Page 9 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

Azrael

Ishuffle along between side streets, purposefully walking out of my way, circling her house in the hopes of catching another glimpse of Mercy.

It’s been a few days since her trip to the Oceanside Market, and I refuse to allow her to make that trip alone again.

The snatchers are flocking to the village in droves, an infestation that reeks of growing power.

Which can only mean one thing: the hunter is gaining strength.

Lucifer was surprisingly forgiving about the time it’s taking me to intercept the hunter, but he was quick to remind me of his expectations.

His satisfaction with the vial of snatcher soul was short-lived; soon enough, he resumed lecturing me on the importance of recovering this particular soul.

Above all else, the hunter must be captured and returned.

He was adamant I return to search at once.

When I came up empty-handed yesterday—offering nothing more than three vials of snatchers—he accepted them gratefully instead of punishing me. He praised me, then turned on a dime, demanding I try harder before stepping into the hearth and allowing Hell to swallow him whole.

Finding a hunter is hard, but finding one with this magnitude of knowledge and power in such a short time frame is beginning to feel damn near impossible.

I’m certain Lucifer failed to mention key details, because this hunter is more sinister than any I’ve ever encountered.

It’s managed to stay a few steps ahead of me the entire time.

So much so that I’m growing impatient and frustrated.

As if in reply, my magic snarls beneath my skin, begging to be set free, to make a kill, to taste release.

I take a deep breath. Not in broad daylight.

Not when the streets are filled with people.

Too many watching eyes linger on me, analyzing, waiting.

The townspeople are on edge. Women and children are disappearing left and right, and the rumors continue to spread like wildfire that the circus is to blame.

I can’t move without being watched—but perhaps that’s all part of the hunter’s plan, making him even harder to eliminate.

Passing back through town on my way to the big top, I creep undetected past her house one last time. All the while, I fight the urge to burst through her front door and take her with me.

My fingers brush against the glass of yet another vial filled with inky black liquid. It pulsates in my hand, making my skin prickle with frustration. If only I could locate the hunter and his nest. They have to be hiding somewhere. I turn down yet another street.

A glance at my pocket watch tells me what I already know.

It’s getting late. I quicken my pace. There’s a performance to prepare for.

The circus shows keep selling out, and the money keeps churning in.

Great for operations—but not for finding my soulmate before the Divine.

Not for keeping Mercy safe. I’m not far from the circus gates now, and the invisible boundary of magic that tethers it to the edge of town calls to me, begging me to return.

Tonight I’m one of the featured acts, something we try every so often to drum up attendance.

Everyone is captivated by my giant beasts, enamored with the way they move and roar.

Their large, toothy grins and golden manes gleam in the spotlight.

The lions move as if enchanted, their strength and danger emanating from every muscle as they parade around the ring.

Sometimes they roar in protest, swishing their tails back and forth in agitation when I command them to jump through fiery hoops.

But I’m not afraid. I’m a demon prince of death.

They can’t harm me. I stare them down until they surrender, leaping gracefully through the fire each time.

And now that I’m all grown up, there might be another reason people flock from towns far and wide to watch the show.

I smile. Women love a dangerous man, and I’m danger with a capital D.

Of course, I’m uninterested in anything they could offer me.

My heart belongs to another, no matter how forbidden a love spell I’m under.

I can feel it deep in my soul—I love her like a pulsing ache that grows more intense the longer we stay apart.

I’ve always thought that Mercy was mine—until the Ringmaster revealed the truth.

But even now, I still look for her at every show.

She’s the one my body craves. When I stare out at the sea of faces, hers is the one grounding me.

My whole world is anchored to her. She’s everything I know, and everything I’ve ever wanted.

Fate is cruel. Even knowing she’s not mine, I can’t resist the way my magic hums for her.

My hair whips across my face as I shake my head, needing to focus.

There’s no time for love, and I have to stop allowing myself to fantasize about it.

Every day, it’s harder and harder to ignore the calling from within.

I want to break my curse, but I want to revel in the feel of Mercy in my arms even more.

Her body, nestled against mine, a fit so perfect it feels like we were made for each other.

I think back to a few days ago, when Mercy wrapped her arms around me, finding safety and solitude there.

Foolish girl. If only she knew the darkness lurking deep inside of me, slowly consuming my entire being.

Suddenly, I’m ripped from my thoughts. A man stumbles across the sidewalk, colliding with me. He reeks of alcohol, probably coming from the tavern. The stench reminds me of Mercy’s father, and a tether inside of me snaps.

“Watch where you’re going, circus scum,” the man spits, shoving my shoulders.

I grit my teeth, fighting back the urge to snap his neck and leave him on the streets for someone else to find.

“My apologies, sir,” I say, scanning for witnesses, gauging whether this will be public or private.

