Page 22 of Lux

To her, I am a beast on display. She’d request more than two million arun—whatever the fuck that is—for me. Twice as much. Perhaps far more.

“I knew this one had to be one of yours,” she sneers to Altaris, returning his derision with her own harsh tone. “How many times must we warn you, shopkeeper? Watch your little vermin or we will shut down your sleazy operation and send every one of those monsters to the pits where they belong.”

The pits. A place that makes Altaris flinch, though he scoffs. This mortal doesn’t scare him, even with her threats. She amuses him. He toys with her, flashing a gleeful smile.

“Boney Marin, ah. I thought I’d smelled your presence when I arrived. Still on theLys, I see. I heard in the papers about that awful incident your crew investigated the other day—that awful Black Fang nonsense. I’m sure the stress must be driving you to many a sleepless night. Is Jack aware?”

The woman pales, her dark eyes flashing. “Mind your fucking business, vamp. Are you here to pay his bond or run your mouth?”

“Both,” Altaris replies. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’re here in the station, babysitting one of my little monsters while a serial killer is on the loose. How is the hunt for the Black Fang going?” He pauses.

Marin says nothing.

“Unless, of course,”Altaris continues,“youare the one being punished with a day of desk work. Tsk. Tsk. Now, will you file his bond work, or shall I?”

“Bloodsucking prick.” The woman storms from the room, her posture defensive. As he watches her go, Altaris is beaming.

“Must have been something I said,” he replies innocently before following her out. “Should be only a minute or two, Caspian.”

A minute or two. Long enough for Niamh to get swallowed up. Chewed into pieces. Spit back out.

I left her. I left her. How could I?

Because of them. Those paintings. I try to remember them—recall what they looked like—but I can’t. They are blank, black squares devoid of meaning. I need to go back to that damn museum and find them again.

After I find her.

“Well, that is done with.” Altaris reappears near the open door, and two men follow him inside. They’re dressed in the same black leather as the woman, sporting similar sticks that dangle from belts at their waists.

They approach me. Hesitate and share worried glances. “Are you sure he’s properly sedated?” one of them wonders of the other. “This little bastard took out two of our best men. I hear he nearly ripped poor Joel’s bloody arm off!”

“I will vouch for him, my darlings,” Altaris says. “Dear Caspian won’t do anything naughty, now will he? Naughtiness will result in your bond being revoked, all my money being poured down the drain and more time wasted. We don’t want that, do we?”

“No,” I hiss. “We don’t.”

“Good. Now, hurry to it, boys! We have other business to attend to!” Altaris claps his hands, and the men jump to attention. They fear me, yet they fear him more. They scurry around, trading fearful glances between us both as they wrangle their chains and use silver keys to set me free.

When they do, I finally notice the state of me. The mess I’ve made. So much blood, both mine and that of others. Oh dear. I’ve made such a mess.

I’ll make a much larger one if Niamh isn’t found. If she is harmed. If she is dead? I will tear this world to shreds.

“Hold on--” The female returns, stick in hand, held at the ready. She stares past me, straight at Altaris. Her smile alone is smug. “Looks like this one won’t be going anywhere.”

“And, pray tell, why is that?” Altaris counters.

He takes a single step, placing himself in between us. As if he--slender and tall--would be a match for several muscular men, and a woman at that. Yet he is. All three mortals tremble. Only the woman looks willing to take him on.

She swishes her stick impatiently through the air, then lowers it. “There’s an envoy from the other side here to take him back. Looks like this vamryre is here illegally. Even your smooth-talking and false paperwork can’t get him out of this mess.”

“Is that so?”Altaris swipes a thumb along his chin. He hides it well, but he is uneasy.

Because ‘envoy’ or not, this has all the hallmarks of Cassius. My old master has come for me already. Not directly, of course; he wouldn’t bother his pompous ass with such a demeaning task.

But he’s sent one of his pawns, for sure.

I can smell them, even if their thoughts are blissfully absent from my skull. Somewhere nearby.

“Now, now, Caspian. There is no time for theatrics,” Altaris tells me. As he approaches Marin, he shrugs. “Show us the way to this envoy. I will negotiate on Caspian’s behalf.”

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