?You don?t have to go in there.? Captain Graves sat on a bench outside a small house that looked perfectly ordinary. White paint, with blue shutters ? a flower garden blooming in bright primary colors. What was not ordinary was the shaken look on the Captain?s face, or the crimson glass in the windows. It took a moment for the brain to realize that they weren?t stained glass ? that it was blood and bits of thicker substances creating abstract patterns between the shutters. Kacey paled just a fraction and then set her jaw.
After six years in Graves' Wolves, she was a low-level sergeant, the leader of a small unit. Just five on her team, but they had been picked by the Captain for one reason: they were the best at what they did. Davarin had advanced farther, but in a different direction. Kacey?s strength wasn?t in leading large groups. No, she had just learned to bury her emotions into a cold place that let her do whatever needed to be done. All of her team had learned that coldness.
Now, with even Captain Graves looking so unnerved by the contents of the house, Kacey reached for that cold place. Swinging open the door to the house, the first thing to hit the team was the copper stench of too much blood, followed by a wash of other, fouler things. Jeanne staggered back and started retching into the flower bed, and Erick followed her just a moment later. Kacey glanced over her shoulder at the pair and then to the Captain. Her chocolate-brown eyes were bleak. ?They?re off this hunt.?
Sunlight was warm on her back for a moment longer, and then she walked into the cottage. Her boots slid for a moment in pools of blood before her footing steadied. She breathed, carefully, through her mouth; unwilling to inhale the scent of death fully. After a moment she began to pace through the house. There were only three rooms to it ? a kitchen, a bedroom, and one larger room that seemed to serve for every other purpose. Everywhere were the pools of blood, the gleam of white bone and darker black chunks of dismembered flesh. Behind her, she could hear Marin breathing heavily through his mouth; Temrak was almost completely silent.
The contents of the house were horrible. But if horrible was all there was to it, the local town guards could have handled it. Why did this job come to the Wolves? When Kacey reached the bedroom, she found her answer. Claw marks, carved deeply into the bedpost and the ceiling. What was left on the bed had been female, once. Now it was just blood and bone and meat. Kacey studied the patterns of the claw marks on the ceiling. The ones on the bed, those could be anything. Carved into the plaster overhead, it looked like a man had stretched carelessly in a room too short for his presence. If that man were over seven feet tall and had claws inches long.
When Kacey walked back into the sunlight, the image of blood on the walls seeming to ooze outwards through cracks like wounds in reality instead of simply thrown there with violent force was behind her eyes. Marin was still breathing heavily, and Temrak went to check on Jeanne and Erick. Kacey just looked at Captain Graves and nodded, once. They would take the job.
After six years in Graves' Wolves, she was a low-level sergeant, the leader of a small unit. Just five on her team, but they had been picked by the Captain for one reason: they were the best at what they did. Davarin had advanced farther, but in a different direction. Kacey?s strength wasn?t in leading large groups. No, she had just learned to bury her emotions into a cold place that let her do whatever needed to be done. All of her team had learned that coldness.
Now, with even Captain Graves looking so unnerved by the contents of the house, Kacey reached for that cold place. Swinging open the door to the house, the first thing to hit the team was the copper stench of too much blood, followed by a wash of other, fouler things. Jeanne staggered back and started retching into the flower bed, and Erick followed her just a moment later. Kacey glanced over her shoulder at the pair and then to the Captain. Her chocolate-brown eyes were bleak. ?They?re off this hunt.?
Sunlight was warm on her back for a moment longer, and then she walked into the cottage. Her boots slid for a moment in pools of blood before her footing steadied. She breathed, carefully, through her mouth; unwilling to inhale the scent of death fully. After a moment she began to pace through the house. There were only three rooms to it ? a kitchen, a bedroom, and one larger room that seemed to serve for every other purpose. Everywhere were the pools of blood, the gleam of white bone and darker black chunks of dismembered flesh. Behind her, she could hear Marin breathing heavily through his mouth; Temrak was almost completely silent.
The contents of the house were horrible. But if horrible was all there was to it, the local town guards could have handled it. Why did this job come to the Wolves? When Kacey reached the bedroom, she found her answer. Claw marks, carved deeply into the bedpost and the ceiling. What was left on the bed had been female, once. Now it was just blood and bone and meat. Kacey studied the patterns of the claw marks on the ceiling. The ones on the bed, those could be anything. Carved into the plaster overhead, it looked like a man had stretched carelessly in a room too short for his presence. If that man were over seven feet tall and had claws inches long.
When Kacey walked back into the sunlight, the image of blood on the walls seeming to ooze outwards through cracks like wounds in reality instead of simply thrown there with violent force was behind her eyes. Marin was still breathing heavily, and Temrak went to check on Jeanne and Erick. Kacey just looked at Captain Graves and nodded, once. They would take the job.