Page 64 of The Howling
Reavely shoves him away. “Drop your weapons or I won’t go easy on you next time.”
If this is Reavely going easy on Linton, I don’t want to see the next time. The Bluecap looks decidedly…chewed.
From under his cloak/wings, Linton drops three needle sharp daggers, then an axe. Reavely glares at him. He drops a small crossbow.
“That’s all I have.”
“Unless you’ve suddenly decided to turn over a new leaf and get out of the assassination business, it is not all,” Reavely snarls. “The rest. Now.”
Linton shrugs, and a further five blades are shed, along with a handful of throwing stars and a mace. Reavely glares at him again and a long sword joins the pile.
“Holy shit, he really came equipped,” I say with hushed awe.
“I’m not here to kill you,” Linton says, holding up his hands and doing something strange with his mouth.
After a while, I realise he’s attempting, and failing, at a smile.
“Then why are you here, assassin?” Reavely rasps.
“I was sent to kill,” Linton says.
It means the weapons are shoved to one side and Reavely has him up against a wall by his throat.
Linton looks surprisingly unbothered by this turn of events.
“You will not kill anyone here, not today, not any day. This place has seen enough death.” Reavely growls. “The spirits are not to be bothered by you or anyone.”
“Your castle is haunted by your family?” Linton says, voice strangled.
“They are waiting for my curse to be lifted.”
“I can help.”
Reavely increases his grip. I don’t let go of his arm, which is like iron wrapped in iron.
“Don’t do this,” I say as softly as I can. “You’re better than this, and the Reaper doesn’t need another soul today.”
After several long seconds, Reavely drops Linton with a huff, pushing me away from him before wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me back.
He glares at the mothman, who stares back at him with his blood red eyes. It looks like this competition could go on for some time.
“Perhaps if we get something to eat and drink, like civilised beings,” I suggest, sending my own glares at Linton, who is rubbing at his neck and doing the thing with his mouth again. “Linton can tell us why he’s here.”
Reavely has been taking care of me in my heat all this time, and I sense he’s hungry, his muscular form leaner than it was.
The mention of food is enough to give him pause. He snorts a breath at Linton, then turns our backs on him, marching down the stairs to the great hall.
Behind us, I hear the sound of weapons being gathered, but if it bothers Reavely, he doesn’t show it.
“Who is he?” I hiss as we enter the hall.
“We fought in the Night Lands, against the Reivers.” Reavely doesn’t slow his pace towards the dining table, well furnished with food by the Duegar. “Or rather I fought and he killed.”
Linton stalks past us, his wings swinging like the cape I originally took them for.
“Someone had to do the killing. It was down to me and the Wyrm,” he tosses over his shoulder, throwing himself down at the table and checking over the offerings with a very clear look of distaste.
Reavely growls under his breath and, with me in tow, takes his usual place at the head, in a large ornate chair, pulling me onto his lap.
