Savage Fire (Tales from Wildhearth #2)

Chapter 43 - A Sinking Feeling

Kappsi sat staring into the makeshift holding cell, her thoughts blacker than the night that settled over Wildhearth. Opposite her, Brickle sat in the furthest dark corner behind the iron bars, still muttering oaths to the Savage Fire, her face twisted with rage and ruin. Some of the wildness had seeped out of her eyes from whatever drugs they'd been pumping into her, but the lingering effects of Kendris's brainwashing would take a lot longer to go away.

If they ever did.

A life wrecked, and for what? She felt the muscles in her throat constricting with fury, her claws flexing. Who would answer for this? News had reached them that Kendris was dead, but somehow that didn't make her feel better. It was too far away, too abstract in her mind.

The urge to break something sizzled in her bones, a determination to exact personal revenge on Brickle's tormentors. She watched as her friend twitched and twisted, eyes screwing shut and neck flexing; tendons stood out. A shuddering breath went out of Brickle's body and she seemed to relax a little, whispering to herself.

A creak of hinges eased Kappsi's attention away. She looked from the cell and found Skoppa slinking through the door to the dock house basement. He padded down the stairs, his face heavy with weariness. Brickle's eyes flickered open, flashing over to him as he walked across the room to join Kappsi. He swallowed hard; gave her a small nod of recognition.

Brickle's eyes closed again and she turned over, sinking into a ball with her back to them.

"How's she doin'?" Skoppa asked quietly.

"The same." Kappsi shook her head. "It's just wrong, y'know?"

"Aye." Sitting down beside her, he passed her a beaker of dark ale. "Get that down you. Might settle your nerves some."

"My nerves ain't the problem." She sipped at the ale anyway, letting the bitter, heavy liquid salve her throat. "Somebody's got to pay for this, Skop."

"I think Illando an' his wolves are off doin' the revenging for us."

"Oh, and that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside."

Skoppa shrugged awkwardly "Least they killed Kendris."

"That's all the enforcers ever cared about."

"Well, this is all his fault, ain't it?"

Kappsi scowled, claws clacking against the beaker. "He wasn't the one who picked out Brickle. I saw the beast who got her snagged by that cult. We all did."

Skoppa nodded slowly. "The barge-master?"

"Aye."

"He could be anywhere in Wildhearth right now, sis."

"Y'think so?" She looked at him. "If I were him, I'd be gettin' outta the city before someone found me. Not a whole lot of ways to get in and out of the city undetected."

"I suppose not." Skoppa eyed her warily. "What exactly is it you're wantin' to do here, sis?"

"I wanna find that muck-dredging mongrel."

"And then what? Y'wanna hand him off to the watchies? To the enforcers?"

"No, Skoppa." Kappsi drained the last of her ale and placed the beaker down the bench. Standing up, she turned to face him. "I want this one myself."

At first he looked like he wanted to talk her out of it. Then he turned to Brickle, his eyes fixing on her prone form for several seconds. She saw the claws of one paw flex, scratching against the rough fabric of his kilt. He took a gulp of ale, and sighed, rising to meet her gaze.