Page 10 of The Veil of Blood and Magic

Luckily Zev and Jagger weren’t looking at my hands, but goddess damn me, releasing magic is reckless. I’m not registered as a licensed wielder, and even a few sparks can alert the collector core of my whereabouts.

Zev releases his hold on my legs, and I let them fall limply to the floor. The second he takes his attention off of me, I strike. Hard and clean, I kick their feet out from under them, sending them both to the floor. I have my knives out just as quickly, retrieving them from the satchel slung over my shoulder. The daggers are like an extension of my body for how much I’ve trained with them, and almost as deadly as my fangs.

“Damn it, Jagger,” Zev says as he scrambles to his feet.

“I had her!” Jagger fires back.

I snort out a laugh before racing for the door again. If I can just get outside, I’ll easily lose them in the forest that surrounds Riverthorne and then make my way to the next township. My speed is hindered within these walls, even if my strength could have me crashing through them with half a thought, but the last thing I want to do is tear up Aruk’s place and destroy everything he’s worked so hard to build.

Aruk pays off the collector core to ensure this place is a safe haven, a place where all creatures can come without the worry of being captured. Almost everyone knows that, abides by that, and yet these two brutes are risking the wrath of everyone here for a measly bounty.

Tavern owners talk, and Zev and Jagger will be barred from ever indulging in their establishments comforts again. It’s a ballsy move, and I hardly think the bounty for a succubus is worth it.

Unless they haveotherreasons for breaking the rules.

Apprehension dances up my spine, an icy warning.

Maybe my time reallyisup.

The thought makes my heart stutter, my survival instincts overtaking all other thought. I take a deep breath, willing it to slow. Demanding it not take the wrong path again and weaken me.

“Well, this has been fun,” I say, winking at the two just as I reach the door. I fling it open?—

A blow to the chest knocks me backward, and I crash against Jagger and Zev, all of us toppling to the floor.

Panic sweeps through the crowd in an instant as the collector core march into the space, red armor gleaming, batons out and black helmets down.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

They usually stay away thanks to Aruk buying them off, but they can’t simply ignore the use of unlicensed magic, not a signature as strong as mine anyway.

There are six of them—a small group by the Collector’s standards, but enough to be a thorn in my side. They must’ve been deployed near here and sensed the breech in my magic.

Screams erupt as the crowd of mortals and creatures scatter at the sight, not one of them wanting to stick around for questioning and the possibility of being imprisoned. The Collector has let the descendants and survivors of the Purge exist as long as they submit to his rule and don’t draw attention to themselves, but large gatherings of so many different types of us can sometimes be seen as an act of rebellion. We’re not supposed to gather in large crowds. Some of us aren’t even supposed to exist.

“Stay where you are!” a core screams the demand, encompassing the entire room.

No one listens. Tables are tossed over as the core races around to catch whoever is closest.

They don’t know who the unlicensed magic came from, they just know it came from here.

Shit.

A whimper rings out to my left—a core is taking his baton to Lera as she tries to flee. Goddess, she looks so terrified, cowering before them. Blood flings from her mouth from another blow. With Zev and Jagger fighting through the chaotic crowds fleeing every direction, I’m free to speed toward her, stopping the third blow.

“Go,” I demand, and Lera scampers off, blending into the crowd.

“By demand of the Collector, identify yourself?—”

“Don’t think so,” I cut off his orders, yanking the baton out of his hand and backhanding him with it. The black helmet cracksunder the hit, revealing one angry-looking eye as he lunges for me. I drop the baton, dodging his attack. I anticipate the show of brute force, and snatch his neck with one hand, slicing through the soft tissue with my blade in the other.

His blood is warm as it slides over my hands, but the smell is off, like he’s done nothing but dine on fish and poison. He hits the floor with a thud.

I don’t relish killing, but members of the core have enough innocent blood on their hands to drown the entire continent, so I don’t have a single fuck to give when it comes to snuffing them out.

One down, five to go.

I whirl around, scanning the chaos in the room. This place is supposed to be for pure enjoyment and fun. Fucking collector core, they ruin everything. I hate them even more than drifters. At least drifters do their job for gold. The core does the Collector’s bidding out of a misguided loyalty for a sadistic tyrant. Idiots.

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