Panic clutched at Gray’s heart when he saw the fat barrel of the rifle directed at Shadow’s head, and he spread his legs, hitting the wall on either side of the exit with his feet. “Go for your body. Now!”
The last thing Gray thought he’d have to be going through after getting stabbed was having to wrestle Shadow. He wasn’t even sure what was happening around them anymore, because all he could hear was the thumping of blood in his ears.
When he braced his entire body, fighting the pull until they no longer moved, Shadow screeched with fury, but then the door suddenly opened and hit Gray’s knee so hard the impetus propelled them back inside.
The movement must have shifted the blade inside Gray, because the searing pain came back, cutting through the numbness until he shuddered and stopped resisting, his head clouded. “Fuck… Please.”
The energy of Shadow’s thoughts screeched and cracked like a storm, its fire gently licking his skin as if Shadow wanted to know how he was feeling and he would get that answer by force if Gray didn’t want to tell him.
The pain weakened Gray, and when Shadow forced them back to the door, fighting him was no longer possible. But the moment Gray once more saw the ceiling shift above him, a tall man entered the bar, as if the shootout was not his problem.
And maybe it wasn’t.
Mr. Magpie cleared his throat when he looked at Gray with a scowl.
Chapter 22
Gray stopped breathing as he stared straight into the sapphire-hued eyes that only acknowledged his presence for a moment before moving to take in the carnage.
“What in the fresh hell is going on here?” Magpie asked in a voice that was somehow both gentile and so loud he might have spoken through a tube.
A bodyguard appeared at his side and reached for his gun, but seemed confused as to where to point it.
“Step out of the way or I will go through you,” Shadow snapped, drawing Magpie’s attention back him. The ageless, beautiful features didn’t even twitch.
“I can see the puddle has opinions. Is this the spawn I’ve heard so much about?” he asked in a tight voice.
Gray chewed on his lip and slowly nodded. He didn’t even break eye contact when Shadow’s warm flesh-goo tightened around him. Electricity tickled his skin, and he could hear it crackle as his lover stirred, unsure what to do. “Shadow, show yourself now. He can help us.”
Gray sensed Shadow’s hesitation without seeing it, but in the end, the smooth warmth slipped off Gray as if he was water in a shower.
Magpie tapped his emerald-studded cane against the floor. “Just one new moon left until this creature makes the flowers on Baal’s trees bloom, and you’re obstructing my work?”
The pain in Gray’s side grew as the high of adrenaline slowly passed, leaving him lightheaded and with flesh throbbing around the blade. He looked down at the thick grip of the knife and his own hand, which was stained with blood.
“What? What are you doing here? Those people took our cargo!”
Magpie frowned and had his bodyguard lower the gun with a dismissive gesture of a perfectly-manicured hand. “Makar, do you have a doctor on call?” he asked one of the Russian gangsters. Gray had never seen a crack in the flawless facade, but it was pronounced now—a deep frown creating grooves in the hypnotic features. “I know what happened. Those people work for me. But they don’t always share their plans with me. They must have caught wind of your cargo and decided to just go for it.”
Shadow once more slid up Gray’s body with a whimper that trembled against his skin. This time, he stopped where the wound was and solidified around the knife, offering Gray much-needed relief. Gray petted the pile of translucently black goo that now slightly dipped under his touch, but on the inside he was cooking with anger.
“So you couldn’t bother informing us? You have groups of people fighting over the same fucking stones. Beast is hurt too, because this was supposed to be a regular transport, and those fuckers attacked out of nowhere. And who revealed the location of the drop anyway? Was it one of your people?” Gray demanded, ignoring the commotion behind him. It was only when a pair of loafer-clad feet stopped by his side that he looked up at the large man who distracted him during the shootout. His slacks clung to his protruding belly but were loose around the thin legs, and in the light of the lamp above, his pale, thinning hair resembled the fluff around cotton balls.
Makar must have heard everything Gray said and now watched him with a scowl. “Excuses! It was not a fucking duel. If you want to maximize safety, make more men move their asses to protect the runs.”