The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4)(88)

Nearly twenty minutes passed before the boy finally took to the backstreets and Seth wanted to strangle him for it. Time passed five times as quickly in the Darklands as it did in the Sunlit world. Every minute was precious if he was going to make it back before Zoelyn woke. Below him, the boy’s pace quickened and Seth glanced back toward the man shadowing him. A faint smile was creasing the old man’s face and if the hunter was worried about his quarry escaping, he was showing no signs of it.

Pity I can’t let you keep your prey, after all the effort you have gone through. Seth mused as he dropped down from his perch to land in one of the alleys near the boy. He shifted form and stepped farther into the shadows as he waited. The paranoid boy might look harmless, but Seth knew better. It was best to catch one of his kind completely off guard and strike quickly. If you gave them time to act, it could get ugly quickly.

The boy’s footsteps grew louder and Seth’s dagger slipped into his hand in response. His breathing slowed as he waited, silently counting the footsteps. Three more and the boy would be in the perfect spot. He caught a glimpse of the boy’s blue eyes as he glanced down the alley. Morcaillos never seemed to hide their eye color, and in situations such as now, it made them all the easier to spot. The Firym people typically had green eyes, brown and red were fairly common as well, but blue was extremely rare. Seth moved the moment the boy’s gaze turned back down the street, one hand sliding quickly under the boy’s chin, pushing his head up sharply, while his dagger plunged upward at the base of his skull. The combined force of the maneuver buried the dagger to the hilt, killing the Changeling instantly. Silently, Seth half carried, half dragged the corpse into the alley as the older man turned the corner, his eyes scanning for any sign of his prey.

Seth lifted the boy’s corpse more to keep the still kicking legs from alerting the man, and waited in utter silence as the second hunter approached. He wanted to test the man to see if he would notice the faint scuffs and droplets of blood on the cobbles. Most wouldn’t have noticed, but the old man did. With a genuine smile, Seth pushed the body from the shadows and watched the old man slide back with more grace than anyone his apparent age should have possessed as the changelin’s corpse hit the cobbles before him. A knife was gripped lightly in the man’s hand, ready to be thrown at any moment. His dark eyes scanned the alley, searching frantically for any movement, but there was no fear there, only anticipation.

“Glad to see I didn’t waste my time with you,” Seth murmured in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“Master,” the man gasped as his form shifted almost immediately to his true shape. It was a risky endeavor, considering where they were. Sovaesh was an exile here and if he was spotted it would mean his death. If the Firym could manage to catch him, of course. Sovaesh glanced down at the body, then back into the ally, before glancing behind him toward the busier streets. “This is the last place I expected to see you and I have to admit I’m rather confused. Did you have a grievance with this man?” Sovaesh asked quietly as he lifted the body effortlessly and moved into the alley once more.

“I needed life energy and I needed to speak with you. It seemed easier to kill two birds with one stone,” Seth explained with a smirk as he leaned back against the wall. It never ceased to amaze him how much Sovaesh and Finn resembled each other. Perhaps that was why he was willing to tolerate so much from Finn, even if the boy’s ignorance made his life more difficult.

“What do you need of me, Master?” Sovaesh asked as he dropped the boy to the ground and gazed up at Seth with searching eyes.

“It has been several centuries since I taught you, Sovaesh. I think you can quit calling me master now,” Seth said with faint shake of his head. It was difficult not to smile, both from Sovaesh’s words as well as his actions. Seth had been forced to train others while he served Avanti, but Sovaesh was the only one he had ever trained by choice, and he had never regretted doing so. Sovaesh was clever and noticed details that others would overlook. He was perfect for his role in life and every time Seth watched him work, he was proud.

“When I know for a certainty that I am superior to you in the arts and there is nothing more that you could ever teach me, I will cease. I think I will be calling you Master for a very long time,” Sovaesh replied softly and bowed his head with respect.

“Fair enough,” Seth chuckled. “How is Davahni?” he asked in a softer tone. It, of course, wasn’t what he was here to speak of, but he always asked about her first. The only contact he had with his daughter was through Sovaesh. She had been an infant when he died, and by the time he had enough strength to leave the Darklands he was cursed with the life of a Demon and Davahni was fully grown. Too much time had passed to consider approaching her then, and even if he had, what could he have possibly said. I’m sorry I let your mother die. I just wanted you to know that I love you, but better not trust me since I am Death’s lackey now.