Page 16 of A Kiss of Flame

Barith didn’t dislike shifters in general. Most were good, honest Folk who used their abilities to enhance or alter their features subtly, not entirely mimick the full appearance of another. It wasn’t easy to replicate another creature so thoroughly, especially one of such a dramatically different body size. This shifter was a little weasel, but Barith wasn’t about to underestimate him either.

Levian sighed, shooting Barith a look. His cue. He sauntered over to the shifter, letting his wings unfurl behind him. Embers flared into the darkened alleyway, flickering orange light casting shadows across the brick walls. “And if you don’t tell us what we want to know, what do you think I’ll do to ye?” he growled menacingly. He drew fire from within, letting his eyes flash with flame and smoke spill from his mouth to an intimidating effect.

The shifter cowered against the wall, his eyes wide. Barith could almost hear the other man’s mind racing, calculating whether he’d rather take on a dragon or the Eldreth. “F-Fine,” he relented quickly. His employer was a distant danger, while the dragon was a very present one. “Y-You want a name?”

“Yes,” Levian replied. “I want the name of a Curator.”

The shifter snorted. “I dunno no Curators.”

“Oh, come now,” she purred. “You’re a clever creature. Just because you shouldn’t know doesn’t mean you don’t.” The shifter’s face twisted. Levian’s voice grew sharper as she added, “And I’m tired of standing in this alley.” Barith cracked his knuckles. The shifter gulped.

“I-I dunno no names,” the creature stammered. “Swear it. There ain’t many Curators to start.”

Levian’s expression darkened, her patience wearing thin. She’d been confident the shifter would have a name. “I hope you have something better than that,” she snapped.

Barith stepped closer, and the shifter raised his hands. “Wait!” he pleaded. “I-I don’t got a name, but there’s somewhere ya might find one.”

“I suggest ye talk fast,” Barith growled. He, too, was tired of standing in the stinking alley.

“T-there’s a trade ‘appenin’—i-in two days,” the shifter stuttered, his words coming in a rush. “I ain’t the runner, but me mate is. Anytime there’s a trade, there’s always a Curator ‘round.”

Barith wasn’t well-versed in the black-market dealings of the Eldreth. He knew enough, but not the finer details, which was part of the point he’d always assumed. They didn’t like anyone knowing how the sausage was made.

Levian’s eyes narrowed. “And where might this trade be happening?”

“K-Kamár,” the shifter stuttered.

Barith frowned. The name sounded familiar but elusive. He glanced at Levian. Her eyes met his briefly, and he could tell she knew the place.

The mage stepped closer, her gaze locked on the shifter. “Anything else?” Barith growled low to add a little pressure.

The shifter grimaced, sliding further along the wall. “Wot more d’ya want?” he hissed. “I ain’t gettin’ meself killed for you two! So you can just go—” A sudden pop and blinding flash filled the alley.

Levian cursed, and Barith quickly stepped in front of her, shielding her from whatever might come next. He blinked away the stars in his eyes, his vision clouded. Levian bumped into his back, her hand bracing against him.

“I’m fine,” she snarled. “That son of a?—”

A shout of pain echoed from further down the alley. For a shifter who wasn’t in great shape, he was fast.

“Do I need to be running?” Barith asked, rubbing his eyes, trying to clear his vision.

Levian cursed again. “No!” she hissed. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Satisfied, Barith tucked his wings away and turned to face her. She was a blurry outline, but he could see the faint pink of her hair. Levian braced a hand on his arm, steadying herself as she blinked repeatedly.

“I hate those pixie flash bombs!” she shouted angrily. “They always make me feel sick.”

As his vision slowly returned, Barith glanced over his shoulder, spotting the shifter sprawled flat on his back, unconscious.

“An invisible barrier?” Barith asked.

“Yes,” Levian replied, still rubbing her eyes. “I also added a little extra bounce. It’s not my fault the idiot ran into it with such force he knocked himself out cold.”

Barith rumbled a laugh. “Clever. What is bloody Kamár?”

Levian blinked dramatically, her violet eyes still glowing softly with magick as they met his. “A private club,” she grumbled, her voice laced with irritation. “It’s nearly impossible to get into, and they change the location often. It’s run by the Eldreth.”

Barith grunted. “Can you get in?” He gently tucked a stray curl into the wrap she’d tied her hair in.