Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1)

By Laura R Cole

During the time of the Massacre the Dark King reigned, declaring himself a god and securing his leadership with fear and blood-magic. Overthrown in a bloody revolt and the knowledge of the forbidden arts lost in the book burnings of the ensuing chaos, Gelendan has risen above its gruesome history. Now, hundreds of years later, its dark past forgotten, Layna is a simple maid.

But as mysterious events begin to unfold, she comes to realize that nothing is ever as simple as it seems.

She finds herself caught up in a whirlwind of deception, romance, espionage, and secret societies that soon has her life spiraling wildly out of control. Whilst fleeing the fury of her mistress - whose rage is fueled by Layna's budding relationship with the woman's former consort - and attempting to evade detection by the priests who want to control her new-found magical talent, Layna's problems are further compounded when she discovers a strange marking on her neck. A mark that is growing darker by the day. Who or what has marked her, and for what purpose she doesn't know. But it soon becomes apparent that whatever it is, it's after her...

...and it's gaining.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura R Cole
• Release date: Nov 25, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466146198

Laura R Cole

Laura was a native Vermonter whose love of reading developed into a love of writing. When not creating her own fantasy worlds, she enjoyed losing herself in RPGs like Dragon Age, Skyrim, and KOTOR and collecting and making items to make the real world a bit more magical. She also loved to be outdoors and dabble in nature photography.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

It had been sleeping.

How long? It wondered groggily.

No answer came and it sank back to sleep.

It vaguely felt the world around it, and drank in the energies of those passing by, idly tasting as they changed generations.

But still it slumbered.

Then there was a whisper; A faint echo that tickled the back of its consciousness, stirring the being. Among the pinpricks of life-forces, one stood out; its bright blood-red aura calling to it. The presence struggled to wake, but the vestiges of sleep held tightly to it and it could only manage a dream-like half-sleep.

It tapped into its vast resources to make contact with the aura, but its movements were lethargic. If it waited until it woke enough to be able to command the power it wanted, the aura would be gone. Frustration fueled its resolve, and it managed a feeble attempt.

Elation suddenly flowed through the being. It had drifted back into sleep, but as it felt the aura come closer, its sleep was disturbed once more and it reached out hungrily.

Its thinking became clearer, and it wondered why it had slept so long.

Memories came flooding back, and the anger began. A deep rumbling growl came from within it, growing louder and louder as it remembered, shaking the very ground. It felt the fear of the life-forces around it and it reveled in the sweet taste, feeding off of the succulent emotion.

The anger was strong now, and the being used it to shake off the last remnants of sleep as it willed the places deep within it to awaken.

Its black aura seeped out and spread across the world and the presence felt as hundreds and then thousands of life-forces were extinguished, sometimes one by one and sometimes in large rushes of power.

It fed upon them all.

Its power was growing stronger. Soon it would be able to break free from the bonds that held it, free to unleash its power on the world and seek revenge on those who dared to confine it here.

Soon.

The power built up within it, surging outward like wildfire spreading across a dry field. The pressure was building. It could not be held back much longer.

And then suddenly the fire was doused, and the presence felt sleepy once more as an unseen force pushed it back deeper into its dark prison.

NO! It struggled to withstand the urge to sink back into sleep, fought off the calm that washed over it, but it was no use.

It slept once more.

Seasons passed, years came and went, and the world eventually forgot about the evil that slumbered beneath their feet. But the being didn’t forget. It may have been delayed, but it was not gone. And this time it dreamt. Dreamt of how it would escape.

And it slept.

And it dreamt.

And then there was a whisper…

CHAPTER 1

Jezebel was fuming by the time her carriage pulled through the gates of her manor. The two stone lions guarding the towering archway growled down at her menacingly, and she scowled back.

How dare he? She raged to herself. Usually she had no trouble turning her father's will into her own, but on this matter it was like trying to budge a stone wall. Infuriatingly stubborn old man. It really is too bad he's so healthy. She paused in her ranting as an interesting thought sprang to mind. Not that accidents can't always happen…

She quickly quelled the thought, however, shaking it aside. The simple fact that he was a noble and a man gave him significant power, and he was extremely well connected on top of that. It would be more trouble to have him gone than it was to change his mind. Normally he was quite nicely wrapped around her little finger.

She clenched and unclenched her fists.

