Unhallowed (Rath and Rune #1) - Jordan L. Hawk Page 0,19
could call out to for help. No such friendly strangers appeared, but he spotted a narrow lane between two houses—an unused carriageway perhaps. If he could duck down it, maybe he’d find somewhere to hide.
Sebastian rushed into the lane—and ran full tilt into an unyielding body.
Ves stared down at Sebastian Rath in shock. He’d stepped out into the lane for just a moment, hoping to get a breath of air without having to socialize with his fellow boarders, who had collected on the back porch for a game of cards. He’d barely taken two steps before Mr. Rath plowed into him at a full run.
The collision didn’t so much as rock Ves on his heels, but Rath bounced off Ves’s chest and fell to the ground. “No!” he cried out, flinging one hand up as if to ward him off. Then he blinked, hazel eyes wide behind his spectacles. “Mr. Rune?”
Something had frightened the man, that was clear enough. “What’s wrong?” Ves asked.
“Two men—following me—”
Ves stepped past Rath and onto the side walk, just as the men in question reached the lane. They both seemed slightly out of breath, and one hung onto his crusher hat to keep it from blowing off his head. Both pulled up suddenly at the sight of Ves’s imposing figure.
“Can I be of assistance, gentlemen?” Ves asked, folding his arms over his chest. Though he wasn’t especially tall, Ves knew his build usually caused people to hesitate before crossing him.
“You see a man run through there?” the one with the hat demanded, pointing at the lane.
Ves arched a brow and hoped Rath had the sense to stay back out of sight. “A man? You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
The other glowered, no doubt realizing Ves was deliberately playing the fool. “Glasses, blue vest. Looks bent, if you take my meaning.”
“I haven’t seen him,” Ves said.
It was an obvious lie, but delivered with such conviction the men hesitated. Now they had to make a decision: either pretend to believe Ves and depart, or start in with the threats. The skin along either side of his spine rippled, his vision expanded, and he silently prayed to gods he no longer worshipped that they were wise enough to leave.
A burst of laughter sounded from the card players. The realization that Ves could call for help seemed to decide them. Both men glared at him, but turned and slunk back the way they’d come. Ves watched them until they turned the corner.
“Thank you,” Rath said shakily. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Rath was right. In fact, it had been incredibly stupid of Ves to get involved. If the men had decided to escalate the confrontation—if they’d brought out a weapon and attacked Ves—
Well. It would have quickly become obvious that he wasn’t nearly as human as he pretended to be.
Then he would have been the one on the run. Not that he doubted his ability to get away, but then he would never be able to show his face in Widdershins again. He couldn’t do Fagerlie the favor he’d promised, and his one chance at lifting the curse would be gone.
Bad enough he might have ruined his own life, but he would have destroyed Noct’s too. He’d been a fool. An idiot. He should have left Rath to whatever mess he’d gotten himself into.
But it was hard to truly regret his actions with Rath looking at him with something akin to admiration. Nothing bad had happened; so as long as he was more careful from here on out, there was no harm done.
Ves shrugged uncomfortably. “They looked as though they meant to give you a beating.” He paused. “A sentiment you’re likely used to inspiring in others.”
Rath gaped at him for a moment—then laughed. “To be honest, I’m normally a very nice fellow.”
“So the problem is with my face in particular?”
“I…no.” Rath took off his spectacles and rubbed his hand over his eyes. Then he put them back on and looked down at Ves with a wry expression. “It’s a very nice face, actually.”
Ves’s heartbeat sped up again, albeit for a very different reason than before. Rath’s cheeks were flushed from the chase, his hair disheveled. He might look similar if passion had quickened his breath rather than fear.
Ves shoved the thought away roughly. “Then why the less than warm welcome? The note you left on my desk?”
He regretted the words as soon as they were out. He wasn’t here to make friends.