The Heartfrost Demon Book 1

The Heartfrost Demon 1 Chapter 25

The Heartfrost Demon 1

Chapter 25

"Did you really just jump straight down from the roof?!"

Paul turned, seeing Kip in the opening of the alleyway, staring at him with disbelief.

"Yup."

Kip looked up at the roof, then narrowed his eyes.

"Who's that? Is that Shurill?"

Paul looked up, seeing Shurill watching him. Shurill shook his head slowly, clearly radiating icy displeasure, then he turned and raced away. Kip grinned.

"Yup. Definitely Shurill. You training with him again?"

"No."

"You know, I would bet he would be willing to train you, now that you're free. You should talk to him."

Paul scowled. "Not gonna happen."

Kip shrugged and held up his arms, putting the severe bruises on his forearms on display. "He's the best master in the city. On the entire continent, most likely. And he seems to be looking for his own followers."

"You're training with him?"

Kip looked happily at his green and purple forearms. "Yup. We all are."

Paul well remembered the bruising when he sparred with Shurill. His forearms had also looked like abused meat bags. Blocking those relentless attacks was never fun. Well, now he knew why Shurill had been looking into his secret home.

"Did you tell him I was up there?"

"No. He never asked where you were, he just headed up there. I think he's been tracking you for a while, now."

Paul felt his stomach clench in equal parts anger and worry thinking that Shurill could have been stalking him without him knowing for so long.

Kip saw his pained expression. "Hey, you're not going to fill your pants right here on the street, are you?"

Paul gave a bark of laughter at that. Kip had always been able to make him laugh. It struck him, then, that he couldn't remember the last time he had laughed. Or even smiled in happiness. He considered what his quest meant, then. What would he have to give up, to kill all the slave masters?

"Oo. You're looking even worse. So you're gonna crap your pants AND hurl all over, then?"

"All over Shurill." Paul muttered darkly.

He turned and headed off deeper into the warren of alleyways, seeking a secluded spot where he could climb to the rooftops without being noticed. It seemed too many people knew where his once-secret sleeping spot was. He knew it was time to move, to find another, even more secluded spot, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

He stopped in the opening to his shelter. Shurill had been in here, he could sense it. He looked around carefully, wondering what Shurill had been doing. Then he saw something on his makeshift hay pillow.

A piece of string and an old, rusty nail.

Paul put them into the pouch on his belt and laid down, trying to understand the message here. He fell asleep before he had made any sense of it.

The morning sun was warm, soothing, a gentle glow in the shadows of Paul's room. He blinked, shocked to realize he had slept through the night. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so deeply. He glanced around as he gathered his few belongings, already missing this shelter. It irritated him, that he would feel so attached to a spot like this. It shouldn't matter where he slept, where he hid from the world here. Why was this place anything special?

The murmur of voices in the alleyway below, the way he felt hearing them, answered his own question. He bared his teeth and angrily stuffed the last few scraps of cloth into his pack, trying to ignore the quiet voice inside that insisted he would miss this place because he would miss hearing the others. It was weakness, it was foolishness, to need others just to keep him from feeling alone.

He was a Wildcat, in a city of humans, in a country where he was marked as a slave, where was marked for death. He was alone, and the sooner he accepted that, the sooner he could finish his vow. The sooner he could kill every last slave master in this entire country.

He set off across the rooftops at a wild pace, a reckless frenzy gripping him, as if he could outrun the tearing loneliness. As he ran he found, no matter how hard he pushed himself, the ice inside kept growing.

That night, as he finished setting up his new shelter, deep in the burned out ruins on the city's far eastern corner, far away from people, he repeated his vow in his mind over and over. Trying to force it into his heart.

He snarled at himself as he felt his thoughts slip back to Kip and the others. They had their own lives to live, he was not, and never could be, part of them. His power flickered restlessly in the background of his running thoughts, like a cat forged from shadows prowling about its prey.

He froze, looking inside as intently as possible. He tried to meet the gaze of his own power.

"You understand. You're the pure predator, you care nothing for lives other than your own."

His whisper was nothing more than a wraith on the midnight breeze.

His power, the cat inside, prowled closer. Paul felt a tingle of excitement, then.

"Come to me! Set me free from...from my bonds of humanity!"

The cat stopped, lifted its head and met his eyes directly, for the first time. Then, it blinked slowly, only once, and turned away, fading from his inner sight in seconds. It was a pure dismissal.

Paul threw back his head and screamed out his helpless rage, the terrible sound echoing across the blasted ruins all around.

"Why scream when there's no one around to hear?"

Paul snatched both of his throwing knives out of their sheathes as the unfamiliar voice came from directly behind him.

"Sneaking up on me is a good way to end up bleeding." He growled, seeing a lady standing on the rooftop not even fifteen feet away.

Despite his threat, he was shaken. How had she snuck up on him so perfectly? He looked at her, suddenly realizing something was off about her.

She looked to be in her mid twenties, tall and very slim, with a full length black trench coat, tied by a belt around her waist. Her hair was loose, hanging down in luxurious waves, and he had never seen that deep, crimson color before. He blinked as he saw her eyes were that same red. The color of fresh blood.

What had caught his eye was not just her stunning beauty, but the fact that she was so still. The night breeze ruffled the cloth of his shelter, but it did not touch her in any way. Neither the soft cloak she wore, nor her glittering hair, moved in the slightest.