Unable to tear his gaze away, Malek watched the mysterious woman disappear into the darkness. The mark on his wrist still tingled, and he resisted the urge to rub it. Her touch had affected him more than he'd expected. Now he had an almost insatiable desire to discover the effects of having her hands on other parts of his body. The thought was more than a little distracting, and he shook his head to clear it.

Even without that brief taste of her power, her features had been a testament to her mixed Fae heritage. She'd even worn her hair in a braided style more suited to the Fae, but it was her nearly lavender eyes that had intrigued him. They were more blue than anything, but he'd caught a glimpse of the pale purple color—the mark of the Fae.

"Pointed ears," Levin murmured, staring down at the bodies. "Four bodies, and two of them have pointed ears. Think they're part-Fae?"

Malek made a noise of agreement. The tips of the woman's ears had been pointed too, arching upward in a graceful slope. The trait wasn't as common in the northern cities where they were from. He'd heard some people living in Akros were of Fae descent, but he hadn't realized the strength of those ties until now.

"At least we know we're in the right place," Malek whispered.

The goblin's forked tongue flicked out as he gleefully pocketed another pouch of coins from one of the dead men.

Levin snorted. "I don't know about that. The Fae are supposed to be the keepers of the forests and lakes. I can't imagine someone with a lot of Fae magic living in a city like this."

"Ah, Levin, have a little faith," Malek said with a grin and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

The goblin cocked his head. "You have an interest in the Fae?"

Malek studied Pozgil in surprise. Goblins were one of the lesser Fae, but they had very little magic. It was unlikely he could help them, except to provide some information. "Of course. Tales of their beauty and magic are legendary. Anyone would be intrigued. Are there many Fae living in the city?"

Pozgil grinned, his tongue darting out between his lips. "We have quite a few with Fae blood, but no full-blooded Fae. Those taste of high magic and sex."

"I doubt they'd allow you close enough to take a bite," Levin said dryly. "I've heard the Fae are a bit more discerning in their tastes."

Pozgil shrugged. "The Unseelie Fae are more open-minded than the Seelie. How do you think some of these dead men ended up with pointed ears? When the Unseelie emerged from Underhill after the Dragon War, some took humans as lovers to replenish their numbers."

Levin frowned. "Underhill? You're referring to the Underworld?"

Malek leaned over to study one of the men's ears. Other than a slight point, he didn't see any other sign the man had been Fae. "It's one and the same. The Fae refer to it as Underhill, but the demons and dwarves call it the Underworld. The Unseelie Fae escaped their service to the gods and fled there."

Levin rubbed his chin in thought. "I'd wondered about the difference between the Seelie and Unseelie. You're saying the Seelie remained as servants to the gods and caretakers of the forests?"

"Yes," Malek said.

Pozgil scooted over to inspect the last dead man. He was having a little too much fun playing with the bodies. They'd need to pull him away soon, if he didn't knock it off. They were already running late for their appointment.

Malek turned back to Levin. "The Fae who remained in the light were Seelie, while those who embraced the darkness and abandoned their creators were Unseelie. Their magic is similar, but the Unseelie had to twist theirs into something darker to defend against the demons and dwarves while they were trapped in Underhill."

Pozgil dipped his finger into some of the blood on the ground and licked it off. "You know your history, Captain Malek. I'd think someone with your learning wouldn't be such a fool."

Levin stiffened at the insult and slapped his hand against his sword's hilt. "Watch your tongue, little man."

The goblin huffed and finished searching the last body. "I'll have you know, Dax won't be pleased with you threatening me. You're in his city now."

Malek glanced over at Levin and shook his head. Pozgil could hide behind his master all he wanted for the time being, but the minute Malek got what he'd come for, he'd abandon this ruse. "What did you mean about being foolish?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Pozgil straightened and brushed the dirt off his hands. "Now then, we'd best be on our way. The city's guards will be along shortly, and they won't take too kindly to us being here. One near-death experience for the evening is more than enough. Although, I'd rather face down the guards than risk running into Sabine again."

