Page 82 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
“Why? Does he want to kill me himself?” Did the jackal want the thrill of offing the heir to the throne he coveted?
Pete shrugged. “Potentially. Or maybe he wants a rare power you’re harboring.”
I gulped, the phrasesfire sylphandthe warrior’s skincoming to mind.
“Not that I can sniff out any great magic in you.” Pete studied me. “Makes no matter to me. My only task is to deliver you. You and your totem.”
I swatted my rustling bangs from my eyes. “I don’t have a totem.”
“Everyone has a totem.”
“Hmph. If I do, I bet you anything it’s still in Pittsburgh where I left it.” I grinned as his gaze froze on my face. “With the rest of my earthly belongings.”
After a moment, Pete relaxed, his hair ruffling in the sweetest of winds. His handsome features were more distinct now that the sky had brightened. “You mustn’t ken what a totem is to say such a thing. It’s an extension of the heart. A person would carry it with them no matter the journey.”
The asshole looked too damn certain. “Again, I had to travel light. Must’ve left my heart at home.”
Expelling a long-suffering sigh, Pete reached into his pocket and produced a pink iBloom Shimmy, dangling it by the earbuds like a pendulum.
“You invasive prick!” I snarled. “Give that back!”
“Why?” His gaze mocked me. “Is it important to you?”
I glowered, folding my arms. I wasn’t playing this game. “You know what—keep it. Once its battery dies, it’s worthless anyway.”
“This is a finite comfort, is it? And you’ve resigned yourself to its loss?”
I shrugged, still glaring.
“Then here.” He tossed the iBloom back to me. “It can’t be your totem.”
Praising fate for the return of my prized possession, I stuffed it deep in my pocket. When I glanced back up, Pete was combing Raggedy Andy’s red yarn hair.
Rage, pure and unadulterated, seized me.
He gleamed at me over my ratty doll. “How about this little poppet, though, darlin’? Would you care if I ripped off his head right now?”
My lip curled. “Don’t you fucking dare.” Half booted, I advanced like a misaligned bull. Horns out.
Andy his red cape, Pete backpedaled. “Oh, this is it, isn’t it?”
I leapt at him. He darted away.
“I’m not joking with you,” I rasped, something ferocious pulsing through me. My hair stood at my nape. “Give me back my doll!”
“Your doll?” He clicked his tongue. “That doesn’t sound right. He should have a proper name, shouldn’t he?”
“His name’s Andy, asshole! Give him back!”
“Andy.” Pete ignored my fury. “Nice to meet you, chap.”
Baring my teeth, I advanced on Pete. “Youwillgive him back to me. Right now.”
He brushed me off, then turned and stuffed Andy into the scuffed leather satchel strapped diagonally across his broad back. “Don’t rightly think so.” He craned his neck to buckle his sack shut, readjusting it to his comfort. “The only person I’ll be giving this bit of fluff to is Gentian himself. Sorry, darlin’, Andy’s—”
He barked, flying backward on a gust of wind so powerful it bowed the younger trees growing across the rocky dirt road—a gust that had whooshed out of me in my surging wrath.
My only thoughts for reacquisition and revenge, I descended on Pete with all my weight, snatched the dagger from his waist, and pressed its razor edge to his bobbing throat. Hard.
