Don’t Steal from Demons: Part Five (A Westkings Heist story)

“Ready,” Nia announced.

Tahl glanced over his shoulder and bit his tongue. He’d elected to wear the simple gray uniform of a soldier out of armor, something he’d liberated from a guard’s house after his romp in Orrad’s fortress-like palace. She, on the other hand, looked little different from her everyday appearance as a barmaid.

“You’re going to need to do better than that.” He fastened the last button of his coat and turned to help her. The dress she’d chosen was ordinary and suited a peasant girl, but she’d done nothing with her black hair. He slid his fingers along her hairline and gathered it all behind her ears to smooth it into a braid.

Nia scrunched her nose. “I can do my own hair.”

“Really? How come I’ve never seen you do anything but tie it back, then?” His fingers were deft and with her hair little more than shoulder-length, it wasn’t long before he’d tied off the braid and coiled it into a simple bun against the back of her head. But he didn’t have any hairpins on him, so he caught her hand and clamped it over the bun to make her hold it in place until he could find some.

“Because I don’t like it being fancy,” she replied with a sniff.

Tahl snorted and pulled the box of treasures out from underneath his bed. “All the more reason to do something fancy, then. The goal is to avoid being recognized, remember?” He fished around in a smaller wooden container inside the box until he produced a few hairpins. He couldn’t recall where he’d gotten them or why he’d decided to keep them, but the container was filled with bits of wire and string and miscellaneous pieces of who-knew-what he’d always assumed would come in handy. More often than not, he was right.

Nia rolled her eyes, but stood still while he worked the pins into her hair.

Satisfied, he stepped back to give her one last inspection. “Ready?”

“No, but if we get shot at again, I’m blaming you. I don’t think I can run or climb in this skirt.” She gathered the fabric in both hands and gave it a swish. It wasn’t an impressive dress, but it was all he’d been able to procure for her on short notice.

Brant forbid she appreciate that it fits, he mused. “Fine. Let’s get to the docks.”

Though she groaned, Nia followed him out of his latest hideout.

He moved, every now and then; he still missed the cozy space above Ebitha’s stables he’d called home for so long, but it was safer not to be in any one place for too long. More often than not, it was Nia getting herself in trouble that prompted his moves. Tahl shut and locked the door behind her, lamenting the packing he’d have to do as soon as this was over.

With his stolen guard’s uniform, no one bothered them on the trek to the docks east of the city. While they traversed the city streets, he found it a boon. Once they passed the gate and he saw how many men in armor swarmed the riverfront, his choice of disguise sent a trickle of sweat down his spine.

“I’ve never seen so many guards in one place before,” Nia murmured. “Not even when you—”

“Now would not be the wisest time to discuss previous exploits,” he said through clenched teeth. He expected her to come back with a retort, but she blushed, instead.

Keenly aware of the cosmetic wax that hid the scar on his face once more, he squared his shoulders and tried to look as if he belonged.

Together, they walked the crowded street, and it wasn’t long before something brushed the edge of Tahl’s senses.

“I think I see him,” Nia whispered.

He nodded and slowed just enough for her to take the lead.

The farther they went, the more the sense of something prickled. A presence, a power unlike anything he’d ever felt before. The prickle turned to an itch and he rolled his shoulders, fighting the urge to scratch.

Nia tugged at his sleeve. “There. That’s him. I’m sure of it.”

“All right,” he murmured. The itch turned to a burn, a heat that rolled over his skin like the air from a baker’s oven. He fought back a shudder and made himself walk on. Magic had never put him so on edge before, but it felt raw, wrong, and the closer they got to their target, the worse it seemed to be.

It wasthe target, Tahl realized. The brown-cloaked figure that stood on the pier and watched cargo be loaded was a mage. That presence grew stronger, stranger, flooding him with a sickening urge to run. Nia must have felt it too, for all that she wasn’t a mage. She stopped at the end of the pier and watched with wide eyes as Tahl forced himself to continue on.

Heat. Power. His heartbeat quickened and his stomach lurched.

Stealing was easy.

Returning something should have been easy.

Instead, he struggled onward, fearful he’d be ill.

The figure shifted, its hooded head canting to one side. It seemed the target had sensed him, too. It grew still as Tahl approached.

Power rolled off the stranger, more wild, more sickening than Tahl ever imagined magic could be. The sheer weight of its presence poured over him and threatened to drive him under.

The stranger turned.

Unable to resist, Tahl sank to his knees and presented the stolen blade on his upturned palms.

“You are not the one who stole from me,” the mark said, his words thick with an accent Tahl had never heard before.

“But I’m the one who’s giving it back,” Tahl said.

A soft chuckle answered. “You’ve learned a lesson?”

All Tahl managed was a nod.

“This was not for you.” Rather than anger, amusement colored the man’s voice. He reached for the blade, and instead of fingers, it was claws that curled around the hilt.

Startled, Tahl lifted his head as that subhuman hand—and the dagger—vanished into the stranger’s cloak. From the depths of the hood that shadowed the stranger’s features, a pair of deep violet lights stared back.

The pit of Tahl’s stomach dropped.

A shout from the ship beside them drew the stranger’s attention and he turned away. With a grace as inhuman as the rest of him, the man swept up the gangplank and disappeared without a word.

All of a sudden, the crushing weight of power lifted, and Tahl’s shoulders slumped with relief. Beads of sweat marred his brow and he swiped them away with the back of his hand. He’d never felt anything like that. Silently, he prayed he never would again.

Hurried footfalls thumped behind him, earning a few curious looks from passers-by, but not even the armored guards on duty watched them for more than a moment. Their luck, it seemed, had changed.

“What was that all about?” Nia asked as she knelt beside him. Her hands curled around his arm, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if she was seeking comfort or trying to offer it to him.

“A lesson,” Tahl said. He freed himself of her grasp and pushed himself up.

Nia glanced toward the ship as the sailors pulled in the plank and prepared to set sail. “What lesson?”

His eyes glazed and he swallowed hard. “Don’t steal from demons.”