Malek looked down at the body of the man whose tattoo had disappeared with a small swipe of magic. For some reason, Sabine hadn't wanted Pozgil or anyone else to see the design. It had been some sort of dagger with the edge wrapped in ivy. The tattoo had been distinctive enough that Malek intended to learn more about it—and hopefully about the mysterious woman who had hidden it.

The goblin started heading out of the alley, and Malek walked alongside Levin, taking the opportunity to study the city. As first impressions went, Akros wasn't particularly remarkable. Though it was a little rough around the edges, it was similar to dozens of other cities lining the coast. The biggest difference was, it was the gateway city to the southern lands, housing one of the largest mixed magical communities in the world.

Pozgil pinched the bridge of his pointed green nose. "How'd you convince Sabine not to kill you?"

Levin smirked. "He has that effect on women."

Malek shrugged, not bothering to explain. He suspected her hesitation had been the result of his hasty attempt to speak the language of the Fae. He'd caught the surprise in her eyes. "What do you know about her?"

Pozgil darted a quick look at him. "I know enough to stay away. Dax won't be happy when he finds out what happened—or about your dinner invitation. You'll be lucky if he doesn't kill you right off."

"Please tell me she's not involved with the leader of the thieves' guild," Levin muttered.

Pozgil nodded. "She's under his protection. The fact you helped kill one of those men might be the only thing that saves you. I'd suggest canceling your dinner plans and be ready to board your ship as quickly as possible if things go bad."

The mark on Malek's wrist tingled as though it possessed its own awareness. He glanced down at it, but the triangular pattern hadn't changed. It wasn't common to formalize such a small debt between two people, but she'd wanted to mark him for a reason. If Sabine was involved with Dax, that might be a problem, but he needed to learn more about her. The mark was a guarantee he'd see her again. Otherwise, he wasn't sure he would have allowed her to walk away. Her power had been like a beacon calling to him from the docks when he'd disembarked from his ship.

"I'm not concerned. It's only dinner," Malek said, continuing to walk through the darkened streets. The buildings in this area of town were more run down and a number of them were abandoned. Even though the streets appeared to be empty, he could feel the weight of eyes upon them.

Pozgil snorted. "Dinner. Right." The goblin looked around and lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, "The last man who looked at Sabine the way you did was found floating in the canal. His limbs had been ripped from his body and were never recovered. The guards said they thought it happened while he was still alive."

Levin shot him a warning look, but Malek ignored him and continued walking. He'd hoped to have been here a bit longer before offending the disreputable guild master, but he wasn't about to abandon his purpose.

They turned a corner, and this street was markedly different. Lanterns lined the path, and the street was more congested. It was still a poor area of town, but a handful of prostitutes lounged against the wall calling out a greeting to them as they passed.

A few other people were milling around nearby. Some were a little too sharp-eyed considering the location and time of night, which led Malek to believe they were some of Dax's men. He'd heard the majority of the city was locked down by Dax's people, which was why he'd requested this meeting in the first place. Supposedly, Dax had the pulse of almost everything that went on within Akros's underworld and even in some of the surrounding villages.

At the end of the street stood a brightly lit tavern. Pozgil led them right up to the entrance and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Malek wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't the warm and welcoming sight that greeted them. Tables were scattered throughout the overly large room with dozens of people gathered together and enjoying a companionable drink or two.

The bar itself was unlike any he'd seen before. The base was carved out of a single tree, with detailed carvings of leaves and animals perched in the branches. The top of the bar was almost equally captivating, with what appeared to be fractured glass that caught the light of the candles, reflecting it throughout the room and giving the surrounding walls a warm, cheerful glow.

Several more doxies made the rounds throughout the tavern, most of them more appealing than the ones lingering outside. The patrons, on the other hand, enforced the idea this wasn't the most reputable of areas. They had the sharp eyes and hardened lines on their faces that made it clear they were intimate with a darker side of life. Each one of them appeared heavily armed, and more than a few had scars from previous run-ins with a blade.

