Phia’s face fell.

  “Look,” Endellion said. “Let’s just try it for ten minutes. You can—”

  “Alright alright alright,” Brune said irritably. “Come on, Phia.” He led her over to the nearest auction block and lifted her onto it.

  Endellion came over and looked her up and down. “Let me make one adjustment.” She gathered Phia’s dress and lifted it so high that her panties were showing. Then she tied it together at the back.

  “There, that’s better. Make sure they see your tail; flick it around. Yes! Like that. And make a sad face. Ah! Purrrrfect, Kitty.”

  Brune watched with a tortured expression as men gathered, looking Phia up and down.

  “A cat girl!”

  “Good gods, now there’s a piece of ass, gentlemen.”

  “Fuck me, she’s a 10. I gotta find Ferick; he’ll be interested to know a cat girl’s for sale.”

  After several minutes, there were already more than a dozen onlookers. The first man to step out from the crowd had bushy sideburns and pince-nez on the tip of his nose.

  “Beautiful girl,” he said, raising his long fingers towards Phia’s thighs. “May I touch her?”

  “No!” Brune growled with clenched fists.

  “Okay, okay, no problem,” the sideburns said, shrinking back and catching his pince-nez as they fell from his nose.

  “No touching!” Brune boomed to the crowd. “You may look only.”

  There was some disappointed muttering among the men as more joined their number. Endellion stood off to the side, waiting until the crowd got a little bigger. She caught Brune’s eye and motioned with her hands.

  She wanted him to play his role.

  He cleared his throat. “No my friends, your eyes do not deceive you; this is a cat girl. Now, if she were merely human, she would be rare enough; for who can believe beauty so...um, divine, could be found in mortal form?”

  Cringing at his own words, he looked at Phia. She was pouting at the men in the audience, just like Endellion had told her to do. She met his eyes for an instant.

  “Indeed,” Brune continued, “has any man here ever seen a beauty surpassing hers? I didn’t think so. Even if she were purely human, any man would be as lucky as a king to have her. But the fact that she is a cat girl makes her a treasure beyond comprehension.”

  “Enough of the spiel,” yelled one man. “Tell us some practical information. Like, what do you feed her?”

  “Very well,” Brune said. “She has a surprisingly large appetite. She loves pancakes, breakfast meats, and baking, as far as I can tell. Oh yes, and heated milk is her favorite drink.”

  A murmur of chuckling rose in the crowd. Phia was smiling shyly.

  “As for her personality, she’s as sweet as she looks. She loves to be petted and scratched behind the ears. And, if she takes a liking to you, she’ll fall asleep in your lap and purr.”

  And she’s got a cunt that’ll make you blow a load in your pants.

  There was no way he was saying that out loud.

  The crowd was getting bigger, with men jostling to get to the front.

  “Here kitty,” one young man said, snapping his fingers at Phia. “Look over here! Here kitty, kitty.”

  A portly gentleman walked up to Brune’s side. “Nice little item you’ve got there. You don’t mind if I have a look?”

  “No—Yes! No touching. You may look only.”

  “Alright, but that hardly seems fair. However, I’d like to make you a preliminary offer now, with the understanding—”

  “No, no, no,” Brune said testily, turning towards the man. “The auction will be another day.”

  “Well, you may want to do some crowd control,” the man said, pointing towards Phia with his walking cane.

  Brune saw that part of the crowd had moved just feet away from Phia. She flinched as a man groped her leg.

  “Get back!” Brune erupted with anger, knocking men out of the way as he strode towards the auction block with murder in his eyes.

  Taking hold of the man who’d touched Phia, he threw him with one arm into the crowd of men; six of them fell to the ground like bowling pins.

  Brune undid the knot that Endellion had tied in Phia’s dress and lifted her to the ground.

  Some men glowered angrily at Brune, but they gave him a wide berth as he walked by with his arm around Phia, holding her leash in his other hand.

  “Well, that got a little out of hand,” Endellion said, catching up to them as they left the market square.

  “Did—did it work?” Phia said.

