Bathin threw a look over her shoulder at me as I strode up to them. “I’m fine,” he told me, because Myra was done listening to him, scared beyond reason.
If I’d ever doubted just how deeply her feelings for him ran, this would be the moment when I finally understood.
She loved him to the point that her calm and cool was busted as soon as she saw him injured.
“You have a sword in your gut,” I said. “Talk to me.”
“Oh.” He glanced down like he’d forgotten about the thing, then wrapped his big mitt around the hilt and yanked.
“No!” Myra said, just as I said, “Wait!”
He should have had to step back to clear the blade from his body and not hit Myra. She jerked backward instinctively as his fist went by, but there was nothing in it.
Nothing but smoke.
“What the hell?” Myra repeated. She pointed at his stomach. Her hand trembled, but her words were angry. “Why aren’t you bleeding?”
“It wasn’t a real sword,” Bathin said. “Well, not for long. It’s a projection. It hurt, momentarily, but he can’t maintain the hatred over this distance long enough for it to stick. The wimp.”
“What?” she asked.
“Who?” I asked. Ryder was next to me, had been for quite some time. He pointed toward the demon man who stood as still as a projection on pause.
“My brother,” Bathin said. “Goap.”
“And that’s him?” I asked.
“It’s a message from him. But yes, that’s one of the forms he takes.” Bathin caught Myra’s hands, covering them with his own. “I opened the envelope. I should have waited, but I didn’t recognize the handwriting. I didn’t know it was from my brother.”
“He stabbed you.”
Bathin rolled one of his big shoulders. “Siblings.”
She shook her head slowly, but I could see the color coming back into her cheeks. “What an ass.”
“Takes after my father.”
Xtelle neighed and whinnied as she trotted down the beach, a string of fake flowers draped around her neck bouncing with every step. She glanced around at the supernaturals and gods gathered, somehow figured out correctly that these people were in the know about the magic of the town, and said, “Why wasn’t I invited to this gathering? It looks important. Why isn’t it about me?”
Bathin tipped his head. “And my mother.”
Finally, Myra smiled, but she was still shaking her head.
“Is that Goap?” Xtelle asked. “What is he doing here? Is this about him? This can’t be about him. I haven’t had a party about me yet.”
Bathin let go of Myra’s hands and walked around so he stood in front of the projection of his brother. “You might as well watch too,” he told me.
Of course I moved over to see. So did most of the rest of the gathered crowd. Myra stood slightly in front of Bathin. He had to shift her more to the side. “Otherwise, it won’t work, babe.”
I felt the crowd shift as Xtelle pushed her way through until her head was next to my hip.
Then Bathin pulled out the paper and envelope he’d stuffed in his pocket, scanned it, and said, “This is my first and final warning.”
The image of Goap snapped to life. He was…colder, somehow, now that he was moving, and harder. He looked real, but my instincts told me he wasn’t really here in Ordinary, wasn’t really alive and breathing and glaring at his brother.
“Hello, Goap,” Bathin said. “What do you want?”
“I want you to die, but slowly, and somewhere where I can watch.”
