“Fuck you,” Riordan muttered towards Tom, staggering awkwardly to his feet without being able to use his hands or spread his legs for balance. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from pulling on the rope for either extra support in standing or to knock Billy off balance. Patience. Now was not the time.
Tom just laughed at Riordan. “Damn, you must have used some serious ultimatums to get this dude to surrender.”
Billy did not respond to Tom’s mocking. Riordan felt the tension increase on the lead rope though and heard the squeak as Billy clenched his hand tightly around the nylon rope. The suppressed anger was touching and helped ground Riordan as well. He had a job to do.
Mimicking Tom’s mocking tone, Riordan responded, “Oh, it didn’t take much. She just threatened to have her entire cult kill themselves to start the ritual over from scratch if I didn’t show up. So I guess I just saved your life. Damn.”
The thump of boots on the porch was the only warning Riordan got before Tom was in range and swinging. He forced himself to stand and take it, the punch landing in his gut. The air wooshed out of his lungs and Riordan staggered back. He managed to stay standing and not fall off the porch, which was an accomplishment given his current situation and positioning.
Riordan couldn’t help sewing more seeds of discord. “I know she killed one of the fucks who kidnapped me the first time after he fucked up the search for me. I bet you are already on her shit list after failing to catch me that night.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Tom barked, sounding more dangerous than his dog. Riordan thought he’d struck a nerve. Hell, Tom didn’t even ask how Riordan knew Tom had been hunting him that night. “I’m going to enjoy watching the boss take you apart.”
Hearing Tom shift his weight, Riordan braced for another blow, but then Billy stepped in the way. All the guard said was “Come along.”
This time, Riordan was quick to obey, keeping Billy between him and Tom as best he could without being able to see. He chuckled as he passed the hunter, hearing the man grind his teeth before following them inside. Duke barked up a storm as soon as they entered, but broke off when Tom ordered him off. The low growl showed that the dog still wasn’t pleased at the intrusion. Riordan wondered if the dog remembered Riordan’s scent after all this time. Some dogs never seemed to forget.
Tom shoved past them, purposely knocking into Riordan. He only spoke to Billy though. “Bring him into here. We can tie his hands to the stove pipe. I’ll get something to use as a gag while we’re at it.”
Riordan snorted. “Shutting me up won’t make what I said any less true. I bet men aren’t very high on the totem pole in a group called the Daughters of the Divine Feminine. Unless there’s something you aren’t telling me about your preferences? Not that there’s anything wrong with preferring to play the woman for other men. To each, their own--”
That was as far as Riordan got before Tom slammed him up against the wall. The man wasn’t small, but he was smaller than Riordan in both height and bulk and physically older as well. Riordan could have fought him off, but chose not to. He wanted Tom riled up, running off emotion and not rational thought. Keeping him focused on Riordan’s words and attitudes kept him from searching Riordan or hiding their trail. And when Phenalope arrived, Tom’s temper and pride would already be pricked.
Driving a wedge between them would be that much easier. There was a reason that Riordan specialized in mayhem and fucking up other people’s plans. He liked pissing people off and could take the abuse he earned.
“You don’t know shit,” Tom hissed, “The boss is going to eat you alive. If I’m very lucky, I’ll get to help. She approached me first because she wanted that damned tree on my land, but I work for her and the rest of them because they have real power. Working with them, I can make all the people who screwed me over in my life suffer. Revenge feels damned good. So yeah, keep pushing me. It’ll just make it sweeter in the end.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“That’s some narcissistic power fantasy bullshit right there,” Riordan retorted. “I bet you are the sort to kneecap someone for cutting you off in line.”
Tom shoved Riordan against the wall again before stepping away. The walls felt like bare wood against his skin, smoothed out but not polished. Pine, by the smell. Definitely more of a cabin than a house. Ignoring Riordan’s insults this time, Tom turned towards Billy, “Tie him down around that.”
The hunter then strode away. The cabin wasn’t so large that he really went far, but Riordan could tell by the echoes that Tom had entered a different room. Billy meanwhile complied with the orders, pulling Riordan over to the aforementioned wood-burning stove. It had a small fire in it, almost just embers by the sound and smell. Riordan could feel the heat but also knew it wasn’t enough to burn him. A regular person would have more concern about it, but between his strengthened skin and his shifter healing, there was barely any risk, just some discomfort.
