I didn't say anything. Didn't have time. Because at that moment, a sound rang out.
Not just a sound, but a gunshot.
The bullet shot Kingsley's fucking brains through the side of his head and splattered them across the wall.
I didn't even have the energy to cheer.
As Kingsley's body slumped to the ground, Rhoan stepped fully into the room.
"Why will you bad guys never listen?" he said, talking to Kingsley as if he were still capable of hearing and thought. And I guess if the silver-threaded knife had done its job and trapped his spirit inside his lifeless body, then he was still capable of understanding. He just couldn't reply. "I keep warning and warning, and nobody seems willing to listen. One of these days someone is going to wake up to the fact that I'm serious when I say never to attack my sister without looking over your shoulder for me."
I dragged myself into a sitting position and leaned wearily against the wall. "Maybe you should send out a pamphlet to bad guys' headquarters. It could be the only way to make sure they know."
"Now that sounds like a plan." He hefted the weapon onto his shoulder, and gave me a grin. "And thanks for saving the good bit for me."
I laughed. At the irony in his words. In sheer, bloody relief at still being alive.
Laughed until the tears started flowing and the pain hit full force.
Laughed until I knew no more. iousness came back slowly, accompanied by a pounding headache that had spots dancing crazily before my closed eyelids and my stomach doing an accompanying jig. And I couldn't even begin to describe the pain radiating up from my left hand.
Better to ignore it. Pretend it wasn't there, even if the sheer force of it had sweat rolling down my forehead.
Or maybe that was the heat. It was hot here, wherever the hell "here" was. My skin burned, and it wasn't just the aches that caused it. The air was thick and humid, and filled with the rank scent of mustiness and old earth. Lying underneath those two were the finer aromas of blood and death and sorrow and pain, some of them ancient, some of them fresh, all of them raw.
Which suggested that this place was not only underground, but somewhere that had seen more than its fair share of death.
As had the table on which I lay. Misery and death seemed embedded in the stone itself, and the chill riding up from it ate into my spine and butt, making them ache. I resisted the temptation to shift position, and concentrated on what was going on in the room itself.
Somewhere to my left, fire crackled. I couldn't smell smoke, but there didn't seem to be even the faintest trickle of fresh air and it just didn't feel like a hearth-type fire complete with chimney. Given who had more than likely lit the flames, it was a fair bet to say it was probably magic in origin. I very much doubted Caelfind had been the only practitioner. Surely a dark god would know a bit about the dark arts of sorcery, as well.
Rising beyond the crackle of flame was the sound of chanting. I listened for several seconds, trying to understand the melodious words, but they didn't seem to be in any language I recognized. But the voice I knew - it belonged to Jin.
A tremor ran through my soul. I might not know where I was, but scent, sensation, and instinct were giving very strong indications of what this place was used for.
This was Quinn's gateway. The place where Kingsley did his sacrifices or feedings or whatever the hell they actually were. Why he transported the bodies to warehouses afterward, I have no idea. Maybe he simply didn't want the stink of rotting flesh hanging around his place of sacrifice.
I was tempted to open my eyes and looked around further, but until I was sure Jin and I were alone in this place, I couldn't risk even the slightest twitch.
I drew in a breath - slowly but deeply - tasting the air, sorting through the thick scents of death and age and power, looking for the one that was Kingsley.
Nothing.
He wasn't here - a fact that was surely backed up from the fact I was relatively clearheaded. No longer was I the compliant, needy little bitch I'd been in the house, and my thoughts were free of the foggy distance that had made me so pliable earlier. Of course, there were now a thousand little miners working away on the inside of my skull and within my hand, but the pain - eye watering as it was - was a good one. Because I could think. I could feel. And after the events of the last few hours, that alone felt like heaven.
But the bitter, metallic taste in the back of my mouth very much suggested that my distant state had probably been artificially induced, that perhaps both the wine and water had been drugged. They had to have been - it was the only explanation for what had happened. What I'd allowed to happen.
And with my will suppressed, Kingsley had a relatively easy time of getting through some of my shields and making me do what he'd wanted me to do.
But only when he was close. My brief attack on Jin had proven that.
The one good thing about this whole situation was the fact he obviously hadn't gotten through all my shields. Otherwise, he would have known I wasn't any old sacrifice victim, but a werewolf and a guardian. And they surely would have taken far more precautions with me if they'd realized what they actually had.
Because I wasn't restrained in any way I might be naked, but my arms were resting by my sides and my legs were stretched comfortably straight out And while I mightn't have my shoes, I could still feel the two knives disguised as hair clips in my hair. I had weapons - good weapons - when I needed them.
My very first instinct was to get up and run while Jin's attention was caught elsewhere, but I quelled it quickly Though I could only smell him in the room, I had no idea what else might be here as well There might be nasty little - or not so little - beasties like the hellhound waiting in the shadows And I seriously doubted I'd have the strength to battle Mew as well as Jin.
No, better to wait for the right situation Like, sometime before they started gutting me.