Page 4 of Between Soul and Vessel
I quirked a brow at the strange name, repeating my earlier sentiments—
Mortals.
When we walked inside, the scent of ale and damp wood was strong. People sat at their tables, hunched over their drinks as they spoke to one another. Their conversations fell short as they turned toward me, horror spreading from face to face, passing like a torch. I scanned each one. Not a single, sniveling Soren to be found.
“Where did you see him?” I asked Fallon.
“He was over there, sitting at the bar,” she replied, nodding in the indicated direction.
“Well, he’s not there now,” I observed before I started to walk between the tables, my bootheels sticking to the ale-covered floors.
Fallon scurried behind me. “My king, where are yougoing?”
I eyed the face of the weathered innkeeper. “To have a little conversation.”
As I approached the man, he reared back into the cupboard behind him, causing the bottles and cups to chatter. I slid onto a wooden stool and dropped my elbow to the bar top with a loudthunk. The man nearly jumped out of his swiftly paling skin.
“C-c-c-an I get you something?” he stammered.
“The hospitality,” I said with a saccharine grin, one that quickly fell from my lips. “I’m looking for a boy around eighteen years of age. Dirty blond hair. Brown eyes.” I raised my hand to just below my shoulder. “About this tall.” I wiggled my fingers. “Missing a few of these.”
The innkeeper glanced at the stairwell.
That one look told me all I needed to know.
“Room.” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t ask it like one.
He swallowed harshly, his Adam’s apple performing a desperate bob, as if it were attempting to squirm out of him, something I imagined his soul wanted to do as well.
“The king asked you a question,” Fallon grated. “I suggest you answer it.”
“You best listen to her. I’m a desperate soul, and you know what they say about desperate souls, don’t you?” I paused for a moment, my gaze shifting lazily from one side of the room to the other. “They’ll burn it all to the ground to get what they want.”
“Second floor. Room twenty-four,” he squeaked, clenching the countertop behind him.
I tapped the counter twice, my rings clattering against the stone top. “Thank you, boss.”
My shadows swept around me, taking me to the second floor.
I walked by the first three rooms, stopping when I found the one I was looking for. My knuckles drummed gently against the door as I purred, “Housekeeping.”
I could hear the little worm’s heart pounding on the other side.
My hand lowered to the handle, but it wouldn’t twist. I rolled my eyes. Mortals and their fickle locks. A blast of my angry winds sent the door flying open, smashing it into oblivion against the wall on the other side of the room.
Soren was in a crouched position, a blade in his good hand. “Don’t come any closer,” he sputtered, voice trembling.
Fallon’s footsteps sounded as she came running behind me.
“Took you long enough,” I teased her under my breath.
“I mean it,” Soren warned, the blood chased from his skin, turning it ashen.
A flick of my eyes summoned a blast of air to smash into Soren’s hand, knocking the weapon onto the floor. His face snapped to the side, his body tense as he decided what to do—make a run for the weapon or try something else.
Unfortunately for him, I was in no mood to play.
Harnessing the darkness, I flashed from where I stood and resurfaced behind him. My hand wrapped around his throat as I said, “You’re coming with me.”
