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“No.” Bram shook his head. “Probably forgot to turn the lights off.”

“I wonder if that was a help or a hindrance,” muttered Cyrus as he followed Bram to the corner of the road.

And sighed.

This mess was pretty much as bad as the first. Blood, quarts of it, glistened black rainbows along the cobblestones. Entrails were scattered, flesh flung aside, as if some kind of savage beast had feasted and thrown parts of its meal away.

Cyrus frowned.

“Yer see it then?” Bram’s abrupt words broke the silence.

“Something’s missing,” answered Cyrus. He walked around the horrific chaos.

Then he turned to Bram. “A hand. There’s a hand missing, unless whoever this was only had one of ‘em.”

“That’s what I saw as well.”

“The last one,” Cyrus followed his train of thought. “I didn’t see anything missing there, did you? Although it was nearly impossible to tell...”

“I checked as soon as I saw this,” Bram said quietly. “Ribs missing from the last one. Two ribs.”

Cyrus frowned. “But that was a fae. A female.” He glanced at the body. “This was no fae. You said shifter...”

“Yes. Shifter. There was a tiny insignia in the mess. I managed to get it.” Bram reached into his pocket and withdrew a bloody handkerchief. As he laid it on his palm and unfolded it, Cyrus could just make out the little pin.

As he stared at it, the breath slowly left his lungs in a quiet whoosh.

It was a tiny wave, a sinuous curl of enamel picked out in blue.

He’d seen it before.

It was the ancient crest of Theryn.

The same sigil Maelin wore on her wrist.

*~~*~~*

Maelin awoke the next morning with Alla’s “Brass Hearts” song running through her mind.

She had to smile, her friend had all but stolen the evening with her performance, and she’d willingly wager many brasspieces that she wasn’t the only one humming the catchy melody.

Her gown hung next to her clothes cupboard, and she snuggled against her pillow, staring at it, and then...remembering.

Dear God, that man.

Things low in her body tightened at the memory of his eyes, the look on his face, almost fierce, but not frightening—intriguing. She realised now that it was desire, pure, honest desire. Everything she’d experienced up to now had been a pale foreshadowing of the real thing.

He was, in a male way, beautiful. Dark eyes, so dark one could willingly lose oneself in them. And yet there were licks of flame there, dancing and flickering as one gazed deeply into their depths.

And his touch, his scent...he had completely entranced her, she realised. It had taken all of a minute. Or maybe even less. Once their hands met and his arm slipped around her? She had fallen into his spell. And had he not left in such a hurry? Well, she didn’t know where the evening might have ended or how she would be feeling this morning.

She took a ragged breath and sought some sort of distance from the emotions that even now were heating her skin and making her heart beat more quickly.

He was just a man, for coggles’ sake. She’d known plenty of men, friends, friends of friends, and two lovers. Both of whom had offered pleasant interludes to a young woman learning about herself and her body.

Neither of them, however, had turned every minute part of her upside down and inside out.

Neither of them had inspired her to hold them tight and beg for more of whatever it was they were doing to her.