Page 97 of Deadly Lineage
“Been better,” I croaked and managed a half-assed grin. “This guy’s an asshole.”
Pops’s lips twitched. “Yes, well, I sort of figured that out seeing as how he has a human weapon pointed at your head.”
“Noticed that, did you? Embarrassing really. He keeps bragging about all the things he can do but—” I hissed a pained breath as something sharp cut into my neck. Warm blood spilled down my skin, cooling as it fell.
“Oh, I can do a lot more than that,” McCallister growled, shoving his clawed hand in front of my face, my blood dripping off one pointed tip.
Pops’s fingers curled, their blackened tips hidden within his grip. I could tell he wanted to throw everything he had at McCallister, but he couldn’t, not with a gun shoved against my head.
“If you kill him, I will tear you apart, bit by bloody bit. I will do it slowly. I will keep you alive as long as possible, dragging out your torment. I will make you beg for death.” I’d always considered Pops agoodwarlock. He didn’t harm others for shits and giggles. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully capable of making good on his threat.
McCallister wasn’t intimidated. Instead, he laughed. “Interesting, how you care so much for your defective, necromancer son.”
“I will rip the flesh from you bones for implying my son is defective in any way.” Pops huffed and his mouth pulled into a tight grimace.
“Touching, but wasteful.” I felt McCallister’s head shake against mine. “Your son is little more than a weakness I’m able to exploit. And speaking of exploiting your relationship, if you’d kindly step forward. Just three little steps is all I’m asking. Well, I suppose I’m not really asking.” I flinched as the gun pushed my head to the side, the increased pressure more than my neck muscles could handle.
Pops’s face flushed scarlet as his eyes flicked to the floor. There was no way he didn’t see the circle. I could see flickers of confusion mixed with understanding.
“I’d say this is clever work, but that would be a compliment you do not deserve.” Pops’s gaze darted from sigil to sigil. “It is crude, but I understand it has been effective.” Pops’s eyebrows slid upward. “You truly expect me to willingly walk into that?” He pointed a finger at the floor.
“If you don’t, then your son dies. The choice is yours,” McCallister casually answered.
“And I’ve already informed you what will happen if you murder my son.”
“True, but somehow I think his life is more important than your vengeance.”
Pops’s mouth twisted. I wanted to apologize, to beg him to turn around and walk out the way he’d come in. My life wasn’t worth this. I loved Pops, just as he loved me. If the situation were reversed, I’d walk into that circle, my own life be damned.
Head tilted to the side, Pops said, “And what if there is a third option?”
“There is no third option. There is only—”
“Detective,” Pops calmly said while shifting slightly to the side.
My mouth slipped open while my heart soared before falling like a stone. Franklin was here too. They were both here, willing to risk their lives for me. Stupid, wonderful Franklin.
“Hey, Boone.” Franklin eased past Pops, his gun level and trained on what looked like me. I figured he was aiming for McCallister. “Forgive me for saying so, but you look like shit.”
My chuckle was dry. “Feel like shit too.”
“Yeah? I brought a bucket of candy with me. Chocolates and juice too. We’ll get you sugared up soon. Just hang on a little bit longer for your father and me to take out the trash.”
Franklin talked a good game. His eyes remained focused and beyond that first glance my direction, he remained concentrated on a spot just over my shoulder.
“Detective O’Hare.” McCallister didn’t exactly sound worried, but he did sound cautious. “I always thought you had better taste than getting involved with a necromancer.” McCallister said my species like it was a sickness. While he wasn’t simply a necromancer, that was part of what made McCallister tick. Maybe that was his problem—at his very core, he loathed himself.
“I’ve got impeccable taste,” Franklin answered. “Do we want to wager who’s quicker on the trigger?”
I sucked in a shallow breath. My neck no longer felt like it was actively bleeding. It was cool and sticky, adding to my discomfort as I sat there, a pawn in an wild west duel.
“You think I won’t shoot him? You think—”
A gunshot rang out and I cringed. I thought for a moment that it was McCallister, but it wasn’t. A thin whisp of smoke traveled from the end of Franklin’s gun. The bullet should have found its mark. It hovered there, just to the right of my peripheral vision, cutting close to my head but aimed directly at McCallister. It was a brilliant shot. It was a pointless shot.
Franklin’s face relaxed into a state of shock before hardening with fear. McCallister’s laughter bounced off the walls.
“Oh, Detective O’Hare, did you really think I wouldn’t be prepared for you? I’m well aware of your relationship, disturbing as it is.” The suspended bullet fell to the ground with a thud. “Your bullets can’t reach me.” McCallister’s fingers tightened on my skin. “Now, let me show you whatIcan do.”
