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Nikov was late—very late. I waited in a warehouse, dripping with the mountain cold and misty with early morning air—a phantom seeping through the cracks in the windows deep into the metal cocoon. Many would call it an untimely hour, yes, but I was not one to leave unfinished business unattended to. Or else, the scum I dealt with would rest on their laurels. They would sit in their fur-lined boots, the aroma of hot coffee wafting about their noses whilst the finest tobacco stained their teeth and filled their homes like a dishonest prayer. They thought I would linger in the quiet, anticipating their call like a servant, expecting me to bend to their will.
The first mistake these men made was to keep me waiting, and to treat me like I was simply just a woman. As if I was beneath them—as if I didn't shift the product they were greedy to get their hands on. As ifI wasn't more than familiar with getting my hands dirty.
Silence was disrupted by the irregular footsteps of Nikov Levin. Shifting in the shadows, his reassurances steadied their guns, the distinctive click of their bullets being loaded into place rung true and I stilled my breathing, listening for the various melodies of their faint echoes. This was another mistake, his defence giving themselves away as if they were ignorant to my tenebrous allies. Nikov had brought four men with himself which only meant one thing; he didn't have my money.
A head of blond whispered near my ear, "situation?" I hadn't heard him come near; Charles' existence was soundless when need be, his only give being the faint smell of earth which lived in his skin.
"Unconscious, not dead." Nodding in response, Charles withdrew into the towers of sacks which lined small sections of the warehouse, filled generously with oats and rye, serving as the staple diet for mountain dwellers of Iv Turek. For city merchants like Nikov, such grains were beneath them.
Lifting my face to the little sunlight which had battled its way through the frozen glass, I stroked Razine twice between her eyes. She slithered off my shoulders and hissed at the chill when her scaled body touched the ground. Gliding across the warehouse, her movements quickened into a dark flash. For a moment silence tried to slip back into place, but an ear-splitting scream and the snapping of bones took hold.
"Nadine," called Nikov with a desperate edge to his voice, "come out where I can see you."
I navigated through the walls of grain, nudging one of Nikov's crumpled men with my boot for good measure. Charles was a fast worker, it made him a valuable asset where time was adverse. Continuing through the columns of sacks, I spotted the crooked merchant. He was clutching a pistol as though his very life depended on it and beads of perspiration sat heavy on his brow, catching the sparse light. I emerged behind the man, kicked him down onto his knees and pulled the pistol from his grasp. His body was rigid with alarm as I grabbed a fistful of his hair.
"Trav, Ilya!" he barked as he struggled against my grip. A bullet rubbed past my arm and I pulled his hair tighter, feeling the skin lift from his scalp. "Misha, Feliks, do something!"
