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The Sluagh spread their wings and their arms rise, showing pistols and shotguns all around. They’ve turned on us. And they’re a small army.
They'll want themoney,of course.
But I can't go back to my father and tell him I've just given away fifty grand. We'll have to fight.
Kyran knows it. My men know it. Fahad is the only one who seemsnotto know it.
"The money," he says.
“Why Fahad? Why not do the deal like you promised?”
Farad’s toothy grin worsens. A bit of flesh on his cheek tears when he smiles.
“The Oleanders have made us a better offer. Now, themoney.”
I nod to Kyran. Kyran stares at me like he's trying to read my mind.
"Throw it."
With a sigh, Kyran tosses the briefcase. His hand moves rattlesnake-quick to the pistol in his coat. Our two men at the far side of the alley drop to their knees so they have a more stable base to shoot from, but Kyran and I are between them and the Sluagh.
They won't risk hitting me. My father would be furious.
Kyran fires first, hitting one of them right in the forehead. The Sluagh goes down, his essence snuffed out as his brains leave his skull. The Sluagh may have escaped hell, but even they can’t live without a brain.
I slough off my coat as I dash among the Sluagh. My right hand lashes out and crushes one of their skulls. My clothes shred as I move, and tentacles catch two more unawares, gripping them by their throats.
I reach into their minds, sensing the dreamscape inside them. I send them into endless sleep using my powers. Their eyes roll back in their heads, and they drop to the ground unconscious.
My left hand crashes into one of their foreheads, shattering the bones like fine china. Kyran fires another shot and another Sluagh drops from his perfect aim.
The two guards I posted at the far end of the alley fire a few shots of their own, keeping well away from me. I suspect they hit nothing at all, but at least they're participating.
Fahad tries to shoot me, but I move too quickly. His shot tears through the wings of one of his own. I finish that one by snapping his neck with one of my long tentacles, and throw him into another Sluagh, smashing them both into the wall.
"You can do better than that, Fahad."
He aims again, and I watch him. With my senses, it's like seeing someone moving through molasses. I step to the side and he misses again. Fahad, panicked, tries to fire more shots, but I slap the pistol away.
Something sears the back of my tentacle. The muzzle flash from Fahad's pistol burned me. I backhand one of his men even harder than I'd meant to and he goes crashing to the asphalt, blood splattering everywhere.
The rest of Fahad's men disappear into the sewers. Fahad looks around him, and finds himself alone. He drops the pistol.
"Do you truly not dream, Fahad?"
I get closer and he shrinks away from me. His back hits the brick wall and he closes his eyes, turning his face away like I'm a roaring flame and he fears the heat.
I rub the ash from the back of my hand. A cold, quiet rage fills me with that. There's aburn. It’ll heal, but of course, my father will see it. I'll have to listen to himbitchandmoan.
Does Fahad have any idea how irritating that is?
He does not. He cowers, entirely unaware of how he has ruined my night.
The gift of the Old Blood within me reaches out to Fahad. It seeks his inner world. And it finds it.
"But Fahad…youdodream. Not often. But you do. And it's a particular pleasure for you, isn't it? To dream of the pleasures of the flesh? Those things which are denied you in death?"
"Please."
