The gods and demons of the ancient world were never myths but twisted from a very real past...and they are still living among us. When Kaja Landauer is violently killed she finds herself immersed in the world of the Avati, a race of ancient and inde...
Ezra returned to the alley behind the bar. He knelt at the spot where she slowly bled to death and ran his fingers through a small pool of blood. Her scent was strong, fragrant and charged with electricity. Different odours lingered underneath hers, less potent— a deep organic musk just barely detectable. There were scuff marks on the pavement, maybe from her or perhaps from the men. He couldn't be sure. The dumpster had been thrust against the wall from where they had pinned her. The knife had slid effortlessly between her ribs as if the thick bone and cartilage offered only the suggestion of protection.
Ezra hadn't seen much. Leif had run into the fray from the first muffled scream. Leif never knew when to keep to himself. Getting involved in people's lives and problems never ended well. It took four seconds before he had steadily followed after Leif, giving him only a glimpse of the men. He hadn't been interested, not at first.
The girl had surprised him, staring at him as if she was daring him to look away... and the way she smiled at him while she bled out. Ezra shook his head, none of that mattered. It was what she said that gripped him— those last words, garbled, almost unintelligible and ancient. Very ancient. How did she know?
Ezra grunted to himself and walked further into the darkened alley. He walked for over an hour, the trail leading to an ordinary, unassuming house. The porch glistened with rain, reflecting the street lights. He didn't hesitate, walking through the front door as if he owned the place. No one heard the door creak or close quietly. He found the man asleep. He was naked from the waist up and one foot dangled near the edge of the bed.
The room was cluttered, dark and typical of this world obsessed with pointless minutiae that people can't live without, self-obsessed and bored children. People had become as useless as their toys. Ezra walked over to the bed and stared down at the man, his chest rising and falling in a deep, soft rhythm. Watching him made Ezra feel quiet and peaceful. It had been a long time since he'd watched someone sleep.
The man only had time to open his eyes. Ezra's hand clamped over his mouth and pinched his nose closed before he had a chance to take a breath. The man struggled and scratched at his hands for a while, trying to buck him off. Ezra watched him struggle for a while then released slightly. Wide-eyed, he stopped fighting instantly.
"Where's your friend?" Ezra asked quietly.
The man blinked up at him. Ezra squeezed harder, stopping just shy of crushing the man's face, then released again.
The man shook and tried to pull away. "What... Who?"
Ezra sighed and looked out the window at the rain. "This could have gone differently."
He'd allowed the man the opportunity to save himself. He never used to offer chances.
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Despite the lateness of the hour, everything was exactly as it had been the previous day. I could almost have imagined it had been a delightfully bizarre dream.... if it hadn't been for the sharp pain that poked at my ribcage.
