Taint (Formerly Claimed) Dark Midnight 1

Chapter 44

Only four chapters left after this!  (I think)

Chapter 44

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Eliot moved easily through the streets of Wafter’s Point on foot, following a blazing trail.  It was like the person he was after hadn’t even bothered to cover their tracks. 

It was almost too easy to track them down to a run-down warehouse near the base of a river that cut through the back of the town.  There, a figure, clothed in shadow, was already waiting for him. 

“It’s about time you showed up.”  The figure took a step forward and pulled back a dark hood to reveal tussled brown hair and bright green eyes.  “I was almost worried that I had made I had overestimated you.”

Eliot’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his distance.  “What do you want, shadowhunter?”

The figure looked no older than seventeen or eighteen and had a lanky, wiry build.  But there was no mistaking what he was. 

Only a shadowhunter could be stupid enough to look him dead in the eye and not so much as flinch. 

“I’m guessing that you’ve been the one leaving all those ‘presents’ around town for us," he added with a cold smile that revealed his fangs. 

The shadowhunter grinned as well.   “Leftovers from a raid on a den of rouges a few towns over," he said offhandedly.  "Just give us what the witch stole, and we’ll be on our way.”

At the sound of ‘we’ two other figures disentangled themselves from the shadows to flank him on either side.  One was a girl with gleaming pale blond hair—probably the hunter Sage had caught sight of in the woods.  The other, judging from the smell of him, was most likely their  werewolf. 

“Shadowhunters don’t usually pal around with your kind, mutt.”  Eliot glared into the beast's silver eyes, allowing centuries worth of violence to pool in his gaze.  "You've certainly been making a name for yourself around here."

The lead boy shrugged while the werewolf took an uneasy step back.  “Arnuald here tends to get a little sloppy when he turns, but he’s pretty helpful to have when you’re dealing with vamps.  We were just following the girl—we didn’t mean to scare her,” he added, explaining Miriam's werewolf sighting.  “We thought you were going to hurt her.  After all, why else would a vampire be hanging around a mortal other than to feed?”

 Eliot ignored the question.  “Stay away from her,” he growled, fingers clenching into fists.

The blond shook out her hair fixing him with her own piercing emerald stare. 

“Just give us what the stupid prophecy and we’ll leave,” she snarled.  “And maybe then we can get a real mission to go after instead of some wild goosechase for some piece of shit riddle that no one believes—”

“Al,” the boy warned.  His eyes cut meaningfully to Eliot.  “Look vampire, all we want is the witch and what she stole.  It wasn’t even that important—just some old artifact being taken to an exhibition for the witches about old magic.  It was guarded by minimal security; all they had was one shadowhunter, just in case of any rouges looking for an easy mark.”

“Yeah,” the werewolf grumbled, speaking up for once.  “And your witch fried him to bits.”

Sounds like Alazzdria, Eliot thought with a nod. 

She had always been fond of dirty tricks. 

“Just hand the witch over for judgment, and we’ll go," the boy said with a shrug.  "Even though you’re pretty notorious yourself.”