The Blinding Knife

Chapter 91

Tap. Tap.

Hurtled into the pitch blackness of the chamber, Kip still somehow knew exactly where everything was.

I memorized the room. That was it.

Tap. Tap. Tap. And in. Boom.

Kip? Something about Kip? Why did that pass through my mind? I cock my head to the side. Odd. Doubtless, the whelp is asleep on the deck, recovering.

I take my gloves off and try to suppress the rage that floods me at the sight of my hands.

Damn them. Damn them all.

Thin threads of red luxin glimmer in the darkness, veins of fire through the dross of my skin. I push back my hood.

Where is the boy hiding it? I’d had his room searched, hired pickpockets to jostle his tubby body. Nothing.

Rage crests and I ball my fists, clamping my eyes shut. I can feel the room growing brighter, hotter. I’m going to make it to Sun Day. To hell with it.

I’m going to go now and find him. I’ll beat the boy to death, injured as he is, if I have to. Maybe it is madness.

My hand is on the door before I remember my gloves and cloak. I pull on the gloves and snarl at the brief reflection of a man limned in red fire in the mirror. I pull the hood down and step into the hall.

“Captain!”