Pozgil pushed past the bar and headed directly to a man standing guard in front of another door. The man's eyes narrowed on Pozgil, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Undeterred, the goblin straightened his body. "I've brought Captain Malek and his first mate to see Dax."

"It's all right, Campho. They're expected," a man said from behind them.

Malek turned to find another man with mixed Fae heritage. He had the same light hair and eyes as Sabine, but there was a coarseness to his features Sabine had lacked. The tusks jutting out of his mouth made Malek question if he carried a bit of troll in his bloodline. Malek detected a faint trace of power surrounding him, but it was more Fae than troll.

"A-apologies, Javyn, er, sir," Pozgil sputtered, his eyes wide at the approaching Fae. "I didn't realize you were here."

Javyn frowned at the goblin. "Dax expected you earlier."

Pozgil swallowed audibly, his coloring deepening to a sickly green. The metallic and bitter scent of the goblin's fear was enough to make Malek's nose itch.

The goblin hopped from foot to foot. "Uh, we ran into some trouble. But everything's okay. We handled it. Yep. Everything's fine. Nothing to worry about."

"You can explain your delay to Dax," Javyn said before turning toward Malek. "You're the ship captain?"

Malek inclined his head. "Captain Malek Rish'dan of Obsidian's Storm."

"Welcome to Akros. The name's Javyn. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to see Dax." Without waiting for a reply, Javyn headed into the tavern's back rooms. Malek exchanged a look with Levin before following Javyn. Apparently, polite niceties weren't high on the thieves' guild's list of priorities. It was just as well. The sooner he met with Dax, the faster this entire sordid affair could be resolved.

The back area of the tavern wasn't quite as welcoming as the front. A few closed doors lined the hallway with lanterns tucked into stone alcoves, illuminating the darkness. Some of these rooms were under guard, but other than a few curious glances, no one said anything as they passed. Javyn led them toward a steep staircase and headed downward, not bothering to check if they were still behind him.

Malek couldn't help but think about Sabine again, comparing her more delicate features with the man they followed. If it weren't for her skin and hair coloring, he'd wonder if Sabine were a full-blooded Fae. Her voice had the same musical lilt and accent that marked someone of Fae descent, but her appearance was far too human. Part of him wished he'd had a chance to hear her speak more of their language to determine if she carried that same inflection in her words. The few pure-blooded Fae he'd known had the ability to cause a reaction simply by speaking. That was part of their gift and power. Some of their words could cause ecstasy while others could drive someone mad. During the last war, Fae captives had to be gagged to prevent them from singing their way to freedom or inciting mass panic.

At the bottom of the stairs was an expansive corridor. The air was heavier down here, with a trace of moisture, and Malek detected the faint sound of rushing water, most likely from one of the canals. A set of heavy double doors was built into the wall, and Javyn pushed them open and led them into a larger room. This had the appearance of a meeting room with an elongated table set up in the center. A handful of people were gathered around the table talking, but it was the man standing at the head of the table who commanded Malek's attention.

Levin inhaled sharply, and Malek had to force himself not to react or reveal his surprise. For all his inquiries into Dax and his group, no one had even hinted the man he stood before was a demon. Most of them were confined to the underworld, unable or unwilling to venture into the sunlight, which weakened their magic significantly. If Malek had known the guild leader's identity, he would have handled this entire endeavor differently or even possibly dismissed Dax as a potential resource. This new development made Malek even more curious about Sabine and her ties to a demon.

If legends were true, the dwarves and demons shared the same origins as the Fae. The demons, with their penchant for violence and working the underworld forges, took up residence in the deepest levels of Underhill. They became the caretakers of the molten rock and fires burning deep within the world's core.

Demons twisted their brand of magic into weapons, lashing out with fire elemental abilities—and it was that same fire ability that concerned Malek now. He only hoped the warding necklace around his neck was powerful enough to mask his true intent. The witch who had crafted it for him had assured him of such, but they hadn't anticipated the need to deceive a demon.

