Page 9 of The Umbra King

Rory smiled and took a small sip of her untainted glass as she scrutinized the man.

Within a minute or two, Jessie slumped forward, falling out of his seat, and Rory took another drink of her wine before smacking her lips. “Damn, I’m smart.”

As she stood, Jessie transformed into a small, mouse of a man, and Rory jumped back. “What the hell?”

There were noShiftersthat changed mystic forms; they were all animals. She nudged the man with her toe. He felt like a potato.

When she rolled the man over, her blood ran cold, and she stumbled back, tripping over the chair. She hit the ground with a loud thud and her hand flew to her mouth to muffle a scream.

With shaking hands, she crawled forward, pushed the man onto his right side, and looked at the mark behind his left ear to confirm what she already knew.

Jerking to a standing position, she stepped back. “It’s him.” On the floor at her feet was theMerrowwho stole Cora’s soul. Rory’s mouth hung open as her breaths came in quick pants, and she had to stave off the dread clawing its way into her chest.

She’d been waiting for this moment since she was fifteen years old, but to have it sprung on her completely unaware had shaken her. The creators of the realms, known as theSeraphim, were not something she put much stock into, but in that moment, she felt blessed. The odds of this happening were slim to none.

“Shit,” she hissed as she bent back down to feel for a pulse. “Please, don’t be dead.”

Her shoulders sagged with relief when she felt a lightthumpagainst her fingers. His black soul was sickening, and she jerked her hand back. TheMerrowwould die tonight, but not until she had her sister’s soul and he told her where Bane was.

Deciding to proceed as usual, she looked around the ostentatious apartment for a place to hang her hook. The ceilings were high, and fortunately, so were the doorways. She pushed the coffee table to thedoor between the kitchen and the sitting room, propped the door open, and stood on the table to reach the top of the frame.

She only chose warehouses with catwalks or structures she could hang her chains from, but she always kept a small drill and industrial grade screws in her bag in the event something like this were to happen. She’d had a few years to hone her craft and, by now, she was prepared for anything.

After hanging the hook, she chained theMerrow’sfeet together and slid the chain through the meat hook and pulled. The make-shift pulley lifted his body, and she thanked theSeraphimhe was small in stature. Otherwise, she didn’t know if the frame would hold.

Stepping back, she surveyed the man. This was where she’d normally slit his throat and watch him bleed out before sewing his hands to his arms, but she needed him alive.

Digging through her bag, she grabbed a rope and tied his hands behind his back, and as she was finishing the knot, she heard a sharp intake of breath.

He struggled, and as he did, he swung back and forth, making the door frame creak. Rory moved around him so she was face to face with the monster and bent her head upside down.

“Hello, fuckface.” Her smile was malicious as she righted herself, positioned a chair in front of him, and sat down.

“What is this?” he demanded, but his voice held no authority, only fear.

Her smile widened. “This is your lucky day.” She reached into her backpack and grabbed the knife. “If you tell me what I want to know, that is.” She removed the sheath and inspected the blade.

He balked at the cold steel in her hands and struggled again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch.”

Rory laughed as she stood and crouched down in front of him. “Wrong answer.” She slashed his cheek open, and blood splattered on the front of her hoodie. “That was a clever disguise,” she admitted. “A shapeshifting potion, I assume?” It was the only explanation.

He glared at her and said nothing. She shrugged. “It doesn’tmatter. Whatdoesmatter is the woman you killed tonight.” She slashed his other cheek. “And where my sister’s soul is.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” he insisted. “And I didn’t know the girl from the bar was your sister.”

Rage burned through Rory’s body, and she kicked him in the ribs. “Not her.” She made a mental note to scour the apartment for the girl’s soul. It was obvious he’d taken it. “My sister was the lambShifterBane murdered before you put her soul in a jar ten years ago. And before you deny it, I saw you.” She grabbed his cheeks and yanked his face to look at hers. Blood coated her hands from the cuts in his cheeks, but she didn’t care. “If you don’t return my sister’s soul, I will cut every limb from your body while you are still alive.” And she would enjoy it.

She could practically taste the fear on him as he trembled, and his brow furrowed before his eyes widened with understanding. “Lady, that was a long time ago. Her soul is gone.”

“You absorbed my sister’s soul?” She tried to hide her agony, praying it wasn’t true.

“No, I didn’t.” He struggled harder. “I swear I didn’t, but I can’t tell you where it is,” he stammered.

She stood with a tight-lipped smile, walked around his hanging form, and cut the tendon in the back of his right ankle. He screamed, and she clamped her bloody hand over his mouth. “Where is her soul?”

Tears fell to the ground below the man as he sobbed against her hand. Pulling her hand back, she walked around him again and stared silently until he spoke. “He took it. The man you mentioned, he took it.”

“Why would he want my sister’s soul?”

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