made you is a lie. She’s lied before, and she’ll lie again. I would expect an assassin to know the difference.” He stood slowly and leaned in close so the edge of his cloak brushed my shoulder. “And remember: If you don’t kill her, we’ll have to intervene. The last thing you’d want is something unfortunate to happen, say, to one of your friends? Think about that.” Without another word, he walked right through me, leaving a chill in the air and my heart.
Eleven
Leena
Between the hours I’d spent sleeping on the ride and the kicker from the Poi’s restorative saliva, I had more energy than I knew what to do with. Freshly bathed and wrapped in a fluffy towel, I dumped the contents of my bag across the four-poster bed. Everything from my clothes and makeup to the hidden pack of apple-flavored beast treats—which Kost must have scoured the black market to find, given only bakers in Hireath crafted such delicacies—was meticulously chosen and arranged. If I’d never met him, I would assume he cared.
I slipped on a pair of cutoff twill breeches and a low-cut, ivy-green blouse, then relaced my boots and paused before the mirror to apply a light go of cosmetics. Dark bags had started to form beneath my eyes. A by-product of stress, no doubt. I didn’t want to advertise that weakness, though, so I packed on some powder and called it good before leaving to enjoy Ortega Key’s nightlife. Warm air rushed against me as I stepped out onto the gravel road. Lampposts manned the sides of the street, sandy beaches laden with shells coming flush with the roads. A heavy crowd with loud men lingered outside a bungalow down the road, and I smiled. In past conversation, Dez had mentioned a pub in Ortega Key that ran in the black-market circuit.
Guilt soured the back of my tongue as I pictured Dez’s face. I’d said I’d come back, but now…I’d been made. If the assassins did let me walk, going back to familiar quarters would make me the easiest target around for any other bounty hunter. Maybe here I could have a new start in warmer surroundings.
Another debate for another time. The sooner I unearthed information about potential beasts in the area, the better. My bestiary only held data for locating and taming beasts I already owned. Anything new, including the Myad, came through hearsay. That, or failed taming attempts until one stuck.
A failed attempt is exactly what would happen if I couldn’t get my hands on the blood of one of these men. I’d almost forgotten about it, what with Oz’s reassuring grin and Calem’s shameless flirting. We were getting closer, and I still didn’t have enough answers. Enough solutions to the mounting problems clambering in around me.
Maneuvering through jumbling bodies, I held my breath to avoid choking on the stench of sunbaked fish and climbed up the steps to the Drinking Mermaid. Once I passed through the open doors of the tavern, ale and liquor drowned all other scents. A gaggle of women dressed in shift dresses and bathing garments giggled over crystal glasses filled with clear liquid. Nestled between two of them, Calem glanced up at me as I walked in. He offered a leisurely wink before turning to the blond on his right and whispering something into her ear.
“Leena! Over here,” Oz called from the far end of the bar, a shaky smile pulling at his lips.
Dodging a pair of tits that threatened to knock me over, I sidestepped the bar maiden and sidled in next to him. Scrubbed clean and dressed in a sleeveless white tunic and loose-fitting, russet-brown trousers, he leaned against the bar and palmed a mug of ale.
“Did Calem drag you here?” I stuck my thumb over my shoulder at the sudden outburst of feminine laughter.
Oz’s eyes slid behind me to linger on his friend. “He claimed he’d get me a date.”
“Really now? Seems like he’s more interested in his own nighttime activities.” Signaling the bartender, I ordered a Cockatiel Kiss—a southern specialty—before swiveling on the wooden stool to face him directly. “Not to worry, though. I’ve got you covered.” I took a swig from my freshly poured drink. Pineapples and cinnamon liquor with a hint of nutmeg rushed over my tongue, warming my throat. “You’re not great with women.”
Oz’s chuckle was short. “You’re not instilling any confidence.”
I set my glass on a black napkin, and a ring of condensation bled to life. “I’ll help you.