491- The Smell of Vengeance
POV Thalyndra Moonclaw:
I couldn't let fear corrupt me forever. If it wasn't good. If I wasn't good, I'd say I wasn't ready yet and never do it again.
"Alright," I confirmed, receiving a sincere little squeal of happiness from Aurelka.
I didn't want to be alone anymore or spend my days trying to find something to do, bored. If that would help me, then I would do it.
"But… I have some personal commitments, I can't stay the whole day."
"Like?" Myrion asked.
"Reading my books and training. With the Merchants, I can't afford to go without practice; I need to always be prepared for when they approach."
Anton stared at me through his lashes.
"I can help you with training…" he murmured, the words dancing on his lips, full of mischief.
All my blood heated up. I stiffened in my chair and averted my gaze to my plate, trying to concentrate on my meal and not on the memories he had dragged me into.
"So she can finish you off?" Aurelka taunted.
"Oh, definitely. Last time, she really finished me off," he replied.
Myrion choked on his own saliva. He pounded his chest, trying to contain his coughing fit. Aurelka stared at her brother with a furrowed brow, sensing something wrong without being able to understand what it was. While I just wanted to die. Or kill Anton. Either one would work.
I cleared my throat.
"What time can I go?" I changed the subject, stirring the eggs on my plate with the tip of my fork.
She pressed her lips together, thoughtful.
"We can go after breakfast, what do you think?"
"Perfect," I confirmed.
I smelled Vladren before he even entered the house. As the days passed, living with them, I had learned to distinguish each one's scent. Humans had very similar smells; it wasn't as unique as the lupines'.
"I have news for you," he announced, leaning over the edge of the table and grabbing an apple from the basket in the center. He took a bite, groaning. "This is really good."
Myrion leaned back.
"Considering you're not looking for our father and the news is for us, it can only be related to the Merchants."
Vladren pointed the hand holding the apple in his direction.
"Bingo!" Myrion sighed.
"Something that's going to save the hotel from catching fire?"
"Absolutely."
"Then I don't know if that's such good news—I already had the match and gasoline in hand, ready for my big festival."
He sat down in the chair Edric usually occupied and took another bite of the apple, making a face of false condescension.
"I'm sorry to disrupt your plans, Eldoria pup, but the fire will have to wait for another occasion."
"What's the password?" Anton interjected.
"Why do you think it's the password?" Vladren countered.
"Because that's the only thing that would stop Myrion from setting the hotel on fire. You know we're going in anyway, whether by good means or bad."
Vladren made a gesture with his hand and placed his elbow on the table.
"Alright!" He made a sign of redemption. "After much searching in the city and getting involved with all kinds of people looking for answers, owing favors I'll never be asked to repay because no one will have the courage to do so, I finally found a smuggler who's going to the auction." He brushed an invisible speck of dust off his right shoulder. "At first, he wasn't very… cooperative, but in the end, he gave in."
"I can only imagine what… means were necessary to make him understand he had no choice but to tell the truth." Myrion laughed and his blue eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Anyway, he ended up telling me the entry password."
"Did you kill him?" Anton questioned.
"For safety," Vladren confirmed. "He could get to the location and tell them about my interest—a Tharnak wolf at the auction. I couldn't take that risk."
Anton nodded.
"You did well—none of those smugglers who deal with the Merchants are trustworthy. Fear or no fear."
"The password is Lupus Noctis. Don't say anything else when you knock on the door and are greeted by someone."
I let out a bitter laugh. Lupus Noctis. It sounded so obvious, yet not quite. It was a Latin expression meaning "wolf of the night." I had heard of it before; it was always mentioned in books that depicted our origin.
"Too bad we can't say the password and already start ripping off heads—that would be so much more fun," Myrion murmured.
Vladren sighed.
"Be discreet, please. We don't know how many of them will be there. Look for the answers you're seeking, for the males who killed the Moonclaws, only that. Leave as soon as you get what you're looking for."
"We're aware of that," Anton revealed. "We promise discretion"—his eyes wandered to mine—"and plenty of death, of course." He shot me a half-smile that made my heart skip a beat.
Vladren stood up.
"I'll pass the information to Edric as well. Be careful, pups." He made a mock bow before leaving.
I couldn't concentrate on the food on my plate; all the hunger I had felt had dissipated. I could only focus on the magnitude of what we were about to do. Infiltrate a Merchant auction. It wasn't among the things I had imagined I would do in life, but… well, living in Eldoria wasn't either, and I had been doing quite well.
I clenched my teeth firmly, resolute.
I would recognize the scents; I just needed to learn to control myself if I ran into any of them. Either way, death would find them that night.