Page 32 of Bird on a Blade

Her husband’s human.

Still, I worry as I open another beer and nurse it, drawing in the Hunters’ scent as they come closer. I’m halfway through the can when I hear the crunch of tires on the narrow, overgrown dirt road winding up to the church. I finger the knife in my belt. Try not to think about Edie.

The car that pulls up in front of my church is as small and dark as a bullet. The windows are tinted, hiding the occupants, but I can smell them over the gasoline and machine-metal scent of the car. By this point, though, I’m pretty sure I know who it is.

Jaxon and Ambrose.

The car’s engine cuts out, but I don’t move from where I’mstanding, leaning up against the column that holds up the overhang. I wait for them to get out of the car, and sure enough, Jaxon steps out of the driver’s side, laughing when he sees me. He’s grown his hair out, black ribbons falling around his shoulders.

“Holy shit,” he laughs. “Ambrose was right. You’re back.”

Ambrose follows right behind him.Helooks identical to the last time I saw him. Brown hair, grey stubble, a perpetual scowl.

“Told you I sensed him.” Ambrose slams the door shut and strides toward me in his black cowboy boots. Fifteen years and he’s still wearing the same damn shoes.

“I figured I had at least another month before you boys showed up.”

Jaxon grins at that, sharp and wolfish. “It’s your first resurrection,” he says. “We weren’t going to make you waitthatlong.”

My cheeks heat. I’m younger than the two of them, the least experienced, but I don’t necessarily want to be reminded of it.

At least they’re friends. Or the closest thing to friends people like us can have.

“Brought you something,” Ambrose says, nodding over at Jaxon, who reaches into the backseat of the car and pulls out a slim black box. My heartbeat quickens at the sight of it. “After you went under, I saw on the news that they found your old place. Figured you’d lost everything.”

“Not everything.” I take the box from Jaxon, and I know immediately what it is. I can feel the energy of it coursing right into my hands. “But they took my good knife off me at the scene.”

Jaxon chuckles at that, a mirthless laugh that seems to slice through the softness of the forest. “Always take your good weapons with you. Didn’t your Mama teach you?”

I ignore him. I don’t feel like telling either of them why I didn’t have my Bowie knife on me when I dragged myself into the dirt, that it was because I’d slammed it into the wall so Edie would let me touch her.

“You wanna come inside?” I ask them as I pull the lid of thebox away. Sure enough, there’s a brand new Bowie knife laid out in there, identical to the one I’d had before. I pull it out, hold it up so it gleams in the sunlight.

As much as I like Edie’s kitchen knife, that’s purely sentimental. This knife feels like an extension of me. A part of my body.

I get a sudden flash of an image, me sliding the knife up between Edie’s perfect thighs while she arches her back in ecstasy.

I shut it out. No.No. It doesn’t matter how sweet a picture that is, I can’t do it. I want Edie to stay.

To live.

“Depends.” Jaxon’s voice jerks me out of my head. “How disgusting is it?”

“I’ve been fixing it up.” I push the door open. “It’s nicer than what I had before.”

And then I let them in.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SAWYER

We go inside. I don’t bother turning the generator on during the day, so everything’s lit up by the candy-colored sunlight pouring in through the stained glass window. Ambrose lets out a hum of approval. He has this thing about religion. Jaxon told me once he was a preacher, a long long time ago.

“Seems you’re doing all right for yourself.” Ambrose strolls down the center aisle, still taking in the church. “After the revival.” He stops beside the front pew and looks up at the altar, where I’ve laid out my mask and weapons.

“It was Ambrose’s idea to check up on you.” Jaxon steps up beside me, silent as a cat. “We knew your mother wouldn’t do shit.”

I scowl at the mention of Mama. “She knows she doesn’t need to worry about me.” Which is true. We’re Hunters; she taught me how to hunt, the way a mountain lion does her cubs. When she knew I could hunt without getting myself caught, she went south again, to pursue her own prey. It’s how things are.

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