A Valley of Darkness (A Shade of Vampire #52)(49)

I glanced up and noticed the plethora of wildflowers growing from the velvety green grass dressing the ridge, my nostrils flaring as I tried to catch as many scents as possible.

Heron, like me, was fully covered to protect himself from the sun. He took out an iron pick and the satchel from his backpack, and started carving a hole into the stone wall. He noticed me squinting and sniffing through my goggles and mask, and chuckled.

“You sure live up to your nickname,” he said, stuffing the satchel into the hole.

The mountain trembled briefly, and we both stilled, staring at each other for a minute.

“Yeah? And what nickname is that?” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “Say ‘Hound Dog’ and I will punch you in the ribs.”

I could see the contours of his grin beneath his black tinted mask, and his jade eyes through his dark glass goggles.

“Go on, say it,” I challenged him, my hands balled into fists, ready to help me keep my word.

“I didn’t give you that nickname,” he replied. “Don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, or the nickname. I just need an excuse to punch you.”

“My, my, aren’t we feisty today!” He snickered, then took a step forward, a little too close for my comfort.

I moved back, and my foot slipped. His arm came around my waist so fast, I didn’t even get to react. I gasped, then stiffened in his hold, my hands quietly resting on his chest. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the deep canal that had been dug beneath the ridge. It was a narrow, fifty-foot drop at least, stretching for about a hundred feet along the mountain base. It didn’t seem to serve any purpose other than to break unsuspecting necks, given the amount of grass covering it almost completely.

I then gaped at Heron, surprised by his powers of observation.

How did I not see it?

His eyes were smiling, and my mind went blank.

Yeah, that’s why…

“Don’t get yourself mangled, Avril,” he said softly. “You still have some sniffing to do, and, frankly, I find you quite entertaining. I would hate to spend the next couple of days feeding you blood through a straw while you heal from a broken spine.”

“Oh, wow, that was creepily visual,” I replied, my eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line. Leave it to Heron to cook up worst-case scenarios worthy of horror movies. “But at least it’s nice to know you don’t want to see me lying helpless in bed.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, his hold tightening around my waist as his gaze clouded and his lips stretched slowly beneath the thin mask.

“There’s about a million things I’d like to see you do in bed, but lying helpless isn’t one of them,” he whispered.

My skin tingled and my breath got jammed in my throat.

Snap out of it. Mountain. Flowers. Murder!

I had a hard time thinking of a good, cooling comeback, though. And Heron enjoyed my astonishment a little too much. Fortunately, noises to our left made us split up. I inhaled deeply, pleased to get my lungs back in operation.

We looked at the patch of shady pine trees bordering that side of the mountain, and noticed two figures sneaking through. They hadn’t seen us, as they had their backs to us, and were hunched forward and looking up, as if making sure no one could see them from above. Heron put his hand on my shoulder, telling me to duck, and I caught their scent.

“Imen,” I whispered.

He nodded, then darted across the rocky trail. He shot through the trees, and I heard the two Imen yelp and squeal. Heron emerged from between the trees, holding each Iman by the back of the neck. I rushed over, my hands up in a reassuring gesture.

“It’s okay, we don’t want to hurt you,” I said gently.

“Then let us go!” the elder Iman said.

They were both male and looked dirty, their hair ruffled and their clothes tattered. They smelled of burnt wood, wet grass, and wilderness, not the clean scent of Azure Heights.

“Where do you come from? Who are you?” I asked them.

The elder Iman looked in his mid-forties, with curly brown hair and hazel eyes. The young one resembled him in all features and was probably in his late teens—most likely his son. They gave Heron and me fearful glances, then frowned and stared at the ground.

“They’re not going to talk like this,” Heron groaned, rolling his eyes. He let the elder go and quickly snapped his fingers. It was enough to make them both look at him, and Heron’s glare flickered gold. “Stay here.”

He moved around and came to my side, with both Imen now under his control.

“Now you can ask them whatever you want.” He smirked.

The Imen’s expressions were blank as they stood before us, their arms limp at their sides.

“What are your names?” I went for an easy start.

“I’m Bear,” the elder Iman said. “This is my son, Sinon.”

“Where are you from?” I couldn’t smell a single fiber of Azure Heights on them, and I’d already registered all common Imen scents from the city.

“We’re free people,” Bear replied, his voice mellow. “We live beyond the gorges…”

“You crossed the Valley of Screams?” Heron asked in disbelief.

“Yes. We come here sometimes,” Bear said. “We sneak into the city. We have family still working here, so we pay them a visit when the masters aren’t around.”