Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [27]
She slipped away from his hand and trotted after her quarry, taking more care as she ran. She stayed close to the shadows, and low. The man walked briskly, almost nervously. It seemed that he knew where he was going, but that he wasn't entirely eager to get there-or to be seen on his way.
He finally stopped again at the mouth of an alley. Feena curled into a doorway and watched as he looked furtively in all directions-up and down the street as well as up into the Stiltways above-then stepped quickly into the shadows. He'd reached his destination. She darted up to the mouth of the alley and peered down it.
Beyond its narrow neck of a mouth, the alley opened up into a small courtyard that been practically buried by the platforms and walkways above it. Noise and some illumination drifted down from the levels overhead. Feena's quarry stood in the freckled shadows, a large dark flask in one hand as he fumbled with the heavy wooden cover on a low stone structure. A number of pipes pierced the wood, rising up and into the shadows, some passing into buildings, others ending in public hand pumps. A well.
Moonmaiden's grace, Feena cursed, if he pours the poison in there____________________
The wooden cover wasn't yielding to one hand. The man set the flask on the ground and hauled at the cover with both hands. It groaned and began to shift. Feena reached into her spirit, seeking the point of balance between woman and wolf-and shook herself.
Her chain and the battered symbol of Selune jingled softly.
The man started and the wooden cover slipped from his fingers.
"Who's there?" he called, peering back into the alley. Without taking his eyes away, he bent down, groping for the flask.
Feena flung herself down the alley, exploding out into the courtyard on legs as long and as powerful as a human's, but bent like those of a wolf. She still had a wolfs tail and a wolfs head, as well, but her torso and arms were those" of a woman for all that they rippled with short reddish fur. Her hands, however, were huge, her fingers long, thick, and tipped with claws. Her muzzle all but incapable of forming human words, she let out a dangerous snarl as she leaped.
The man gasped and jerked back toward one of the courtyard's walls. Feena landed with a thump on the wooden cover of the well and spun around to face him.
He clutched the flask in his hand. She growled and stretched out clawed fingers. The man's eyes darted around the tiny courtyard as he sought a way past her. From the top of the well, however, she commanded the space. He started to take a step and she jumped forward to block his way.
The dim light from above flashed on her medallion. The reflected light caught his eyes-and they widened.
"Selunite!" he gasped, pulling away. His features hardened into sneering resolve. "You won't have me, moon-bitch!"
Jerking the stopper free, he raised the flask to his lips and drank greedily.
Startled, Feena froze. When finally she barked and lunged forward to bat the flask away, it was too late. Only a few drops of the dark, acrid liquid splattered across the man's face. His eyes opened wide, the pupils huge, and he let out a strangled, gasping rattle before thrashing back against the wall. Dark froth oozed out of his mouth and across his lips. One hand clawed at his neck and a pendant there.
"Shar…" he slurred.
Horrified, Feena stepped away as he stumbled off his feet, fell to the ground, and lay still.
Moonmaiden's grace, she silently cursed.
Feena bent down swiftly and touched his neck, feeling for a pulse as best she could with her clumsy taloned fingers.
Nothing-he was already dead. But his dying words____________________
She seized his hand and pulled against muscles drawn as rigid as steel by the poison. The dead man's fingers loosened enough to allow the pendant he had seized to fall free. A wooden disk, its rim dark but its center even darker. By better light, Feena knew it would be black surrounded by purple.
A follower of Shar.
Feena let his hand drop and scrambled for the flask