The shopkeeper’s brows creased in a look of pity that only sparked fury within him. “Alright, there’s one piece of information I can give you. But I know little of it and really, they’re just rumours. Legend, really.”
“Go on,” Vesper said. His heart sped to a gallop. All he could think as he met this man’s lifeless black eyes streaked in red, was how badly he needed answers. How time was running out. How the Council’s date loomed closer. How his home would be ripped out of his hands. How he would let Briar, Cal, Marlys, and now Emmery down, if he didn’t find Kyrith. Andfast.
“Out with it,” Vesper prompted.
“There are these, I guess they’re creatures. They’re called Gravers.” The man glanced behind Vesper before his gaze slid back. Bored.
“What the fuck are Gravers? And why haven’t I heard of them?”
“They’re not exactly friendly. Or easy to find. But they’re wise. They can answer questions most can’t. That’s all I know, kid.”
Vesper scrubbed a hand down his face both in relief and irritation. It was something. “Where are they located?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Come on. Does anyone else know about them? I could ask—”
“Somebody told me many years ago, but I don’t recall their name.”
“Maybe another piece will refresh your memory.” Vesper reached into his coin pouch and retrieved another two slate. He tossed them onto the counter next to the others. There was no other leverage he could offer.
The shopkeeper eyed the black diamonds before his expression shifted to one of irritation and he scooped it off thecounter into his pocket. “No name. But thanks for the slate, kid. Now get out. I’m done.”
Vesper’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need the slate but he couldn't leave like this. “Are there novels about Gravers? If there’s a library or bookshop or—”
“No more.” The shopkeeper nodded at the door. “Out.”
Desperation rose in Vesper’s throat. “You don’t understand—”
“You don’t fucking listen do you?” The man rolled his eyes. “I’ve given you information. I can’t make myself more clear. Now leave my shop before Iforceyou out.”
“Don’t be like this. From one lost man to another. Come on.” It was pathetic, but he had no other choice. “I can’t go home like this.”
He couldn’t return to Ellynne without answers. Without any word on the prophecy or Izzy. Without helping Emmery. Fuck, hehadto make this work. Frustration, not only for the situation but toward himself, simmered in his gut.
The door jingled and the man’s gaze slid to Nef as she reentered the shop and coughed a guttural rattling sound. “On second thought, maybe some name will pop back into my head if I take your girl into the back and have her suck my—”
Then, like a heavy boot stomped on a mound of twigs, Vesper snapped.
He lunged across the counter, grasped the man’s filthy shirt and hauled him forward. At the same time, Vesper snatched a blade from his belt and held it under the man’s chin. Jabbed the tip into flesh until a bead of blood trickled down.
“You don’t even get tolookat her,” Vesper growled. “Got it?”
The small pathetic sound that slipped from between the shopkeeper’s lips filled Vesper with a glimmer of satisfaction. His grin was equal parts malice, a sick thrill of domination, and his last resort.
“I don’t think you realize who you’re dealing with. I’m trying to be civil, Ireallyam, but a man can only take so much. And I’m about to lose every single fucking thing in my life. If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll press this blade into your skin until you scream. Do you hear me? Or should I say it slower so your tiny fucking brain can comprehend it? Or maybe stealing that mask off your face and tossing you into a heap of that red shit will loosen your tongue. I’ll leave the choice to you.”
The man’s eyes widened and watered as they stared each other down. The shopkeeper’s breaths wheezed, his hands held up in surrender.
Vesper flinched at the hesitant grip on his shirt sleeve and his eyes slid to see Nef, her fingers tangled in the fabric. Slowly, she tugged his arm with the knife away from the shopkeeper's throat.
“Vesper,” she said, drawing out his name. “He says he doesn’t know.” Her eyes flicked between the two men in disappointment. “It’s time to go.”
Though he grit his teeth and his heart roared like a drum in his throat, his gaze slid to the weary eyed Nef. And his shoulders relaxed.
Begrudgingly, Vesper dropped his hold on the man’s shirt and shoved him back. He took a shaky breath and reached for composure, searched for it, sank inside himself until he found it. Breathed it in.
That wasn’t like him. That was something Destonne would do. Though the King wouldn’t have hesitated to carve into the man’s face for answers, at least Vesper had reined himself back before he did something he regretted. He was just stressed. So bloody stressed.