Levin whispered, "We might want to rethink this plan. Demons have ties to the Fae, but this is too risky."

Malek shook his head as Javyn approached the demon standing at the head of the table. In a voice too low for anyone else to overhear, Malek said to Levin, "Not just yet. This might still work out to our benefit."

Levin frowned at him, but Malek didn't elaborate. Even though they were in a cellar underneath the tavern, Dax shouldn't be able to live within a mostly human city cut off from the magic of the underworld. Perhaps Akros had a larger source of magic than rumors claimed, or maybe Malek didn't know the full truth about demons. Either way, he intended to get to the bottom of it.

The man standing at the head of the table was a powerful and massive man, with skin the color of the darkest obsidian. He was a true master of the night—even the light from the lantern seemed hesitant to touch him. The room fell silent as Javyn leaned in close and whispered something to the demon. Dax lifted his horned head, his amber eyes holding the flame of his ancestors as he pinned Malek with his gaze. No matter what he'd hoped, Malek couldn't deny the truth: Dax would be an adversary who would require careful handling.

Pozgil approached the table and bowed low, almost touching the ground with his forehead. "I-I apologize for the delay, sir. We ran into a bit of trouble, but I've brought Captain Malek and his first mate to discuss a business opportunity with you."

Dax didn't respond right away. Instead, he motioned for a woman to roll up the maps they'd been studying. As she moved forward and began clearing the table, Dax sat down in his chair, leaned back, and steepled his hands together.

"What sort of trouble?"

Pozgil shifted from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his neck. Malek half expected his knees to start knocking from the way he was panicking. When Dax arched his brow, Pozgil stammered, "Ah, er, well, we happened to run into Sabine."

A sudden stillness fell over the room at the mention of Sabine's name. Everyone's attention became focused on the goblin trembling in front of Dax.

"Is that so?" Dax questioned mildly, but the sudden rigidity in his shoulders made it obvious he was more than a little interested in Pozgil's response.

"Ah, yes. She... well, some men..." His voice trailed off and his shoulders hunched, clearly uneasy about spilling the full story.

"Dammit, Pozgil. Spit it out already," another man muttered. This man also had the look of the Fae in his chiseled features, equally as strong as Sabine's had been. With his nearly white blond hair and pale blue eyes, he could have passed as one of Sabine's close relatives. But unlike Sabine and Javyn, Malek didn't sense even a faint hint of power from him.

"Right. Sorry, Verin," Pozgil said with an eager nod. "Some men attacked her, but she's okay. She's fine. They're all dead."

"I see," Dax murmured, drumming his fingertips on the arm of his chair. "And where did this happen?"

"Over by the butcher's shop on East End Lane." Pozgil clasped his hands together tightly. From the way his gaze darted around the table, he was obviously fearful he'd be blamed for the attack.

Verin frowned. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Right before we arrived here. The bodies are probably still warm and their blood still wet." Pozgil snickered, his forked tongue slithering outward as though he could still taste the blood in the air.

Dax motioned toward two of his men. They both nodded and hastened out of the room. When they were gone, Dax leaned back in his chair again. "And what of Sabine?"

"She, uh, she..." Pozgil cleared his throat. "I believe she'll see you soon. She sends her regards."

"Does she?" Dax murmured with a trace of a cruel smile.

A heavily armed woman with a long scar down the side of her face spoke up. "Should we attempt to track her?"

"That won't be necessary. You won't find her unless she wants to be found. She'll reappear soon enough," Dax said with an absent wave. "Was there anything else, Pozgil?"

Pozgil gestured to Malek eagerly. "It was fortunate Captain Malek arrived. He helped Sabine kill one of them."

Dax arched his brow, sweeping his gaze over Malek. Despite Pozgil's claims, the look wasn't overly friendly. "Sabine is under my protection. If you aided her, it would seem I owe you a debt."

The mark on Malek's wrist tingled, almost in warning. "That won't be necessary. The debt belongs to Sabine, and it has been settled between us."

