Death's Finest Hour

Chapter Eighteen

That familiar heat was the first thing Faith felt, batting down relentlessly on her shoulders. How shit would it be to hit immortality with a permanent sunburn? There was no breeze in the air, only serving to make that heat more horrid.

It was late afternoon in Veneficus, so at least she had that to comfort her.

The sun won't be out for much more.

Castle Solum was bearable, what with its aircon. But this was a random street in the Sylvestrian quarter. Not the same.

Across from her, Damien slid the portal jumper back into his blazer pocket and scanned the area around them for threats. Finding nothing of immediate concern, he set that foreboding gaze on Faith.

"I'm setting some rules for this."

And just when she'd gotten to thinking this would be easy.

"Seriously?"

Rules, rules, rules.

Blah, blah, blah.

"While you're still mortal and in my care, I'm responsible for whether you live or die. I'll be in charge for this expedition. That means that if I tell you to back down, then you back down."

"But—"

"Understand me, Faith. I'll take you right back to my home and leave you there if you don't agree to my terms."

She gnawed on her lip before sighing. "Fine. Whatever. You're the boss."

"Good girl."

Her heart squeezed. Fortunately, she had the matter at hand to distract her. Finding a dead, homicidal werewolf.

"Right, you know this place, where do we look?"

"I don't know," she answered, shrugging. "Go wherever you feel the least magic. Fenrir hates witches, so he won't be rubbing shoulders with them."

"That's a lot of space to cover still."

"Then maybe we should split up." She spoke too quickly for him to argue with her. Freedom so close I can taste it. "We're looking for a man with a long scar down his face. If we split up, we'll cover more ground."

"What did I just tell you about—"

"If I find him, I promise not to engage." She crossed her fingers behind her back. "I'll come straight out and look for you."

Yes, Damien looked far too concerned for someone who didn't care about her.

Unless someone's been telling porkies.

"You said this man wants to kill you."

"You're Death. Surely, you'll feel it if I randomly die."

She saw it working across his face. He wanted to say no more than anything, but something was stopping him. Something nagging at the back of his mind.

"You come straight back if you see him."

She nodded noncommittally. "Yes, yes."

"I mean it."

"Of course. Meet back here in twenty?"

She was already turning, making certain he couldn't change his mind.

"Be careful Miss Lupine."

"Ditto."

Then she rounded the corner, out of sight.

Freedom.

Faith would make the most of this. And she'd get this over with before Damien. That ought to wipe the smirk clean off his face.