Page 8 of Royal Ransom

The man could have been a stunt double in a Bane movie on short notice. He was so oversized it was hard not to find him at least a little intimidating. He outweighed me by several hundred pounds of pure muscle, could break the speed limit on foot in a school zone, and tear trees clean from the ground. His human form reminded me of a lumberjack—hairy and far too fond of flannel.

“There’s a storm coming,” he said, never taking his eyes off the horizon.

“Tally?” I checked. “She’s under a lot of stress right now with the refugee situation.”

Refugees. That was a word I’d never thought would be relevant in the sleepy little town of Haven Hollow. It was technically in the fine print of every Hollow charter that we had to lend aid to monsters in crisis and protect them to the best of our abilities. It was an emergency measure I’d never thought we’d have to uphold. Now there were dozens of new monsters on our turf, and we knew next to nothing about their backgrounds. It was probably one of Tally’s greatest nightmares. She wouldn’t relax until she’d cataloged every single one of them for future reference.

Roy shook his head. “I’ve gotten used to those. It’s hard to explain, but I can feel a difference. It’s winter magic, but notTally’s. I think they’re close.”

My stomach felt like a lump of solid ice. The last few battles had been closer than I liked. Now, with so many new people in the mix, the probability of casualties increased, both mundane and monstrous. The question was, how willing was Janara to expose us all to the public? If her pattern held, it would be a guerrilla attack. There were equal odds of that succeeding. I hated equal odds. We needed an edge.

“You just have to ask, dear boy,” Knox supplied easily, responding to my thoughts as if I’d shouted them aloud. “There are spells I can teach you that Janara would not survive.”

Yeah, and I’d pay for them with bits of my soul. I had to wonder if that was his game—to tempt me into frittering away what remained of my life. He wanted to pour his essence into my living body. The more I leaned on him, the more I stood to lose.

“How many people would have to die?” I thought back sourly. “And on that note, I know you killed someone. Who? And why?”

I hadn’t wanted the answers, but the questions came anyway. I felt like I’d burst if I didn’t voice them. Someone’s blood was under my nails. Whose? Was it Aunt Celestine’s? He’d threatened her life not too long ago. Someone else’s?

“Calm down. You won’t go down in the annals of history as a serial murderer. I needed raw materials, and I knew you’d find the harvesting process distasteful. I selected someone you would approve of. No one will miss the incubus. And to answer your other burning question, I overstayed my welcome to address the difficult family problems you’ve been having. Believe me, you’ll thank me once the end product arrives on Wanda’s doorstep.”

Jonathan. He’d killed Tally’s two-timing incubus ex. Or he’d killed Angelo—the only other Incubus.

“I don’t bloody well know who the hell Angelo is,” Knox responded.

Okay, Jonathan it was. I... wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On one hand, I’d promised to kill him after learning what he’d done to my wife. On the other... I couldn’t imagine Knox’s ‘harvest’ was anything less than brutal. I wanted Jonathan gone, but did I want to torture him? Maybe a little, in my more wrathful moments. But I’d left that part of my life behind when I joined Scapegrace. I had to be better than that. Tally wouldn’t accept anything less.

“What did you do?”

Knox’s chuckle rolled through my head, making my scalp itch. “Now that would ruin the surprise. I want to see your reaction when you realize what I’ve given you. I’m spoiling you rotten, dear boy. I made Morgana beg me for some of the more obscure spells.”

I just bet he had. He seemed to take perverse pleasure in backing his victims into corners. Morgana had been blooded against her will and held captive. She’d have done anything if she thought it would get her out. She’d leap at something far less extreme from a physical perspective. I understood her motives. I still couldn’t forgive her for what she’d done, though.

I dropped the conversation with Knox. I wasn’t desperate enough to deal with the devil on my shoulder. That might change if Janara’s people attacked us, but I had enough confidence in my abilities to resist the temptation for a few more hours, at least.

“Do we have anyone scouting the edge of town?” I asked.

Roy nodded. “Louisa and her husband are covering the highways. Stanley and Shelby are covering the wooded areas near Poppy’s. A few others volunteered to monitor any other routes in or out. Everyone has a walkie-talkie. We’ll have at least ten minutes to prepare if they send troops our way.”

Troops. Goddess. Janara was willing to unleash her entire army on Tally. She hated her that much. It made being awayfrom Taliyah that much harder. I understood why she’d asked for some space. Darla and Cain had taken the boys to Poppy’s, putting them to bed on a communal mattress where they could talk or game with Finn. It was one of Tally’s strategies to keep the boys calm when things were going off the rails. She’d wait up for Darla before attending the council meeting with me. We’d discuss my idiotic deal and its ramifications for my life later, when things had blown over.

If they blew over. That seemed less likely with every passing hour. The winds were changing in every sense. The storm was coming, and it wouldn’t leave my life unscathed. Cold reality would seep in somehow.

Roy made a vague gesture behind him. “Get inside. Their representatives are getting antsy. Go rescue them from Angelo, I beg you. I’m sure they’re ready to slap him for the outrageous remarks he’s making.”

I didn’t want to break things up. In my current mood, I was just as likely to punch Angelo as to steer him clear of our guests. My anger and worry were seeking a target, and I thought he’d do nicely.

“I’ll do my best,” I said dryly, stepping past the sasquatch and into the bar and grill beyond.

Chapter Five

Taliyah

Maverick had killed someone.

No, he hadn’t said as much explicitly, but a homicide detective knew the signs.

For one thing, Maverick didn’t dodge eye contact on an average day. Like his cousin, Wanda, he could be direct—to the point of rudeness at times. But recently, he’d been fidgety, sometimes even defensive, backing into the corner as though he expected me to slap him in cuffs.

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