Dax froze, his features hardening. He studied Malek for a long time, and Malek felt the weight of his gaze as Dax caught sight of Sabine's mark on his wrist. A brief flash of anger streaked through his amber eyes, turning them to a sharp silver before they reverted to their normal color. For whatever reason, Dax wasn't pleased with this newest development.

Dax pushed up from the chair. "In that case, perhaps we should discuss why you're in my city."

Malek inclined his head. The introductory message he'd sent had outlined his intent, but the demon obviously wanted Malek to go through a song and dance for his benefit. "As my messenger detailed, my purpose here is two-fold. In addition to establishing Akros as part of a regular trading route, I represent some individuals who are interested in acquiring certain rare artifacts—discreetly, of course."

"I'm aware of your request for assistance in smuggling merchandise through the trading blockades." Dax turned away from the table and paced the length of the room. "Tell me about the items you're looking to offload."

"Rare wines, ale, textiles, and other specialty items from the southern dwarven city all the way north as far as the Sky Cities." Malek wondered if he might need to approach this from a different angle. He had the impression Dax might not be receptive to such an offer, and now Malek was curious how steep the price tag would be to elicit the demon's agreement. But the smuggling was inconsequential compared to his true purpose. He needed those artifacts found, and Dax's position left him best suited for the task. The smuggling was only a way to access Dax's underworld contacts.

"Why should I consider your proposal over the others who have reached out to me?"

Malek took a step toward Dax, refusing to show any signs of weakness. Demons only respected those they considered equals or more powerful, but Malek needed to strike a balance to elicit Dax's confidence.

"I don't know what the others have offered you, but in addition to giving you a cut of all trading profits, you'll also have first pick of the available merchandise. As you know, trading is almost nonexistent with the northern Sky Cities. Through my contacts, you'll have access to the rarest and most costly merchandise available."

When Dax arched a brow, Malek buried his smile and added, "As a gesture of our goodwill, my people have been instructed to deliver a crate to you in the morning which will contain a sampling of the items we're prepared to provide you. Consider it a gift."

"A gift," Dax murmured, his gaze turning suspicious. The demon was clearly intrigued, but he was equally cautious. He likely wouldn't have lasted long in his position if he trusted easily. "Very well. I'll consider your request and let you know my decision after we assess your merchandise. In the meantime, Javyn will show you to a room. You may remain here for the duration of your stay. We will discuss the rest of your request later."

"Your hospitality is generous." Malek suspected the offer was more of an order than a request. He'd prepared and even hoped for such a thing, but that was before he'd known Dax was a demon. This entire endeavor had just become more challenging, and the chances for success had taken a swift nosedive into murky waters. Unfortunately, failure to acquire the artifacts he was hunting would have much more far-reaching repercussions.

* * *

Sabine slipped behind a column, holding the darkness around her like a thick cloak. The wound at her side throbbed; otherwise, she never would have ventured here. The two men's voices grew louder as they approached the room. The door creaked open, and Sabine held her breath as they moved deeper into the room.

"Enough, Evo. I'm not prepared to consider his request at this time," Bane said with a trace of irritation in his voice.

"I understand your reservations, sir," Evo argued, "but we could use the extra manpower. We're getting more requests from farther away, and it would benefit our cause to have a presence in other cities. Would you at least consider taking on some additional recruits if I personally vetted each one?"

Bane was quiet for a long time, but his footsteps moved toward the desk. "I suppose you already have a list?"

"Yes."

"Very well. I'll take a look at your other alternatives in the morning," Bane agreed and then sighed. "Close the door on your way out, Evo."

"Of course. Goodnight."

The floorboard creaked, and Sabine leaned against the column, listening as Evo's footsteps moved toward the door. The door shut, and Sabine heard the clink of glasses before Bane said, "I just acquired a new case of dwarven ale. You might enjoy this one."

