Page 7 of Cold-Blooded Creatures

But the job provided me with the required access tohim—the Head of Ilasall. The man who ruled over us. Over me. Over Alora.

Three. I was starting two days from now. Two nights until I could learn their habits and plot out my murder.

Four. I had to bide my time. I had to collect as much information as I could about the schools and future Matchings before the final step.

Five. I made the kill.

3

KALI

Enough.

I had to disperse the sickening storm inside me or I was going to puke myself out and then there wouldn’t be anything left in me to push the Head of Ilasall off the top of the Spire.

With my head resting on the edge of the bathtub, I peered out the small window above it. The flickering streetlights were the sole illumination in my bathroom, allowing me a glimpse into the sinister world behind the glass.

A distorted shadow slunk along the wall of a concrete building opposing my window. Its shape morphed as it moved, never pausing, never resting, ready to pounce on anyone brave enough to venture out in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t like my shadow. He would watch over me, unmoving, unyielding, like a hunter mesmerized by a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Except I wasn’t a wolf. I was a human rising in the ranks of gods.

My shadow would find me any time I sneaked out of the city. The first time had been a couple of months ago, when sleep had decided to evade me. My bedsheets had tangled around mylegs, and I had tossed and turned for hours, until realization had dawned that I would have to chase my rest outside of the city.

Fleeing through one of the smaller of Ilasall’s gates, paying no attention to the ogling of the sordid guard on shift, I had spared not a moment to survey the size of the city wall—even from inside Ilasall, it was too extensive to walk around—and raced across the grassy field, straight toward the forest.

The night’s breeze had carried me forward, toward the tree line, the demarcation line between the city and life, between the grayness of concrete and colors, all shades of green, the hues so vivid they practically pulsed, as if with a heartbeat.

The woods had rippled with gloom so thick I had barely been able to make out the individual trees. Wandering around, I had relished the soothing dew dripping from the low foliage, each drop like a breath of crisp air.

The longer I’d roamed, the easier it’d been to stroll, and soon the forest parted, revealing a clearing. It was quite small, about sixty yards wide, but if it would’ve been possible to lay claim on a territory, I would’ve instantly done so.

That night, lying in the middle of the field, I had gazed at the night sky. The full moon had loomed above me, so full that its maw had devoured me whole and I’d become the moon itself.

But a sudden crunch of a branch, the noise utterly jarring in the dead of the night, had spooked the moon, and it’d spat me back out to run and hide behind a cloud.

I’d searched for the source of that sound, wishing to throttle the owner, but I hadn’t been able to locate anyone or anything. Shadows had been veiling the tree line. They, it, whatever, whoever could see me wide and clear, but I couldn’t see them.

So I had waited, listening for anything to disrupt the silence. But it hadn’t been eerie or petrifying. It’d been…soft. Like a caress on your lower back. Its whispers had skittered up my spine, murmuring to stay, to wait, to relax, toobey. The dewsoaking through my pants had warmed up to a pleasant chill beckoning me to remain.

And thenhehad appeared.

Dressed all in black, almost one with the gloom. His back had blended with the forest as shadows had swarmed him, curling around his form, as if they had been hesitant to allow me to see him.

Or perhaps it’d been my survival instincts acting up, altering my perception of reality and conjuring up the darkness crawling all over him—a hallucination, a visual representation of the false sense of safety he’d lured to surface in me. For the first time in my life, I hadn’t sensed the urgency to flee or fight my way out.

The night’s murmurs had snaked along my nape and their unrelenting beseeching had furled around me, tempting me to tip my head aside in hopes of catching a better look of the man.

He’d remained rooted in place, motionless. Not monitoring but…marveling. Like I was something intriguing. Someone of value.

The same cloud had betrayed the moon by fluttering away and moonlight had fallen on both me and him. He’d been too far away to make out the details, but his skin was a darker shade despite the silver moonshine illuminating his nose, his chin, his jaw. Like the moon had recognized him and wanted to absorb his essence through its light.

Since then, whenever I’d come to the clearing at night, he’d find me. Sometimes he’d be waiting for me, sometimes I’d notice him only when I was already marching back to the city. But he was always there, like he knew I’d show up.

He’d never taken more than a single step into my clearing. Never left the tree line and its shadows. I’d tried to talk to him on a few occasions, but he’d never responded. At that point, I’d gotten used to him simply being there.

But there was something about him, something I couldn’t wrap my head around, something captivating and alluring, something driving my hand up my leg after I’d return to the city, something?—