Chapter 2

The next morning Bohurt hustled and bustled a city that had just woken up — packed, noisy, sunlight slanting between tall buildings and vendors calling out. Through the crowd three figures, three figures stood out, Eva and Angelina with backpacks slung over their shoulders, and Daniel with nothing to carry. They joked in low voices, the kind of small laughter people make when they’re trying to be ordinary even though they are far from ordinary. Daniel didn’t sleep a wink through the short night they'd all shared; trusting has not come easily to him, he didn’t trust them enough to sleep, he still doesn’t trust them, but keep your friends close, your enemies even closer they say, and it wasn’t like Daniel was left with much of a choice. He needed an hideout, no matter how temporary it might be. They were on their way to the restaurant where Eva and Angelina worked. Daniel had insisted on coming along — partly because he didn’t want to be left alone, mainly because he didn’t trust them enough not to rat him out. The sisters warned him about the risks of going with them but he waved them all, saying he said he could handle it. After a while, two fierce looking men started tailing them, at first a shadow at the edge of Daniel’s peripheral vision, then more obvious: the way they followed every turn, the way their heads tilted when the others paused. Daniel being a creature of heightened senses had noticed them almost immediately. After roughly twenty minutes of being watched, he couldn’t take it. He dipped his chin and murmured, “We’re being followed. Go on straight ahead. I’ll find you.” He was a little glad because they didn’t argue. Eva and Angelina just broke off gracefully like the wolves that they are and melted into the crowd, and Daniel also peeled off in another direction immediately. He didn’t know if the tailing men were courtesy of the sisters or by someone else, it didn’t matter. He kept moving. The two men kept up with him openly now, making it clear they weren’t shy about their purpose. Daniel paced quickly through alleys and side streets, turned sharply into a narrow lane and vanished. For a moment confusion wrote itself cross the men’s faces — then they hurried after the corner, searching. They found only a sliver of shadow. They almost laughed at their own failure until Daniel stepped out from behind a low stair with a length of hard wood in his hands. He moved too fast for them to react properly. He swung without the slightest hesitation, and smashed the wood on both their heads. The stick cracked against skull and bone, splinters flying; the men staggered but did not crumple, as the attack had little effect on them. They recovered with animal steadiness, and one of them dusted wood shavings from his bald head as if it were an amusing interruption. “What do you want with me?” Daniel asked, voice low and hard. He tried to make the question bigger than he felt. “Oh, nothing,” the first man said easily. “Actually—” He let the word hang as if giving Daniel time to fill it. “Then why following me?” Daniel’s patience thinned. “Stop messing with me.” “How the mighty have fallen,” the man said, smile crooked. “The almighty Daniel, the man, or should I say the myth, the legend, that terrorized the shadow world.” “We don’t want anything with you,” the second man added in a tone that pretended to be casual. “But who sent us does, and I bet you know who too.” “Who?” Daniel asked. The word tasted like a trap. “Master Dranum,” the first man said. At that name, an old fear unfurled inside Daniel — a memory of cold, of chains, of a hand that taught him how to hurt. He didn’t let it show. Instead, he squared his shoulders and asked, “So?” “You’re coming with us,” the first man said, amusement curling his words. Daniel chuckled, he in fact, almost laughed,“And if I don’t?” Daniel asked, amused. “I don’t remember us saying anything about needing your consent.” The second man said, and immediately lashed out, his clenched fist flying towards Daniel’s face. Daniel moved as if pulled by muscle memory. The punch brushed past his face; he stepped to the side, seized the attacker’s arm, and twisted it backwards with a force that made the man scream. Bone broke with a sound like a twig. Daniel didn’t stop; he twisted, using the man as a battering ball, he raised the man over his head with both hands, threw him with sheer strength and sent both men crashing to the street. He stood over them breathing hard, every movement sharpened. “Tell Dranum I’m done,” he snarled. “Tell him if he crosses my path again I’ll kill him.” Then he was gone, a blur between