Kari sat in the brothel’s foyer once the initial panic calmed. A search concluded—and her Blood Oath confirmed—that the assassin had left the building. Kari was now fully dressed, armed and armored, ready for trouble.
Eli sat close by while a physician sutured his wounds. The half-corlyps spared Kari a glance now and then whenever he could avoid interrupting the suturing. It was hard for Kari to read his expression; there was still embarrassment and aggravation over having been disabled so easily by a woman he outweighed significantly, but there was a canniness in his gaze that said he understood what Kari was up against, and why she needed all the information she could get. He had sent for the other men who worked as bouncers to come and double up the security, and he inquired after the girls often, even while having his wounds tended. In this situation, it was easy to see Eli’s protective nature and the value he would bring to a group.
The watch captain was certain that the Count or one of his two protégés would be arriving in the city even given the late hour. Kari tapped her claws on the arm of her chair while she waited. She was familiar with succubi in an educated sense: She knew a lot about them from her lessons at the Academy, though she had never encountered or battled one over the course of her two lives.
Generally considered a weak creature, a succubus was among the deadlier demons for exactly that reason. Most who encountered them assumed they were little more than underworld harlots. Truthfully, they had numerous ways of disabling and killing their victims. They could drain their victims of vitality, either through carnality or by drawing their lifeforce out akin to a vampire; they could attack or seduce their victims from within dreams; many of them were proficient sorceresses; and, of course, they were demons—nowhere near as weak and helpless as their comely forms might indicate.
Kari was disturbed by the dreams she’d had prior to the encounter. She assumed the syrinthian assassin had dug into her innermost memories and desires, prompting her statement of “I have you.” The demonhunter bit her lower lip and considered how she still struggled to face the memories of her father and the way he’d abused her. The fact that the assassin not only knew that, but was capable of using that knowledge to attack from within Kari’s dreams, almost made her afraid to return to bed. Kari was confident that if the assassin hadn’t fled the city, she would return to finish what she’d started.
The mental exercise Kari had undergone with Triela’s help came to mind again: How she had faced her fears, pushed down the hurt her parents had scarred her soul with, and fortified her emotions with the knowledge that she was a good woman who was well-loved. She would have to remember those exercises and boost her resolve if the assassin tried to attack her the same way again. She’d be damned if she was going to let the succubus use the same weakness twice.
Kari looked to her left as she sensed Eli’s eyes upon her again.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Kari chuckled despite the situation. “You’re the one with a hole in the side of your neck,” she said. In truth, she found the pentagram made of five swords tattooed on his shoulder of greater interest than his injury. She suspected it was the mark of the Five Clans. Why would he would still have such a distinguishing mark, or display it in public when the Five Clans had been destroyed? At the very least, she knew it wouldn’t be a good topic of discussion among so many ears—even the city watch who had no doubt seen the mark—so she resolved to ask him about it later, when there were less people around.
The half-corlyps shrugged, eliciting a sigh from the physician. “I’ve had worse than this, that’s for sure,” Eli said. “She’s got some kind of poison in her fangs, if I’m not mistaken. One of the few positives of being half-corlyps: strong constitution.”
The mention of poison in the fangs reminded Kari of her encounter with Ressallk, the sylinthian prince she’d battled on Tsalbrin. During the battle, the sylinth had tried to blind Kari with venomous spit; she found it curious that a syrinthian could do the same thing. Her studies at the Academy never mentioned venomous succubi or syrinthians; where, then, had that particular ability come from? Kari expected it could be a side effect or a direct result of working sorcery, since the assassin was able to teleport herself, another ability she’d never heard of succubi or syrinthians manifesting.
Kari looked at Eli after a couple of silent minutes, when the physician finished his work and departed. “How many demons have you fought?” she asked.
“Fought, or killed?” he shot back with a smirk, and Kari laughed. Dressed only in his trousers, Eli turned partially in his seat and pointed to several vicious-looking scars on his right-side ribs. “Got these from an erestram; damn thing’s war scythe cut right through my old breastplate. If I hadn’t partially stopped its swing with my hammer, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
He pointed out numerous round burn scars down his left arm, which were highly unusual on a serilian-rir’s fire-resistant skin. “These were a gift from an elestram wizard,” he said. Then he lifted his right arm to show a mass of scar tissue on the underside. “And this was from a valiras trying to figure out what I taste like.”
Kari let out a grunt and considered how few scars she had to show for all her efforts as a demonhunter. Most people assumed that her suit of paluric armor was largely responsible for that, but in truth, she had received the armor more than halfway through her career in her prior life. More than anything, it had been Tumureldi’s style that had kept her relatively scar-free. Kari considered the breastplate that sat next to Eli’s chair. It looked to be made of the same metal as her scimitars, which meant it was a lot stronger than whatever armor he’d been wearing when he took the cuts from an erestram. As she further considered the shield that was leaning against the back of his chair, it made more sense to Kari that the majority of Eli’s scars were on his right side.
“I’m surprised they never made you a sworn demonhunter,” she offered.
Eli waved off the comment and sat back in his chair. “I’ve never been very good at taking orders,” he said. “I worked for your Order because Bosimar had a lot of work to be done, but I didn’t do that work for him, or for your Order.”
“You did it to protect people.”
The half-corlyps nodded. “I’ve seen enough people beaten into the dirt in my life. Someone has to protect them.”
“I became a demonhunter for the same reason,” Kari said, and Eli couldn’t hide his smile. “So, you’ve fought an erestram before?”
Eli chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, his hand tracing along the scars reflexively. “I’ve heard you once killed one in single combat. I can’t even imagine how the hell you could’ve done that. The six of us managed to kill one, but by the gods, that thing gave as good as it got. Nearly killed Tor… nearly killed me… I swear we were wading through its blood and it just kept on fighting. And then, when we’d finally hurt it so badly it couldn’t fight anymore… the damned thing seemed relieved… like it was glad to finally die.”
Kari nodded. “Erestram are very proud warriors for demons; they’d rather die than admit defeat to what they consider a lesser enemy. For even six of you to have beaten one would be considered quite an accomplishment by my Order,” she said, and Eli bobbed his head in agreement. “You said you’ve never gone into the underworld, though, right? So, did you ever face a sylinth or a harmauth?”