“Sit,” Billy ordered quietly. Hesitating for a second, Riordan complied. As annoying as getting to his feet was in the hobbling bindings, sitting on the floor was worse. He thumped gracelessly to his knees, knowing he’d be able to rise faster from a kneel than if he was flat on his ass. Billy secured the lead rope around some sort of metal piece on the stove. He left enough lead length that Riordan was able to drop his arms to his lap, but he wouldn’t be able to touch the floor before hitting his tether.
Billy grabbed one of Riordan’s hands, unbending his fingers to run them over the knot Billy had tied on the lead rope. Riordan’s brow quirked up. The knot was tied for quick release, though it probably looked more than secure since it was a complicated one. Billy must be more in control of himself now, either because his primary task was accomplished or because he was getting better at resisting or maybe because of Riordan’s purification spells. He gave a short nod to make it clear to Billy that he’d understood.
The guard released his hand and stepped away just as Tom re-entered the main room. He came up behind Riordan, grabbing his chin in a tight pinch to force Riordan’s mouth open. Riordan wasn’t going to take that from Tom lying down. He growled and slammed his head backwards. Tom had bent over him to get the angle for the gag while Riordan was on his knees. That meant more distance before he actually hit Tom. It also meant that Riordan’s skull just smashed against Tom’s junk with extra swing distance. Not a mental image he wanted stuck in his head, but the hunter’s pained swearing as he let go of Riordan and staggered back made Riordan chuckle darkly.
“I ain’t letting you touch me, fucker,” Riordan said as he rebalanced himself on his knees again. “You want me more restrained, get Billy to do it. Otherwise, I’m biting your fingers off the next time you try to gag me.”
Tom was still swearing up a storm, his breathing slightly wheezy from pain. Riordan used the sounds to keep a sharp sense of where the man stood in case he attacked. The man was the sort to pick on those who couldn’t fight back but back down against an actual threat. Riordan remembered how quickly Tom called off the hunt for him after getting fucked up by a badger.
True to form, Tom tossed something towards Billy. It was light, soft, and compact from the way it flew through the air and the soft pap noise of Billy catching it. “Gag him,” Tom ordered hoarsely, “Otherwise, I’m going to shoot him before Phenalope gets here just to shut him up.”
Billy didn’t argue. He merely stepped closer and tapped against Riordan’s jaw lightly. “Open,” he commanded, his voice almost bored.
Riordan sighed but let his mouth fall open. Billy carefully pushed a knot of cotton cloth into Riordan’s mouth before tying the trailing ends of the fabric behind Riordan’s head. The cloth at least tasted clean, though the cotton was a rougher weave and dried his mouth out uncomfortably. Riordan hated where he was, blindfolded, gagged, hobbled, and bound, kneeling in the middle of an enemy’s cabin. And yet, he felt more in control of his fate than he had in ages. He grinned around the gag despite himself.
Tom huffed and walked away, muttering, “Crazy fuck.”
Riordan settled in to wait. As awkward as his current predicament was, he hoped Phenalope took her time in arriving. He wanted them distracted and slowed as much as possible. He had a feeling once she got here, things were going to snowball towards the point of no return. At least her sense of showmanship and dramatics and narcissistic corruption should require the whole affair to be some massive production.
Of course, as Riordan was learning over and over as he delved into magic, showmanship and dramatics mattered for maximizing rituals. Every additional caster and component and cost added to the ritual boosted its effect. Phenalope wanted to become a goddess. That meant pulling out all the stops and drenching her soul in glorious blood and death before her worshippers.
He wasn’t sure how she planned on things going tonight. From what Frankie had said of the killing tree ritual, the number of sacrifices was variable depending on the end goal, but set once it was started. Only, Phenalope had either modified it or used a modification from whatever information sources she had to get extra power out of the ghosts of the victims as well as from the moment of their death. The ritual already held a sick amount of power. Killing Riordan would give her access to that original stock of power again, releasing all the ghosts he protected back into her control.
Would that be enough to satisfy her needs? Somehow Riordan suspected that he wasn’t the only one scheduled to die tonight. He hoped like hell that Billy, Norris, and Maudy, or any of the other pack members for that matter, weren’t on that list. Not that any mass sacrifice was tolerable in his mind.
But to her? Those deaths would be just a footnote in her own twisted narcissistic power fantasy.