buildings and alley. --- Back at the restaurant, Daniel sat in a corner with a glass of beer he hadn’t been sure he needed. Eva had insisted he order it; she’d waved her hand and told him, “On the house.” He stared at the foam like it was a small, fragile island. A hand slammed on the table and Eva slid into the chair opposite him. “Hey, stranger,” she said, voice half-laugh, half-worry. “Hi,” Daniel answered, the single syllable a gust of exhaustion. “Sorry I wasn’t around earlier — busy shift,” she offered. Daniel’s reply was sharp but short; she let it go. Eva watched him for a beat, then asked what everyone wants to know when the mood sours: “What’s with you? You’ve been picking at that beer for hours. Big bad vampires don’t drink lager.” “Hours?” Daniel asked, puzzled, he held the glass of beer out and he noticed that he had barely taken half of it, so he looked back up at Eva. “Hours?” Eva’s brow creased. “Yeah. My shift’s over, duh.” She rolled her eyes and then the line of her mouth softened into concern. “Those men earlier — what did they want with you?” Daniel hesitated, his mind moving towards collapse from terror and pain. Finally, he looked up and the fear in his eyes was plain. “He’s back.” “Who?” she asked. “Dranum.” The name fell into the small space between them like a stone. Daniel reached across the table and took her hands. They felt warm and steady, and his own fingers trembled enough that she could feel it. “I can’t stay with you,” he said. “I’ll put you in danger.” “You mean you’ll put us in danger,” Eva corrected, leaning over the table. “We can help you. Angelina and I — we’re stronger than you think. We’ll fight them.” “You don’t know him,” Daniel said. “You don’t know what he does. I made a terrible choice once, and because of that choice he’ll keep coming. I can’t drag you into that.” Eva rose and went around the table. She pressed his forehead to her belly. Up close, she could smell the fear from him, damp wood, a metallic tang that might have been fear or old blood. Her voice was quiet and fierce. “No matter who’s after you, I’ll stand with you. I believe you. I don’t know Dranum, not really, but I can see this frightens you. That’s enough for me.” For a moment Daniel let himself be held. It was small maybe not significant, but a human thing: a hand on a head, a steady breath in the embrace of another. When they broke apart, Eva’s face was set with a determination that made the room feel smaller and less hostile. Far away, in the crowded streets of Garayn — the oldest town with the highest rate of mythologic creatures and mystical occurrences a town that boasted more myths than most — the two men who had failed at Daniel’s tail wound their way through the press of bodies. They moved like predators in a market: deliberate, silent. At the base of a skyscraper the glamour rippled and peeled away, revealing the hollow of something older — an ancient castle sitting right in the modern city. They entered in single file. The corridors smelled of stone and oil; torches guttered in sconces though no wind breathed. At the heart of the castle a throne rose five feet from the floor, an opening set beneath it like a doorway to a cage. The men knelt in sequence, heads low. A shadow detached itself from the throne and stepped into the torchlight. He looked forty-ish, with short brown hair and a face that was too neatly colored to be kind. He floated down from his seat, robes of red and black falling around him. When he moved, the air seemed to pay attention. “Where is he?” he asked, voice casual as if inquiring about weather. “We… lost him,” one of the men stammered. Dranum circled them slowly, a small smile cutting his features. He landed behind them like a verdict. The men quivered, countless possibilities raced their minds, but they didn’t dare look back, they kept their eyes glued to the cold, hard stone floor beneath them. “After all that boasting,” he said, as if disappointed, and returned to his throne. They bowed lower, instantly, without another breath. “We’re sorry, Master Dranum,” they chanted in unison. “No offense taken, but you have seen him, and confirmed his identity?” Both men nodded positively in unison, Dranum’s smile widened to something colder. “Two days. You have him here alive in two days or the punishment will be death — slow, and precise. Do not in any way imagine that you can fail.” He ascended and sank back into his seat, the cape pooling like a shadow. The men left fast, their feet pounding the stone with the weight of new urgency. Outside, Garayn carried on, unaware that a deadline had been set and a hunt had begun.