Chapter Five
“Well Captain Borreal, we seem to have put half of our senior members into the infirmary,” Dahlia quipped.
“Indeed, but I’m sure Dr. Nallia will see to them and they’ll have their bones knit together right as rain by tonight. All we’ll have to do is avoid her wrath.”
“True. I’ll be hiding in my room if you need anything.” She turned back to the training ground, “If you’re injured head to the infirmary. Everyone else, back to the barrack and get something to eat then you’re done for the day.”
“Oh, Captain DeMorra,” Borreal said and she turned back to him. “I almost neglected to mention, the first investigations have been concluded. The two men died within the hour they were discovered and the only thing missing was an old research journal of Dr. Ahriman’s.”
“Dr. Ahriman? Well that’s ominous. Still, I don’t see why someone would have wanted that. His interesting findings have all been documented.”
Borreal looked hard at her, “Then we must ask why someone was looking for something no one else considered interesting.”
He bowed to her then turned to go.
Dahlia watched him, thinking. Ahriman had been head of research when she had first joined the force. Cold and pitiless, his published experiments on prisoners had toed the line of unethical. When his hidden research and experiments had been unearthed it became clear he had no problem taking a large step over that line and into inhumane. He’d been banned, denied access to his library, and held in prison until his trial and subsequent exile.
She wandered back towards her barrack, lost in thought. All Ahriman’s useful research had been integrated into more palatable methods, finalized, and documented. None of it necessitated stealing, it hadn’t been a closely guarded secret. It seemed an odd thing to go after.
As she approached the path to the main area of her own barrack she heard shouts and a jumble of voices down the road, around the building just inside Barrack Nine. She rushed over to see soldiers holding a man, a book, and a dead body in the center of a circle formed by a large number of onlookers.
She saw the restrained man struggle and deal a kick to the knee of one captor and then a headbutt to the other. He moved remarkably quickly. She felt her trap snap shut and the man fell rooted to the ground, the word “traitor” branded on his forehead. She began to push forward through the crowd but before she got much closer to the man an enormous form parted the crowd opposite her and entered the ring around the man and the soldiers. Captain Ravin stood facing the traitor struggling against her binding, dressed only in loose pants and an open shirt. He glanced at the two men on the ground that the traitor had incapacitated.
“What’s this?” His voice was husky with amusement.
The one who had taken a kick to his knee struggled up, “Captain, we found Macada standing over Shann’s body trying to pull this book out of his hands.”
Ravin chuckled, “Good, the book matches one stolen by our killer. And someone’s gone and branded his crime across his fucking head.”
Macada struggled to his feet. The man must have been well trained and have a powerful shield on him to fight her binding. He turned and tried to flee but Ravin’s men stood fast. Macada slashed at them, almost too fast for Dahlia to follow but they took the hits and kept pushing him back. Ravin laughed and the man at his right waved his hand to the men blocking Macada’s escape. The traitor was pulled back to the middle of the circle.
“I call that a confession and escape attempt, don’t you?” Ravin roared.
The men surrounding them roared back in assent.
“Well, traitor, if you’re up to attacking my men, stabbing them in the back, perhaps you’re feeling up to facing me.” Ravin grinned broadly, and he eyed Macada like a cat with a young bird. “You won’t last long, but you can try.”
Shit. Dahlia could see what was happening but she couldn’t stop it. Ravin had turned the crowd of soldiers into a mob and stirred up their appetite for blood.
Macada stood up straight and faced Ravin, “I am Macada Adator, Lieutenant of the the Emperor’s Forces. You are nothing but filth and I will see you bleed.”
Ravin grin stretched wider. “Well aren’t you formal. That’s cute. Hope you last a couple minutes, I’m dying for a decent fight. You should know me already. I’m Captain Kenneth Ravin and I’m gunna stick you like a fuckin pig.” His growl was savage and tinged with anticipation.
Members of the crowd jeered and roared. Macada darted in, Dahlia’s “traitor” branding still vivid on his forehead. Ravin dodged, laughing as Macada’s fast strikes whistled by him, missing their mark.
“That all you got, boy? You’re gunna fuckin die,” he taunted.
Dahlia was impressed in spite of herself. Macada was exceptionally fast and Ravin was dodging him effortlessly. He hadn’t even bothered to draw his own sword.
Visibly shaken, Macada swept a kick at Ravin’s ankle using the momentum to swing at his head as well in a desperate, all-or-nothing strike. Dahlia’s eyes widened as Ravin didn’t bother dodging. Macada’s shin connected with his ankle and Ravin just stood there, didn’t move, didn’t even seem to feel it. He caught the blade in his bare hand and bent it. Macada’s mouth gaped open.
