Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Leaning against the side of the china cabinet from his spot on the cushioned bench, Archer dug a hand into his paper bag, plucked out a mushroom, and tossed it into his mouth. “Not long enough.”
“I’d forgotten just how damn speedy they were,” said Teague, stroking Reggie’s head. The dog hadn’t moved far from his side since rushing into the wagon and now sat beside his chair like a sentry. “I’m pissed that it got away. They’re slippery little fuckers.”
Shadowkin might be powerful and difficult to kill, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t flee from a losing battle. They were predators who thought in a more animalistic sense than the humans they vaguely resembled in shape. Even a lion would turn away if outnumbered.
“The question is,” began Gideon, sitting on the floor with his liquor bottle between his legs, ignoring that Baxter kept sniffing at it, “who sent the shadowkin after you, will it come back, and why were you targeted?”
“That was three questions,” Archer pointed out.
Gideon’s forehead creased, his expression pensive. After a few moments, he shook his head in annoyance, making his wavy shoulder-length red hair flutter. “You’ve got nothing better to do than count?”
“You’ve got nothing better to do than pour brandy down your throat?” Archer shot back with enough piousness to rival that of any priest.
“It helps me think,” Gideon insisted, inching up his bearded chin. “And where do you get off on being so judgmental about big drinkers? You practically live on weed and magic mushrooms.”
“That’s different. They were put here by nature. Alcohol wasn’t.”
On the opposite end of the cushioned bench from Archer, Saxon let out a heavy sigh. “Can we focus on what’s important here?” He cut his blue gaze to Teague. “Did the shadowkin tell you anything?”
“No. I didn’t get a chance to communicate with it.” The only way it could converse was through telepathic images. “There wasn’t much of a showdown. The demon appeared out of nowhere, attacked hard and fast, and left just as quickly when you all turned up.”
Rasping a hand over the blond scruff on his jaw, Slade said, “Shadowkin can only be called on by three people.” He absently plucked at his collar, which sported an old bloodstain—most of his clothes did, but he didn’t bother replacing many. “I don’t think Vine would have sent it. He wished us well when we went our own way, and he has no personal beef with you. I can’t think of a reason he’d want you dead.”
“Same goes with Zagan,” said Leo, sitting on the floor with his back propped up against the doorjamb between the living space and bedroom. “You two butted heads occasionally, Teague, but he always respected you, just as you respected him.”
“Which leaves one person.” Slade shifted in his seat, almost knocking the bag of mushrooms out of Archer’s hands and into the jaws of Dutch, who’d been eyeing the bag while licking his muzzle. “Only one other figure of authority can pull shadowkinstrings. But we don’t know who exactly holds that position of power nowadays.”
His gaze on Teague, Saxon swiped a hand over his clean-shaven head. “There’s a way to find out. But to go down that metaphorical path would be to walk right into the hands of whoever wants you dead. Once they learn that the shadowkin failed, they’ll be ready for you to retaliate. They’ll be waiting.”
Teague stroked the underside of Reggie’s tan-furred jaw. “Then they should know better. I would never make it easy for anyone to kill me. If they want me dead, they’ll have to come for me themselves. Because I will kill every other minion they send until they have no option but to back down or face me in person.”
Not that taking out each of the aforementioned minions would be easy. Shadowkin were never easy to take down.
“Let’s look on the bright side,” said Gideon with a smile. “We’ll now have a little action coming our way.” He took a quick gulp of brandy. “It’s been a while since we got any. I miss it.”
Saxon shot him a quelling look. “Then maybe get a job more exciting than producing counterfeit paintings and selling them via our imp-contacts.”
Gideon arched an imperious brow. “What, like contract killing? Not all of us feel comfortable with assassinating people for money.”
Saxon shrugged his wide shoulders. “It’s a more honest profession than how you, Tucker, and Leo make a living.”
Tucker bristled, his elbows slipping off the table as he straightened in his seat. “Now hold on—”
“He’s right, you know,” Leo told Tucker matter-of-factly. The two hustlers could give a masterclass on thievery. They often went on ‘jobs’ with imps. There wasn’t a vault in the world that Leo couldn’t crack open.
Tucker let out a defensive huff. “We do what we must during difficult times.”
Gideon gave a hard nod and then took another long swig of his drink. “So, Teague, our plan is to basically toy with whoever is on your ass by killing their henchmen over and over in whatever creative ways we have in mind?”