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If I’d really wanted to piss him off, I’d point out that he was getting mud on his shoes.
“Your wit never ceases to charm.”
“I’m the delightfullest.”
Prescott sighed. Hey, I said I’d keep the snark to a minimum. There was no way possible I could cut it out entirely. Not even with my life on the line.
“As much as I’d love to continue this interaction, I’d much prefer that you just return what you’ve stolen.”
“Won.”
He blinked at me, and his expression was so clear his thoughts might as well be written on his face. You’re going to argue semantics with death?
Yup.
“I beg your pardon?” Prescott asked.
“You said stole. You’re the one who said I could take anything in the room if I could make it rain inside. I did. Stole implies I came in and snatched something that wasn’t mine.”
“It isn’t yours.”
“But see, it is. Because I won it. It’s not my fault you’ve always underestimated my powers.”
Prescott and I stared at each other, and I tried not to let the hammering rain ruin my cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor. Nothing makes you look less badass than furiously blinking away the raindrops stuck in your lashes.
“Tallulah…” His impatience was evident in his tone.
Prescott and I had known each other a long time. Too long. We were roughly the same age—he was only a year or two my senior—and we’d grown up aware of each other, as all young disciples were. It helped to know your potential allies from your enemies.
We all learned young that in the game of divinity there was no such thing as friends.
I’d once found him handsome, even charming.
That time had long since passed.
Yet there were occasions where we fell into old, familiar habits, and the way he said my name reminded me that this was someone I knew. I’d once seen him cry over the body of a dead dog.
Prescott hadn’t always been so cold.
I hadn’t always been so nasty.
Time ruins everyone in the long run.
I relaxed my fists and focused on the rain as it trailed down my bare arms, tiny rivers dripping off my fingertips. Thunder growled its animal warning, shaking the ground. It vibrated up through my legs and made my soul tremble with anticipation.
Prescott had the good sense to look worried.
“I won the idol fair and square,” I said.
The air smelled of ozone, a sharp, peppery odor that reminded me of fresh cardamom. In spite of the rain, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The creaky whoosh noise of the wipers on their two sedans was the only sound. Goose bumps prickled my skin.
“You haven’t played fair your whole life.” His accusation stung. We might not like each other, but his words sounded like they came from a place of personal spite. I’d never hurt him in a way that should have earned me such a hateful tone.
“If Manea didn’t want to risk losing it, she shouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”
He blanched, and I realized he must have bet it without her permission. Before I could point this out, he said, “You cheated. Give it back, or I’ll be forced to—”
I lifted my hand, and he flinched. Maybe he didn’t underestimate me after all. The three undead thugs suddenly had guns in their hands, drawn and trained on me. They weren’t thrilling conversationalists, but they were known to have decent aim. If your only directive was to kill, you managed to be quite precise.
