Page 130 of Deadwood
“W-we didn’t know,” Nemin, the pathetic man that he was, whimpered, his words pouring over one another. “We only wanted a little payback, to scare her a bit.”
Gray fog surrounded his legs, crawling up his waist to his neck. I was half tempted to let it have the reins.
I picked at my fingernail with the tip of my blade. I knew he was lying. They had attacked with the intent to kill her. Auria didn’t wear bruises as bright as hers without death having been a breath away. “Why is that?”
Crass rubbed relentlessly at his eyes, but no amount of scratching would soothe the burn.
Nemin’s gaze darted between Crass and the smoke curling up his body. “She never paid up.”
I sat forward, elbows on my knees, dagger dangling from my hand. “Rumor has it, you two haven’t been truthful about your debts either.”
Nemin’s eyes widened as the smoke wrapped around his neck, the veins nearly bursting through his skin. “W-we have. We’re always h-honest.”
I hummed, sending the smoke from Crass’s eyes through the sockets and into his lungs. Immediately, he began gagging as I stood from the chair, tossing the dagger into the air to catch it by the handle.
Shoving Nemin’s shoulder back, I forced his hand flat on the table. “Lying to your king isn’t a good look.” Even saying the word burned the back of my throat. Rearing my arm back, I brought the dagger down. The blade cut clean through his wrist, and his hand disconnected completely from his body.
Behind me, the rest of the saloon cleared out, wanting nothing to do with the punishment I dealt. They might be outlaws—fae who committed crimes for the good and bad—but I was the most feared in this town. That fact would always remain.
Nemin’s screams filled the emptying building as Crass’s choking ceased, his body lying lifeless on the ground.
I knelt, getting right in Nemin’s sweat-soaked face. “Don’t ever fucking touch what’s mine again.”
I wiped the blood dripping from my dagger on his shoulder, then left him to his own misery. He’d suffer, but he wouldn’t die. I’d have gladly killed him, but I wanted him to serve as a message to the others.
If anyone wanted to lay a hand on Auria in my town, they’d answer to me.
Smoke trailed me as I walked toward Lux, who still stood behind the bar. He ran a rag over a glass, business as usual, as if I hadn’t just killed a man and tortured another in his establishment.
It wasn’t the first time.
I was too antsy to sit, so I leaned against the edge instead, my elbows propped on the sticky surface. “Sorry about the riots.”
Lux set the glass down next to the other clean ones, giving me a hard look. “Not gonna apologize for chasing my money-makers out?”
“You know I never do.”
He grunted. “I know. So don’t feed me some bullshit apology about a couple pissed off fae.”
I sighed, hanging my head.
“Besides,” Lux went on, tossing the rag in the sink, “the girl is growing on me.”
My gaze moved back to his, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. Lux never admitted shit like that. “What was that?”
He shot me a glare, grabbing a handle of whiskey and pouring a shot before sliding the small glass toward me. “You keep standing up for her, and people are going to get suspicious.”
I knocked the amber liquid back in one swig before setting it back on the bar. “I’m lenient, Lux. They know that. But not when it comes to this.”
My eyes focused on the clear glass as my mind went back to Auria’s muddy form. The scars on her back. The bruises on her neck. Her ribs.
Lux must’ve sensed the anger growing because he said, “We’ll handle the riots. You just keep her safe, alright?”
Again, my attention moved to him. I’d never heard the man speak like this.
I dipped my chin in response.
He waved a hand my way, eyes darting to my arms and back. “Now get the fuck out of here before you smoke the place out.”
