FOREVER KNIGHTS: #6 Malevolent Attentions
DERAGAN - Worthington Up to Something

WorthinMeadowbrook, Grier Country

DERAGAN

Deragan stuck close to Worthington Estate. Haunting the borders had become part of his daily ritual. It hadn’t taken long to stumble across a hairless, black-skinned rat. A Noni.

Managing to evade its orange-red eyes, he went down the drive to climb a tree. Avoiding its view.

Ronald Turner, Red, as Deragan liked to think of him, pulled up the drive. Rushing up the steps, tapping a missive against his thigh as he yelled for Worthington.

Though unable to hear their discussion, Deragan’s sharp eyes managed to catch Nora’s name on Red’s lips as Worthington appeared in the door.

Keep her name out of your mouth! Deragan’s lip curled. A snarl rumbled from his throat.

Evil is all over them. A foul taste in his mouth.

Worthington called over his shoulder for his driver.

They’re both tainted. Deragan’s stomach coiled.

Red returned to the Turner carriage.

Worthington climbed into his white one. Jostling wheels spit gravel in the circle, taking the tree-bordered drive and unwittingly passing below Deragan’s perch.

Where are you off to now? Deragan dropped from his tree. Landing in a crouch. Shifting into a wolf, he leapt into motion. Clawed feet tearing clods of mud and rocks.

Oblivious to the wolf weaving through the needle trees parallel to the carriage, Worthington spoke to his driver.

Easily keeping pace with the vehicle, Deragan’s eyes glowed blue as he passed through shadows, leaping trunks. Back and shoulders cracking low-hanging branches as he past so fast the leaves barely moved.

Seeing Worthington’s face through the carriage window, Deragan envisioned that hopeless look on Nora’s as she’d cried in the woods. Tempted to leap through the flimsy glass and snap his jaws around Worthington’s face, Deragan’s conscience demanded he not kill Worthington until necessary. Despite Deragan’s deepest longings.

How many times have I cautioned my knights not to kill for the sake of killing? For the sake of vengeance.

Especially since my attempt ended so badly…The Great Battle.

The loss of Raese and Chavias. My fault…Never again.

Town of Meadowbrook, Grier Count

Worthington’s carriage stopped in-front of the cluster of shops.

Please don’t be around. Deragan willed her. Wherever she was.

Phalanx Forest, Warwood, and Gunnison Forest, flanked the town on three sides. Giving Deragan easy access to shadows. Straightening his spine, he tilted up on back canine legs and peered between branches.

The road is barren.

Thank God. He turned human as he stepped from trees to cobbles. Black boots forming over his feet as claws shrunk and retracted. Followed by pants vining up his body as his leg protruded from the brush. A leather overcoat enfolded his shoulders, oozing over his arms in coiling wisps. Rolling his shoulders, he tossed his neck. Making it pop as his spine realigned.

A small choked sound made him look behind him. Shit.

Where did he come from?

The little boy must’ve just rounded the corner. His little wooden cart was stopped. Braced by little feet. Hands slack on the front and jaw dangling.

Offering him a pained smile, Deragan waved awkwardly.

Blinking rapidly the child didn’t budge.

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