Page 49 of Live Love Lasso

He shrugs, hissing through his teeth. “Yeah, but Siral was aimin’ to do worse, so it was the lesser of two evils. Wish I could ask them to just leave the haven, but seems like that’s frowned upon by monster HQ. They’d be more dangerous out in the human world.”

I sigh. “If you say so, Bishop. My gut says we’re missing something obvious, that the ophiotaurii don’t have anything to do with this. They’re focused elsewhere. Always have been. They don’t even like comin’ into downtown. Why would they do this?”

He snarls, “Why do those fuckers do anything they do? Stealin’ cattle, attackin’ Mabel. Leaving the haven to go into the human world…we need a fuckin’ Keeper who can shake some sense into them.”

I laugh at that. “It’ll take a miracle for the Gulch to accept a new Keeper, you know that.”

“Don’t I.” He shakes his head. “Let’s get goin’.”

I get back in the driver’s seat and put the truck in drive. It’s another five minutes along a dusty, windy dirt road to the ophiotaurii compound. It comes into view, nestled at the base of the mountains. Elaborate stacked huts rise three and four stories tall with giant circular open doors. I know for a fact the “village” is built into the mountain too, but I’ve never seen that part of it.

They’re solitary, unfriendly, and usually involved in some sort of light criminal activity for reasons nobody’s entirely sure of. Ophiotaurii are elusive and as far as I know, we’re the only haven with any of ‘em.

This location gives them the perfect vantage point for anyone approaching their compound. There’s no way to sneak in, so I don’t bother. My truck’s kicking up quite a bit of dust—they’ll be ready for us.

By the time I pull into the circular area the huts are situated around, a dozen enormous ophiotaurii have positioned themselves around the outer edge. I put the truck in park and hop out, removing my hat and setting it on my seat. My truck bed creaks as Bishop leaps out of the back, rustling his wings as he joins me.

A snakelike monster slithers forward, the sun glinting off burnished rust-colored scales. They stop at his waist, and from there up, he might as well be a shorthorn minotaur down to the snout ring and giant horns capped with gold. He glowers at us, fists balled as he sidewinds across the dirt toward us. Behind him, a row of custom motorcycles gleams in the sun.

Next to the bikes the other ophiotaurii stand at the ready. Kohdiy, the big yellow ophiotaurus, sits on a giant pile of his coils, arms crossed as he stares at Siral.

“Why are you here?” Siral gets straight to the point as he stops in front of me and Bishop. “You still haven’t healed, Sheriff. I cannot imagine you’re down for more tusslin’.”

Bishop lets out a snarl as he lashes his tail side to side like an angry cat.

“Nope,” I chirp, hopeful that a lowkey attitude will defuse an already tense situation. “We got a problem in town with some animals and wanted to see if you’ve noticed the same out here.”

Kohdiy joins us. “What kind of problems?”

Siral glares at him, but Kohdiy studiously ignores the older male.

“White eyes, vacant expressions, eventual paralysis. They’re shittin’ out some kind of liquid that scorches the earth around them. Like they’re killin’ the land.”

Kohdiy grits his jaw.

“Ain’t seen nothin’ like that,” Siral says, crossing his arms. “Get the fuck outta here. You’re not welcome.”

Kohdiy ignores the other male but jerks his head toward us. “Come with me.”

As he turns to slither away, Siral lurches forward, gripping the back of his neck and spinning the younger male to face him. But Kohdiy looks like he’s got a hundred pounds or more on the other male, and he snaps in Siral’s face, shoving the rust-colored male away from him.

“Killing the land, Siral. Think what it means if we succeed, but our land, our home, is dead. Fucking think it through for once.”

Siral glares at Kohdiy, and behind them, the others rustled in obvious unease, looking between one another. I suspect Bishop’s right—a fight for leadership of their nest. Ophiotaurii might look like minotaurs from the waist up, but that’s where any similarities end. Their cobra half seems to rule everything about how they behave.

Kohdiy’s comment about succeeding sends off warning bells in my brain though. Succeed at what? Now ain’t the time to ask, but I file that information away for the future because it’s the first time they’ve so much as hinted at having a particular goal.

Siral doesn’t back down, but Kohdiy turns and slithers off toward one of the huts, waving at us to follow him. Despite my worry over the animals and what’s going on, I’m interested to see the inside of one of these huts for the first time.

Kohdiy disappears into a giant hut. We follow, despite Siral’s warning growl echoing behind us. The inside is lined with shelves covered in household goods and canned fruits and vegetables.

“C’mon.” Kohdiy continues to the opposite side of the hut and through a smaller hole.

I glance up, noticing there’s a long leather sling hung from the ceiling. His bed, I imagine. I shudder, thinking about all the coils of that enormous body piled up in that space.

“This better not be a fuckin’ trap,” Bishop snaps from behind me.

A low chuckle is our only answer as we enter a much darker hut. Even with my fantastic vision, it’s almost too dark for me to make out anything but a stairwell into the darkness. The scent of dirty animals hits me, though.