bullet had torn through the stranger’s calf. Blood pooled on the cracked asphalt beneath him, thick and black in the red wash of the car’s tail lights, but the stranger showed no signed of distress. He seemed . . . insulted.
Skids didn’t waste words. He shot the stranger in the chest.
The stranger glanced down at the massive wound. Blood practically poured from a two-inch hole in his ribs, and the torn flesh revealed a glimpse of bone. He glared at Skids. “I said that hurt, blast you. Do not do it again.”
The fear skittering like June-bugs through my stomach reflected in Skids’ eyes. The gun shook in the thug’s hand. He fired again. And again. The second time, the gun exploded—and took Skids’ hand with it.
Skids howled. He didn’t sound at all like a wolf.
The stranger pointed at me. “I need him.” The disgust edging his tone indicated whatever this guy wanted, it wouldn’t be in my best interests. “Tell your master that Gavyn Donatti is mine. He is not to harm him.”
Outright terror struck when my name left the stranger’s lips. “How the fuck—”
“Be silent, thief.” The stranger whirled to face me, eyes flashing pure hatred. “Unbelievably stupid . . . if I had no need of you, I would kill you myself.”
Car doors slammed in rapid sequence. I stared past my bulletproof savior and saw the last thug dive into the back seat. The engine revved. The vehicle lurched back, executed a rapid single-point turn and peeled away. I watched them go, too shocked to react.
I should have taken the trunk.
MASTER OF NONE
* * *
Available everywhere books are sold
MASTER AND APPRENTICE
Chapter 1
T hey tell me flying is safer than driving. Every day, millions of people take to the skies and fail to crash and die. Maybe that’s true when flying involves spending hours being delayed in an airport, eating bad airline food, and hoping the person who bought the seat next to yours has showered some time in the past week. Maybe it’s safer being surrounded by an experienced, professional pilot and crew, a bunch of lifesaving devices, and decades of engineering precision.
But when flying means riding piggyback on an airborne djinn who isn’t very good at it, and who might be cranky enough not to notice—or care—if you fall off and drop a thousand feet to your death, it’s safer to swim in a pool full of hungry sharks. When I fly, nobody offers me peanuts or a watered-down drink. I don’t even get a lousy seatbelt.
Lucky me.
“Ian, we’ve been up here an hour,” I shouted. “Where’s this damned cave?”
“Close.”
“You said that the last three times I asked.”
“Then stop asking, thief.”
“You’re lost, aren’t you?”
I felt him tense beneath me. “I am not lost.”
“Bullshit.” We were definitely lost. And even if we weren’t both guys, we couldn’t exactly ask for directions. There wasn’t anyone else flying around the open skies above the Appalachians in Virginia right now. I didn’t bother opening my eyes to see if I could help. Every damned mountain looked the same to me. “You sure this is the right area?”
“Yes. Now be silent. I am attempting to scry.”
“Great,” I muttered. Scrying was basically remote viewing, a mental camera that could travel anywhere and focus on anything magical. A nice trick to know—and yet another type of magic Ian wasn’t good at, and I couldn’t do at all. Ian’s wife, Akila, usually did the scrying for us to find our targets, since it was one of her clan’s strengths. We were never going to find the thing on our own. “Maybe we should land before you try that.”
“Donatti.”
“Fine. Shutting up.” I’d give it a few more minutes before I complained again. My arms ached from the awkward grip across Ian’s chest, and my cramped body begged for a stretch. At least we hadn’t flown all the way here from upstate New York. We had a hotel room in some little village further down
Skids didn’t waste words. He shot the stranger in the chest.
The stranger glanced down at the massive wound. Blood practically poured from a two-inch hole in his ribs, and the torn flesh revealed a glimpse of bone. He glared at Skids. “I said that hurt, blast you. Do not do it again.”
The fear skittering like June-bugs through my stomach reflected in Skids’ eyes. The gun shook in the thug’s hand. He fired again. And again. The second time, the gun exploded—and took Skids’ hand with it.
Skids howled. He didn’t sound at all like a wolf.
The stranger pointed at me. “I need him.” The disgust edging his tone indicated whatever this guy wanted, it wouldn’t be in my best interests. “Tell your master that Gavyn Donatti is mine. He is not to harm him.”
Outright terror struck when my name left the stranger’s lips. “How the fuck—”
“Be silent, thief.” The stranger whirled to face me, eyes flashing pure hatred. “Unbelievably stupid . . . if I had no need of you, I would kill you myself.”
Car doors slammed in rapid sequence. I stared past my bulletproof savior and saw the last thug dive into the back seat. The engine revved. The vehicle lurched back, executed a rapid single-point turn and peeled away. I watched them go, too shocked to react.
I should have taken the trunk.
MASTER OF NONE
* * *
Available everywhere books are sold
MASTER AND APPRENTICE
Chapter 1
T hey tell me flying is safer than driving. Every day, millions of people take to the skies and fail to crash and die. Maybe that’s true when flying involves spending hours being delayed in an airport, eating bad airline food, and hoping the person who bought the seat next to yours has showered some time in the past week. Maybe it’s safer being surrounded by an experienced, professional pilot and crew, a bunch of lifesaving devices, and decades of engineering precision.
But when flying means riding piggyback on an airborne djinn who isn’t very good at it, and who might be cranky enough not to notice—or care—if you fall off and drop a thousand feet to your death, it’s safer to swim in a pool full of hungry sharks. When I fly, nobody offers me peanuts or a watered-down drink. I don’t even get a lousy seatbelt.
Lucky me.
“Ian, we’ve been up here an hour,” I shouted. “Where’s this damned cave?”
“Close.”
“You said that the last three times I asked.”
“Then stop asking, thief.”
“You’re lost, aren’t you?”
I felt him tense beneath me. “I am not lost.”
“Bullshit.” We were definitely lost. And even if we weren’t both guys, we couldn’t exactly ask for directions. There wasn’t anyone else flying around the open skies above the Appalachians in Virginia right now. I didn’t bother opening my eyes to see if I could help. Every damned mountain looked the same to me. “You sure this is the right area?”
“Yes. Now be silent. I am attempting to scry.”
“Great,” I muttered. Scrying was basically remote viewing, a mental camera that could travel anywhere and focus on anything magical. A nice trick to know—and yet another type of magic Ian wasn’t good at, and I couldn’t do at all. Ian’s wife, Akila, usually did the scrying for us to find our targets, since it was one of her clan’s strengths. We were never going to find the thing on our own. “Maybe we should land before you try that.”
“Donatti.”
“Fine. Shutting up.” I’d give it a few more minutes before I complained again. My arms ached from the awkward grip across Ian’s chest, and my cramped body begged for a stretch. At least we hadn’t flown all the way here from upstate New York. We had a hotel room in some little village further down
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