Page 25 of When the Wicked Sing
“Plenty,” he seethed in her face.
The greasy fae laughed, then lifted the spider silk connecting Dax to Mari with a sausage-like finger. “Well, this won’t do! Let me get that for you.” He sliced the silk with a vicious swipe of his blade. “You’re welcome,” he mocked in a deep tone as he bowed.
Dax stayed quiet, scanning the last male who stood out like a peacock among pigeons.
His leather armor was polished and well-maintained, and the blond hair tucked behind his ears appeared clean. But despite the obvious differences between this male and the other two, his pale gray eyes scrutinized Dax as though he were an old foe.
“Do I know you?” Dax asked, and the male’s lips lifted into a sly smile, showing off a row of perfectly white, straight teeth.
“You’d remember me if we did, I assure you,” he replied in a rich, deep voice.
Dax regarded the male carefully, noticing the confident way he held himself, resting his hands on the sword sheathed athis waist. He knew Dax. That meant they had something—orsomeone—in common.
Dax clenched his jaw hard, instantly irritated as he deduced who that someone might be.
“You a hunter, then, is that it?” the greasy brute asked, shaking the hair from his eyes again.
“What’s it to you?” Dax muttered.
“Oh, I think you know, eh? We plan on takin’ this pretty one back to Aurelia and makin’ ourselves rich.” He laughed. The tall, sneering one joined him.
Mari dug her long, sharp nails deep into the fae’s hand at her throat, and in one swift move, she ripped it open.
Blood gushed from the screaming male’s hand, and he let her go, cradling it to his chest.
Dax used the opportunity to punch the shocked, greasy brute hard in his good eye. He howled and stumbled back, one hand still gripping his weapon and the other covering his face. Dax’s lips lifted in satisfaction as he pulled out both his daggers.
“Don’t!” the blond one shouted at his comrades. Dax elbowed him in the head. He stumbled, falling flat on his back with a groan.
Dax turned to the howling idiot still gripping his eye and stabbed him in the stomach. The howling turned to screams as Dax ripped the dagger free.
Lifting his gaze, he flung the other straight into the neck of the black-haired male fighting off Mari.
He couldn’t stop himself from admiring her at that moment.With her hands still tied together, she managed to hold the male hostage in a way that made him look like he was gasping for air without even touching him.
Water and blood sputtered from the male’s mouth and leaked from the dagger’s wound. Droplets from the damp ground rolled over moss and rocks up the convulsing fae, filling every orifice.
She was drowning him.
A sharp, sudden pain speared Dax’s side. He shouted, pulled back into his own fight. The greasy shithead had rammed his blade into the softest part of Dax’s armor. It might have been dull, but it was coated in widow toxin. He could feel its familiar burning sting as it streamed into his bloodstream.
These were no random marauders looking for their next score. This was a trap set up as a deadly warning.
Shifting his bloodthirsty gaze to swollen, grinning eyes, Dax growled, “You’re next.” Then he stabbed the brute in the wrist. The male squealed like a pig and let go of the blade. Dax removed it from his side as the crying male gripped his bleeding wrist. Taking the cheap blade’s handle, Dax slammed it straight into its owner’s heart.
The greasy brute collapsed, falling silent.
Dax swung around and plunged his daggers into the drowning male’s stomach, slicing it open with a swipe of his hands. The male collapsed, bright cobalt eyes rolling to the back of his head as the last of his blood spilled to the ground.
Mari gasped, letting her power go, and fell to the grass as she struggled to breathe. She stared in horror at the dead fae before her, letting out a slightly strangled sound as she tore her eyes away to stare at her hands.
Dax took a step toward her as he heard the blond male whisper, “Gods be damned …”
His sun-kissed skin had turned pallid, lips drained of color.
Dax turned toward him and lifted him by his white linen collar.
“Please, don’t hurt me! I was sent—”