Although it would be rather satisfying. The memory of him patting her shoulder condescendingly and saying, You're like the son I wish I had, but you're still just a silly woman, burned like acid in her mind. Just a silly woman indeed. Someday I will hold the power; then he'll see just how ‘silly’ I am. Until then I simply have to endure the torment of his ignorance. He does still control the family fortune, after all. She let out an audible snarl and pounded her fist into her leg. I simply must gain one of the Council seats!

The carriage jerked to a halt just then, catching her off-guard. She stormed out, and threw a berating comment over her shoulder towards the driver for his clumsiness, before stomping inside. She slammed the front door behind her, and dropped her cloak into the waiting arms of one of the servants. Without pausing, she stalked down the hallway into the library, and slammed that door as well for good measure.

She sat down heavily into an armchair and sighed.

No matter. I always get what I want; I'll just have to get the support I need elsewhere.

The thought cheered her considerably, and she reached out to take a sip of wine from the glass that stood ready for her, still chilled. A servant had made her wait for her wine once, but only once...her lips curved into a nasty smile as she allowed herself to entertain the memory for a moment.

Focusing her thoughts once again on the matter at hand, she took another sip. In doing so, she noticed a letter sitting next to the glass. From the look of the seal, it must be from Devon. Her stomach fluttered and she grabbed greedily for the note, tearing it in her haste.

My lady, it read, I am pleased to inform you that the possibility that I had mentioned has indeed become a reality. You should be seeing the results presently. Jezebel sat back slowly, a smile spreading over her thin lips. She had been humiliated, yes, but revenge would be so sweet…

*

Layna flinched as the front door slammed open, but quickly regained her composure enough to hurry forward to take her mistress's cloak. She caught it in midair with cat-like grace as it was shrugged angrily off the woman’s shoulders. She opened her mouth to ask how the visit with Jezebel’s father had gone, but the raging fire in her mistress's eyes silenced her. She deftly swept the cloak out of the way as the woman stormed past, neither uttering a word during the exchange. The footsteps echoed in the long stone hallway and ended in another crash as Jezebel closeted herself in the library to fume.

Movement caught Layna’s eye and she gave Katrina a knowing smile as her friend snuck out the side door to the library with a look of profound relief on her face at having slipped out unnoticed. No one wanted to be in Lady Jezebel’s way when she was in this type of mood. Even on her best days it was like walking on eggshells around her temper, and lately she’d had more bad days than good.

The lady’s time was consumed by her most recent project to advance her into what she felt was her rightful place, though Layna wasn’t sure exactly where she thought that was. It wasn’t enough for Jezebel that she had been born into one of the wealthiest families of the noble class and her father doted on her every whim. Apparently, her rightful place was even loftier than this exalted rank, and she spent every free moment hatching new schemes to get there. They usually involved whining to her father to get him to do something for her; whether it was giving her the money to open a lace shop – which she planned to make a fortune off, until her father stopped paying people to shop there and she realized it was actual work – or buying her way into yet another social group – until they got sick of her constant self-importance, or they had worn out their usefulness and she moved on.

The latest plan, however, had Jezebel’s favorite lackey, Devon, running around at all hours of the day and night. Layna had an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach that something even more sinister than usual was going on. The basement had been getting a lot more use as of late, and she shuddered to think what that meant. The door that led below was the one place that the servants had been forbidden to enter, and one that Layna was quite sure she never wanted to see.

Devon himself was an eerie presence, and she couldn’t help but feel filthy every time he looked at her with his hungry eyes. His leering stare and loping gait, combined with the strange noises that emerged from the basement when he went below, had led more than one servant to the conclusion that he was not fully human. Legends said that the mages before the Massacre could change their form into animals like horses, bears, and wolves. No doubt these legends were what fueled the bedtime stories meant to scare little children into behaving about creatures like werewolves who would eat the unruly child who snuck out after dark. While she didn’t really believe the stories, she could see how someone might imagine Devon as a werewolf. Though if he were really a powerful enough mage to have rediscovered the lost art of shape-shifting, Layna doubted that even the feelings that he had for the lady – which were obvious to everyone but the lady – would keep him in her service. I’d almost say he looks at her with puppy-dog eyes if he weren’t so much more like a pit-bull.