“You’re pathetic,” Ravin spat out then moved to draw his long sword. In a blur of motion he ran the man through, burying the blade up to its hilt.
He twisted the sword then whipped the blade back out and watched as Macada fell and lay coughing blood at his feet. More blood splattered across Ravin’s face and arm and trickled down his chest, catching on the scars. Dahlia had never seen anyone move like that, his raw physicality was surreal. Macada had been fast but she hadn’t even been able to follow Ravin’s movements.
His soulless black eyes were bright with a savage fervor. Towering over the jeering crowd around him he looked like some heathen god of war; brutal, overwhelming. As merciless and uncaring as a force of nature. She felt her breath catch at the sight and a rush burned through her. She found her body responding to something primal and dark her mind wouldn’t acknowledge.
Ravin held his long sword up by the hilt then he brought his tongue to the top of the blade and tasted blood. His gaze fell on Dahlia and the feral sensation running through her body grew. As their eyes met she felt as if a chain running through her core had been yanked towards him. He pulled his tongue, thick with red liquid, back into his mouth and grinned at her. Canines, long and pointed like a carnivore’s, on display.
The group roared again and called out. Ravin turned back to the dying man and kicked him into waiting hands. “Worthless. Keep him alive. But only just.” Then he turned on his heel with his lieutenants and walked away.
Dahlia recovered herself and looked around but Macada was gone. She needed to find him. She didn’t trust the mob to keep him alive and he could have the information they desperately needed.
She ran straight into Borreal.
“Borreal,” she gasped, “what are you doing here?”
“Same as you I imagine, heard the crowd and came to see what happened.”
“That man,” Dahlia spat out, “they have him and I don’t trust that they’ll keep him alive.”
“Already on it. I grabbed some saner men at the edge of the crowd and ordered them to grab him. He’s on his way to the infirmary. I suggest you go back and make sure that all the members of your barrack stay put. I don’t need Ravin starting a riot. I’ll head to the infirmary and send a man to my barracks to do the same.”
Dahlia frown, nodded, and took off. Borreal was right, the captains needed to restore order immediately.
She was relieved to find her barrack calm and most of the members present. Being so close to Barrack Nine, most them must have made it in time to catch Ravin’s finale. Sabir, delayed in getting to the infirmary, had collared a number of them and restored order after the brutal display.
She hurried back to her room, separate from the others, to check the results of her trap. She should have an exact copy of his thoughts from the moment it sprung.
She caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye as she reached her door.
“Thought I sensed your work on the branding. It was a nice touch.”
She turned to find Ravin leaning against a column. His flat, black eyes focused intently into hers. Dahlia was struck again by how his scar turned him from handsome to savage. His shirt was still open, exposing his broad chest painted with blood from the fight. As she met his eyes she felt the almost physical sensation of being drawn to him. Refusing to show any sign of intimidation to this demon she relaxed her shoulders and forced her face into a neutral expression.
“Kenny. What are you doing here?”
He grinned at her and Dahlia felt her heart rate pick up, “What, not Captain Ravin?”
“You don’t deserve that recognition at the moment, you almost started a riot.” She tried her best to sound like a teacher lecturing no one more consequential than a naughty boy.
“I boosted the men’s morale and captured a dangerous criminal,” he countered, still grinning.
“In the most brutal and spectacular fashion you could come up with and that still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” she shot back, her insane reaction to him distracting her from keeping her temper.
“You liked it. I could tell,” he didn’t move, just stayed as still as death, focused on her.
“You seem to have confused your bloodlust with something else,” she dismissed him.
His voice grated out, slow and deliberate, “No, I don’t think I have. People think I’m a brute, an animal. Maybe I am. I could smell the fear, the defiance on that boy. And I could sense your reaction. You loved watching his life drain out on my hand. It turned you on. Now that I’m closer, I can smell it still clinging to you.”
Dahlia took a calm breath. She was annoyed with herself. The man was mentally part beast and not someone she should have any reaction to. “That’s one of my favorite parts of being human, we don’t have to act on instinct.”
“So you’re interested but wish you weren’t?” His gravelly voice was again thick with amusement.
“Kenny.” Dahlia put a warning tone into her voice. This huge man intimidated her but she didn’t intend to let him keep pushing.
He moved then, a transition from dead stillness to motion as swift and unstoppable as a tide, but he didn’t come any closer to her. Instead he turned to walk past her, up the path. Without pausing, he shot over his shoulder, “Think about it, I’ll be back.”
It held more promise than warning. She hated that a small thrill ran through her as she watched him go, the power in every line of his body carelessly displayed as he walked.