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“I think his name is Vin,” Slade cut in. “Just tossing that out there. Do with it what you will.”
His lips quirking in spite of his mood, Teague drew in a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the scents of smoke, pine needles, beer, and coffee laced with liquor. Aside for the glow of the crackling flames and the light beaming through the side window of Archer’s wagon, the only source of light came from the battery-powered lantern on the picnic table.
“Did any humans catch a glimpse of your demon?” Saxon asked.
“No, no one saw a thing.” Noticing that the dogs were slowly prowling around, unsettled, Teague patted his uninjured leg and whistled to call them over. Too on edge, they continued to prowl and sniff and explore the clearing suspiciously.
Slade pulled two cans of beer out of the chest beside his log and offered one to Teague, who gratefully took it. “Did you learn anything from the shadowkin before it went and got itself dead?” he asked, retaking his spot on the log opposite Teague and flicking open the tab on his can.
“A little,” Teague replied, stretching out his legs. “You were right. Vine didn’t try to use shadowkin to get me executed. Neither did Zagan, just as Leo predicted. It was the person who now holds my old position.”
“And who’s that?” asked Gideon, leaning forward to rest his lower arms on his thighs.
Teague felt a muscle in his cheek tick. “Ronin.”
Silence fell, thick and taut.
Sitting on the top step of his porch, Archer did a slow blink and raised an index finger. “Ronin as in your half-brother Ronin?”
There was a hiss of sound as Teague opened his beer can. “One and the same.”
Gideon’s jaw dropped. “No way. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I mean, I know you two never got along—”
“Understatement,” Archer chipped in.
Gideon inclined his head. “Okay, so he hates you, Teague. And he was always jealous as hell that you were recruited. But there’s a big difference between resenting someone for being born and actively attempting to have their existence erased. Plus, well, you share blood.”
“That means nothing to him. Never did.” Teague took a swig of his cold beer. “Can’t say it ever meant much to me either. He’s too much like our father.”
Saxon lifted his insulated mug. “Sending someone to execute you is by no means beneath Ronin, but this doesn’t fully add up. He always coveted your old position. He finally has it. He’ll lose it if people find out what he’s doing. Why take that chance?”
Slade shrugged. “I suppose he figures that no one will ever know. It’s not like anyone monitors us, is it? We’ve been left alone since we retired.”
“Until now,” said Tucker.
Yes, until now. “You know, he often told me that he’d one day see me dead. I never took him seriously.”
Leo’s forehead creased. “Why would you? He’s mostly full of piss and wind.”
“But why bother at this point in our lives, when I’m not in the picture?” Teague questioned, rolling back his aching shoulder. “Saxon’s right, it doesn’t fully add up. It’s not like our father’s infidelity is rubbed in Ronin’s face on a daily basis anymore, is it? He has the luxury of pretending I don’t exist.”
“It does seem like an overreaction,” conceded Leo. “Why come for you? What does he hope to achieve? Ronin is a spiteful piece of shit who hated that the brother he believes shouldn’t exist managed to outshine him in every way. But if he now has the two things he always wanted—you off the scene, and the position he currently enjoys—he should be reasonably content.”
“Whatever the case, Ronin is nothing we can’t handle,” Saxon upheld, unworried. “I don’t see a reason for us to alter our game plan.”
“The best thing we can do is stick to it,” said Teague before taking another swig from his can. “With each attack that fails, Ronin will get more pissed. And with each time I fail to retaliate as he expects, he’ll grow even more pissed.” And as it occurred to Teague that there was a chance Larkin could get caught in the crossfire, his gut knotted.
It wasn’t likely to happen. Ronin wouldn’t want to anger other demons and find himself a target of lairs—not even his position would protect him from the consequences—so he’d order the shadowkin to only attack if Teague was alone or with his clan. The order wouldn’t be disobeyed. Still, Teague wasn’t comfortable taking that chance.
She could defend herself just fine, yes. She was tougher than most people he knew, and it was no small thing that she had the ability to conjure hell-ice. That stuff was potent. But he didn’t want her to get caught up in this fucked-up mess; didn’t want Ronin or the asshole’s minions anywhere near her.
