Page 189 of Bitten & Burned

The second’s mouth opened, a scream ready. Too late.

I caught the back of his head and smashed it into the stone wall. He crumpled at my feet.

I stepped over him and moved for the front door.

I fully expected more guards inside—but there weren’t.

Silas probably didn’t want them dirtying the place while he still lived here. I doubted he’d planned on staying once my kin had delivered.

If I had my way, no one would reside here once I’d finished.

I moved with care, keeping to carpeted stretches where my steps were silent. Then I stopped and closed my eyes to try and really sense where I was. The smells, the sounds, so I could move deliberately. Time wasn’t on my side.

A fire crackled somewhere, maybe the kitchens? The air held the scent of beef, rich and slow-cooked. Stew.

Other scents layered over it. Rowena’s scent, strong and certain. Several more—servants, maybe. Or Silas himself. I needed to know which one was his.

I slipped around the foyer until I found a cloak hanging in an armoire. Pressed my nose into the fabric and breathed in deep.

Ah. Silas Drummond. Oversteeped tea and aftershave, the scent left my nose burning from the bitter and acidic notes. Ugh. At least now I knew.

I followed that scent up several flights of stairs, closer to the fire’s crackle. I could have just followed the sound, I supposed, but scent was better. More precise.

The door stood open, firelight spilling into the hall, shadows leapt across the floor, dancing on the walls and rugs.

I crept to the threshold and peered inside.

He was there. Alone. Seated in a chair, sipping something dark from a glass: whiskey—it smelled like it was, at least.

The room was sparsely furnished. No cover. If I went in, it would be fangs out, ready to kill.

I’d done worse. I could do this.

“Before you do that,” he said without looking up, “remember, I can help her.”

I blinked, straightening. He’d heard me.

“If you’re wondering how I knew you were there,” he continued, “I heard you kill my guards. I knew it was only a matter of time before you came for me. And I feel the need to remind you…” He stood, setting his glass on the mantle before turning to face me. “I am the only one who can help her.”

“You’re the one who did this,” I seethed.

“All the more reason to keep me alive. I did this. I know how to undo it.”

“So undo it.”

He smiled—cold, unfeeling.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? An Ashborne?”

I stepped out of the shadows. Might as well face him. He was spindly and soft. No way he was getting the jump on me. Andthere was no one else here to try. He was attempting a negotiation.

I didn’t answer.

“I thought so. You carry yourself much the same way as the others. But a touch more refined. You’re the one they lost, aren’t you? They’ve spoken about you. They think you’re a traitor and a coward for not ending yourself when you were turned, you know.”

“I don’t care what those ingrates think of me.”

“What do you care about, Ashborne? You’re here for her, aren’t you? Your kind don’t love like those of us with humanity, so what use do you have for her that you can’t find elsewhere?”