Page 9 of The Vampire's Mercy

“Leave it out, Clive,” the woman who’d called to me interjected. “You’ve made your point.”

“But—”

“Zip it,” she warned. “Get back to your post.”

Red-faced, Clivey Boy looked between us then skulked off, grumbling to himself.

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing my neck.

The woman dragged her eyes up and down my body. “He’s right, though. What were you doing on the ice?”

I closed my eyes, sighing. “I woke up there.”

“You woke up there?”

Maybe she should answer how I managed to get past all this twenty-four-seven surveillance, as well as crossing the veil without setting off an alarm.

I kept that to myself.

She looked me up and down again, her nose wrinkling. Okay, so this wasn’t my cutest outfit, and maybe my pits were a little pongy. But I was hardly the dog shit she seemed to regard me as.

“I’ll have to fine you,” she said. “You’re trespassing.”

“Not on purpose.”

She cocked a thin eyebrow, clearly drawn-on, seeing as the edges were smudged. Oh, to lick my thumb and give both a wipe. Not because I had anything against drawn-on eyebrows, but because it’d piss her off

No. I was a good elf. Playing it safe, living below the radar.

“Let me just check something.” She pulled out a pen-like device from her breast pocket. A scanner, used to search for executioner trackers. The rounded tip blinked green as she waved it over me, no red warning lights here.

I’d had my executioner tracker removed and my blood was magically shielded from any tests designed to hunt my kind. But I always had to be careful. The moment I messed up would be the moment I said goodbye to living.

It was only a matter of time before a new method of scanning came into play. There were already tests taking place to make it happen to smash us, then I’d be forced to run across the whole of Quintrealm to find a hiding place. Probably take my chances in the arid Hinterlands instead of the other four domains of the world.

Satisfied, she put the scanner away. “Can’t be too careful, can you?”

Biting my tongue, I agreed and let her fine me. She tapped on her little machine, printing me out a yellow slip with a bill of fifty gold to be paid within the next three days or face it doubling.

Could’ve been worse. She could’ve questioned me on how I’d broken free of the frostbrood’s grip. Taken me in for a grilling, even tortured me in a room filled with dead flora—a major bane for an elf.

Speaking of which, the essence oflivingflora seeped into me, giving my batteries a recharge.

Another perk of being an elf.

Thank you, Aidan.

Even in a city choked with pollution like Oreflame, the essence of nature always found me, giving me a boost.

I sniffed, eyeing the tunnel. “Can I go now?”

Another disgusted regard. “Don’t let me see you around here again. You got lucky but won’t again.”

I smelled the faint trace of vanilla on her breath. “Can I pinch a smoke?”

To my surprise, she offered me a mistrock cig and her lighter. I sparked up, taking that wonderful first drag, releasing a cloud of white smoke.

Mistrock cigs were a recent replacement for tobacco, made of ground rocks from the mountain lakes of the werewolf domain, along with a sticky vanilla substance to hold the cig together in its paper. Magically engineered, free of consequences to health, no stinky hair and clothes after a puff, but also a costly vice. A habit I failed to kick time and time again.