The Sleeper and the Silverblood
The Risks of Attention

The sensation shocked Kitara into stillness while she debated her next move. With Scarlet beside her, disappearing would raise questions. But if she didn’t do something, she might end up dead. Bracing for an altercation, she touched two fingers to her trigger sheath, thanking her lucky stars once again for the cold snap.

Scarlet frowned in the direction of the door.

Two angels—one golden-haired, one raven-haired—stood in the entryway. They stood out in all the wrong ways—Storm’s cream sweater over his jeans screamed “angel.”

“What are they doing here?” Scarlet asked.

Kitara wondered the same. “They’re either incredibly naive or incredibly stupid,” she said, trying to curb her panic as the silverblood’s eyes found her in the dim establishment. Her heart clawed its way into her throat as his gaze flickered away without a hint of recognition.

Storm’s blond friend shifted uneasily as he assessed the atmosphere. Kitara saw him identify the exits, note the number of people, and trace his eyes over one of two exfiltration routes she herself had marked through the crowd. His reflexive scrutiny of the space suggested Guardian training, which led Kitara to conclude this must be Captain Declan Seanste. But why the hell had Storm brought him out here? Was he trying to get them all killed? Kitara assumed he’d backed off, not proceeded to plan something like this.

The Valëtyrians discomfited the other bar patrons, so the Cosmos bartender served them quickly in an effort to distance them from his other customers.

“Why would the bouncer let them in?” Kitara asked.

“Angels wander in from time to time,” Scarlet told her, waving a hand. “Money is money, blood is blood. Maybe someone is looking for a hit, and they were dumb enough to come in.”

Stars, I might have to watch them die without a word.

“I’m not keen on hanging around angels,” Kitara muttered.

Scarlet stood. “I’ll go see what’s up.”

“Wait—”

The vampiress ignored her and sauntered in the angels’ direction. The ghost of a smile played over Declan’s face when Scarlet leaned into his personal space. Storm’s gaze, sharp and cold, flickered occasionally in Kitara’s direction.

The Sleeper surveyed the bar, attempting indifference. A waitress stopped to ask if she wanted another drink. Kitara looked over as Scarlet smiled coyly at Storm’s friend, then nodded to the waitress, who returned with a lowball of her preferred whiskey.

As Kitara palmed her purifier into her glass, she watched the crowd and swore silently.

What was the silverblood thinking, bringing someone else out here?

Kitara had all but finished the second drink before Scarlet returned.

“Cute, but way too innocent for me,” the vampiress quipped, winking. “I told them to look me up if either of them Falls.”

Kitara rolled her eyes. “You’re proving my ‘you flirt with everyone’ theory.”

Scarlet laughed. “They’re harmless. The dark-haired one looks like he’s never been outside the AIDO before.”

Not entirely inaccurate.

Kitara shook her head. “Still. I’m not interested in sticking around.”

Scarlet shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m itching to try hunting again anyway—fuck paying a bartender to microwave a glass of the good stuff. Still, I’d rather do that somewhere they’re…not.”

“Good plan.” Kitara threw back the rest of her drink and left the bar with Scarlet close behind, careful to keep her face turned away from the two angels.

They weren’t the only ones unsettled by the angels’ presence; multiple Ostragonians hurriedly paid and disappeared to the staff’s displeasure.

Once Scarlet headed the opposite direction, Kitara weaved through the side streets of the dark strip, watching for signs of a tail. After confirming she wasn’t followed, she silenced her aura and waited.

A safer ability inherited from her father, for short stretches, Kitara could mask her aura. While she existed physically and could still be touched, her visual presence went undetected by eyes, cameras, and other immortal minds. Still, she kept the trait to herself, if only to avoid reminding the High Council they knew about her father even if they didn’t know his name, and to protect those like Devika who knew nothing at all.

She didn’t wait long: unsurprised when the staff unceremoniously escorted Storm and his friend from the bar shortly after. The bartender wouldn’t risk his patronage for a couple of angels, and no one wanted the AIDO sending their military to wipe out an establishment that allowed their angels to be drained inside. On the streets? Sure. But no owner who cared even a whit about their dark establishment would condone it.

After exchanging insults with the bouncer, the pair headed down the street. Kitara followed, her aura still silenced, and fumed over what to say to them once they’d vacated the dark strip.

Snippets of their conversation floated back to her as she tailed them.

“…you said you needed to take care of some business outside the AIDO, I didn’t think you meant the dark strip,” the Guardian complained.

“I tried to tell you not to come.”

“What the hell could you possibly need in the dark strip?”

“I can’t tell you that, Declan.”

Captain Declan Seanste, confirmed.

“And now we’re going back to the AIDO?”

“Not yet, but I think I got what I needed.”

Declan sounded confused. “Which was?”

“The right person’s attention.”

Anger spiked in Kitara’s veins. This stunt was to get her attention? Oh, he had her attention all right, and she’d make sure he knew it as soon as they were clear of the dark strip.

“So if we’re not going back to the AIDO, then…?”

“You ask too many questions.”

Movement in her peripheral drew Kitara’s attention. A dozen shadowy figures followed the pair of angels.

Goddammit.

Kitara noticed Declan casting a wary glance behind him.

At least he wasn’t a complete idiot.

