***
Tobias knew he shouldn't have stayed behind. He knew that it would be unwise to linger when he was supposed to be somewhere else. But Samara had convinced him to stay. She had sent everyone away, and then she laid beside him on the bed.
And he decided to spend the night.
Apart from the fervent love-making, there were several questions which nagged at the back of his mind, and he knew he wouldn't rest until he got the answers to them. But Samara was not ready to answer any of them. And while he kept trying to pry some answers from her, she would merely kiss him and steal the words from his lips.
And that was how he went to sleep, with Samara's hands in his hair and her warm, naked body pressed up against his. Tobias had forgotten what it felt like to be held, and he allowed himself to relax, maybe just for one night. He was well fed, his lust had been satisfied, he had as much coin as he needed to be on his way in the morning, and the only woman who had ever showed him anything close to affection was cradled in his arms with a pale moonlight hanging over them and a silence which urged him to relax. There were no monsters that he could smell nearby, and no sign of any impending danger.
All was well.
But then he woke up with a knife to this throat, and he immediately realised that he had made a big mistake.
"Fuck!"
"Don't even think about moving," a cold voice said above him, as a large and meaty hand gripped one of his horns and pinned him to the bed. "If you so much as breath in a funny way, I'll slice your throat open and then we'll see how witch-hunters bleed."
Tobias was relieved that he had worn his pants earlier in the night. He could hear several other people running around the room and trying to find where he had hidden his things. If he weren't in such an uncomfortable position, he would have found their confusion amusing.
"Your whore isn't here to save you, is she?" the man whispered, and Tobias recognised him at once.
It was the fat bloke from yesterday at the inn.
"There's nothing here," another voice came from somewhere behind, and Tobias heard the man —he remembered his name was Dennis— grunt in disapproval.
"I saw a fat purse hanging from his belt last night," Dennis said. "Keep looking. He never left the room since he entered."I'm sure it's here somewhere."
To that, Tobias chuckled.
"Something funny, you piece of shit?" Dennis grumbled as he pressed the blade deeper against Tobias' neck. The latter grunted as he felt his skin prickling from the blade. It was pure silver, the only thing that could pierce his skin. Clearly Dennis came prepared.
"Oh, it's nothing," he said. "I was just thinking that if you wanted money, then you should have told me that sooner. I would have given you all the silver you wanted."
"Then where is it?" Dennis asked.
"Of course I'm not going to tell you now," he said. "You've disturbed my sleep rather abruptly, and I'm afraid that simply won't do."
With a sudden lurch upwards, Tobias flung Dennis up towards the ceiling. The large man slammed against the roof of the inn, and then he hurtled down towards the bed, where Tobias had rolled out of the way just in time so that when Dennis landed on the bed and broke it in half, he was a good distance away.
"Ouch," he whispered. "I've never felt sorry for a piece of wood except today."
The others took a step back in horror as he turned to face them. No doubt they had seen the two large scars across his back, which seemed like he had been clawed by some vicious animal. His eyes glowed a dangerous shade of gold, and the air suddenly seemed charged with a ruthlessness which was emanating primarily from Tobias' heated gaze.
"Now, which one of you wishes to die first?" he asked as his eyes settled on each of them in turn. There were four of them, each looking more terrified than the last.
The first man lunged forward, and Tobias easily ducked underneath him and drove his fist up directly at the man's jaw, satisfied when he heard the sound of bone crunching. He twisted the man's hand, then aimed the knife at his throat before he slammed it forward. The man collapsed in a pool of blood, and Tobias stepped away from him. Two of them lunged at him then, and he curled away from their blades expertly, sidestepping every blow they threw at him. He moved easily, as though he were unhindered by any obstacle.
Once he got the opening he needed, he drove his fist into the first man's ribs, sending him to the ground with a crunch. He drove his knee into his face, then immediately ducked away from the others dagger. He kicked out with both his legs, sending him into the wall with a loud crash. He then turned towards the last man, who had turned around and dashed out of the door, no doubt to call for reinforcements.
There wasn't a moment to waste. Tobias summoned his sword immediately towards him, then he stabbed the man lying at his feet and clutching his ribs. Blood gushed from his open wound, and he turned his focus on the one who was slumped against the wall. He waved his hand in the man's direction, causing him to levitate into the air. He launched him towards the window, and he fell outside with a scream. Tobias imagined that he would be fine; they weren't that high up after all. But when he heard the squelching of flesh, he knew the man had landed on the low fence which surrounded the inn.
As for Dennis, Tobias walked over to where the man was still struggling to stand. He grabbed his bald head and tilted it upwards, keeping him staring at the broken bed.
"You should have let me sleep," he said, taking the silver dagger from his hands. "And you should have let me have my rum when I asked for it."
In one swift motion, he slit the man's throat, and held him in place as he thrashed about, blood gushing from the cut. Tobias held him as his legs kicked about, a horrible gurgling sound filled the room as he pinned him down. Only when he stopped kicking did he step off him, cleaning the dagger on Dennis' clothes before he stashed it in his belt. He waved his hand towards the ceiling, and the rest of his clothes and bag suddenly appeared, previously concealed by magic. Tobias immediately threw on his clothes, wiping the blood from his face. He straightened up, then sheathed his blade and headed towards the door. He paused briefly to survey the mess, two corpses lying on the floor with the bed broken, and blood splattered across the walls. He shuddered to think who would be forced to clean up the mess. But he shrugged nonchalantly as he stepped out into the hallway.
Only to be greeted by half a dozen men pointing their swords at him.
Tobias groaned as he set his bag down. This was going to take a while.
—
Half an hour later, with sixteen men lying in various mangled forms all over the inn, Tobias stepped out with his bag thrown over one shoulder. He was drenched in blood, the stench causing him to squeeze his nose every now and again. He headed towards the stables, ignoring the screams of horror that were filling the inn as they all saw what he had done.
The citizens of Grimsby would wake up to a very grim sight indeed (pun intended).
His stallion was moving restlessly when he walked into the stables, and he placed a hand on his side to calm his nerves. The man he had thrown earlier from the room had landed only a few feet away, and the smell of blood was still in the air. No doubt that was why the horse was nervous.
"There, there," he said. "The bastards are dead. You won't be hearing their awful voices again."
He saddled the horse, and as he dragged him out and onto the dirt path which snaked away from the town and towards the forest, he heard the horrible words that the townsfolk hurled at him in disgust.
"Monster."
"Killer."
"Murderer."
"Abomination."
What else was new? Their words were nothing to him. He had heard it all before. And he would hear much more of it in the future. Such was the life of a witch-hunter, that they would be frowned upon by society until they were needed. If an evil creature was terrorising a town, then a witch-hunter would prove to be their saviour, and they would laud him for his efforts. But once the creature was gone, they would turn back to normal and continue to whisper about their hatred for his kind.
All for a few coins.
That was how he met Samara actually. He could still remember the day clearly, and how he had spared her life when he was hired to kill her. Looking back, Tobias didn't know why he didn't kill her. But something about the red-eyed witch had stood out to him, and he felt like there was a reason why she didn't even try to fight him. He wished she hadn't disappeared so he could ask her why she didn't. But once again, she had eluded him.
Tobias grunted as he kept on walking. He was retired now. He had other things on his mind, and even though he wasn't sure where exactly he was heading, he knew that he had to get to Verena somehow.
Destiny awaited him there, after all.
***