  Endellion smiled slyly. “My pockets are full. We’ll give you a share, too, Phia.” She gave her a laddish slap on the shoulder.

  “Oh,” Phia said. “I wasn’t expecting that... I was just happy to team up with you guys.” She smiled at Brune and put her hands around his fist that clutched her leash.

  He meant to ignore her, but somehow he couldn’t help but look at her face. She was beaming at him with a hopeful smile. But her joy was fragile; she was searching his eyes for reassurance.

  And that was something Brune could not provide. If he had, it might have made her happy at the moment, but it would have been a lie.

  He frowned at Phia’s hands. She slowly let go of his fist and held her hands against her breast.

  “Come on,” Brune said coldly. “Enough standing around.”

  Phia droopily watched raindrops dappling the puddles as they walked to the Dragon’s Head Inn.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I’M GOING TO the stables,” Brune said. He’d been pacing around their room ever since they’d arrived.

  “You’re not eating?” Endellion said, biting into a chicken leg. They’d ordered dinner to their room. Phia sat beside Endellion with her head in her hand, sadly stirring her mashed potatoes with a fork.

  A whiff of gravy teased Brune’s nose. His stomach growled, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat.

  “After,” he said. “I’m gonna go tell them to have the carriage ready at sunrise.”

  Phia stared at her potatoes as if she wasn’t listening, but a frown creased her forehead.

  “Phia.” Brune pulled out a chair and sat beside her.

  “What happened last night in the bathroom—that didn’t change anything. We’re still taking you back to your fiancé. That’s our commission.”

  Phia’s nostrils flared. She put her fork down.

  “You’ll get used to your new life. We all learn to cope with circumstances we wouldn’t have chosen. It’s the way of the world.”

  Phia just shook her head, refusing to look at Brune.

  As he walked out of the room, he heard Phia sobbing—a wretched, painful sobbing, as if she’d finally given up hope.

  The sound was like a knife stabbing Brune’s gut. It seemed to take the wind out of him. His limbs felt as heavy as bricks as he descended the stairs.

  The dining room’s homely atmosphere called to him; it was so cozy compared to the rainy streets outside the windows. A place people came to forget their troubles. The gentle strains of a lute chimed in the air, and guests dipped freshly baked bread into steaming beef stew. A bulldog slept soundly on a sheepskin by the fire.

  Brune stopped at the bar, realizing he only had motivation for one thing.

  “A pint of stout.”

  His mouth watered as the barmaid filled a glass. She set it on the counter. Brune took it up, admiring the rich, dark liquid, the creamy foam spilling over the side.

  A silly thought popped into his head: imagine Phia’s reaction if she tried a sip. She would never have had beer at the temple. He could see her face scrunching up in disgust. Chuckling, he brought the glass to his lips.

  “Cheers,” a gruff voice said.

  Brune had hardly noticed the other man standing at the bar. A glance revealed a pair of big, hairy hands resting on the counter. One of them raised a whiskey glass to a face with a pointy beard. It was framed by black curls.

  The man threw back the rest of his whiskey and smacked his lips with satisfaction. Then he called to the barmaid, “Two shots of Dragon’s Breath,” pointing to himself and Brune.

  The barmaid deftly poured out the drinks.

  Brune took a leisurely draft of his stout and then picked up the shot glass.

  “Thanks.”

  The man grinned and shook his curls.

  Brune knocked back the shot, savoring the spicy burn of the whiskey as it warmed his throat and chest. The man smacked his lips again and whacked his shot glass on the counter.

  “Name’s Rogovold.” The curls swayed as he inclined his head.

  “Brune.”

  “Successful day today?”

  Brune reached for his stout, in no rush to answer. “At the market? I suppose it was.”

  “That cat girl of yours… She’s something else. Stunning enough to distract my attention from the fairy—and believe me! I wanted that fairy.”

  Brune looked at a painting above the bar. It showed a boat gliding over a frothy sea—white sails billowing, clear blue sky above. Now that would be a thing to do; get a sailboat and go wherever the wind takes you. Preferably somewhere warm.

