Chapter 42: Beastkin II

Beastkin rarely left their own territories.

That was the first thing Asher’s mind supplied as he stood in the poorly lit lane and studied the woman in front of him. Unlike vampires, who moved through the world with the quiet arrogance of apex predators, or wolves, who claimed land and enforced those claims with teeth and numbers, beastkin were the closest of the major races to humans in raw physical capability.

They were stronger than the average person, quicker, with sharper senses, but they did not possess the overwhelming power that made vampires and high-ranking wolves natural disasters in human form. Because of that, they had learned different survival strategies. They stayed out of the spotlight. They avoided unnecessary conflict. They kept to their own factions and let the louder races exhaust themselves against one another.

Seeing one here, alone, at night, in the lower districts of the human capital, was not a casual occurrence. It meant something serious enough to pull a beastkin out of the safety of obscurity.

Asher kept his hands visible and his weight balanced, ready to move if the conversation turned.

The silver-furred woman regarded him with those large, dark eyes. Her bunny ears angled slightly forward, tracking him with an attention that felt more clinical than predatory. When she spoke again, her voice remained quiet and precise.

"My name is Mai," she said. "I was sent to find you."

"By who?"

The question came out flat and immediate. Asher had learned the hard way that the identity of the person giving orders mattered more than the politeness of the messenger.

Mai’s ears flicked once, but she did not answer.

Asher let out a short breath that was almost a laugh and shook his head. "Of course. Another powerful someone who wants the fortune teller, and another messenger who won’t say the name until I’ve already stepped into the trap." He shifted his weight, glancing once toward the mouth of the lane to make sure they were still alone. "I’m going to save us both some time. I’m not interested in becoming someone else’s problem again. I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m not offering readings, advice, or anything else. I’m on a break. If whoever sent you still wants to talk in a month, they can try then. Right now, the answer is no."

He expected an argument, pressure, and the familiar shift from polite request to implied threat.

Instead, Mai simply watched him for a moment longer, then said, "I am not here to take you anywhere."

Asher’s skepticism must have shown on his face, because she continued without waiting for him to voice it.

"I was sent to give you information. Important information. That is the entire purpose of this meeting."

"Information," Asher repeated. The word tasted unlikely. Everyone who had sought him out recently had wanted something from him — a future, a prediction, a claim, a body in a bed or a weapon in a war. Information given freely did not fit the pattern. "All right. Why follow me through half the district instead of knocking on the boarding-house door like a person with ordinary intentions?"

Lira’s ears angled back a fraction, then forward again. "Because I needed to know whether you were actually alone before I revealed myself. The boarding house has too many eyes and too many loose tongues. If someone else was already watching you, stepping into the open there would have put both of us at risk. Following you until the streets were empty was the safer option."

The explanation was practical. It matched the careful way she had moved, the way she had vanished from the metal tray’s reflection the moment he tried to catch her properly. Asher still did not trust her, but he could not immediately call the reasoning a lie.

"Fine," he said. "You were careful. You confirmed I was alone. What’s the information that’s important enough to pull a beastkin into the human lower districts at night?"

Lira’s dark eyes dropped to his left hand.

She looked at the claim ring for a long moment — long enough that Asher felt the urge to close his fingers over it — then lifted her gaze back to his face. The stillness in her expression did not change, but something under it sharpened.

"We have a way," she said quietly, "to get rid of that claim ring."

Asher’s first reaction was disbelief so strong it felt like a physical jolt. He had spent the previous evening being told by a human artifact dealer that the only clean options were Aaron’s consent or the loss of a finger. He had heard the same limitation from Elias in Marcel’s suite. Every authority he had consulted had given him the same closed door. Now a beastkin woman he had never met, standing in a dark lane with silver fur catching the moonlight, was telling him her people had a key.

"You’re lying," he said. The statement was automatic, a shield more than a conclusion.

"I am not." Lira did not sound offended. She sounded certain. "The binding on that ring is old. Older than the methods most human scholars and vampire specialists still use. Our artisans have preserved techniques that predate the current kingdoms’ agreements. We can sever the connection without taking the finger and without requiring the original placer’s consent. It is not simple. It is not free of cost. But it is possible."

Asher’s heart had begun to beat harder. He forced his voice to stay level. "And in exchange for this miracle, what exactly does your faction want from me?"

Lira’s ears flicked outward, a small motion that might have been acknowledgment of the fairness of the question.

"That," she said, "is the part we still need to discuss."

There was silence, one that stretched for a long minute as Asher decided on whether to believe her or not. He wanted to get rid of the ring, but agreeing to that meant subjugating himself to whatever task or request the faction might have in return.

But beastkins weren’t vampires nor were they wolves. They were more reserved, kinder if he must say. Surely they wouldn’t try to take advantage of him and his gift, right? Accepting was a risk, one that clearly stripped him of the freedom he was currently enjoying. But was he really free? Especially when there was a claim ring on his finger.

After a minute or more of thinking, Asher finally made up his mind.

"Fine, get this ring off me, and then we can discuss what you people want in return."