Despite the pain from her injury, Sabine smiled and moved around the column to face the demon. Bane's darkened skin shone in the lamplight, and the two jutting horns on his otherwise bald head indicated the expansive power at his fingertips. He could be a formidable opponent against his enemies, but there was no sign of that now. Instead, he stood beside the bar on the opposite end of the room and held out a glass toward her.

"You always know when I'm here," she complained, walking over to him.

Bane smirked. "You always make it easy for me."

Her eyes narrowed, but she took the proffered glass. She sniffed at it and then wrinkled her nose in distaste. With the way he drank, one would think Bane was a dwarf. It was a stark reminder of their differences.

"Try it, little one, and stop making that face." Bane took a drink. "If you visited more often, I might be tempted to acquire a case of your preferred wine."

"If you get hold of a case of my wine, I might consider it," she agreed but took a sip. Dear gods. It was as bad as the smell had warned. Placing the horrific brew back on the bar, she turned to him. "I'll never understand how you can drink that swill. I've crafted more palatable poisons."

"I suppose it's an acquired taste." Bane put down his drink and took a step closer to her. "I'm assuming you're here for another reason. How badly are you hurt?"

Sabine frowned and lifted her shirt. Exhaling slowly, she released the glamour masking the injury. It wasn't as serious as she'd feared, more of a surface wound than anything but it was still bleeding. If there hadn't been so many of them, her attacker never would have managed to get a lucky strike with his blade. But she couldn't risk allowing it to heal naturally. She'd temporarily stopped it from bleeding with her magic, but it was already failing. Magic was in her blood, and hers could be dangerous—especially if the wrong people discovered it.

Bane's eyes roamed over her. "You could release all of your glamour, Sabine. It's been a long time since you allowed me to see your truth."

Sabine turned her head away, her long hair offering a protective curtain to hide the emotion his words evoked. Over the years, she'd only risked lowering her glamour in times of great need. It was painful holding on to it all the time, but she'd grown accustomed to it. When one lived with constant pain for so long, it became part of their psyche. But part of her still yearned for freedom.

"Don't push, Bane. Not here. It makes it harder to hold on to it when you say such things."

He fell silent and trailed his fingers over her side. His touch was gentle, but Sabine winced as he brushed against the injury. When he spoke, a sharp edge of fury laced his tone. "Who's responsible for this?"

She turned back to him. "Fix it and my hand. Then I'll tell you what I know."

Bane scowled and continued to trail his fingers over her skin. When nothing happened, she narrowed her eyes at him. "You're as stubborn as Dax. Heal it or back the hell off."

"Don't compare me to him," he growled, threading his power through his fingertips and into her skin.

Despite what many people believed, healing wasn't a pleasant experience. The body would repair itself naturally over time, but a forced healing made the recipient relive the original injury—only worse. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Magic was the same. Every small bit required a type of sacrifice. Her own brand of magic was no different.

When she'd killed those men, she's stolen part of their life's energy and had been holding it in reserve. Through touch, she now gifted some of it to Bane in exchange for his healing. He eagerly accepted the offering, easing the balance of debt between them and erasing the burden from her soul. His fingertips became more heated as they trailed over her skin, healing her injuries. He leaned toward her, putting both his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. With a growl, he lowered his head and kissed her.

Sabine immediately stiffened, surprised at his lapse in control. But this was Bane. He never would have kissed her unless he needed her and what she could offer. Relaxing her body against him, she sent more of her magic toward him in a gentle wave. He deepened his kiss, and his touch became more demanding. She placed her hands against his chest, and he broke the kiss.

Breathing heavily, he gazed at her with a wild, heated look in his eyes. It was both unnerving and thrilling. Instead of backing away, she lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Any sign of weakness could be used against her. Bane was dangerous on the best of occasions, but he always pushed himself too far, especially with her.

"What do you need from me, Bane?"

He gripped her tighter before releasing her suddenly. Turning away, he started to pace the room. He ran a hand over his head in agitation, and Sabine glared at him. She was tired of these games.

