“Introducing our next contestant, Justin Skinner,” I replied.
The guard, Damien, I remembered, jerked his head to release us.
I twisted to take in the cells and gave a low whistle. “Nothing says hospitality quite like steel doors and the screams of your cellmates.”
Convict laughed. “Shame we don’t do room service.”
“We could. A tiny menu of water or regret.”
We dragged our guy over to the nearest cell and shoved him onto the metal bench, and Convict linked his constraints to a bolted chain. He slumped sideways.
Convict peered at him, hands on his knees. “Right. House rules. No crying, no dying, and absolutely no pissing yourself unless you ask first.”
The man moaned.
I nodded. “Good attitude. You’ll fit in fine, tossgoblin.”
I tugged the gag free just long enough for him to suck in a breath.
“Please,” he rasped. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Convict popped the gag straight back in. “Save the tell-alls for when the right people are in the room. They’ll appreciate it far more.”
I locked the door, enjoying the solid clang, and stepped back, dusting off my hands. “That’s one delivered.”
Convict checked his phone. “Two, technically. Kane and Heretic dropped theirs off earlier. Reckon they’ll need help with the next?”
I cocked my head. “They have a second target?”
“No fair, right?”
My older brother always had to be so extra.
We climbed the steps up to the open air, and I dialled Heretic.
He answered without a greeting. “What’s wrong?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why would anything be wrong? Where in the city art thou, brother dearest?”
“Why?”
“We’re done so figured we’d help your sorry ass. So we Athertons don’t let the side down.”
He heaved a breath, and I imagined all the ways he was about to tell me where to get off.
Instead, he rattled off an address. “Twenty minutes. Approach on foot. Text me when you’re near.”
“Ooh, another raid?”
He’d already hung up on me.
The short drive back across the bridge to the English side of Deadwater took us to the shabby reaches of a commercial district, behind the tall, shiny bank of buildings to a far more modest set of square box businesses. I sent the requested text, and my brother appeared from a side street, beckoning us in. In an alley, Kane stood by a van, arms folded, appearing pleased with himself. But my focus took in Heretic first, an age-old need to see he was still breathing.
I spread my arms wide. “Miss us?”
Heretic didn’t move. Just shifted his gaze to me with all the warmth of a loaded gun.
“Brother,” I said brightly. “You seem tense. Have you tried smiling? Or blinking. Either would be a nice change.”
