Page 5 of Terror at the Gates

“He is dead,” he confessed in a whisper. “I killed him.”

A trickle of fear shook my spine. I had not expected a murder confession. Still, I continued with my questioning. So long as he maintained this level of lust, I could keep myself safe.

“Tell me more, Ephraim.”

“The dagger did not belong to him. Look at it. It is too lovely for a man of the church,” he said. “So I followed him.I didn’t mean to kill him, but he fought back. I was protecting myself.”

“Killing a member of the church is a capital crime, Ephraim.”

“Please don’t tell,” he whispered, his eyes full of fear.

I twisted the pointed end of the sheath into the tip of my finger as if considering.

“What will you give me to keep this secret?” I asked.

“Anything,” he said.

“The dagger?”

“Whatever you want,” he promised.

He was so thoroughly under my spell, drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.

I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Ephraim.”

I left the bar and my drink behind, tucking the blade between my breasts as I merged with the crowd. I had a limited amount of time before my magic wore off and Ephraim came out of his trance. I didn’t know if he would remember what he’d confessed, but I was certain he would remember me and accuse me of stealing his dagger.

Escaping wasn’t about getting in trouble. It was about having to give the dagger back, which Zahariev would likely demand.

I kept my gaze on the neon exit sign, growing more and more relieved the closer it came, but then I broke through the crowd and found my way blocked by a man in a suit. When I saw him, I turned, intending to vanish into the crowd, but found I’d been caged by two other men in black shirts and cargo pants.

Fuck.

“This way,” the man in the suit said. I turned to look at him as he gestured for me to walk in front of him.

I didn’t argue and made my way down a dim hallway to an elevator.

Inside, the two men in dark shirts flanked me. I looked at each of them. They reminded me of every man in my father’s employ, wannabe made men who played at being tough, their thick, muscled arms crossed tightly over their chests.

I called themhopefuls. They preferredassociate, but that sounded far more official than it was. These men were desperate for a permanent position within the ranks of the five families and they’d do just about anything to get it, even things that ruined them.

I didn’t envy their work. Next to my father, Zahariev was probably the most feared among the five bosses, a feat considering he had no wife, which meant he had no direct access to magic. He ruled through fear because his currency was information. He had enough dirt to ruin every man in power, even my father.

Sometimes I wondered how he was still alive.

The elevator came to a hard stop, turning my stomach. When the doors opened, the man in the suit stepped off, and I followed, the hopefuls trailing behind me. They herded me into a room at the end of the hall with nothing inside but a metal table. I turned when I heard the door shut, finding I was alone with the man in the suit.

“You must be new,” I said.

I’d never seen him or the two other men before. It made me wonder where their predecessors had gone. Though it was usually one of two things: They’d either moved up in rank or were dead.

“Why is that?” he asked.

“The man who had your job before, he always let me go,” I said.

“Maybe that’s why he is no longer employed.”

“I don’t think so.”

---