Footsteps interrupted her brooding and she looked up to see Lord Gryffon strolling down the hallway towards her. He smiled a greeting and she bowed her head to him in acknowledgement, avoiding his eyes and pressing herself against the wall to give him plenty of room to pass. A few steps past her he paused and turned back.

Her gaze was drawn upwards, seemingly of its own accord, and her heart stopped as his brown eyes met hers. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt as though the air nearly tingled between them as she waited for him to speak.

He looked undecided for a moment, his eyes searching for something. Then he gave her a quick nod and abruptly turned again, continuing on his way.

He exited out the front door, and Layna’s breathing resumed. She closed her eyes and inhaled his musky smell.

Someone cleared their throat noisily, and she opened her eyes. Katrina raised her eyebrows and shook her head slightly at her.

Layna looked away quickly, her face flushing, and she busied herself by hanging the cloak in the closet. She picked up the duster that had been abandoned upon her mistress’s abrupt arrival and continued dusting down the hall, avoiding Katrina’s gaze. Katrina gave her another pointed look when she peeked over at her, but then made her way towards the kitchen without a word.

Layna pushed open another door, revealing a massive and elaborately decorated sitting room, and she sighed inwardly. It was her mistress's formal sitting room, and consequently was never used, but it had so many places that collected dust. Resigning herself to the arduous task before her, she took a deep breath and set to work cleaning away the dirt of a never-used room.

CHAPTER 2

Jezebel would very much have liked to have skipped the evening services tonight just to spite her father. But, seeing as how he had his hand in several of her projects at the moment, she put on a happy face and attended.

The Temple of Naoham was an impressive building; tall stone columns lined the immense structure, each separated by a stained glass window that even on the darkest night seemed to glow with an unearthly light. The intricate patterns tangled around one another in a mystifying and ever-changing depiction of stories told in the scripture, the magic within them undiluted despite the passage of time.

The number three was prevalent throughout the artwork, a testament to the old ways. Many of the commoners still worshiped the Three and performed the old rites, but most of the noble class had realized the true Word was that of the Sleeping God, Nuko, who would return to them once they had achieved enlightenment and were prepared to have a god walk among them once more. Jezebel's family had been one of the first to comprehend the real meaning behind the scripture's words and had helped lead the conversion to the true religion.

It’s only to be expected that we would have been the ones to grasp the god’s true intent, she thought proudly, her gaze resting on the statue devoted to her grandfather and her family.

Jezebel knelt at the threshold and hooked her little finger on her thumb. She raised the remaining fingers to her mouth, briefly brushing them up against her lips and then touching them to her heart before standing to take her place in the row of seats. People shuffled in and Jezebel's father came to sit beside her. She nodded curtly to him and he patted her on the hand. She resisted the urge to snatch it away and took a deep breath. Patience, she told herself.

The priest strode to the dais, and a hush spread over the room. He stood below a gigantic round window at the front of the temple, his hands together in prayer. All at once, the three dragons that were depicted in the glass came to life and swirled around each other in a turbulent whirlwind. The priest could be heard intoning the homage to the Three and they circled tighter and tighter.

The priest threw up his hands and the dragons burst forth from the image, their suddenly very real wings creating a violent tornado of wind around him. He stood steadfast within its maelstrom, and then turned towards the congregation with a look of pure bliss upon his upturned face as his robes flapped wildly around him.

The three dragons merged their twisting forms together and manifested once more as the single gaping maw of the Sleeping God. Flames poured out of His mouth towards the priest, enveloping him and licking at the air around him. Several gasps could be heard and Jezebel peered around curiously to see who it was. Clearly they didn't spend much time coming to the services if they weren't accustomed to this display of the god's power. It symbolized the cleansing of the world and of the priest so that he was ready to pass on the Word. The fire died down and the shape divided, leaving the three dragons to resume their former positions within the picture which slowly dimmed to become simple glass once more.

Welcome! boomed the priest, and he launched immediately into his sermon on preparing for the awakening of the Sleeping God.

Jezebel's attention soon wandered. She didn't need a priest to tell her how to prepare for the god; she was ready for Him now.

She found it hard not to fidget, and couldn't stop her finger from tapping incessantly as the priest rambled on. Devon has been working on this project for weeks now, or is it months? I've lost track. The time to act was upon them.

