Page 55 of Claimed By Night

Cambion marches ahead of us, up to the towering stone wall where he extends his arm out in front of him and touches one of the smooth rocks. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

“What the hell’s he doin’?” Flumph asks from within my cloak.

“He’s absorbing the essence of those of his kin who came before him,” Dragan responds.

“Why?” Flumph continues.

“To bolster his strength.”

“What, he like absorbin’ their spirits or somethin’?”

Dragan nods but doesn’t take his eyes off Cambion. “Yes.”

Cambion touches the wall for another three minutes or so before he returns to us. When he does, he appears different. The constant exhaustion which claimed him in the forest is now completely vacant, and in its place is a much more alert and strengthened Seelie King.

“I will illusion myself and Thoradin,” Dragan explains to Cambion as the two face each other. “You focus on yourself and Eilish.”

Cambion nods and then approaches me, holding his hands together until dancing embers ignite between them once again. The warmth of his hands radiates against my skin, bathing me in a balmy cocoon that feels like heaven in this dank, cold place.

“It’s done,” he says as he faces Dragan.

“Then we continue into Grimreap,” Dragan answers.

Dragan’sMask of Many Facesisn’t quite what I expected. He still looks exactly the same. “Are you going to disguise yourself?” I ask.

He faces me and smiles, and it changes his entire countenance. In fact, I don’t remember seeing him smile before. It’s an expression that suits him; he’s beyond handsome.

“Look away, and when you do, try to remember what I look like,” he says.

I do as he instructs but when I look back at him, I’m confused. It’s as if my mind is suddenly muddled. He’s unrecognizable, simply because I can’t seem to understand the lines of his face. I can see that he’s standing there, but my mind makes no connection to him. It’s like repeating a word so many times that it begins to lose meaning, until all that exists is the sound of the word itself, separate from its denotation. When I look at Thoradin, I find the same is true.

I have no mirror to see what Cambion’s done to me, but judging by the others’ reactions, the job is adequate. My robe is now dark gray and my hair is purple. My skin is the color of soot. Cambion is different, too, in a heavily hooded cloak with shoulder-length red hair spilling out from beneath it. His skin is now the color of an olive, and his face is completely unrecognizable.

Dragan gazes warily at the city walls. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice dark. “Stay close to me and say nothing.”

***

BARON

Grimreap

Shadow Realm

Poisons, such as the ones I use to complete most of my jobs, can be difficult to come by.Blue Dragon Juice, for example, is one of the most difficult essences in the world to acquire—if you don’t know where to go. But there exists a black market, where one can find the most rare and precious commodities if one only knows where to look.

The vast majority of venoms I use for my charges are expensive and challenging to locate, not to mention highly illegal. According to Variant’s edicts, possession of the venom is punishable by death.

But fuck Variant and fuck his edicts.

Death as punishment is laughable to me. Life as punishment is a far more intimidating sentence. Perhaps that’s why I chose to make a name for myself as theharbinger of death; I no longer fear it. Waking up in the grave does something to you—it changes your philosophy on life and death. As does being immortal.

With my poison stores running low, I need to restock before my next job. Even though I know where to go, it doesn’t make the mission any more appealing. Most black-market vendors work in the town of Grimreap—a vile place, home to the worst sorts of criminals and low-lives. It’s taken years to build a name for myself there, but even now, run into a feuding gang that doesn’t respect your connections, and you’ll be in for a rough time.

Necessary, though, all the same.

An assassin is nothing without his tools.

***

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