Page 94 of Gemini Hunted
Me?
I don’t take orders from anyone. Except my shithead dad, Magnus Mars, a.k.a. the big boss. Head of the witching world mafia. I definitelydon’ttake orders from that royal Dark Fae prick who whacked Mallory’s brother.
Even when, it turns out, he didn’t. Big brother Ash still hasn’t kicked the oxygen habit.
But,hel,the Dark Fae King’s been giving Mal nightmares the whole time I’ve known her.
Anyway, my point is, some of those AIB hyenas stayed behind. That’s why I’m still here.
Hey,amou?Jae’s telepathic whisper, drizzled with a honey of soft Cajun vowels, trickles through my brainbox.If you’re still out there, you, it’s time to be coming,oui?
I’m no telepath, not like he is, so I can’t answer shit. Not unless he gives me a mating bite, which he’s dead set against doing, for all his bullshit reasons. But my boy picks up emotions when they’re strong enough. I shoot a strong pulse ofI gotchuin his general direction, engage the safety on my rifle, and swing the piece over my rain-soaked shoulder.
Then I grab my gear bag, roll over, and drop from the boulder to the rough terrain behind ourdomus.I land in a crouch, letting my thick quads absorb the impact, shitkicker boots sinking deep in the mud with asquelch.
Between the rain and the mud, plus the blood that spattered my jacket when I had to use the hunting knife strapped to my thigh, I’m a mess. Definitely not in line with the dress code in the Academy Codex, you follow?
Mal’s gonna be unhappy with my mess, for real.
She tries to keep my sorry ass outta detention whenever she can. Especially lately, since she doesn’t trust our new headmaster in House Hadrian.
Forreasons.
Let’s just say I’m not the only killer in ourdomusanymore.
I’m already jogging along the perimeter, senses humming on high alert, my piece back in my hands at the ready, the crooked turrets and sharp angles of Villa Caligula looming over me in all their haunted house glory. With the Dean’s Challenge in full swing, the joint’s empty. All the kiddos are out trying to win the prize, pass theirfokkingfinals, or at least not get whacked.
Me?
I don’t waste my few brain cells worrying about my health. Sooner or later, I’ll be checking into the Wooden Waldorf myself. When you’re a made man, you don’t tend to die of old age.
Till my ticket gets punched, I’ve got my girl and my boy to protect.
I close in on the storm cellar hatch that leads down to the basement. It’s latched shut, just like I left it, so I flex a little telekinetic muscle to send the hatch flying up without breaking stride.
I’m already bringing my piece into play, trigger finger at the ready, as I hit the narrow chute of the steeply sloping stairs. Because anything could be lying in wait for me down there in the dark.
Shadows cluster thick at the base. Shadows thick enough to hide the body.
Now I guess you wanna know what body. Right?
I’m talking about the heat.
The fed.
Uncle Sugar.
Oh, come on. You know, head of the goddamn AIB?
The Dark Fae King’s nasty green dragon juiced Nikolai Romanov right at the top of our basement stairs. Just sprayed the man down with a bellyful of flesh-eating acid. I watched Romanov’s tall skinny frame, encased in top-of-the-line black exfiltration gear like the trained and sanctioned government killer he is, topple backward down those stairs, sizzling as the acid ate through his high-end gear.
Between the dragon and the fall?
Dude’s no longer eligible for the census, if you know what I mean.
Still, you never underestimate a Romanov. (That goes for Vasiliandhis piece of shit dad.)
Not if you wanna live.
