Chapter 107: The Hungry Street
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Now, the jars were nearly empty.
Only a few remained. The cold, old ones. The ones that felt like stale history instead of living warmth.
Sekhmet’s gaze drifted to the small table where the remaining blood jars sat. Their contents were darker now. Thicker. Still useful, but the smell was not the same. It was like comparing fresh bread to dry crumbs.
His tongue pressed lightly against his teeth.
His hunger answered.
Bat Bat’s eyes suddenly opened.
She sat up in bat form, staring at him like she had been waiting for this moment.
"You hungry," Bat Bat said.
Sekhmet did not respond immediately.
Bat Bat’s tone sharpened, like a tiny judge.
"You hungry hungry," Bat Bat repeated, nodding as if confirming evidence.
Sekhmet turned slowly.
"How do you know," he asked.
Bat Bat blinked, then looked offended.
"Bat nose," she said, as if Sekhmet had asked a stupid question.
Sekhmet stared at her.
Bat Bat puffed up a little, wings flaring slightly.
"Master smell like... like wolf when wolf see meat," Bat Bat added.
Sekhmet narrowed his eyes.
"That is not a compliment," he said.
Bat Bat thought about it for a second.
Then she nodded firmly.
"Yes," she said. "Not compliment."
Sekhmet exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his patience intact.
He walked to the table and picked up one of the remaining jars, turning it slightly so the lamplight hit the glass. The blood inside was thick and dark, but the scent was muted. Old. Cold.
His throat responded with only mild interest.
Not enough.
He set it down again.
He needed warm blood.
He needed living blood.
He needed to hunt.
He did not like the thought.
He had accepted what he was becoming, but acceptance did not erase discomfort. In purgatory, blood had been survival. Here, in Slik, blood was crime if done openly. It was danger if done carelessly. It was death if it became known.
He could not feed in his own district.
He could not feed near Dawn House.
He could not feed where Lily might hear whispers.
He could not feed where Elena might notice missing people.
He needed a place where violence did not bring city guards.
He needed the underground.
Sekhmet’s eyes darkened slightly.
"The underground market," he murmured.
Bat Bat’s ears rose.
"Market," she repeated.
Sekhmet looked down.
"You are coming with me," he said, already knowing the argument would begin if he did not say it first.
Bat Bat froze, then slowly smiled like a child being handed candy.
"Yes," she said quickly.
Sekhmet reached toward his cloak.
"But Auri stays," he added.
Bat Bat’s smile vanished.
"Why Auri stay," Bat Bat demanded.
Sekhmet slid his arms into his coat slowly, not reacting emotionally.
"Auri is a secret," he said. "And the underground is not a place to reveal secrets."
Bat Bat stared at him suspiciously.
"You bring Bat Bat, but no bring Auri," she said slowly. "Master like Bat Bat more."
Sekhmet’s expression remained flat.
"That is not the reason," he said.
Bat Bat narrowed her eyes.
"Master lie," she accused.
Sekhmet pinched the bridge of his nose.
Bat Bat watched him like she had won.
"You want me to explain," Sekhmet said, voice measured, "why I cannot take Auri?"
Bat Bat nodded violently.
"Yes," she said.
Sekhmet spoke slowly.
"If Auri comes out, someone might see her wings. Someone might recognize her race. Someone might connect her to me. Then someone might ask why a merchant heir has a summoned harpy. Then someone might report it. Then someone might kill her. Or try to steal her. Or use her to threaten me."
Bat Bat listened with wide eyes.
Sekhmet finished calmly.
"So Auri stays."
Bat Bat’s face twisted.
"Bat Bat also can be stolen," she protested.
Sekhmet looked at her.
"Yes," he said. "That is why you are coming with me. So I can see you."
Bat Bat blinked.
Her anger paused.
Then she nodded as if that logic was acceptable, even if she hated it.
"Okay," she said reluctantly. "Bat Bat come. Bat Bat stay close."
Sekhmet reached out and tapped Bat Bat lightly on the head.
"Do not transform," he warned. "Stay in bat form. And do not pee."
Bat Bat’s ears drooped.
"No pee," she muttered, like she was being asked to live without air.
Sekhmet opened the door.
Click.
The corridor outside was quiet. Dawn House servants were asleep or resting. Elena had arranged it that way. Only two guards stood at the hallway corner, both bowing silently when Sekhmet passed.
Sekhmet walked like a shadow, leaving the mansion without ceremony.
The gates opened quietly for him.
Creak...
Slik’s night air struck him like a different world.
It was cooler. It smelled of smoke and oil. It smelled of cooked meat and cheap liquor. It smelled of sweat. It smelled of secrets.
Bat Bat perched on his shoulder in bat form, claws gripping his coat gently.
"Where we go," Bat Bat whispered.
Sekhmet answered quietly.
"Down," he said.
They moved through the streets with controlled steps.
Tap... tap... tap...
No rushing.
No running.
Only careful movement.
Slik at night was still crowded, but the crowd was different. More beastkin. More cloaked figures. More eyes that watched without blinking. More smiles that did not reach mouths.
Sekhmet kept his face calm. He was not here to show power. He was here to feed. He was here to hunt. He was here to remain invisible.
Sekhmet did not take the long route this time.
He moved through the quieter side streets like someone who already knew where the shadows pooled, where the lantern light did not reach properly, and which alleys had too many footprints for comfort. The city above still had rules. The city above still had faces. But the closer he got to the underground market path, the more the air changed.
Less perfume.
Less food.
More metal.
More sweat.
More old fear hiding under fresh arrogance.
The warehouse district was quieter at night, but not empty.