Page 108 of War and his Queen

The doors of her room open and two Lost Boys stammer inside, bloodstained suits and gashes on their faces. The boy sees this as a way to leave, but I grab him by the back of the collar to force him down onto the chair without taking my eyes away from the Lost Boys.

Their bodies bend when they bow to Katsia, as she releases the clip that’s keeping her long, copper hair tied. With a trail down her slender back, the ends skim the water, following the waves her body creates as she moves to the other side.

She lifts her attention up to the boys.

“What is our current body count?” Her tongue’s flawless when it wraps around the dead language.

They both nod, but nervously so.

The first one is the bravest.“Four. We found one other floating near the docks, and a second one not far from him.”

She ponders for a moment, before curling her finger at the boys. “Come here.” I take that as my cue to continue.

I squeeze his cheek by the grip around his chin. “Talk. Now.”

His lips tighten closed.

“Or not.” I aim my gun and squeeze the trigger.Pop!The ripple of his screams tear through the sound of the bullet, as his hand squeezes the wound on his thigh.

I kneel to his eye level. “Just between us girls, I could do this all night. I know one hundred fifty-seven ways to kill a man withoutactually killinga man. So…” Standing to my full height, I grab the poker stick near the fireplace and go back to Mr. Chatty.

Ignoring the rage of memories that come with it, I flip open my Zippo and let the flame heat the end. “We’re going to play a game. It’s called, how many times can you be shot, healed, and then re-shot, before your limbs sever off?” A wide smirk stretches over my face when he looks between me and the stick.

As soon as the point glows hot, I slowly place it over his wound with a resounding crackle of skin melting together. His screams are loud enough to draw blood, only agitating my annoyance. I didn’t want to be here. I was supposed to be fucking the stupid out of a certain pet.

“FYI, if this part here isn’t hot enough…” I flick it with my finger. “It makes it worse.”

My fingers unclip the holster, finding the handle of the knife. “I need a name. An organization…” Silver catches the bright light that hangs from the center of the room.

He spits to the ground, glaring up at me with a snarl. It’s obvious he’s not going to help.

The sharp point of my knife finds the top of his shirt, as I cut a perfect line down the middle until his chest is bare.

Inkless. That’s different. I don’t think I know one person who doesn’t have a single tattoo, but then in our world, sometimes they’re a bad thing. If he had a black tie displayed as a knife, it would be the Gentlemen. Then there are things like their clothing. If it were any pastel colors of blue and pink, they’d be Bakers. The fuckers who have been antagonizing us since we came back to Riverside and drove them out. But Bakers are brainless. A rogue operation run by young twits who are too drugged out to make good choices. They come, we take, and repeat. They never learn their lesson. If they haveanystyle of thorns tattooed on them, whether it be a single vine, or one that covers your whole back, well… it's probably too late for you.

I rest the knife against his manubrium, right where it dips between his collarbones. “Number four on my list of how to kill someone without killing them…” My head tilts. “Ever heard of jacketing?” The more he doesn’t answer, the faster my heart beats.

Blood pools around the end of my knife as I apply just enough pressure. How that must feel, to be cut right there…

His groan is throaty and desperate, so I press the blade in. “I can take it as slow as I want. Name. Now.” Baring straight teeth, saliva sprays from his mouth as the veins in his neck swell.

“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” I direct the blade down even farther until his skin splits open, exposing the chalk of flesh beneath. This is child’s play. Painful, sure. Kill you? Naw.

Of course, unless you get a nasty infection, then well…

The more time that passes, the more impatient I get. Usually Vaden handles this, since he’s the more patient one out of us, but not tonight. I need to get as much as I can out of him, and then kill him before Halen is anywhere near breathing Perdita’s air.

Don’t know why the fuck I give a fuck, but I do. I always will. It’s not about the why. It’s about the sincewhen.

Truthfully, that extends to all the girls.

My hand pauses as I stop. He knows I’m going to kill him anyway, so he’d rather go down without talking.

Two hours pass.

Three hours.

Four.

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