Blood of the Wicked by Karina Cooper

Author:Karina Cooper
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-04-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Silas turned his back on Naomi’s appraising stare and picked up his gun. He didn’t holster it, instead palming it neatly in both hands as he mapped a trail of blood back to the bedroom.

He didn’t expect to find anything but an open window. Still, annoyance bit deeply when he found exactly that.

Movement in the hall told him Naomi had followed. “Lose one?”

“Yeah.” He holstered the gun, pushed past her again.

She caught his arm. “What’s with the kid?”

Silas stared at her hand, mutely aware that it was the same look he’d seen Jessie give his hands when he forced them on her. Christ, she was rubbing off on him.

Or she liked to imagine breaking his wrists, the way he was picturing now with Naomi. His shoulder burned like a mother, his knee ached in tune with the drills boring through his temples, and Jessie and kid weren’t compatible in the same thought.

So he grunted wordlessly and shook her off.

Naomi had never been big on picking up cues. “Well?” She followed him into the bloody living room. Without any direction from him, she bent over the woman’s corpse and shouldered it up. Blood slid over her figure-hugging jacket, but she didn’t bat an eyelash.

She was one hell of a missionary. Shitty at just about everything else.

Reminded him of himself. “What do you want, Naomi?”

“She’s got something.” Naomi jerked a thumb back at the bathroom door. “Some sort of hold on you. I figure . . .” She paused, barely stooped under the dead woman’s weight across her shoulders, and slanted him a look that cut. “Fuck, Silas. Did you get stupid and bang her?”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. He hauled the other body into his arms, wrenched it up onto his shoulders in a mirrored fireman’s carry. “I’m here to kill a witch and make sure she doesn’t die,” he said when he was sure he had it under control. The body, his voice.

The angry, guilty kick in his chest.

She snorted, led the way out the door. “You still can’t lie worth shit.”

Silas glowered. Rather than answering, his gaze swept over the flooded courtyard. No one had wandered out to see what the gunshots were about.

He hadn’t expected the neighbors to risk it. Bonus for him.

And no one had gotten caught in a crossfire. Bonus for them.

“I don’t have to lie,” he finally said, sloshing through the ankle-deep water rippling under the rain. “It’s called honesty, Naomi, you should try it sometime.”

“Hey, I enjoy the hell out of honesty.” Naomi wiped the rain from her eyes with an impatient forearm. “You’re the one practically salivating after her.”

“Give it a rest.”

“No.” She tossed the body to the ground without any regard for care and keyed open the back of the Mission jeep. With the same cavalier sense of duty, she hauled Bethany’s corpse up by the collar and slammed her onto the seat. Limbs bounced against the taut upholstery, an awkward thud of dead weight.

Silas left the larger corpse on the ground beside her.

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