Page 62 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

“Zero is fair.” Ely relaxed his hands on the hilts of the two short-bladed knives in hip holsters.

The guy shrugged. “Then I won’t know anything.”

Ely moved, touching his boots to the barkeep’s ratty shoes, jabbing a fist to the guy’s solar plexus and then to his throat.

The Blood Leech fell against the racked bottles he’d been protecting. When some broke, the Scourge cried like a baby. He barely squeezed out, “I’m gonna be punished for that.”

“I’m sad. Now about our convo. Are you feeling chattier?”

He sniffed. “Whatever.”

Ely took that as ayes. “Have you seen Praevus?”

With a palm on his throat, the barkeep scrunched his brows. “The Mind Rat?”

“The very same.”

“His kind don’t hang out here much. We get mostly Soul Suckers.” He waved his hand around the bar. “As you can see, emotions run high.”

Ely nodded.Yeah. The fighters were Suckers. They were pounding each other with fists and throwing out a shit ton of touchy-feelies. Lust. Anger. Fear. A damn stew, allowing them to feed on the emotions.

“For a few creats, I’ll share a rumor.” The barkeeper sniffed back tears.

Ely laughed. Then he glanced at the guy. “You’re serious. Fuck off and spit up the intel.”

“I hear he’s excused from the Ordeals.”

“I already know that.”

Without a new lead, Ely left the joint, an arm thrust out straight like a bulldozer to shove fighters out of his path. Outside again, he thought maybe he should have stuck around. He wondered whether he could pay the Soul Suckers to make him feel something other than the ennui of eternity.

Fuck the world-weariness routine. Ely was beginning to bore himself.

At the next rundown Scourge tavern a few blocks down the street, he pushed through the door.

Leaning onto his elbows, propped behind him on the bar, Ely faced the crowd. The place was one step up from a sewer, but the drinks were okay. Not watered down. Recognizable brands. Large portions.

Someone pulled up alongside. Malacour, the bar manager. “How about a free ale, assassin?” He held up two fingers. Nodding, the bartender filled mugs and set one in front of his boss and the other in front of Ely.

You’d think Malacour would want him gone as soon as possible. Having the Feard in your bar was bad for business. But the guy seemed almost cordial. For a Scourge. Course, he was one level up—a trustee, about to return to Vast cured of what ailed him.

Oozing a friendly vibe, Malacour asked, “What brings you around?” When he smiled, the tips of his fangs showed.

“Praevus. Seen him?” Ely swiped a hand across his mouth, wiping off foam.

“The Rat? Let me think.” He swallowed a large gulp of brew, set the mug on the bar, and shook his head. “Not for a long time. Maybe a month. Whaddya want with him?”

“Ask a few questions. You happen to know where he is?”

Malacour chuckled. “Being a trustee takes me out of the gossip circles. Since I’m almost on my way back to Vast, my clientele see me as untrustworthy.”

Harmony had set the guy up in this bar biz since he was on the road to rehab. Great deal. Before succumbing to a malady, Malacour had flown in one of the elite winged squadrons, and the OC could use him again on side good. He’d been a real hero until he wasn’t.

After a little more convivial chit-chat, Malacour said, “Got unfinished paperwork. A boss’s job is never done. See you next time, and I hope you catch up with this Praevus.”

As the guy strolled toward the back room, Ely noticed the patrons had moved their seats far away. It should please him to have such an effect on Scourges. He was, however, neither pleased nor displeased. It was what it was. They were wise to give him a wide berth.

Was it the ice in his veins? The vacant, uncaring look in eyes?Nah. It was probably the fact he could smite their asses if they pissed him off. Still, runaways couldn’t answer questions. He picked up his frosty ale and prepped to socialize.

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