Page 117 of Starside

Just before I take the turn to the inn, I pause. The hairs on the back of my neck go stiff. I look over my shoulder—but the road is empty.

It’s just that book, putting me on edge with all its talk of dangerous creatures, some of which slink through the holes in cobblestone walls and follow travelers. But it’s daytime. I have nothing to be afraid of.

Still, that strange feeling has me veering off the path, indulging my instincts. I go down a different alley instead, the rain masking my steps.

But not masking a voice.

“She just left. She should be here any second …”

A frustrated growl. “I’ve been waiting all fucking night. Cut her head off the moment she returns and be done with it. That sword …”

I step back, my veins like ice.

I shouldn’t have left my room. I should have remained there, quiet and unseen until the next morning. I know that now.

And I never should have mocked the knight. Regardless of how good it felt to do so.

I can’t return to the inn. I can’t go to Raker, though with his silence and general apathy toward me, I’m not sure he would even interfere.

One hand still on the damp stone wall of a closed shop, I turn toward the woman’s house … then stop myself.

They knew where I was before. They could easily follow me back. And the idea of bringing those knights to the immortal’s home … remembering how she looked up at the second floor, where her children slept …

Remembering how I woke up with that blanket draped over my shoulders. That simple act of care …

No. I won’t bring danger to her, so my only choice is to hide out somewhere else and hope they get tired of waiting for me. Hope Raker comes out of the inn sometime in the next hour, and I can reach him before the warriors reach me.

Using the rain as cover, I duck and turn down another road. The village is small. There aren’t many places to hide. I try different door handles just in case, but all of them are locked. I look for sheds, hovels, anything—but there’s nothing.

I turn another corner. There’s the slightest scraping behind me. A boot against wet stone. I whirl around.

And there he is. The immortal warrior.

He grins.

I run.

My legs feel slightly boneless, as if they haven’t fully woken up. The elixir. It must still be coursing through my veins. The immortal doesn’t deal with humans often, I assume. Did she give me too much?

A wave of sleep washes over me like nausea. I grit my teeth against it.

Because I can hear them now. All three of them. All running after me.

“Raker!” I scream, beyond pride, beyond shame. The rain begins to pour heavier, as if colluding with those warriors. “Raker!”

The immortals behind me laugh. I get the feeling they aren’t even chasing me with their full speed. That they are, in fact, playing, dragging out the hunt, as if it’s a sport.

“Her fear … her desperation …” one says, his voice like velvet. “I smell it even through the rain. Look at her scream for help. Look at her realize no one is coming.” The others laugh.

A pit forms in my stomach, knowing these immortals can sense my every shade of terror. And it pleases them.

My boots kick up water and dirt. I risk a look back—and they’re right at my feet. Mouths pulled into grins.

At the edge of the village, I keep going, hoping they’ll give up. But as my feet hit the mud, I hear them right on my trail.

They’re immortal. Faster. Better in every way. The fact that they haven’t caught me already is also likely evidence of the number of drained goblets that were on their table.

“There’s nowhere to run, stupid human,” one of them trills.