Sabine took a step toward him. "You don't want to be compared to Dax, but you're both equally stubborn. Why can't you tell me what you need? It's not a weakness. I've never refused you when you've asked for my magic or needed an outlet for yours. That was our agreement all those years ago."

Bane whirled around and punched the wall. Plaster broke free as he removed his fist. If he were more frustrated, he'd end up taking out the entire wall. She'd seen it happen before. Sabine watched for a moment and then turned to pick up the glass of dwarven ale she'd barely touched. She wouldn't drink it, but Bane likely needed it. She held it out, and he snatched it from her.

Taking a healthy swallow, he muttered, "You shouldn't provoke either of us."

Sabine's eyes narrowed, and she jabbed her finger against his chest. "You kissed me. I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen. Now, do you want to have this discussion, or would you rather learn what happened tonight?"

Bane scowled, placing the glass on the desk hard enough that she was surprised it didn't break. "Who went after you?"

It figured. Neither Bane nor Dax were willing to resolve the myriad of issues between them. Fine. She sighed and leaned against the wall, trying to resist the urge to bang her head against it. May the gods spare her from stubborn demons and foolish pride. "Four men. They herded me to the border of Dax's territory. One of them wore your mark."

"The fuck did you say?" he snarled, taking a step toward her.

Sabine grabbed his wrist and held it out to prominently display the dagger tattoo on his forearm. It had been crafted with blood and magic, among other things. All of Bane's men carried the mark. "It was one of your men, Bane. An assassin. Someone is setting you up."

"Don't move," he ordered and stormed toward the door. He flung it open and bellowed, "Evo, get your ass in here now."

Footsteps pounded on the stairway, and Sabine sighed. She sat on the edge of the desk and glanced over at the bar, debating whether to try Bane's new ale again. The taste wouldn't have improved, but it might make the next few minutes more tolerable.

"What's going on?" Evo's footsteps faltered as he entered. "Sabine? I wasn't aware you were here."

Sabine gave Evo a curt nod in greeting. She didn't care much for him, and Evo wasn't overly fond of her either. But Bane trusted him, even if she'd rather drink a case of that ale in lieu of spending another moment with Evo. If she were being fair, it wasn't exactly Evo's fault. He was loyal to Bane, and Evo believed her presence caused problems for his boss. As long as Dax considered Sabine under his protection, he would continue trying to meddle in Bane's affairs, especially when she was around.

"Sabine, describe the man." Bane shut the door a bit more forcefully than necessary.

She shrugged. "Human. A bit taller than me, short brown hair, scar on his chin, smelled like leather and oil."

Evo darted a quick glance at Bane. "Who is she describing?"

Bane didn't stop his pacing. "A man wearing our emblem attacked her tonight."

Evo's frown deepened. "I'm assuming the man is dead?"

Sabine arched her brow, trying to bury her irritation. "I think my presence is answer enough."

Evo blew out a breath. "It sounds like Naphor, one of our newer men."

Bane pointed a finger at Evo. "This is why we're not opening our doors to more recruits. I want a list drafted of all his closest associates immediately. Bring me everyone who was recruited shortly before or after him. I want everyone questioned. Tonight."

Sabine slid off the desk and stretched. Thanks to Bane's healing abilities, her side felt remarkably better. Now that she'd given Bane sufficient warning, she needed to figure out how her attackers knew where to find her. Only a couple of people had known her plans to speak with the clerk working in the city council's office, and she needed to question each of them.

She headed toward the window. "Do what you must. I have other things requiring my attention."

"Sabine," Bane called out, and she turned toward him.

He held her gaze for a long time, indecision warring on his face. She waited expectantly, but he didn't say anything else. It wasn't surprising. Bane might want to keep her safe, but he wouldn't dare try to keep her here against her will. He knew she'd never volunteer to remain if she had a choice.

Instead, she gave him a small smile. "Goodnight, Bane. If you need me, you know how to find me. Otherwise, I'll see you soon."

Without waiting for response, she climbed back out the window and headed toward the commercial district. It was time for the hunted to become the hunter.