Tarnished Knight - By Bec McMaster Page 0,18

was a rabbit Warren of tunnels and boarded up rooms carved into the world below the East End. Once an attempt to push the underground train lines into the East, the scheme had collapsed with the tunnels. Nearly two hundred workers had died in the shadowy depths, trapped beneath rubble or buried alive in the small niches of tunnel still open.

Rumour said the tunnels were haunted, but that didn’t stop the poor or the homeless from moving in. Or the Slasher gangs.

However this sewer was empty of everything but rats. They skittered in the dark, their frantic hearts beating loudly in the stillness as Rip splashed along in Blade’s wake.

Blade paused at an intersection, faint light streaming through from a grate above. Shadowy bands crossed his closed eyes as he scented the air. “This way,” he said, turning with unerring focus to the left. “I can smell the blood.”

The stench of the sewers killed any hints of blood that Rip could smell, but then, Blade had nearly fifty years of being a blue blood. And his virus count was much higher; dangerously high in fact. As such, his senses were almost as refined as Will’s.

“Lemme go first,” Rip said, pushing past. Old habits died hard and he’d been too long Blade’s bodyguard not to be cautious.

As he followed the tunnel, he finally caught a hint of copper. Blood. They’d tracked the trail from Meggie’s house. Someone – most likely Annie – was bleeding. Not heavily though. He could almost imagine the odd drop of crimson splashing into the murky water, diluting instantly.

At least she’d still be alive. She had to be. The Slashers needed her blood flowing through her veins to extract it properly. Blue bloods refused to drink what they called ‘stale blood’. Or deadman’s drink, in the vernacular.

“Wanted to ask you what’s goin’ on with Esme,” Blade said suddenly.

Rip’s shoulders tensed and he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

Blade sloshed past, as if his words hadn’t thrown the cat amongst the pigeons. “She’s been off-colour lately. Thought you might ‘ave some idea as to why, seein’ how close you two been. Why?” Blade glanced back. “You two ‘ad a fight?”

Rip wasn’t fooled by his master’s relaxed stance. The one thing Blade took extremely seriously was the health and happiness of those he considered under his protection.

Still… if there was one person who might know what the hell was going on, it was Blade. Rip’s experience of women was limited to sex. He let out a rough sigh and followed. “Don’t know,” he admitted. “She ain’t ‘appy with me at the moment.” The kiss suddenly sprang to mind and he was glad Blade wouldn’t see the hot flush that swept his cheeks.

“You said somethin’?” Deceptively casual.

“Nothin’ I know of.” A pause. Then, “She got it in ‘er ‘ead I meant ‘er to be me thrall. I tried to set ‘er straight but she took it wrong.”

“You don’t want that?”

“Jaysus,” Rip swore. “No. I don’t know—We’re friends. Don’t want nothin’ comin’ between that.” He swallowed hard. “You know what it’s like, the ‘unger. Don’t want to scare ‘er, to ‘urt ‘er.” Another curse under his breath. “It ain’t just the blood lust. Don’t want Esme thinkin’ I expect more. Thinkin’ she ‘as to give me ‘er flesh rights.”

“What if she wants to be your thrall?”

Rip laughed under his breath, an incredulous sound. “Aye. Just what every woman dreams of.”

“You undervalue yourself.”

“No. I don’t. Know what people see when they look at me.” A fierce giant of a man with a devilish temper when roused. He’d encouraged it.

“Course they do. That’s the problem with forgin’ a reputation in our line o’ work. Don’t know you, do they?” Blade asked. “But Esme does. Don’t insult ‘er by stickin’ ‘er with that bunch o’ fools.”

Rip splashed along, the leather of his boots damp and miserable. Why had she kissed him? Could Blade be right?

“She said anythin’?” he asked suddenly. “To you?”

“Ain’t ‘ad much time to get ‘er alone lately,” Blade replied. “Can see she’s upset though. You two actin’ like a pair o’ stray dogs, thrown in a room together.”

“We’ll work it out.” He hoped.

“Aye.” Blade paused, cocking his head to listen. “’Ear that?”

Rip stilled.

Eerie laughter suddenly echoed through the tunnels. Rip’s hand found the familiar leather hilt of his hunting knife as he waded to Blade’s side. “They know we’re ‘ere?”

“Aye.” Blade’s expression tightened. “Let’s go greet ‘em.”

There was a hole in the wall of the sewers, rubble