Soul of the Crow: An Epic Dark Fantasy (Reapers of Veltuur Book 1), стр. 30

The merriment shifts so rapidly to fear and hostility that it takes me a second to remember why I’m here.

“I was told the prince and princess came here,” I say, hoping to appease their rampant fears before anyone does anything stupid. It’s not often someone attacks a Reaper, but when they do, it’s always for one of two reasons: they’re trying to protect someone they love, or they’re inebriated, which means this establishment is a danger zone.

“Princess? We’ve got no princess ’ere. Maybe yer Crow’s broken; took ye to the wrong kingdom.”

My eyes flit to Crow, skeptical at first, but I shake the doubt from my mind. Although Crow is an obstinate pest, it has never delivered us so far off our mark that we find ourselves in the wrong kingdom. Not to mention, I felt her. Her soul called to me. She was just outside my grasp, but I knew the girl on the horse was my mark.

Besides, I’d recognize the streets of Ngal anywhere. I’ve been sent many times to this town to retrieve lives for Veltuur, so many that I think I even recognize some of the faces in this very tavern, grieving wives and enraged brothers.

“This Crow does my bidding, and I do the bidding of Veltuur, so if I have been sent to claim the life of the princess of Oakfall, then she exists. Her brother—your prince—kidnapped her and fled before I could finish. They were last seen entering this bar. So, before I lose my patience, it will behoove you all if someone just tells me where they’re hiding.”

Searching the faces of the patrons, I find nothing but silence and stubbornness. These people don’t want to help me. They think me evil. But really, it’s themselves they should hate. I’ve completed contracts for many of the people here, and if not me, then it’s likely they’ve hired another Reaper. I recognize a man in the crowd who’d requested an exterminator when a bee colony invaded his home. Another who called upon my services when their ill mother was on the last leg of her life. And that woman there—the lady playing cards at a wobbly table by the hearth—she requested a Reaper to end the suffering of one of her hens who’d been attacked by a wolf.

Mortals are hypocrites. They need us to do their dirty work because they are too afraid of becoming a Reaper themselves.

“We can do this the hard way, if that’s what you’d prefer,” I snap, crossing through the common space toward a group of seated patrons. They try scattering when they notice my focus is locked in on them, but as knees bump the table, drinks spill, and someone tumbles back in their chair, they stop moving, choosing to cower instead of run.

“Enough,” growls the barkeep, a towel working idly on a mug in his hands. “We want no trouble and ’ave no business to stop you from fulfilling yer duties. The prince went out the back about ten minutes ago.”

I nod, backing away from the group I was cornering to instead make my way to the door.

Outside once more, I send Crow ahead to search for them. While Crow searches from the air, I crouch to the earth. The prince’s clunky footing leaves a distinct trail to follow, and despite my contempt for running, I peddle my feet fast enough that I am working up a light trot. I have to remind myself that the sooner we find the prince and the princess, the sooner we can find a Guardian, and the sooner I can get on with executing the princess and becoming a Shade.

As I run, I squint from the brightness of the sun, despite the cover of the canopy. This forest is shattering and loud with light, and I’d prefer Veltuur over it any day. My eyes remain glued to the ground, carefully watching the path he left behind. Although their footprints are disorganized, I can tell they were running, and at one point, the prince even picked her up because her trail ends and his steps deepen in the moist earth.

Eventually, his pace slows.

The footprints end where a new grouping of footprints appears. Tracks circle his like a crescent moon. An ambush. It would’ve given him no way out but the way he came. Only, I already know he didn’t go back that way because there is no other trail but mine.

A shimmering red powder is peppered over the terrain, and since there are no daminila flowers nearby, it’s not difficult to guess what its purpose was in all of this.

Someone ambushed the prince and princess. Someone captured my target.

And that someone is going to have me to answer to.

I’m not an adept tracker, so with so many new footprints, it would be difficult for me to determine which way they all went, so all I can rely on now are other external clues. It’s the first time I allow my gaze to rise, searching the surrounding area for any signs of where they might’ve gone. I spy Crow hopping across the earth floor, a series of three-pronged scratches disturbing the rest of the trail from its talons. It squawks at me, cocking its head before launching into flight. Surprised by its willingness to assist, but certainly not going to make a big deal out of it, I follow.

It’s less of a flight and more of a long leap though, because almost as soon as it’s up in the air, Crow glides back down, landing on an unconscious body lying facedown in the dirt at the base of a nearby tree. The lanky body of the prince would be difficult to mistake, even in his new attire. By the delicate rise and fall of his chest, I am relieved to see he is still breathing. I can’t have him dying on me and thwarting yet another of my missions. It would be to the Wraiths with me