Ruben’s wide gaze snapped up to Adrian. Tyche didn’t think it was possible for the man to change color yet again, but he definitely looked greener after Adrian’s question. “What? No! Why do you think I have a boss?”
While he was holding Ruben’s full attention, Adrian held out his right hand and gave it a flick. In a flash, a long silver blade appeared between his fingers. He pointed the tip at Ruben’snose. “Because you’re not smart enough to arrange all this on your own.”
“Who’s running the death camps?” Shey demanded.
“Wait a minute! Those aren’t death camps. We are?—”
“Tell that to Yesuntei!” Tyche roared. He launched out of the chair, sending it clattering to the floor behind him. He threw himself at the desk, leaning across it until he was practically in Ruben’s face. “Your goons killed the Goddess of Nightmares! You killed her, and she’d done nothing to you! She was the sweetest, kindest person in all of Thia, and you killed her! And now you’ve unleashed her sister’s wrath on us all.”
As he raged, the pearl of magic he’d taken from Yesuntei burned in his pocket, scalding his leg. It called out to him, begging him to take that power as his own. He could use it to plunge Ruben deep into the worst nightmare possible. A nightmare he’d never wake from. It would shatter his mind and devour his soul. He pressed his left hand over the ball.
“What about the hundreds of others you’ve killed during the past several months?” Haru asked in a deceptively calm voice. “People who disappeared from their homes and work. People who disappeared off the streets. You’ve created a world where all the common folk in Damardor are too desperate and scared to speak up. You think they don’t notice all the missing faces, but they know and remember.”
“Tell us who your boss is, and we might consider letting you live,” Adrian urged.
Tyche clenched his teeth as Ruben continued to wheeze and stammer, not giving them any answers at all. In his mind, he caressed a large, fat blob of juicy bad luck. It was dark and ugly, practically leaking with nasty bad luck. Right now, it was sitting right at the top of all Ruben’s luck. It would take nothing for Tyche to give it a nudge, popping it so that it covered the asshole completely, but he worried. If he used it, there was agood chance that Ruben would have a heart attack or some kind of aneurysm that killed him instantly. He wanted this man to suffer.
“Please, you don’t understand. If he discovers I told you, he’ll kill me. We can make a deal. I’m sure. If I tell you, I’ll lose everything!” Ruben pleaded.
“You’re going to lose everything if you don’t speak,” Haru argued.
“But-but?—”
“Wait,” Shey snapped. He moved closer to the desk and placed a restraining hand on Tyche’s shoulder, which vibrated with tension. He wanted this man dead in the worst way, but something inside him calmed when Shey touched him. Tyche looked up to find Shey regarding Ruben closely through narrowed eyes. Ruben’s wheezing breaths were the only thing to break the second of tense silence.
“Never mind. Adrian, kill him. He won’t ever talk,” Shey declared.
“No!” Ruben screamed. He lunged forward and his right hand slapped a spot under the desk. As soon as he hit it, relief flooded his expression, and he grinned. “Try to kill me. No one knew Prince Shey was in my prison, and no one ever has to know that he was here now.” He turned his ugly sneer on Tyche. “So-called god. Trapped for months in my prison. You’re no god.”
“Yeah, fuck this,” Tyche muttered. With a mental flick, the bad luck popped. He watched it ooze over all the bright balls of luck Ruben had never used, seeming to melt them. The large man gasped and choked while clutching his chest. He tumbled back, forcing Adrian to leap out of the way as the man writhed on the floor.
“Ty?” Adrian called out.
“That was a nasty bit of luck,” Tyche admitted, his eyes locked on Ruben as he slowly died. “So glad I used it. This is rather satisfying.”
“Just a warning. We’re about to have company. Sounds like his entire security force,” Haru stated in a bland tone.
“Fuck,” Adrian snarled. “Haru, find the Firestone shard and any of his others if you can. Tyche, find his tablet. He’s always carrying it. It must have valuable information on it. Find it and use whatever good luck you have to keep it safe.” He turned his attention to Shey and tilted his head slightly toward the double doors as if in invitation.
“It would be my pleasure,” Shey replied. The prince had barely finished speaking when a crackle of electricity filled the air. The fine hairs on Tyche’s arms rose while thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Shit was about to get crazy.
Tyche clawed his way around the desk, ignoring Ruben as he gasped and wheezed a few more times before he fell silent at last. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shey and Adrian race for the doors to intercept the guards coming to kill them. Haru growled, low and deep, bringing a shiver out of Tyche. All his instincts screamed to say fuck the tablet, just run, but he didn’t. He jerked open the drawers of the desk and threw papers aside until he located the electronic device under the morning newspaper. He set that aside and kneeled beside Ruben. If the man was locked to his tablet for business, there was also a chance that he was locked to his phone in the same way all the humans were. He rifled through pockets with his fast fingers, shoving the corpse out of his way. He finally stumbled across the phone in the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
A loud crash and growl had Tyche jerking his head up to see Haru ripping an enormous painting off the wall. He tossedit aside with a bang, the heavy frame smashing to bits. Tyche’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of Haru’s eyes. They’d shifted so that the pupils were narrow vertical slits, but he didn’t notice Tyche. His gaze was locked on the front of a wall safe the painting had hidden. It had a small numbered keypad as a lock.
“I’ve got some good luck handy. You want me to try my hand at the passcode?” Tyche offered.
“No,” Haru growled. As he lifted his hands, they shifted from human to scaled and taloned dragon hands. He dug those razor-sharp talons into the door of the safe and ripped as if the metal was nothing more than room-temperature butter.
“Fuck.” Tyche exhaled. Good luck became far less valuable with a dragon ready to tear things apart.
Haru pulled out a long leather box and opened it to reveal a glittering red crystal. It hummed a sharp tone that left Tyche cringing. He didn’t recognize the magic, but he could feel that it was bad news. The humming became more intense, piercing his mind like an ice pick.
“Close the case!” he choked out.
