Page 23 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
“No doubt. Go ahead.” I would enjoy nothing more than throttling Zion myself sometimes. Unfortunately, I could not. After spending twelve years growing a community with someone, getting rid of them stopped being a great idea.
“Sometimes I wish you’d actually let me,” she muttered.
Eli gently spun her to face the oak she was keen on destroying and continued their lesson. “Remember, during the motion, you have to keep your wrist in a fixed line with your forearm. Do not fold it backward.” He took a step back, examining her form and stance. “That’s good. Now don’t release the knife intentionally—the blade should slip your grasp from the momentum. And don’t worry, it won’t cut you. Now throw it.”
With a determined huff, Eislyn swayed her arm forward. The knife completed three full turns in the air and embedded in the oak with a thump. Splinters of destroyed tree bark showered the gnarled roots peeking out of the green-with-yellow-streaks moss.
“Yes!” she squeaked, jumping and rushing to pluck the knife out of the poor oak.
I sighed at Zion drawing patterns on the back of my prey’s thigh with his forefinger. If anyone else did that, I would dissect their entire hand, but the same could not be said about him. Instead of displeasure, it roused a different sort of?—
No matter.
There was nothing I could change here. The actions of my past could not be erased, and keeping him at arm’s length ensured his safety. A dubious one, but nevertheless, better than becoming a bigger target than he already was.
So I willed myself to ask him, “Where is Ezra?”
We were not leaving anyone behind. And while I had paid a visit to my obsession, and Eli and Eislyn had hunted her ex-partner, Ezra was supposed to get the microchips together with Zion.
“We got separated. He probably hung back to talk with some of our contacts.” Zion gestured toward the oak Eislyn was set on wrecking.
Ezra was coming up the side of it and headed straight to me, whistling. “I didn’t think you would go through with it,” he said as Zion crept back into the depths of the forest, likely to scout the area for any unexpected patrols. We were not taking chances. They could still be wandering around if their security update had not progressed as planned.
“Those two are already insufferable. Now they brought her here? She will burn us down. I would in her place,” Eislyn complained to Eli. As she cast a glance at me, her eyes popped out.
Eli did not hold back a chuckle as she swiftly turned away.
“Did you find him?” I mouthed to Eli, not wanting to ruin everyone’s mood.
He gave a barely-there shake of his head to avoid drawing Eislyn’s attention. The first time she had dared to step into the city, and they could not find her ex-partner. Teaching her how to throw knives was his attempt to cheer her up.
Zion reappeared to my right, hauling an unconscious man by his tied arms. Twigs and wet leaves stuck to his clothes in clumps, same as his greasy brown hair, the straw-like strands crusted with blood.
“Who is that?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s been two days, Zion. Two days.”
Two days since he had toyed with the Assistant to Ilasall’s Head of Military. Usually, it would calm him down for a minimum of a week or two. Not only for a couple of days.
“He threatened her on her way home from the Spire.” He carelessly deposited the short man on the blanket of moss, too good of a bed for a vermin like him. “I followed him to make sure he didn’t seek her out.” Zion threw his knife in the air, observing it flip over, the steel catching the moonlight filtering through the thick foliage, and caught it by the black rubber handle. “But he did.”
I squeezed her thigh so hard that a bruise was certain to appear tomorrow. “Have fun, but do not kill him. His bones are mine.”
8
KALI
No, it couldn’t be morning already.
Not yet, please, not yet. Five more minutes. I rolled onto my side and buried my head in the fluffiest pillow you could dream of. But sunshine continued its non-ceasing assault on me, irritating my eyelids and nagging me to give up chasing sleep.
I hated mornings. They always meant a new day in Ilasall had begun. And they never brought you anything good. I pulled the blanket over my head and curled into a ball under the sheets so soft they were reminiscent of a caress.
Too soft.
They were too soft.
Yawning, I stretched on my back, and an unfamiliar sensation creeping up my arms snuffed out the last bit of comfort.
They weren’t dangling off the edge of the bed as usual.
