Zane sucked the air deeply into his lungs and forced himself to relax the tense muscles under the heavy cloak.

"Calm down," the dark voice admonished himself, peering furtively into the darkness. He had to proceed carefully and could not afford to make any mistakes. He opened and closed his hands several times to dispel the unpleasant tingling sensation.

Like a river inevitably flowing back into the sea, Zane emerged from the alley into one of the busier districts.

By now, the sun had entirely sunk behind the horizon and shrouded the city in a night-time veil, broken only by the occasional flickering lights of the street lamps. With the fading light, nightlife awoke and brought completely different figures to the surface.

Without him being able to prevent it, a new mixture of smells immediately reached his nose, and Zane's face contorted into a grimace of loathing.

"Disgusting," he grumbled quietly to himself. The earthy smell of graveyard soil washed through the streets like a tidal wave, mingling with the nuances of wet granite and stone, wet dog fur, heavy incense, dead flowers, and far too sweet perfume.

It was a nauseating mixture for his nose. The night conjured up everything he despised and had once fought against in blood.

"Stinking scum."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against a wall next to one of the numerous side alleys. The Caith-Sith tilted his head slightly towards his chest, just enough to peek under the hem of his hood and watch the goings-on.

The children of the night, whether seeking pleasure or paying homage to the darkness, roamed the cobblestones in search of a new place to sleep. A fae with pale skin and black eyes covered with tattoos sat in the middle of a group of sinister fellows, a sidhe in revealing clothes sitting on his lap with her legs apart. It was a bizarre sight, as the strange fashion of the humans with their slouch hats and vests blended in with the style of the Otherworld. Fine, colorful silk, covered in morning dew and woven from spider silk, met the coarse wool of the humans.

Some might find this disgusting - but what else could they do? After all, the Vaesen were stranded here and faced new circumstances. What helped was the intoxication: a bottle passed from mouth to mouth, accompanied by filthy laughter. The green glass of the absinthe bottle shimmered in the dull light of a lantern but had a striking silver sheen. Fairy dust, huh? Nasty stuff. It was as addictive as fairy food and could quickly become your undoing. It was not for nothing that the drink was nicknamed "The Green Fairy."

Without Zane stopping it, a dark growl escaped his throat. All these vermin were disgusting spawns of the night: werewolves, vampires, witches, ghosts, and many more. In his eyes, these creatures were hardly worth more than humans, but they ruled Paris at night in most neighborhoods.

They mainly ran establishments for all kinds of amusements and offered their services or arts in the dark—or those of the oppressed Vaesen and Humans. There were casinos where you could gamble for anything you could imagine, from gems to memories to your own life. There were also bars and brothels where, for the right price, you could get any intoxicant to help you forget the miseries of life. Sinful, intimate services were also big business, satisfying even the most perverse desires.

Zane hated these creatures.

Too often, he had had to fight these monsters to feel even a shred of kindness for them, and too often, he had seen the suffering they brought upon everything they came into contact with. It was all the worse that he needed this network in the darkness right now to get the information he needed.

Small footsteps approaching him quickly finally caught his attention. A tiny shadow barely reaching his waist hurried close to the wall and directly towards him. A ragged cloak fluttered behind the small figure like a flag in the wind.

A sinister grin crept onto Zane's otherwise stern face, and the pointed canines flashed dangerously from under his lips.

This was precisely the little bastard he had been waiting for!

His arm shot out to the side like an arrow as the little shadow tried to run past him. The rough fabric tickled under his fingertips before the grip hardened.

"Uffz!" The startled yip was swallowed up by the street noise as Zane jerked the small figure back by the collar and disappeared with him into the alley's shadows. Before another sound could leave his lips, his second hand shot forward, grabbed the much smaller man, and yanked him towards him. His victim thudded against the wall in front of him.

Short legs kicked and kicked at his elbows in a desperate attempt to defend himself as he lifted the body into the air like a doll so that he could look him in the eye. A child figure stared at him with wide eyes and tiny feet kicked at him in the vain hope of escaping the iron grip.

"Please! Please let me go!" the creature whimpered, piteously shedding a few crocodile tears. "I haven't done anything! I'm just looking for my mom!"

