Page 14 of Ravenous Prophecy
And here was a goon of a different stripe, one of JA Williams’s people. He laughed derisively, folding his arms as I slipped the knuckles on, as if to say that he was allowing me a head start. Two things I knew about scum like him who worked for scum like Williams.
First? Overconfident, generally. Not the best trait for someone working a job that involved assessing threats and protecting your employer from said threats.
Me. I’m the threats.
Second? Second was that they all folded like card tables when you punched them hard enough. Preferably in the gut.
“Real cute,” the goon said, cracking his knuckles. “Bringing a knife to a gunfight.”
He reached under the table, producing an aluminum bat that gleamed dully in the light of the exposed bulb overhead. I frowned.
“Knife to a—that doesn’t even work right now. Fuck this.”
I stalked toward him. He sprang to his feet, shoved thetable out of the way, as if the rattle and bang of furniture was somehow supposed to intimidate me. No worries. It only shortened the distance between my fist and his torso. I reared back, fingers clenched tight, the metal blazing hot against my knuckles as the enchantment awakened.
That stuff I said to Bradley about depending on magic? Forget I said anything. I took a swing, drove my fist into the goon’s stomach. Arcane energy exploded from my knuckles.
The bat clattered to the ground. The goon flew off his feet, propelled by the spell work sealed into the cannon knuckles. And then he kept flying until his back slammed against the wall with a sickening crunch. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The others stood by, jaws hanging loose. Performing a threat assessment, if they were smart.
I kissed my knuckles, raised my fist to the ceiling. That one was for Mama Isabella. Absolute angel.
“Oh my God.” Bradley’s hands flew to his head. “You killed him!”
I wagged my hand at the wrist, shaking the ache in my bones away. “Nuh-uh. He’s fine. Look at him. Bleeding internally, maybe, but that’s what you get.”
Two of the goons backed up. They were the smarter ones.
The other two rushed us down. I drove my fist into one man’s chest, sending him flying off his feet. Bradley greeted the other one with a folded chair to the face. Both collapsed into agonized heaps, groaning on the ground. Bradley dropped his chair in horror. I pursed my lips and gave him a grin of approval. The remaining men scattered, slammingtheir way through the ‘Employees Only’ door. Again, very smart.
At last, the final door, its shiny brass knob gleaming like a trophy. If it was locked? No sweat. A quick strike from my cannon knuckles would do the trick. But I reached out, felt its metal cold under my hand, then wondered at its looseness. Without turning it, I could already tell it was unlocked.
I pushed the door open, some small part of me expecting to find JA Williams himself on the other side. But the little office, dusty and sparsely appointed, was empty. Well—apart from the open manuscript sitting on the desk, smack in the center of the room.
Bradley licked his lips. “This feels too easy.”
“And?” I said. “Maybe it is. Maybe Williams was in the middle of reading this stuff and had to go attend to some billionaire emergency. Maybe he doesn’t bother locking up because he only hires dimwits who don’t care or know about the value of rare manuscripts.”
Despite his hesitation, I could tell that Bradley was dying to get a good, long look at the manuscript. His fingers dug into the doorframe, but his torso angled forward, a hound that had found its quarry, a boy unsure of whether it was safe to sprint onto the playground. It was kind of cute.
I understood well enough. He was an academic, a man used to asking for permission before he could find whatever it was he wanted, whether it was an old relic or an ancient, crumbling book. There had always been locked doors, sealed cabinets, stern docents and archivists and librarians standing in the way.
To Bradley, this was too good to be true. My chest inflated with pride. We’d barely gotten started, but I already knew this was a job well done. I’d given him the gift of access, solved his problem. Seeing him smile was just a bonus.
Voices came from somewhere behind us, out in the surrounding rooms and corridor. Reinforcements? More goons? No point staying to find out. We grabbed the goods and ran like hell.
CHAPTER 6
BRADLEY
As we ran,feet sliding out from under us, the world all darkness and noise and flashing lights and partygoers pushing back, Griffin slammed against the panic bar of the emergency exit. Just as we managed to escape into the brisk air, emergency lights began flashing, the alarm triggered, causing a stampede. For a moment, I felt the press of bodies, the shoving, and I was sure I was going to go under.
And of course, this was how I died. Or got trampled. And either way, it was a piss-poor way to go. A poor way to go after a poor career and a poor attempt at being a good son and a poor?—
Someone grabbed my hand, holding tight, and I wrapped my fingers even more firmly. I followed, blindly at first, before glancing up and seeing Griffin looking back at me. I squeezed hard as he tugged me along behind him. He was safety. He was the life vest that was my only chance to weather the storm.
Between my stumbling and Griffin’s retrieval expertise,we managed to get lost within the chaos of the rest of the partygoers and made it out onto the street, gasping for breath and panting. I stared at him, mouth open. My free arm was still clutched to my chest, holding in place the book I’d managed to slide under my shirt during our mad scramble. No sense in making such a fool of myself and then losing the very prize we’d come for.
“Thank you,” I said.