This is what I get for daydreaming. I should have been paying better attention, or stepped aside. Maybe I wanted to collide with him. Maybe some part of me wanted this outlet. I eye the drunk man glaring at me.

He’s a well-dressed businessman. A man as wealthy as him would never admit fault.

Typical reaction to bumping into me—someone who should be his worst nightmare.

But despite how their women pine for me, traveling from all over the continent to lay eyes on the lion tamer, I’m still considered a lowlife.

Heathen. Circus scum. If only the people of this town knew my true identity, then they might fear me.

Instead, they scoff, as this gentleman does now.

His lip curls in disgust as his eyes sweep over my finely tailored clothes.

“Go back to the flea-infested stables where you belong, boy. How dare you assault me like this? You’re lucky I don’t get the law involved. You and your sort—yer all the same,” he slurs, lashing out with words sharp enough to pierce steel.

My fingers tighten around the glass vial in my pocket, forming a fist. This might turn into one of those wrong place, wrong time, wrong words scenarios.

I feel the cold creeping over me as the darkness begins to settle in my eyes.

Anger coils inside of me like a viper, ready to strike at any moment, as I suck in a deep breath, clinging to control.

Biting my tongue, I fight to keep it from uttering a reply.

Not here. Not now. Not in broad daylight.

He spits at me. “Dumb and arrogant. Did you hear me, boy, or are you too stupid to understand what I’ve told you?”

My fingers flex with agitation. Bodies are piling up already—would another really matter?

I glance around. The street is empty. This choice is mine to make.

I weigh the options silently in my head.

The alley waits, only a few footsteps away.

The Ringmaster wouldn’t complain about an extra indulgence.

An unexpected dessert. Indecisively, I pull my ornate pocket watch—a family heirloom—from my pocket once more. Time will be the deciding factor.

A sinister smile spreads across my face.

So it shall be. I release the vial of swirling black essence and fumble wordlessly for an empty one.

The man doesn’t notice. He only sways back and forth in place.

Pretending to leave, I wait until my back is to him before I unleash a terrifying, wicked, low laugh.

It escapes my lips, permeating all around us.

Closing my eyes, I invite the blackness to consume me.

When I turn back, grinning, sharp white teeth protrude from my gums.

“Today seems to be your lucky day, sir.” My voice is thick and heavy, weighted with dark magic.

The man huffs, raising his hand, expecting me to flinch. But I don’t move. I simply stand there, my ebony-black eyes glare at the man. Finally, he meets my stony gaze, and fear flickers across his face as he realizes he won’t survive this encounter.

“What the…” the man gasps, stumbling back a few steps.

I languish in his fear. It seeps from his pores, filling the air around us with its intoxicating aroma.

I breathe it in, savoring every inhale, allowing it to fully fill my nostrils.

I clear the space between us quickly, holding my next victim in a deadly staring match.

He doesn’t realize what I’m about to do to him.

He doesn’t even flinch as I sidestep him and spin, his back to me now.

I reach for my blade, then—fast as lightning—I slide the glowing black dagger smoothly across the stranger’s throat, watching as it slices into his fair skin, melting it away like butter.

The man gurgles and gasps, not expecting the deadly assault.

I watch as the crimson liquid spills out, and drag him into the alley where I hold the vial, collecting the murky liquid drop by drop until it’s filled to the brim.

It glimmers with streaks of black swirling around against the contrasting deep red. I replace the cap, pocketing the vial.

The remainder will be my reward—my dessert.

A congratulatory gift for the number of snatchers no longer lurking in the town.

Finder’s keepers, after all. I bring my mouth down to the gash, my jaw expanding to accommodate the wound.

There are so many dead bodies piling up across the village, but this will be the first one authorities find nearly drained of blood, and with no coagulated puddle in sight.

The warm liquid fills me with eerie delight as I savor the dark bits and pieces of the victim’s soul while they slide endlessly down my throat.

When I’ve finished, I pull a handkerchief from inside my coat pocket and dab lightly at the corners of my mouth.

Then I cautiously glance in both directions to ensure I am still alone before stepping back onto the main street and continuing my walk back to the big top, jauntily enjoying the delightfulness of my reward.

Once I step over the property line, I feel the magic bind to me, reverberating through my body.

Quickly, I make my way to the Ringmaster’s office.

It’s empty, of course—he’s likely running around, making sure everything is in order for the show.

I step behind a smaller wall near the desk and push the portrait of a bearded lady to one side.

Behind it, I spin the combination to the safe and carefully set the vial of pure black liquid inside, before crossing the room to examine my reflection in a nearby mirror.

I appear even more irresistible than usual—the effects of soul-sucking.

Tonight’s show will go well. My personality is amplified from my hunting.

I smirk at the monster in the glass staring back at me and set off to dress for my appearance in the circus ring later tonight.