The wound in my leg throbbed, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it. Survival came first. We exited the shop.
As we slipped back into the shadows, Gael stayed close, his presence a steady anchor against the encroaching fear.
I didn’t know what we were to each other, enemies, allies or something more. For now, it didn’t matter.
CHAPTER NINE
BRAM
Bram moved through Ravenshade, trying to retrace Gael’s steps. His jaw tightened, disappointment curdling in his stomach like sour milk.
Gael’s erratic behavior was becoming harder to ignore. And worse yet, harder to explain to Beric.
The small animal clinic loomed ahead, its windows dark and uninviting.
Bram’s senses prickled as he approached the entrance.
Gael’s scent was here, faint but unmistakable, like embers left to smolder.
The sharp tang of blood, human and recent, hung in the air. His lips curled back, exposing his fangs.
Sloppy, Gael.
He slipped inside, the door’s lock no match for his skill. The clinic smelled of antiseptic, stale fur, and fear.
A faint shuffle came from the back room. Bram’s eyes narrowed, his hearing sharpening.
A young man stepped through the door, likely a part-timer judging by the rumpled uniform and weary eyes.
He barely had time to register Bram’s presence before Bram lunged, his hand snapping over the human’s mouth to stifle his scream.
Bram’s eyes bored into the boy’s wide, terrified gaze, compelling obedience.
“Sleep,” Bram whispered, his voice a soft, dangerous lullaby.
The boy’s body went limp, slumping into Bram’s arms.
He laid him gently on the floor, wiping his hands on his coat. The irritation burning in his chest grew hotter.
Cleaning up after Gael was becoming routine. Bram had expected better.
He retraced his steps out of the clinic, frustration mounting. He took a moment, forcing the anger to settle.
This wasn’t the time for emotion. He needed answers but he wasn’t worried. Bram was called Beric’s Bloodhound for a reason.
Hollow Vale train station was a buzz of activity. People were constantly arriving, leaving, disappearing into the night.
This town was bigger than the last one, so Bram had to be more careful to mask his presence.
Bram lingered at the edges, his eyes scanning every surface, every shadow.
The stale scent of diesel and cold metal did little to mask the distinct scent he was searching for.
There. After searching for more clues, Bram found the train Gael had hitched a ride on.
Faint but undeniable, splashes of old blood marred the concrete near the luggage hold entrance.
He crouched low, gloved fingers brushing the stains. It wasn’t Gael’s blood. It reeked of human fear and pain.
