thoughtfulness so mocking that I was surprisedScout and Boo Radley weren’t around to applaud, I tapped his chest, covered by a deep red shirt and a casual black suit jacket, to advise, “You know what would’ve been a good idea? In the area of more recognition, less furry Norse panties in a twist? A name tag. You should’ve worn a name tag.”
“I wore mine.” I spread my leather jacket to show a black T-shirt with reddish-orange, pepperoni-colored letters that spelled out: IF YOUR DEATH DOESN’T ARRIVE IN 20 SE CONDS OR LESS, LAST R ITES ARE FREE! “See?” I let the jacket fall back. “Problem solved.”
As for the rest of it . . .
It wasn’t the first time being part Auphe had gotten insults and threats aimed my way, hardly. But the “use my title, worthless peon scum. You are the lowest of the low among the repulsively slimy, gooey classification of parasites and much more deserving of being crushed beneath my boot” attitude, that I didn’t hear too often. And when I did it was because we were already trying to kill either a rabid psycho trickster, an ex-angel serial killer, a resurrected cannibal who’d once eaten thousands, or a Black Death–causing antihealer back and ready to destroy every living creature worldwide. I expected snotty narcissistic raving from them. What was a good fight without some trash talking?
But this?
When all I’d wanted was a slice of herb-and-cheese bread with a piece of sausage on it?
Yeah, that attitude was not making for a good mood—and the fact the sausage was getting farther away because of this shit-fest was making it worse. I managed to snatch a handful of the little suckers before the server escaped and popped them in my mouth. Better. It didn’t erase my temper, but it didn’t increase it either.
“What a pity Goodfellow didn’t have slices of soft-skinned infant and brie instead of pork for you,” Loki said, silky and smooth. His expression remained as empty as if he didn’t consider revealing his repulsed and possibly violent emotion warranted the effort on his part.
I
wasn’t worth the effort. Killing me was on thetable, yes, with a garnish of high probability. Reacting to me other than that? Allowing me that minute amount of satisfaction that I affected him or his emotions? No, he wasn’t the type to give away the smallest of glimpses inside his head. “The local hospital maternity ward must be running low on births. How your palate must be suffering.”
The baby-eating thing, that was what pushed him over the edge of the usual verbal abuse. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it because it was true. An Auphe would’ve eaten a baby if it was feeling too lazy for a genuine hunt. While I wasn’t an Auphe now, there’d been times I had been. During the two years I’d spent at their summer home, in the several episodes in which I’d have a flashback where I was finally home but would forget that I was—forget which of the two was actually home. Fighting through the nearly thousand days that had been the vacation of my fucking life. Both the living it and the time after that it took me to recover after my escape from that hell.
That didn’t mean I had done
any
kind of shit that he was saying, but the sins of the father bullshit wasn’t as bullshit as I wanted it to be. I hadn’t done . . . babies. I hadn’t done that, but I’d lost enough control during Tumulus and after Tumulus both, enough to forget who I was for a while, long enough to do other things. Bad ones. I didn’t want to hear that insult and think, no, I had never done babies. All that meant was that if I’d had less human in me or no brother to hold me back, there was a good chance I would’ve done what a pureblooded Auphe would do.
Anything.
I’d heard it only twice before to my face and the two who’d said it would never say it again. For that matter, they’d never say anything again. The dead usually don’t. That was what made me decide that five or ten
“I wore mine.” I spread my leather jacket to show a black T-shirt with reddish-orange, pepperoni-colored letters that spelled out: IF YOUR DEATH DOESN’T ARRIVE IN 20 SE CONDS OR LESS, LAST R ITES ARE FREE! “See?” I let the jacket fall back. “Problem solved.”
As for the rest of it . . .
It wasn’t the first time being part Auphe had gotten insults and threats aimed my way, hardly. But the “use my title, worthless peon scum. You are the lowest of the low among the repulsively slimy, gooey classification of parasites and much more deserving of being crushed beneath my boot” attitude, that I didn’t hear too often. And when I did it was because we were already trying to kill either a rabid psycho trickster, an ex-angel serial killer, a resurrected cannibal who’d once eaten thousands, or a Black Death–causing antihealer back and ready to destroy every living creature worldwide. I expected snotty narcissistic raving from them. What was a good fight without some trash talking?
But this?
When all I’d wanted was a slice of herb-and-cheese bread with a piece of sausage on it?
Yeah, that attitude was not making for a good mood—and the fact the sausage was getting farther away because of this shit-fest was making it worse. I managed to snatch a handful of the little suckers before the server escaped and popped them in my mouth. Better. It didn’t erase my temper, but it didn’t increase it either.
“What a pity Goodfellow didn’t have slices of soft-skinned infant and brie instead of pork for you,” Loki said, silky and smooth. His expression remained as empty as if he didn’t consider revealing his repulsed and possibly violent emotion warranted the effort on his part.
I
wasn’t worth the effort. Killing me was on thetable, yes, with a garnish of high probability. Reacting to me other than that? Allowing me that minute amount of satisfaction that I affected him or his emotions? No, he wasn’t the type to give away the smallest of glimpses inside his head. “The local hospital maternity ward must be running low on births. How your palate must be suffering.”
The baby-eating thing, that was what pushed him over the edge of the usual verbal abuse. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it because it was true. An Auphe would’ve eaten a baby if it was feeling too lazy for a genuine hunt. While I wasn’t an Auphe now, there’d been times I had been. During the two years I’d spent at their summer home, in the several episodes in which I’d have a flashback where I was finally home but would forget that I was—forget which of the two was actually home. Fighting through the nearly thousand days that had been the vacation of my fucking life. Both the living it and the time after that it took me to recover after my escape from that hell.
That didn’t mean I had done
any
kind of shit that he was saying, but the sins of the father bullshit wasn’t as bullshit as I wanted it to be. I hadn’t done . . . babies. I hadn’t done that, but I’d lost enough control during Tumulus and after Tumulus both, enough to forget who I was for a while, long enough to do other things. Bad ones. I didn’t want to hear that insult and think, no, I had never done babies. All that meant was that if I’d had less human in me or no brother to hold me back, there was a good chance I would’ve done what a pureblooded Auphe would do.
Anything.
I’d heard it only twice before to my face and the two who’d said it would never say it again. For that matter, they’d never say anything again. The dead usually don’t. That was what made me decide that five or ten
Similar Books