  “Must have cost you a pretty penny,” Rogovold said.

  “What?”

  “The kitten. She must have cost you a walloping sum. Wish I’d seen her first. Imagine having both of them—cat girl and a fairy.” He sucked air through his teeth and rubbed his hairy hands together.

  “But don’t get me wrong!” he continued. “I’m talking nonsense. There’s no way I could justify spending that much. And besides… that little fairy is enough to deal with.”

  He leaned towards Brune with a confidential air. “You might not think it from her pleasing looks, but she is a little devil!”

  “Is that right?” Brune muttered.

  The man laughed bitterly. “Yes. She came with a sigil that chokes off her magic, so she can’t play any tricks. But that doesn’t mean she can’t kick and bite—or flap her wings like a drowning seagull. Look at this!”

  Brune reluctantly turned his head. Rogovold pointed to a cut under his eye.

  “Hm. How did that happen?”

  “She threw a vase at me.” He gave Brune a suave grin and ordered two more shots of Dragon’s Breath.

  They watched the barmaid pour out the drinks.

  “Doesn’t matter, though,” Rogovold said, picking up the shot glass. “I’ll break the little bitch in sooner or later. Cheers.”

  Brune put a hand over his brow. He had the uncanny feeling he’d been there before and had the same conversation. No. Not there. It was at the assistant guildmaster’s office.

  She’ll come around. I just need to break the bitch in.

  As Vladnoch’s words came back to him, a feeling of dread seemed to seep up from the floor, rising until everything was submerged. Not even the wholesomeness of the Dragon’s Head Inn could keep it away. He might as well have been plunged into the deepest gloom of the Underworld. And Rogovold could have been the Dark Lord himself.

  “That’s the fun part,” he continued. “In fact, I like it when they fight. Makes it that much sweeter when I break them.”

  “Yeah,” Brune muttered.

  “That-a-boy!” Rogovold slapped the counter. “You know what I mean. There’s a proper way to go about it, though. Few people really understand the science of it like I do. You want to get inside their head, break their soul. Condition them to exist only for your pleasure.”

  Brune gulped the last of his stout, despite the churning in his stomach.

  The barmaid took his glass. “Another?”

  “That’ll be all,” he said, standing up and digging into his pocket.

  “Please allow me,” Rogovold said. “I’ve enjoyed your company.”

  “Thanks. You’ll have to drink that shot for me. Empty stomach.”

  “No problem at all,” Rogovold said, sliding the shot of Dragon’s Breath towards himself. “Come by for a drink if you like. Room 209. If I don’t answer, you’ll know I’m busy.” He winked.

  Rain pitter-pattered on the cobblestones as Brune walked to the stables. Across the street, magpies fought over scraps of food where the auction platforms stood empty in the fading daylight.

  The stench of horse manure and straw was almost comforting as Brune walked into the stables. There was something reassuring about seeing the routines of daily life carry on as they should.

  It took seconds to find the stable hand. After that, Brune didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He still didn’t want to be in the room—not with all the thoughts roiling in his brain.

  So he walked past the Dragon’s Head, strolling for a couple of blocks alongside the busy taverns.

  He’d let Phia get under his skin. That was the problem. He never should have fooled around with her.

  But at least I’ve been honest with her. Told her I fully intended to carry out my commission. Told her she’d be better off with Vladnoch—and that’s the truth.

  Besides, even if Brune could give Phia a better life, he couldn’t just take her—not without getting on the wrong side of the guild, the law, and Vladnoch.

  When Brune walked back to the door of the Dragon’s Head, his mind had returned to its previous state of impatient agitation: Hurry. Get on with it. Drop her at the guild and forget her. Sooner the better.

  Footsteps scratched the ground behind him.

  “Pardon me, Sir.”

  Brune turned and saw a liveried butler.

  “I do beg your pardon. Would you be Mr. Hargish, by chance?”

  “Y-yes.”

  The butler bowed. “Good evening. I serve Mr. Bozhidar Vladnoch.”

  “What?”