What a sight - but Zane wasn't fooled by appearances.

"Don't try to fool me!" it growled darkly from Zane's throat, and he pulled the thing away from the wall a little, only to shove it violently against it again.

"You filthy son of a mangy human whore! Let go of me right now!

You stinking bastard!" the beast now cursed obscenely. The façade fell away from him and seemed to crumble like old plaster: this was no human child.

The body was far too misshapen, and the proportions were wrong. The long, thin arms, like the upper body, were too short, while the legs were long and skinny. The small, still round ears were distorted, as if the child's louse ears had been stretched, and became long and pointed, as was common among the people of the Otherworld. Where the child's soft cheeks had previously been visible, the facial features slipped away, revealing grayish skin, sharp-edged cheekbones, razor-sharp, pointed teeth, and ink-black eyes.

This was a pukwudgie.

A small, deceitful goblin from America that could take on almost any shape. They were rare here, and he rarely saw one in human form. But this one was a special specimen, not because of his origins but his shady connections.

" Keep still!" the tall warrior hissed warningly, his hand closed tighter around the scrawny neck. The little creature feared for its life. Zane saw it as clearly as his own reflection in the great sea of black ink: a menacing apparition as the glowing gray eyes with the narrow pupils under the hood and the silver-white strands emerged from the shadows like shimmering gems.

"Your life is not what I desire from you, but information," the Caith-Sith rumbled. "But if I don't get what I want ..."

He did not utter the threat—instead, his hand closed the gnome's throat a little tighter, causing it to gasp for air as soon as he loosened his fingers a little.

The little creature gave up its attempts to free itself. Like a puppet without strings, it hung in his grip and clung to the joint to find some support. The many beads in the wild, straw-colored hair tinkled woodenly, and the small chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. Then, the creature narrowed its eyes suspiciously.

"What do you want?" he heard after what felt like an eternity, the cheeky voice reminding him vaguely of a crow.

"Orestes, the Fence - where is he hiding?"

"Orestes?" Zane saw the black eyes widen again. "I don't know any Ores-"

Before the little trickster could finish, his grip on his throat had hardened again, and he squeezed hard. Zane felt the flesh under his strong fingers and could literally hear the bones groaning under pressure with his keen hearing ... Just a little further, and he could have snapped his neck like a rotten twig.

"Don't play games; you'll pay with your life!"

As soon as he had uttered his threat, a new smell mingled with the stench that polluted the air around him: fear. To him, it smelled almost as sweet as a mild summer rain.

"It's all right!" the Puckwadgie gasped. "Let me live!"

Zane loosened his grip but bent down menacingly toward the creature, revealing his fangs in a sinister growl. "One more try, and I'll snap your scrawny neck..."

The little goblin swallowed hard. Zane felt the Adam's apple bounce under his fingers before the pale lips first pressed together and then - finally - opened for the desired information:

"You'll find him in the shadow of the old cathedral, in the 13th Lightless Lane that branches off to the left. Follow it to a colorful scrap of cloth; behind it is the entrance to his store," the creature croaked hoarsely.

"There you go," the Caith-Sith snorted and let go of the handle with a jerk, causing the small body to fall back onto the damp pavement with a dull thud like a piece of dirt. Without paying any further attention to the gnome, Zane was already turning away when he heard the croaking voice behind him again:

"Curse you, stupid cat!"

He jerked to a halt. Dangerously slowly, his head returned to the ugly heap that had jumped onto his thin legs. His hands, hidden under his coat, twitched. Zane's instinct screamed to tear this worthless rat to pieces. Killing had always come as easy to him as breathing.

'Sometimes you show more strength by sparing a life instead of taking it,' Kaie's voice was suddenly carried to him from his memory like leaves on a playful fall breeze. Only they cut into his flesh like blades.

Nevertheless, Zane sucked the air deeper into his lungs and averted his eyes from the unworthy worm. He didn't have time to deal with this worthless scum anyway.

"You're moons too late to curse me," he growled instead, disappearing into the night's shadows.

Chapter 5 - Creatures of the night

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