The door to the central holding cell was open, and there was a smear of blood on the floor. “She was a pretty one. Perfect, really. And her hair…” Sil had his muzzled face pressed between the bars of his cell. “She had all your Guards hot and bothered, Captain. Maybe you should talk to them about their manners.” “You’re lecturing me about proper conduct?” Malachi rolled his eyes. He would talk to his Guards, but not about their manners. He was more interested in knowing why they thought it was acceptable to leave one of the most dangerous and crafty Mazikin in the city unattended. He walked to the door and leaned out. “Lutfi, Usman!” he shouted down the hall. The two Guards were stationed at the front entrance tonight. “One of you report to the holding cells immediately!” The floor beneath his feet shuddered slightly as one of them began to jog down the corridor. Behind him, Sil was giggling again. Malachi turned to look at him. “Do you want to know the funniest thing?”
