Page 55 of Wolf of Ashes
In fact, I anticipated them all turning toward us at once, and my body is tense with that possibility. But strangely, the men don’t give any indication they’ve seen or heard us.
What’s more, the space around us is weirdly echoey and the sounds ahead of us are muted. Sort of like when I put my head under the shower and the falling water muffled all other sounds.
“Cards,” the keeper rumbles behind me when I slow my pace. “In case you were wondering what they’re playing.”
“Of course,” I mutter. “Gambling.”
Ten more careful steps take us to the end of the corridor and still the men don’t seem to be aware of our presence.
It’s odd, to say the least. Fucking unsettling, actually.
“Why haven’t they noticed us?” I whisper to Diavolo.
A deep crease has formed in his forehead, and he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well.” I exhale. “There’s nothing for it but to make an entrance.”
I step into the room with the keeper and panthers close behind me.
As soon as we move beyond the corridor, the nearest man jumps so suddenly that he nearly topples his chair. With a shout of alarm, he points at us.
Within seconds, all of the men have whirled in our direction, jumped to their feet, and pulled out guns of varying sizes and shapes with a chorus of metallic clicks.
Fuck.The walk through the corridor was so peaceful, I was hoping we might just slide on into the room.
Looks like that’s now out of the question.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Every single one of the thirty men points a weapon in our direction. There are so many barrels filling my view that for a moment, I can’t focus on the men themselves.
My hands fly up into the air. “Easy, gentlemen. No need to rush to violence.”
The energy around the men indicates they’re all supernaturals. I can tell from the auras around their bodies. Some are shifters, some are warlocks, some are mages. There are even a couple of vampires. At least, I think they are. Given it’s the first time I’m seeing these auras, I can only hope I’m identifying their species correctly.
Regardless, I have no doubt their weapons are magically powered, since the air around the guns is filled with glimmering energy that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
My panthers have taken up position in front of me, their Doberman heads held high and alert so that they stand nearly as tall as my waist.
Diavolo is a tower of muscles where he remains a step behind me and to my right, and I sense he’s two seconds away from lashing out with more power than a regular warlock should control.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” one of the men demands to know, his rifle aimed at my stomach. He’s taller than many of the others, broad in the shoulders, and he sports a skull tattoo on the side of his neck, which is concealed slightly by his collar. Like the other men, he’s wearing a suit.
It’s not the question I was expecting. More like:Who are you? What do you want?Not:Where did you come from?
I raise my eyebrows as I hook my thumb back toward the corridor. “We walked through the door.”
“What door?” he snarls.
“Uh… that door.” Again, I jab my thumb in the door’s direction. But I’m suddenly filled with uncertainty. Maybe there’s something about doors that I’m missing.
I whisper to the keeper, “Doors are for walking through. Right?”
“Uh-huh,” he says with a firm nod.
Opposite me, the man’s lips twist. “Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you? Let’s all walk through a fucking door that doesn’t exist, shall we?”
Doesn’t exist?