  “Mr. Bozhidar Vladnoch. He was passing by in his coach and he chanced to see you. He thought it fortuitous, and he requests a brief conference regarding the progress of your commission—provided it would be convenient for you, of course.”

  Brune blinked. The butler’s words just wouldn’t sink in. Vladnoch is here? Now? Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His heart pounded. It felt like an entire army was upon him. But everything was hazy, like in a dream.

  For once in his life, Brune Hargish had been caught completely off guard.

  “The carriage is just over there, Mr. Hargish.” The butler pointed with his hand to the other side of the street, where an eloquent black carriage was parked.

  Brune collected his thoughts. Why was he so dumbstruck? So what if Vladnoch was there? It didn’t make any difference to the commission.

  “Right. I will see him.”

  He stepped back onto the darkening street, back into the rain, the unflappable butler gliding alongside him. The man was so supremely composed that it was almost off-putting. He met Brune’s inquiring eye with monkish indifference. His face was a mask. But his shrewd eyes suggested he knew something.

  Did Vladnoch already know they’d found Phia? Had he been watching them?

  No. You’re being paranoid, surely.

  The dark carriage, parked near a street lamp, offered no clues. Curtains were drawn behind the windows. The driver sat with his coat collar up against the rain, the brim of his hat pulled low over his brow.

  Brune cursed himself.

  What does it matter? Maybe Vladnoch did know he had Phia. So what? Why should that thought scare him so much? Why should it make his heart pound and his hands tremble like an alcoholic’s?

  If I hadn’t run into Vladnoch now, I would have dropped Phia at the guild before noon tomorrow. It’s half a day’s difference.

  Vlandnoch would, of course, want to take Phia into his possession immediately. So this was the end of the whole thing. Just like he’d wanted: get it over with. Finish the job. Collect the pay. Forget Phia.

  The carriage door opened. Vladnoch’s fat head appeared, his deep-set eyes following Brune as he approached.

  “Thought that was you, Hargish! You’re hard to miss.”

  He flipped the stairs out and stepped down, holding his pipe in his teeth and carrying an ornate walking stick. The butler waited for his master to descend the stairs and then receded with a bow.

  Vladnoch stabbed the road with his stick and rested a hand on his rotund belly, which swelled beneath his jerkin.

  “Didn’t expect to run into you here, Hargish.”

  Brune nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Well, what news? Have you found my wife?”

  Brune’s stomach turned. His head seemed to spin. A feeling of panic gripped him as he saw Phia in his mind—sitting at the table where he’d left her. And here was Vladnoch, ready to take her into his bulging fingers. Ready to break her in.

  Brune cleared his throat.

  “No.”

  The word came out dry and hoarse.

  Vladnoch nodded, taking a pull from his pipe. “But you think she’s here?”

  “Uh—Could be. We’re—we’re doing a sweep; started northwest of Skrull and made our way here.”

  “Is that right?” Puff, puff, puff. “No sign of her, then.”

  “Not yet.”

  Vlandnoch narrowed his eyes. “You alright, Hargish? You don’t look well.”

  “Yeah. Just had too many shots of Dragon’s Breath.”

  A flourish of the carriage curtain drew Brune’s eye. On the other side of the window, a face that froze Brune’s blood looked back at him.

  It was only an instant before it withdrew behind the curtain, but Brune saw skin as pale as a Great White Shark’s, and two bloodshot eyeballs that seemed to float within their sockets.

  Brune sensed an unwholesome magic energy curling around him like swamp vapor. He instinctively stepped back, and his hand flinched for his sword.

  But the intrusive magic dissipated as soon as the curtain fell back over the window.

  Vladnoch puffed away and regarded Brune closely, without acknowledging what had just appeared in the window.

  “I heard a cat girl was for sale today,” he said quietly. “She was said to be extremely beautiful and cute. Unfortunately, it was at the end of the day, after I’d gone back to my inn.”

  Brune’s heart pounded in his ears. He took a slow breath through his nose.

  He knows I’m lying… Or does he? Maybe he only suspects it.

  “Someone said a monster was selling her,” Vladnoch said. “Great big fellow.”