Page 157 of The Dawn

The bolt slid on the hatch and the doors swung open.

I looked up at the morning light, blinking — so thirsty.

Magnus tensed, ready to spring.

I had my hand on his hip. I knew the drill, as soon as he sprung into action, I would run. That was how I would help.

Asgall stepped down the steps, a gun drawn, pointing at Magnus. I hadn’t really gotten a good look at him, he was wearing the white, high-collared shirt from yesterday, open at the neck, wrinkled and crumpled, and the cream colored breeches, and high leather boots. He was big and ugly, his beard wiry and sparse. He said, “Ye found the blade? Och ye are verra resourceful, seems a shame tae kill ye.”

I said, “Why are you killing anyone? I thought you were ransoming us?”

He sneered, his gun leveled on Magnus. “I hae sent my demands, Magnus, yer bitch mother best not make me wait.”

Magnus shrugged. “She does how she likes.”

Asgall said, “As do I, Katie, come here.”

I shook my head.

His brow went up. “Nae? Ye say nae tae me?”

Magnus said, “Daena go with him.”

Asgall said, “Ye just proved yerself clever, Magsie, and now ye are ill-advisin’ yer wife! Let us work it through — ye are guests in m’home. I am Emperor Asgall, I hae asked yer wife tae come with me. What makes ye think ye can refuse my request?”

Magnus was breathing heavily, and looked furious. I didnotwant to go with this guy up into his brothel, but it was the only way to survive this encounter. “Okay, I will.” I put up my hands.

Magnus’s eyes were locked on Asgall. “Nae, Kaitlyn, daena.”

Asgall said, “Hands on yer head, Magsie.”

Magnus put his hands on his head, “Och nae.”

“Och nae is right, Magsie, but daena fret, if yer wife is forthcoming I will give ye some food and water. Twould be a good thing, daena ye think?”

I stepped around Magnus and went to the stairs.

He groaned behind me. “Kaitlyn, be careful.”

“I will be.” I climbed the stairs.

Asgall grabbed my arm, yanked me up the steps, and slammed the doors shut on my husband’s face. He bent over the trap doors for a second to lock the bolt.

I thought,jump on his back, strangle him, fight for the gun,but he stood up and looked at me with a laugh.

“Ye arna strong enough.”

“Likely, but there is a chance — I’m the mother-fucking matriarch and you’ve taken me away from my babies. I wouldn’t turn your back on me again.”

He shoved me in through the back door of the house and down the hall into a living room. The room was decorated withornate wallpaper, carved wooden furniture, cherry wood stain, and upholstered seats. The end tables held oil lamps.

Everything fit olden times, except for an iPhone and a full ashtray of cigarettes on the coffee table. He sat down on an upholstered, claw-footed chair, and patted his knee.

I shook my head. “No way.”

“Aye, come sit here on m’knee.” He gestured with the gun still in his hand.

“I don’t want to.”

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