She had been biding her time to work herself into a position of real power, and recently she’d learned that King Edward's untimely demise may have presented her with a unique opportunity to do just this. She had known already, of course, about his little accident: He had gone riding last week and come back dead upon his horse. It had been the hottest topic of conversation in court, with rumors circulating about the possibility of foul play. The hunting party with him claimed that they had seen nothing untoward, however, saying that he had simply collapsed in his saddle in the excitement of the chase. The healers eventually declared the cause of death a weak and overextended heart, and it was determined to be nothing more than a tragic accident. Jezebel had her own suspicions, but that was another matter.

The part that now interested her was what she had gleaned during a luncheon with her cousin the other day. Because King Edward's unfortunate passing had cut short his reign before he could fulfill his duty and produce an heir, it apparently left the Council responsible for choosing the new ruler. Consequently, the entire Council would then be subjected to a vote to renew their position or be replaced. Having all six Council seats up for grabs would greatly increase Jezebel’s chances of gaining one, and could finally put her into a position of authority that she so dearly craved. And so deserve. With her father's influence backing her, Jezebel would have been sure to be voted into one of them. But since he was being difficult and withholding that support, she would have to use…other means.

The outcome of Devon’s operation could potentially solve this little dilemma for her, and he had recently found a new contact. There had only been rumors reported so far, but if even a small portion of what the rumors contained was true...

She stole a glance at her father, and bit back a scowl. She did so hope that it proved fruitful.

*

Jonathan shivered involuntarily as a cold breeze blew over his naked body. He was conscious of the many eyes upon him, their whites stood out in stark contrast to the dark shadows cast by the hooded black cloaks that served to veil their identities. He held his arms awkwardly in an attempt to cover himself. If they were disgusted by his form, however, none made any outward sign and he drew a deep breath to steady himself.

A cloaked figure led him in a solemn procession, past the lines of eyes, towards the altar at the front of the secret temple. His own eyes widened as the figure in front of him stopped at the base, and stepped aside to lay bare the scene before them. A towering sculpture of Nuko, the Sleeping God, stood staring down at him both hands outstretched. One cupped towards him as if expecting something and the other was held palm outwards with fingers spread. Chained to the latter was a beautiful young girl as naked as he, shackled at both wrists and ankles, with a spiked collar encircling her delicate neck. Her head lolled about on the chain attached to her collar, and she watched him through confused, unfocused eyes.

He felt himself responding to her sexuality, and a blush crept up his face as he remembered his exposed state. He fought hard to control himself, and tried to put the embarrassment out of his mind. He knew what was expected of him; he had spent years working towards this advancement. After glancing at his escort who gave him an almost imperceptible nod, he started towards the girl. Even through her drug-induced haze, Jonathan could see the terror behind her eyes, but his advance never slowed. Soon, her eyes rolled back in her head. A single tear squeezed out to trace a glittering path down her cheek and eventually fall upon the floor.

When his task was completed, Jonathan stood back and his escort brought forward a cloak, draping it around Jonathan's shoulders. Jonathan took it gratefully and awaited his next instructions. The man in front of him raised his hands and the rows of people started to chant, louder and louder, until the walls of the underground temple seemed to reverberate with their sound. Then he brought his arms down again abruptly, and silence filled the air.

You now join us on the path to knowledge, my brother, and I will be the one to show you the way. The man’s voice echoed eerily in the sudden quiet. As such, you may call me 'Master'.

*

Layna stood on her tiptoes to reach the gigantic family crest of two mean-looking serpents wound around a cross that hung above the fireplace in the sitting room. One of them hissed and took a bite at her hand, but she was too fast for it. She gave it a quick rap on its head with her duster before it could sink its teeth into her flesh.

It sneezed indignantly and glared at her before once more taking its place in the pattern. Layna shook her head, amused. Magic was wonderful, but she wasn't sure she saw the point of giving inanimate objects attitude. Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately – that particular brand of magic had been lost to the ages. It heightened the value of the manor to have such a remarkable display of talent still functioning. Jezebel never missed an opportunity to point this out to her house-guests – or anyone else who would listen.

Layna climbed down off the ladder and surveyed her handiwork. She didn’t see anywhere else that had collected dust, so she gathered her things to leave. As she made her way out, she stuck her tongue out at the snake that had reanimated to watch her go. It hissed at her once more and she opened the door, laughing.

