Otter Creek Blood Stains on the Collar Means Just Don’t Ask

Others will come looking? Herod’s voice was laced with amusement, his lips curling into a smile that betrayed the disbelief he barely restrained. His golden eyes glinted beneath his brow, sharp as a hawk’s gaze fixed upon prey. The notion was laughable, and for a brief moment, he appeared on the verge of doing so.

Two weeks have passed, dear, he continued, words rich with finality. You might imagine the world pauses its spinning in your absence, but I am afraid you must learn that is not the case. If there were any who truly sought you, they would have come by now. Those you hope for, those you imagine racing to your rescue, have long since abandoned the thought. You are alone.

He regarded the boy for a lingering moment, watching as the revelation settled over him. Then, with the air of one concluding an already settled matter, Herod’s voice lowered to a hum, like a lullaby sung over a battlefield.

Sleep well, Hasdrubal, he murmured, pressing a kiss into the muddied temple. Do not fret, I am a kind man. You will receive another chance to apologize when you awaken.