Blood of the Watcher (The Dark Ability Book 4) by D.K. Holmberg Page A

the skills to fashion something like that.”
    “My father would have,” Rsiran said.
    Brusus nodded. “Should’ve thought of that.” He stepped back, rolling the lock-pick set back and slipping it back into his pocket. He crossed his arms over his chest as he surveyed the street. “Need to find another way in, but one that doesn’t make too much noise. Constables don’t patrol in this part too often, but they do send men from time to time.”
    “Let me Slide us through,” Rsiran said.
    “Thought you didn’t want to do that. What if it draws those from the other night in the forest?”
    Rsiran considered the door. He needed to learn what happened to Alyse. To do that, he might have to take a few risks. He could minimize them, and maybe a short Slide like this wouldn’t be enough to trigger any sort of attention.
    “It might,” he said.
    “Then we’ll have to be ready.” Brusus tapped his pocket.
    Rsiran could sense the four knives Brusus kept in his pocket, plus the one that he kept tucked into his waistband. He grabbed Brusus’s sleeve and focused on the other side of the door. He didn’t know what was on the other side. There could be nothing, or she could have placed some kind of heavy barricade to block the door. Sliding into that could create some risk.
    But if he pulled himself into the Slide… that might allow him the time to determine whether the Slide would pose a danger. Sliding in that way gave a different type of control, and he thought that he might be able to Slide away if something went wrong.
    They moved slowly at first, a steady drawing sensation that brought them past the door. For the first time, Rsiran had a sense of control of the speed, as if he could move more quickly or more slowly were he to need to, and the colors that flashed past during the Slide were plain browns, those of the door itself.
    When they emerged, he checked to ensure they were safe, before letting out a shaky breath.
    “Damn,” Brusus whispered.
    A woman screamed. A long length of iron came swinging toward them. If Rsiran did nothing, Brusus would get hit in the head with it.
    He sent the knives streaking from his pocket to block the iron. With the force of his push , he sent the bar arcing up and away, flipping from his mother’s hands. The knives hung in the air a moment until he pulled them back to him.
    She stared at him, her eyes wide.
    “You…”
    Rsiran nodded. “Me.”
    “How is it… How are you… He said you were dead!”
    Rsiran glanced over at Brusus, but he’d crossed his arms over his chest and kept his face neutral.
    “Who said I was dead?” Rsiran asked. “Father?”
    That would be the final piece, wouldn’t it? The last brutal part of his punishment for his father to claim to the rest of his family that he had died. That explained why Alyse had been so surprised to see him, but why hadn’t she shared the truth with their mother?
    “Not your father. He regretted what happened. Never said it, but when he drank…”
    Rsiran didn’t need her to finish. His barriers would have been down, and she would have been able to Read him. That was an advantage that Rsiran would not share.
    “Who told you that I died?”
    Who else would have cared what happened to him? Who else would have wanted to tell his mother that he had died? Other than his father and the fact that he was completely disinterested in what happened to him, Rsiran couldn’t think of anyone who would have reason to tell her that he’d died.
    “It doesn’t matter,” she said. She took a step toward him before catching herself and stepping back. “You… You look different.”
    “Being sent to the mines will do that,” Rsiran said.
    She stared at him for a moment. “I wish he had never done that, but Neran always thought that he could keep you from…” She caught herself and shook her head. “Perhaps that is in the past. What has happened, has happened. And now that Neran is gone, it doesn’t matter, does it?” she