Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Eighty Two: Plague Demon

"They're supposed to be out by now," Arlen growled. He hated being left out of the action more than he wanted to admit. It was one thing sitting at home and knowing it was happening, and another to be standing outside and waiting for someone to bring him news. There hadn't even been a chance to get in on the lesser parts of this job; it required too much movement, and too much speed, neither of which he could provide in much quantity.

Akiva reappeared from behind a cloud of blackweed. The man's ability to kick back and relax in fraught situations had always baffled Arlen. A small part of him had also always been jealous, now more than ever. "Usk is with him. I'm sure they're fine."

"So is a girl barely out of childhood who looked like she was going to piss herself when they went past," Arlen growled. The girl had been a mistake. She had been helpful in the break-in to Cael's rooms, but her use on this job was more debatable. The more he thought about it, the more he believed he had saddled Usk with more of a liability than an asset; Jordan was hard enough to manage, and he had at least done it before.

"Have to admit, didn't quite get your logic on that one," Akiva replied, lightly enough that it didn't quite pass as insubordinate. Arlen scowled at him anyway.

They waited on the back step of an empty townhouse in the Orthanian quarter. It was the only street he could find with a view of the temple, and the only house that hadn't been occupied. Most of the windows were gone and the frontage was blackened with soot, and given the renowned rune-net security of the Orthanian quarter, Arlen assumed the fire had been down to the equally notorious Orthanian enjoyment of strong drink. With a rueful smile he remembered the demonfire Silas had found in Eril's cupboard a few days before they killed him; the job that would almost kill Arlen as well.

What a fuck-up, he thought to himself, setting his gaze on the closed back doors of the Orthanian temple. If it all went to plan, Usk, Jordan and the girl would emerge from that exit – soon.

"Where is Silas at the moment?" he asked Akiva. Thinking of that fateful job made him realise he hadn't seen the turd in days. That was never a good sign, though if Jordan hadn't mentioned seeing him then at least it meant he wasn't back to stalking him. Or it meant he'd got better at it.

"Saw him once in the last week," Akiva replied, after a pause. "Talking to Gelert. Then trying to hit Gelert. About the only time I've rooted for the boy in a fight."

"I'm guessing he got laid out."

"If Marick hadn't interrupted, I'm sure he would have. Gelert looked pissed. Almost thought about asking him what Silas said to make his face go so fucking red. Settled for getting Raz to piss in his hat when he left it on the bar."

That distracted him from his vigil. A grin spread across his face almost of its own volition. "You didn't."

"Oh yeah." Akiva winked at him. He discarded his cigarette and began rolling another. "I wanted him to take a shit but he was fresh out. His words, not mine."

Arlen wrinkled his nose. "What did Gelert do?"

"Don't know, we ran away pretty sharp after that." Akiva snorted. "Did hear a shout from about three streets over that I'm pretty sure was him. I just hope he put it on before he noticed."

Arlen hoped the smell stuck in that stupid moustache for a month.

"I don't like not knowing where he is." He turned back to keep his vigil, though his grin lingered.

"Silas? Oh, wouldn't bother with it, mate. If he's not hassling your apprentice then whatever else he's doing is Marick's problem. He could've let Gelert throttle him and been done with all that demonshit."