Abolisher [Drothiker #2]

5.

"Now."

As soon as the word silently slid Faolin Wisflave's mouth, slaves streamed out of the building's doors like ants, and flowed into the vast courtyard.

Faolin stood at the rooftop of the museum, overseeing it all, as they hurtled forward silently—not pushing one another, just as they'd been instructed strictly.

Even as Faolin could see them running weakly—a few very energetic, excited for the free life ahead—no one else around them could. Everyone saw silent, frosty courtyard.

Faolin was cloaked and hooded and masked in all black, armed to teeth. Only her lilac eyes and dark skin betrayed any identity.

Levsenn—who was not glamoured—was walking calmly along the pavement of the courtyard, in a sentry's uniform, just in case any guard turned out cleverer than they'd anticipated. The siren was the definition of nonchalance: hands in her jeans, shoulders relaxed. She was whistling. Even so, Faolin didn't think the savage gleam in her sapphire eyes was a mere trick of light.

Levsenn could see the slaves, knew just where they were headed. Other sentries, however, remained clueless.

"They're here," Vur whispered behind her.

Faolin didn't have to turn to know he stood by the rooftop's closed doors, his back pasted against the wall, as if he would melt in it.

"Three ..." he counted. "Two ..."

Slaves were just at the gates when Levsenn's eyes slid up to Faolin, and winked.

"Lin."

Faolin whirled—just in time to catch Vur disappearing into the thin air, as if he'd indeed melted into the white wall. Hidden beneath his own mejest.

The rooftop's doors flung open.

Slaves burst in, panting hard.

And just like Vur, they disappeared, revealing armed and furious sentries behind themselves.

Faolin imagined Vur grinning where he stood hidden against the wall—satisfied at his art. Sketched well enough that all these sentries had fallen for it, and tailed a mere mirage of slaves, when the real ones had already bolted through the front gates.

Their eyes went wide, confused, when the mirage vanished. And when those lively eyes found Faolin, fear sparked in them.

And oh, Faolin adored that look more so than any other.

Surely, a glance was enough for them to recognize the Moon Sadist. The Slayer of Twilight. The Steelier Weapon. Surely, her lilac eyes and a glimpse of her moon-white hair beneath the hood were enough to make the sentries want to slam to their knees.

And indeed, a few legs buckled.

Faolin couldn't help her crooked grin. "Hello, there," she crooned. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but none of you will be seeing the other side of that door ever again." As the words left her mouth, Vur—still hidden—shut the iron doors behind the sentries.

The sentries threw wary looks at one another. Then, as one, they drew their weapons and charged for her, even when their fear was strong enough to make her mejest prickle.

Faolin's daggers were already in her hands, pleasure cleaving its way through her chest. For each time they'd freed slaves this past year, this stage gave her the thrill she needed to feel alive. It was like a very dangerous drug—only she wasn't the one getting killed by it.