They’d fallen silent, likely mindspeaking now that they had a tail. Declan shepherded Storm into an alley Kitara knew led nowhere. It didn’t matter; their only objective was to take flight.

With a flash of bright white wings, they launched into the air.

The demon pack pursued.

Kitara cursed and followed on her own golden wings. Demons made up the few truly terrifying monsters throughout the realms. Their leathery hides ranged from a sickly-greenish gray to the darkest black. Straggly hair covered horned scalps, sometimes more than one. Slavering jaws exposed fangs. Dull, amber eyes hunted for prey. They were disfigured, deformed creatures and the only thing Ostragarn could breed, comprising most of the fodder for their military.

The angels didn’t make it a kilometer before the demons caught up.

Declan spun, gripping a firearm. A crackling explosion echoed through the air. Storm’s broadsword materialized in his hand, startling Kitara. She had never seen a weapon that could be summoned before. The demons forced them to the ground, screeching in discordant harmony. Declan killed one with a single shot, and Storm decapitated two others. But there were too many, and the angels were dangerously outnumbered. Draining Valëtyrians on the streets was more anonymous than at a bar, and someone clearly wanted a hit.

A sparking surge of power erupted from Storm’s fingers—but it didn’t originate from his sword. The electricity in his hands charred two more monsters.

Kitara blinked.

He has power.

One hit Storm over the head from behind. Declan groaned, and Kitara spun at the sound. A demon whipped a wicked-looking blade free of the Guardian’s ribs.

Shit.

Silently and invisibly, Kitara entered the fray, triggering her blades into her hands. She narrowly missed being fried herself when Storm whirled, desperate to nuke the demon who stabbed Declan. It wasn’t a kill strike: the wound aimed to disable, to make the angel easier to haul off somewhere to be drained slowly and maybe even kept as a long-term pet.

The Guardian wore body armor, but the weapon had slipped neatly between the plates protecting his chest and stomach. Kitara punched a blade into one demon, then another. Declan dropped to one knee.

Shit shit shit shit.

Storm grappled with another, finally shoving his broadsword through the thing’s stomach and ripping it open from belly to brain. Kitara dispatched two more. Around them, accumulating sludge turned the winter-deadened ground into a swampy field, and the stench of rotting flesh saturated the air.

Preoccupied with the onslaught, the silverblood didn’t notice the numbers dwindling faster than he killed them. Two left. One monster he charred, the other he fended off with his sword as it snapped viciously, scrabbling against the blade.

Kitara released her aura and knelt at Declan’s side.

“Fucking stars,” he swore, struggling to swing his gun toward her.

She grasped his wrist before he could shoot her, forcing him to drop the weapon. Searing pain ripped through her skull. “Stars—fuck! Damn it, Declan, I’m on your team!” She fell back and when she released his arm, the sensation stopped.

“Who the fuck are you? How do you know my name?”

Kitara rubbed her aching head. “That doesn’t matter. Stars, Captain, that’s a hell of a defense.” She noted Storm dispatching the last demon, then refocused on Declan. “How bad is it?”

The Guardian groaned. “Worse by the minute. Cold.”

“A paralytic. Goddammit…”

Storm hunched over panting as the remaining demon bodies melted into sludge. He finally turned toward them, less surprised by her presence than Kitara expected. “I had it under control!” he snarled, eyes blazing.

“Sure.” Her headache exacerbated her tone of contempt. “If that’s ‘under control,’ I’d hate to see your ‘out of control.’”

“I just needed another minute or two—”

“What, so your friend could get stabbed again in the meantime? Your ego is showing.”

“What the hell is going on?” Declan murmured, struggling to sit up.

“We need to get him out of here,” Kitara told Storm. “They’ve used a paralytic. He needs a Healer.”

“I’m a Healer,” Storm replied sharply. “I can take care of him.”

“Not out here you can’t.” Kitara wouldn’t put it past him to lie about being a Healer to avoid admitting he needed help. “There might be others. We’re not even a kilometer from the dark strip.”

“I can’t get him back to the AIDO like this…we’ll have to risk it—” Storm ran one bloody hand through his hair, leaving streaks of silver from a gash near his temple.

“My place is closer,” Kitara said, daring him to confess he was a liar. “A few kilometers. You have a head wound. Can you manage him that far?”

Storm hesitated, torn between disdain for the Sleeper and concern for his friend.

“Now or never, Storm,” she snapped.

“Now would be better.” Declan coughed and spat blood onto the ground.

“Okay,” Storm relented. “Okay, let’s go.”

That surprised Kitara, but she nodded and sheathed her knives, beckoning him to help Declan and follow.

The Guardian groaned. “I can’t feel my legs now.”

“The paralytic is fast,” Kitara said. “We need to stop it before it spreads further. It’ll stop your breathing if it goes too far.” That last bit she added for Storm’s benefit: not because it wasn’t true, but to stress how urgently the injury needed treatment.

“Let’s get to it then, because I like breathing,” Declan muttered, coughing again.

Kitara nodded, watching as Storm pulled the Guardian’s arm around his neck so Declan could lean on him. The silverblood met Kitara’s gaze with a defiant expression.

Would he risk his friend’s life to save face?

Storm jerked his chin in Kitara’s direction. “Lead the way.”

I guess we’re about to find out.

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