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I act, muscles moving before reason, and bolt out of the chair to tower over Rhygel.
“Measure your next words carefully, friend,” Rhygel hisses, his quiet words belying their deadly intent.
It’s the only warning I’ll get before meeting the broad side of his fist.
Tension thickens the room, drawing us together in a compact circle.
“Where are they?” Rhygel asks once more.
Claws lengthen, wings tighten, lying flat against my back in a protective stance. “There are none,” I grit out.
Sparkling bolts of light flash in front of my eyes, which means pain isn’t far behind.
I didn’t see his fist move. Rhygel revealed no trace of the attack in his face.
I stagger sideways, the momentum of his fist against the side of my head carrying me a full ten feet.
I don’t think, only act, springing back on the balls of my feet. I aim a punch at the side of his head. Rhygel expects this—which I expected—and blocks, leaving his middle open for a split second.
A split second, which I take to inform him how much I don’t appreciate being rolled.
My knee lands squarely against his solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs.
Or it should have.
My face falls, disbelief in my miscalculation and at Rhygel’s ability to take a knee to the gut.
His wings spread, snapping outward as he grabs a fist full of my hair and shoves me down.
Down.
All the way to my knees.
It’s the only way and we both know it.
“Explain your actions immediately, Typhon, or I’ll pin your wings to the wall.”
Though Rhygel has clearly won, as I am subjugated and on my knees, I still have to fight the urge not to snarl and snap and find the upper hand. To wrench my head free of his grasp.
I don’t envy his job.
Eyes glued to the ground and fists balling at my sides, I roar, “I had a theory. And I am right.”
Chapter5
Lily
The events at lunch—what I can recall, anyhow—turn over in my mind. And I have no idea what to make of any of it.
Michelle says I finally put Brad in his place somehow. According to her, whatever I’d said made him piss himself.
Which, admittedly, is pretty awesome, butIdidn’t say anything.
And after paying for the potato skins I didn’t eat, she sent me home early, saying I looked nearly as traumatized as Brad.
“Go home, recover, and come back refreshed tomorrow. I’ll tell Rhonda you weren’t feeling well at the restaurant.”
I agreed. I’m always a little spacey after I lose time.
