meet us.

  We reached an archway in the tunnel, where two green torches flickered upon either side. The light was just bright enough to make out the symbols atop the archway. The words were written in the common tongue, and read: GODS SPEED TO ALL YE WHO PASS HERE.

  “Stay close,” Ibrahim told Vida, and we passed beneath the archway.

  The torches on this side were spaced closer together, though not close enough to chase away the shadows that seemed to breed in the tunnel. Stalls and booths lined either side, peddlers pushily offering their wares as we moved through.

  I realized only as we arrived that I should have warned the child not to stare at all the creatures and things she would see here. We passed by a Troll who shoved gold watches in our faces, a Warlock who offered to read our fortunes. Scantily clad females pranced around Ibrahim, offering him something else for purchase. Strange music danced below the din of haggling and grunted conversations, and a feral looking dog darted around our legs before disappearing down the tunnel.

  I couldn’t help but pause at a stall where there were two baby Firedrakes for sale. The scaly creatures were no bigger than my palm, but would grow large enough to swallow me whole. I didn’t know if it was because I was a fire user, but my heart gave a little tug at seeing them captive. Firedrakes were as rare as true blue moons, meaning whoever owned the stall displaying them was a powerful enough supernatural to keep the thieves away.

  A small shove from Ibrahim’s dark magic had me moving past the Drakes, and it took monumental effort not to snap at the son of a bitch.

  I gave him a look of death, my eyes narrowing as the bottom half of my face was still concealed with the scarf, but if the Demon noticed, he didn’t comment.

  I was just considering sending a lick of flame over to him when a quick movement on my peripheral caught my eye. In my pocket, my hands tightened around the blades once more. Scanning the spot between stalls where I’d caught the movement, I found nothing amiss. Now it was my turn to shove my companions along faster.

  In my experience, the senses often lied before the gut.

  When the green light from the torches flickered, as if stirred by a phantom wind, my body settled into battle mode.

  “We need to move,” I told my companions through gritted teeth, my voice a whisper.

  They asked no questions, only picked up their pace as we cut through the Dark Alleys, the stalls of sellers stretching as far as we could see in either direction.

  I heard the bitches before I saw them, though we continued on in our trek another five minutes before they made themselves known. One must have spotted us, must have been warned to be on the lookout, and had alerted any others in the vicinity.

  The hiss I heard a handful of minutes later only confirmed it.

  The Accursed had found us.

  As stoic as the child had proven to be thus far, there was nothing she could do to keep the fear from leaking into her big brown eyes.

  I, on the other hand, felt nothing at all save for the cool anticipation that overcame me before a fight.

  In fact, there was a good amount of aggression I would be happy to let out, the monstrous part of me glad to be unleashed.

  The green torches flickered again, then guttered. A silence seemed to fall over the Alleys for a heartbeat. Then the pale skinned bitches appeared in front of us.

  Three of them. Then five. Then ten.

  A glance behind me revealed that the Vampires were multiplying there as well.

  Now a bit of apprehension hit me. Not for myself, though.

  I glanced at Vida. Then back at the bloodsuckers before me.

  As soon as the Accursed slipped out of the shadows around the stalls, the vendors began to retreat. They shut up their wares and pulled back against the walls of the tunnel, some of them melting completely into the stones themselves. Flaps were drawn, business shut down, eyes peeking out of crevices in preparation for the fight that was about to go down here.

  Then it was just the Demon, the child, me, and the Accursed. Several sets of all-black eyes stared at us, rows of sharp teeth gleaming behind full lips.

  I slipped the knives out of my hoodie, knowing they would not be enough to take down the horde that had gathered around us.

  No words were exchanged. None were needed. We knew why the Accursed were here, who they wanted. And they knew we were not going to hand over the child without a fight.

  So it went from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds.

  With the child between us, the Demon and I went to battle.

  The Accursed attacked as a pack, several moving in at once, striking like snakes. Where they reached me, my blades slashed, drawing black blood from the wounds, the foul smell renting the air.

  My Calidi chain would have come in handy, but there was no time to spare a thought for it. Instead, I sent licks of flames at the Vampires, driving back some while I plunged my knives into the throats of others. I had no idea what Ibrahim was doing on his side, but none of the Accursed got through, so the Demon must have been handling his own. At least the bastard was good for something.

  The world slipped away, time becoming undetectable as I spun and dipped, dancing to a deadly tune. One misstep could cost dearly, one mistake disastrous. The thing was, the Accursed were hard to put down. In order to kill them, one had to remove their heads. Fire worked, too, but I only had so much of that as a Halfling, and expending magic drained as much, if not more, energy than physical exertion.

  In short, we could hold them back for so long, but we needed to get out of this damn
tunnel, because if the Accursed kept coming, they would get through our defenses eventually.

  Flame burst from my fingertips, magic racing through my veins. The hisses of the Accursed were accented by the steady beating of my heart, the rasp of breath in my lungs. My hands became slick with black blood, the knives dripping ropes of it, flicking it against the stones of the tunnels as I twirled them around.

  Where I took down one Accursed, another followed. On and on it went.

  Behind my back, dark magic pulsed behind the flare of my fire.

  I removed the head of one with blade and flame, kicked another in the midsection and sent her scrambling back. One reached for my throat. I ducked, running my knife up her from navel-to-neck. Black blood sprayed my face, hung in my hair.

  And still the bitches kept coming.

  Too many. There were too damn many.

  But there was only one way out of this tunnel, and that was through.

  These thoughts stayed on my periphery as I sliced and burned, scorched and stabbed. Just as I was beginning to think we’d need a miracle, a roar sounded behind me. I knew it was foolish to look, to take my eyes off the attackers in front of me for even a moment, but the sound that issued was one that could not be ignored.

  I dared a glance over my shoulder.

  And did a double take.

  Dark magic was thick enough to choke, the feel of it filling the tunnel. The black blood of the Accursed was everywhere, on the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the child. Pale body parts and fallen Vampires lie strewn about, mouths wide, rows of deadly fangs still ready to bite. But none of these things was what drew my attention, what made me do that dangerous double take.

  Ibrahim.

  I turned just in time to catch his transformation, to be transfixed by it. It lasted only a heartbeat or two, but the sight was enthralling. Ibrahim’s body shifted, his clothing melting away in a sweep of dark magic. His limbs extended, hands and feet becoming vicious claws. The roar that ripped out of his throat was pure aggression, the guttural call of a beast, a monster from the deepest depths of the ten hells.