Page 15 of Death God

He pressed his hand to his throat, his eyeballs nearly bulging out in shock.

“You’re surprised, right, Meatball?” I nodded at him. “I understand the feeling. No one can wrap their heads around it when death comes calling. And no one in this establishment is safe from me, for I’m death.”

“Fuck! Fuck!” Going-gray cursed more.

I expected him to turn on me by pulling a gun, or a dart gun, his favorite, or something more ingenious. But the commander pushed a button, then kicked the driver’s side door open. Uttering another series of curses, he shoved Meatball out violently, then sat back in his seat, panting. A second later, he got his breathing under control and appeared calmer than before. He yanked open his door, jumped out like an athlete who hadn’t practiced for a while, and came around to the driver’s side door.

The shifters from the jeep no longer waited in their vehicle. They ran toward our van, their guns held in front of their shoulders.

My heart pounded hard, a rush of adrenaline burning in my bloodstream as I got ready for battle.

“Don’t do anything even more stupid, Pip girl!” Going-gray barked into the car. “Let me fix this!”

I stared at the shifters through the side window. A couple of them glanced at me, then at the body on the ground, then at their commander. Surprisingly, none of them looked angry or even sorry at the demise of the dark mage.

“What happened, sir?” one of the shifters asked.

I recognized that brown-haired, big-eared shifter. He was a bear. He’d been in Going-gray’s hunting party when I tried to flee the Shifters Academy. He’d shot darts at me twice.

“This mage attacked Lady Pip.” Going-gray spat. “You know how that girl loves to crack bad jokes, and this meatball couldn’t handle it. If I hadn’t stopped him, he might have murdered Lady Pip, with me as collateral damage.”

Shock slammed into me, though I kept a blank mask in place. I hadn’t thought that Going-gray, of all people, would cover for me. He shot me a warning look, demanding my silence.

Lying about what truly happened was considered treason in the military. Jared might forgive him, but Spartoi would never forgive a sin like that if he learned about it. Jared was still confident that he was in the pilot’s seat, but it was only a matter of time before the horseman kicked him to the curb.

“Then it’s good that he’s dead,” another shifter chimed in, darting a cautious glance at me. “Cracking a bad joke and being annoying doesn’t merit being killed. These mages are out of control.”

“They’re crackpots,” another shifter offered.

It seemed there was no love lost between the dark mages and the shifters. Dark mages and witches regarded themselves as above all other species. While vamps called shifters “dogs,” mages called shifters “animals.”

“There might be a problem though, sir,” the bear said. “Asmodeus was one of His Majesty’s…new favorites.”

“I’ll explain this to the king,” Going-gray said. “I’m sure the last thing His Majesty wants is for his mate and future queen to be murdered.”

I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Hadn’t he heard what I’d said about the Alpha King being the vessel to the horseman and War experimenting on me brutally for a century? There was no difference this time around. I’d been brought here to be used by the dark angel until I had nothing left.

“The king won’t care much about losing a minion, even thought the mage could be a useful spy.” The commander ran a hand over his gray hair. “Everyone is disposable. That’s the new rule now, and we must get used to this military base of mixed species if we want to survive. The strong are granted the right to dominate and enslave the weak. If the weak perish, they have only themselves to blame. This meatball mage perished easily, which only proved that he wasn’t strong enough and didn’t deserve to live. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the shifters echoed.

“Clean this up, soldiers!” Going-gray barked.

His men snapped to attention, kind of finding comfort in their commander’s stern order.

“Yes, sir,” the men answered, eager to obey.

Going-gray poked his head in through the open window. “Do you have any spare clothes, Pip girl?”

“Why?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Why?” he repeated incredulously, then gestured at the blood-tainted seat. “I’ll have to clean up this shit unless you volunteer!”

“I’m not going to volunteer,” I said defensively. “And I need all the clothes I brought with me, since I didn’t bring a lot of luggage, and a few spare clothes are all I have.”

I didn’t plan to stay too long, but it was unnecessary to tell him that.

“Just hand me something, Pip girl,” he yelled, a vein throbbing on his temple. “I’m not planning on sitting my butt in a pool of blood!”

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