As she stepped into the hallway, her laughter was cut short as she collided with a hard shape there. She hastened to right herself, mumbling a frightened apology as she glanced up to see who she had stumbled against. To her horror, it was Devon. To make matters worse, he was roughly leading another man whose hands were tied behind his back. He arched an eyebrow at her as if daring her to comment.

The man he was leading was handsome underneath a blackened eye and split lip, but Layna knew better than to look further. She glued her eyes to the floor and hurried off. Servants who saw too much in these hallways tended to find themselves in trouble – or missing. Lady Jezebel did not tolerate any invasion of her privacy.

Layna heard the men behind her resume their journey, a muffled groan and a trip forward told her the man was again being shoved along, and Layna quickened her pace. She quietly slipped into the kitchen where she let out a sigh of relief.

Whatcha sneakin' from? a voice by the fire asked.

Layna yelped and swung around, searching for the owner of the voice.

She scanned the room, and her gaze landed on Lord Gryffon, who was sitting next to the fireplace. Her stomach fluttered and a weak, Oh, escaped her before she could bite it back.

He was halfway through a dinner roll, which he took another bite of, and his eyes raked over her as he chewed. He smiled at her, sending a thrill up her spine, and swallowed before saying, Sorry, didn't realize you were so jumpy.

Oh no, I - she started, pointing towards the door, but he cut her off.

No need to explain, he said holding up his hands to stave off her explanation, That was the lovely Devon I caught a whiff of out there wasn’t it?

She simply nodded mutely at first, but then remembered her manners, Yes, sir.

He makes me jumpy too, he told her in a conspiratorial tone, And please don’t call me ‘sir’, it sounds so stuffy.

Yes, si...my lord, she answered politely.

Gryffon sighed dramatically, and playfully rolled his eyes. He got to his feet and came to stand next to her by the table. He stood a full head above her, a thin stubble lining his strong jaw. Please, he beseeched, holding out a hand, Just 'Gryffon'. She tentatively took the outstretched hand, and her stomach did another flip flop as its warmth nearly enveloped her cold fingers. He shook it twice before releasing her, a smile playing on his lips. You’re Layna, aren’t you?

She nodded again, this time her voice nearly escaping her entirely. Y-yes, she finally managed to stammer out, I came here a few months ago from the country, and Lady Jezebel was kind enough to hire me despite my lack of experience in noble households.

Gryffon surprised her by snorting. Did you just put the word ‘kind’ in the same sentence as ‘Jezebel’? he asked her incredulously. Then he laughed.

Layna froze and stared at him, disturbed despite the warm feeling that his laughter spread through her. She could get in a lot of trouble if anyone heard her in a conversation like this, and her eyes darted to the door of their own volition.

He seemed to pick up on her discomfort and he cleared his throat to continue. I’ve been meaning to stop and introduce myself to you, but it never felt like the right time. From what I’ve seen, you seem quite competent at everything, despite her outrageous demands.

Layna could feel her face getting hot at the compliment and she quickly steered the conversation away from her, Forgive me for asking, sir, but aren’t you here as her consort? She winced at her own audacity but couldn’t help herself. The question had been weighing on her mind, and with him talking about Jezebel like he was…she had to know. It was met only with another laugh. Layna looked quizzically at him.

Hmph, he snorted, ensnared and kept against my will is more like it, but I suppose that's the story she's spreading. But that's a tale for another time. How are you liking the big city?

Layna was still distracted by his admission that he wasn’t Lady Jezebel’s consort, and surprised herself by answering truthfully instead of reciting her carefully planned out speech. It’s a little overwhelming, she replied, I’ve never seen so many people in one place before, not even at the markets. It’s strange to walk down the street and not see even one face I recognize.

I know what you mean, he sympathized, perhaps I’ll have to give you the tour some time, I’ve managed to make myself known to quite a few of them. He gave her a wink.

Layna shifted uncomfortably. As much as she dearly wished she could, she couldn’t forget that he was still a noble, no matter how disarming his mannerisms were. And even if he didn’t like Jezebel, she certainly liked him. Layna did not want to be between the lady and something she wanted.

Um, I'm sorry sir, but I really must be getting back to my chores. It really was a pleasure to meet you.

She hurried off before he could reply, and slipped into one of the many passageways that snaked around the manor, making her way back to her own tiny room. Once there, she let out a real sigh of relief and collapsed on the bed. She gave herself the luxury of completely clearing her mind for a few minutes before she worked up the energy to sit up and start unlacing her dress.

