Elias held the stiletto up to the light of the moon. A stunning piece of craftsmanship: a black handle, with silver pommel and matching cross guard. The blade itself had a percentage of silver in it and had been polished to a high sheen. As he turned the dagger over in his grasp, a drop of blood fell from the tip onto the snow below.
He looked at Liz; her already-pale face appeared ashen. She didn’t have long left. The silver in the blade had made sure of it. Even so, he needed to ensure that the fight to survive was extinguished. “I realize if we take you back, you’ll either escape again or kill someone. So you do get your wish.”
“You should not play with your prey,” a male said from behind Elias.
Elias turned to the newcomer and dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “My lord, Nergal.”
Nergal was a head taller than Elias’s own five-nine, with broader shoulders and dark skin. A smooth bald head and deep-brown eyes that looked almost black gave him the appearance of someone who was not to be crossed. Several thousand years earlier Nergal had been considered a god by the Mesopotamian people, and it was easy to see why—just being near him made people nervous. To Elias’s knowledge, there were few people who possessed Nergal’s level of power; it practically came off him in waves.
“Get up. It’s cold and wet, and you’ve already gotten yourself filthy fighting this one.” Nergal walked over to Liz and bent down, slapping her across the face to get her attention. “She’s almost done. End it. We need to talk.”
Elias wanted to tell him that was exactly what he’d intended to do, but there was no point in angering the man. Instead, he nodded and used his foot to push Liz over onto her front. He placed a knee on her back and pressed the tip of the dagger up against her throat. He pushed it in without comment, removed it, and stepped off her to avoid the arterial spray.
He removed the black trilby from his head and dropped it into Liz’s blood, wiping the knife on his expensive suit trousers before replacing it in the sheath at his back.
“Are you quite done?” his lord asked.
“I did not know you were coming,” Elias said, turning around. “We had some issues with escapees. First in a few years. She was good, too. Shame about how it ended up. Not to change the subject, but I’ll have to recharge soon.”
“Well, that will have to wait. We found her, Elias. I need you to go to England. To Southampton. I’ll have all of the details emailed to you.”
Elias didn’t want to question his lord, but he’d been here before. “Are we sure she’s there?” He made sure to say “we,” too.
Nergal smiled. “We’ve been searching for so long, Elias. Yes, I’m sure she’s there.”
Elias picked up his hat from the ground; it had absorbed all of the blood that had once been inside Liz. Despite the amount of liquid it had taken, it was completely dry. To all outward appearances, the hat remained black and nothing had changed. In the few minutes since he’d killed her, Liz’s corpse had turned into a mummified husk.
Elias placed the hat on his head, and a slight trickle of blood slid down his pale skin. He caught it with a finger, leaving a smear, and licked the digit clean.
“Picked it up too early,” Elias said by way of explanation. “You want me to go now?”
“Yes, Elias. Take whoever you need. Just find the woman and bring her back here. Alive. And do it quickly.”
“Not a problem, my lord.”
Nergal turned and walked away as the three creatures arrived once more, looking hungrily at Liz’s corpse.
“Make it quick. Leave no trace.” Elias knew he didn’t have to say that to them—they were always quick and clean—but sometimes he liked to tell them anyway. Just in case they ever forgot who was in charge.
He walked back to the compound, his mind ablaze with possibilities. He had a lot to think on, and a lot to achieve in a short time. Going back to his ancestral home would have to wait until the job was done. Find a human girl and bring her back to Nergal. Easy.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2013 Sally Beard
Steve McHugh is the author of the popular Hellequin Chronicles. He lives in Southampton, on the south coast of England, with his wife and three young daughters. When not writing or spending time with his kids, he enjoys watching movies, reading books and comics, and playing video games.
Steve McHugh, Scorched Shadows (The Hellequin Chronicles Book 7)
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