"Darryl." It sounded like an odd name for a lord, but perhaps the man was more of an innkeep. Percy scanned the area, alert now for threats after the initial shock of the place had faded. There was a dark spot on the floor, darkening some of the roses but at this distance Percy couldn't make out what caused the stain. It was fresh, though. The light changed as he shifted, slick and wet.

Percy glanced toward the desk where Darryl stood, then turned and walked to the stain instead. He knelt, stiffly, and reached down with two fingers. They came back red and sticky. Blood, and it wasn't his. "Does this happen often?" he asked mildly, his gunhand twitching.