As she slipped out of the heavy material and into a lighter night dress, she felt her tiredness from the day dissipating, and her mind began to wander. Absently, she wondered why Devon had been dragging that poor man down the hall. It couldn't be good news, Layna was sure of that, but she had no idea what Jezebel would want with someone who looked as though they had just gotten out of a bar fight. Layna had the sinking feeling that something bad was happening with the man even now, but felt helpless to stop it. She sighed guiltily. There was simply nothing that she could do. Usually Devon kept his dirty work away from the manor, and that was the way Layna liked it.

Someone rapped on the door, interrupting her brooding. She padded over to open it a crack and she peeked out. A thin ray of light shone into the hallway and illuminated the figure standing there. Katrina gave her a smile and a quick wave, and Layna smiled back, opening the door wider for her to enter.

That was a close one today, huh? Layna commented as her friend slipped inside and plopped onto the bed, indicating the close call with the Jezebel’s rage earlier.

Ugh, Katrina groaned, Imagine if I hadn’t gotten the wine there in time, or – gods forbid – I was still in the room and she had to be in the presence of someone so far beneath her? Katrina shuddered theatrically and then rolled her eyes. I swear, sometimes I wonder why I’m still here, she paused, and then held up a finger. Oh yes, she said emphatically, as if really just remembering, it’s better than living on the streets. She winked.

Layna simply gave her a sympathetic smile. Katrina’s parents had died of a sickness when she was young, and Katrina had actually spent a fair portion of her childhood on her own. While she joked about it now, she had opened up and confessed to Layna not long ago how rough it had really been. Layna admired her courage; her own life, which until coming here had seemed full of problems, now seemed like a fairy tale in comparison.

Katrina hit her with the pillow playfully. Now, why you’re here I still don’t understand. Why put up with the evil lady when you could go home to the country?

Layna picked at a feather that was poking out through a loose seam. Then she gave Katrina an impish grin. But then who would you talk about all your crushes with? Katrina threw the other pillow at her, and Layna laughed and tossed them both back. So, did you talk to him today?

Katrina groaned and put both of the pillows over her head. In a muffled voice she complained, I tried to, but he makes me so nervous! She stuck her head out from underneath the fluff, looking very pathetic. Why can’t I make my mouth move when he’s near me?

Layna patted her on the head. It happens to the best of us.

Katrina narrowed her eyes and sat up. Speaking of which, you’ve been losing your tongue and all other mental capacities in the presence of one Lord Gryffon lately. His complete deliciousness aside, need I remind you that he is off limits? Dangerously off-limits. Jezebel-will-eat-you-alive limits. I don’t know how it is in the country, but in the city, the nobles are not to be messed with. I say this ‘cause I love you. Look, but no touch.

Layna waved it off. Got it, drool all I want but remember I’m still just the one that needs to clean it up afterwards.

Katrina continued to give her a look, turning her head so that one bugged-out eye was looking straight at her, and then raising an eyebrow.

Alright already stop it. And get outta here, I have to get to bed. Layna shooed her out. Oh, and tomorrow say something to him. Try ‘hello’. Start small, work yourself up to an actual sentence.

Ha ha, Katrina laughed, standing from the edge of Layna’s bed where she had perched herself and skipping to the door. She opened it, but turned back halfway through, Don’t forget what I said. She pointed with two fingers to her eyes and then pointed to Layna. Layna blew a kiss at her. Katrina fake caught it and smiled, shutting the door behind herself.

Gryffon has a gorgeous smile, Layna found herself thinking as she stared at the door. And though she mentally scolded herself for the thought, it was, after all, her own room and her own head. It wouldn't hurt just to remember...

*

Jezebel wiped a spot of blood off of her hand and smiled sweetly at the man before her. "I am most pleased by this interesting piece of information. I do so thank you for sharing it with me," she mocked as she caressed his bloodied face. He was almost unrecognizable as the handsome man that Devon had brought to her. She hooked a finger under his chin and tipped it upwards so that he was forced to look at her. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut already cringed at the contact, and he jerked his head away in disgust, spitting blood on the ground in front of her. With amused contempt, she watched the spittle make a dark puddle on the floor, and then crushed it into the dirt with the toe of her shoe.

She stood over the man for a long moment before turning to Devon. "See if you can't persuade him to tell