The only way to deal with a rat problem was to buy a cat.
Cadmus was the cat, in this case, and he was happy to take on what seemed like a fairly easy job. Hunting was his specialty, after all, and even in human form his sense of smell was keen. All he had to do was track down the troublemaker that was picking off his client's people and...dispose of them. Seemed cut and dry, and even fair. He didn't prefer to take a life if he could avoid it, and refused jobs where it was clear there were innocents involved, but in this case? Blood had been spilled on all sides. It was just that one side decided to give themselves an edge.
All he needed was to examine one of the bodies, and from that he could catch the scent. He tried not to make what he was doing too obvious; he had learned along the way that humans found it really, really weird if it was clear he was smelling someone, so he pretended to fuss with and examine the body for signs when he was really just using it as an excuse to get close enough to pick up a scent. There was the scent of the dead, foul and rotting, and then on the clothes he picked up another.
He blinked, frowning thoughtfully.
There was something...familiar about it. But he knew better. It was likely just his brain playing tricks on him, just an odd coincidence, because the chances of that were...well...impossible. It wouldn't be the first time, anyway.
It had been foolish to get attached, even just that tiny amount.
Shaking his head to clear it, he focused on the scent a little longer before he rose and motioned his current companions to follow him. "They went this way."
On the cobblestone he could see tiny, but bright, splashes of blood. Their quarry was wounded--which would make this far easier--and the blood was still wet. "I think they're close, too."
Even wounded, their prey was elusive. But hunting was a test of endurance more than it was of speed and strength, and Cadmus knew they were closing in. Their target would not be able to keep this up. They would slow down, grow sluggish, end up making a mistake. Cadmus went one way, and sent another group a different route, with the intent of trapping their target between them like a pincer. The scent was stronger here; they were close. It wouldn't be long--
And it sounded like that mistake had just occurred, from the sounds of all that screaming.
Cadmus stiffened, head jerking toward the sound, because that was a feminine scream.
The Raven was a woman?
Or had someone else gotten caught in the crossfire?
Alarmed, Cadmus jogged back to catch up with the group, but the screaming had already stopped--abruptly. He turned the corner just in time for the Boss to jab a finger his way and order him to "carry the lady".
A feeling of slow-rising dread had begun to creep up Cadmus's spine from the moment he heard that scream, his nose filled with that horribly familiar scent. His heart screamed a warning, but his brain kept him calm as he did what he'd been paid to do, crossing over to the figure crumpled on the ground like a broken doll. He didn't want to look at her. But he didn't need to look to know.
Dark hair streaked with white.
Pale skin.
Her eyes were closed, but he knew they were blue.
He sucked in a sharp breath but quickly smoothed his expression over with stone. "Got it, boss," he said, and bent to scoop her up into his arms, cradling her like a bride. She was almost as tall as he was and all dead weight, but lifting her was near-effortless.
Inside, his mind was racing.
They were going to kill her.
Correction: he was going to kill her. They had paid him to deal with her.
But first, they were likely going to torture her.
Shit. SHIT.
"Huh...it's a right shame, you know," he said out loud with a smirk, glancing over at the other men as they walked. "Didn't realize the Raven was some pretty little bitch. Whatever you're planning, don't ruin her too much just yet, eh? Think I'd like to have a little fun with her before I send her off, if you know what I mean. Wouldn't be fair to waste that ass."
It was the single most vile thing he had ever heard himself say, the words tasting of slime and bile, but they believed him one of them. And, in some ways, he was.
If he was going to save her life, he was going to have to sell it.