“If you stab me in the back, so help me God, I will tear it out and fill you full of holes. I am not in the mood.”
“I can stab you wherever I want. That’s the deal.”
“I didn’t make that deal.”
“Your man did. Quit stalling.”
I huffed, the sound turning into almost a growl before I trudged to the back steps of the vacant tasting room and faced him again, out of patience. Sebastian, his interest clearly piqued, stopped a couple of feet away, still undetected by Sasquatch.
“There.” I spread my arms once again. “Go for it. Also, your knife is stupid. Have a little pride in your weaponry.”
His bushy eyebrows dipped and his gaze slipped down to the plain brown handle peeking through his chubby fingers, the dull blade about five inches long. If it had a name, it would be Pat. And if I started naming all my weapons like Mr. Tom did, I didn’t know what I would do with myself.
He braced, and I readied for the flash of pain. For the terror of a knife speeding toward my flesh.
But the only movement I saw came from the corner of my eye. A massive shape rushed in, too fast for my reflexes, and I jumped in surprise as a large hand shot out and gripped my nemesis’s front. A powerful body followed, brushing past me, and Sasquatch was ripped away from me and slammed into the fence to our side.
Sebastian dove to the ground, magic curling around him, whatever spell he’d tried to fire off floating away in a cloud of smoke. His eyes were wide, and for a moment his face seemed to wobble, as though it weren’t attached, his skin still sparkling tangerine. My potion was clearly running dry.
The shifter from earlier, his dark eyes flaring with violence, had Sasquatch pinned.
Sasquatch stood frozen, arms at his sides, as though he didn’t trust himself to even take a breath. His knife stayed clenched in his fist, although it was obvious he didn’t intend to use it in self-defense. His eyes were so big that they looked like they’d pop out.
“That kind of behavior no longer exists in this town.” The shifter’s voice was a low growl that fluttered my stomach, dangerous and dark, capable of incredible violence.
Unlocking my limbs and forcing myself into action, I stepped closer and lightly put a hand on his arm. “It’s—”
He didn’t flinch, but the air of his static aggression changed, now encompassing me. He turned his head slowly, his warning very clear. He punctuated the message by dropping his gaze to my hand.
“Whoops. Not a touchy-feely kinda guy, huh?” I pulled my hand back.
Still holding Sasquatch, who looked stiff as a board, the shifter beat that aggressive stare into me, silently commanding me to back down.
“Right, yeah, I read you loud and clear,” I said, “but here’s the thing: this kind of behavior has never really existed in this town, except for this particular training exercise. Austin knows about it. He’s asked that we carry out the punishment portion out of sight, so that’s why we’re here.”
His stony expression didn’t change. His hand didn’t give Sasquatch any slack.
“He won the game”—I pointed at Sasquatch—“and now he gets to stab me. Those are the rules.”
“You have a mage in the area.” It sounded like each word was dragged over gravel, something that should have been unpleasant but wasn’t.
“Yes. He’s crouching on the ground just…” I moved to point, but Sebastian waved his hands at me in alarm, shaking his head. “Well, I’m sure you smell him. Oh, wait, you can’t smell him.”
“I heard him. I know where he is.”
“How do you know it’s a mage?”
“Invisible and clumsy, and I felt the brief sting of useless magic.”
I frowned at him. “The sting of magic? What’s that like?”
“Gargoyles, too.”
“Yes.” I pointed. “There’s one right on the roof, looking down at you.”
The shifter didn’t so much as flinch. If he wanted to look up, there was absolutely no sign.
“And another at my back,” he said. “That’s a very dangerous place to be.”
“Oh no, I assure you, I mean no harm.” Mr. Tom’s magic wavered and then slipped away as he moved toward me. “I am merely standing by in case the miss needs something.”
The shifter’s eyes flicked over, and he did a double take. He’d only meant to sneak a glance, I knew, but Mr. Tom’s get-up created something of a disconnect between the brain and the eyes. The shifter craned his neck for a better look.
“That’s Mr. Tom, my butler,” I said, knowing that wouldn’t really ease the blow.
“What kind of dog and pony show is this?” the shifter ground out.
“It’s…” I grimaced. “There really aren’t words. Listen, thanks for trying to help, but I’m magical. I’ll heal the stab wound right up. No biggie.”