I held my ground. If he thought he could boss me around by pulling that dominance crap, he was wrong. Ryder had tried it with me plenty of times. You can whup somebody’s ass until they can’t stand up, you can scream at them until your lungs give out, but you can’t push around somebody who doesn’t give a shit.
“I used to be just like you,” Clarion said. “Running into the thick of it, fighting without thinking. I was young and stupid and hurt and all I wanted was to fight until I’d paid Hell back for the pack it took away from me. You know what happened?”
You asked bunch of rhetorical questions?
“This.” He flipped up his eye patch so I was staring into an empty socket. Except it looked like somebody had gone at it with an impact driver, then it’d healed up all wrong.
I spit in it.
Clarion barked. He jumped on me. I didn’t even see him change, but he was a full-on coyote when he hit me.
The katana I’d been messing with earlier was leaning up against the wall next to me. I grabbed it. Even with the vamp speed, I wasn’t fast enough. Clarion back off, dodged the blade, then sprang at me again. He hit me chest-high and slammed me to the floor. I swung the katana again. He dodged, then ripped into my sword-wrist.
In the background, I could hear Scout yelling something. Lonely was laughing.
Clarion snarled and whipped his head back and forth, shaking my sword arm. He must’ve cut through something important in my wrist because my fingers went numb. The katana dropped. I went for it with my slightly less mauled arm, but Clarion slammed both paws on my chest again and growled.
“Just stop, Tough!” Scout yelled. “Stop it!”
I did.
Clarion shifted back to human form and used the hem of his shirt to wipe the spit and vamp venom off his face. He hocked a couple times to get the taste out of his mouth. Twice in one day. That had to suck.
Scout knelt down next to me. She was looking at me like she couldn’t understand what had happened.
“Can’t you just stop for one second?” she asked, her voice low.
I snorted. That turned into a full-on laughing fit because the answer was no, I couldn’t stop. Not even if I wanted to.
Across the room, Clare spat again and took one more swipe at his face with his hand. It was a weirdly cat-like move for a coyote to make.
“It’s going to take at least a day, maybe two for my messengers to get back,” he said. “Give them forty-eight hours before you make any moves.”
“That’ll give us time to get my people familiar with their weapons,” Scout said.
“And to come up with a better plan of attack,” Lonely said.
From flat on the floor I snorted again, but this time I was able to keep the laughing under control. One big happy negotiations party. No one objected to waiting because apparently they had all the time in the world. No rush there.
I stared out the broken attic window while they all agreed with each other, and concentrated on keeping my yap—the one on my face that didn’t work anymore and the one in my head that everybody seemed to be able to hear—shut.
Outside, the sun was going down. Pretty soon this little jailbird was going to be free to go wherever he wanted.
Colt
My eyes opened. My heart was pounding in my chest. I didn’t recognize where I was. The cells on either side of me were empty. Maybe I’d kept moving while I was lost in my head that time. Or maybe I’d been so focused on the pain before the memory that I had stopped paying attention to my surroundings. I hoped to God I hadn’t passed Tiffani while I was out of it.
The Pit’s passage way stretched out in front of me, fathomless, infinite darkness. The screaming seemed to be coming from both directions—behind me and ahead. I listened for a few seconds, but didn’t hear Tiffani. I made myself start walking again, checking each cell for an occupant as I passed. I couldn’t afford to get lost in my head again. I had a plan. Stick to the plan.
Empty cell. Next. Empty. Next. Empty. Next. Empty.
A familiar laugh from over my shoulder sent ants running through my veins and electricity pop between my gritted teeth. I turned around.
Mikal lay on the floor of the cell, eyes open, her body writhing against the pain, and the wet stumps where her wings had been painting the floor in thick, bloody swipes. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in smile that was more than half snarl.
There was something sexual about the movements, the way she lifted her hips, bit her lip, arched her back. Shame flooded my brain, the feeling of having betrayed everyone I loved because I was weak, and I realized that I had never hated Mikal as much as I’d hated myself. She’d been the perfect scapegoat to pin all the anger and fear and blame on. Even worse, part of me had been so desperate for someone—anyone—to want me that I’d clung to the things she did and twisted them into an idea of love. All she had done was provide the lie. I had tricked myself into believing it.
“Here to gloat?” she asked.
On Earth, Mikal had been so beautiful. Even as much as I’d hated her, she’d been fascinating, like the shiny brass casing of a bullet just before you let the slide go and put the barrel in your mouth. But in the cell, she wasn’t fascinating or
