Brew (Salem's Revenge Book 1) by Estes David

Author:Estes, David [Estes, David]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

“And this is a brand new item—a Glock with bullets formed from cursed superheated steel.” When Tillman Huckle talks about magic weapons, his eyes light up the same way they do when he talks about video games.

“I’ll take one of those,” Laney says, reaching for the big weapon.

“Not so fast,” Huckle says, pulling it away. “I require payment in advance of all sales.”

“What happened to trying before buying?” Laney says.

“What happened to you only going with me as far as the Necros’ stronghold and then going our separate ways?” I ask.

Laney punches me lightly in the shoulder. “Jury’s still out on that one,” she says. “But regardless, I could use a weapon like this to protect me and my sister.”

Huckle’s clutching the gun to his chest like an overprotective mother with her baby.

“Tillman Huckle. Give it to her. She’s not going to steal it.”

He squints an eye as if he finds that hard to believe, but hands the gun over, barrel first. Laney grabs it, spins it around, and points it square at Huckle’s chest. “Any cursed bullets in this thing?” she asks, peering down the sight.

“What do I look like, an amateur?” Huckle says.

Laney plays with the gun for a minute and then says, “Where’d you get all these weapons anyway? I’m guessing the witches don’t just make them and then hand them over.”

“Trade secrets,” Tillman says obscurely.

“Whatever,” Laney says, testing the weight of the gun in her hand.

“There’s no way you can afford a weapon like that,” Huckle says.

“Not even for a friend?” I say.

“She’s not ‘a friend,’” Tillman retorts, his fingers forming air quotes. I swear his glasses have a new strip of duct tape from yesterday. “If you want the gun, you’ll have to pay up.”

“We don’t have any money,” Laney says.

“Money?” Tillman laughs. “Money is worthless. Trading is not.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I’d accept a certain four-legged beast whose name rhymes with sex,” Huckle says.

“Gross,” Laney says, as if just hearing that word roll off of Huckle’s tongue is more disgusting than trudging through a puddle of vomit.

“Why do you want Hex?” I ask.

“Companionship,” Huckle says. “All my other friends just end up dying.”

I’m about to respond, but Trish starts air-drawing. “Trish, stop it,” Laney commands, but it only makes her sister form the letters faster.

“Death…” I start to read, but then Laney grabs Trish’s hand.

“No,” she says. “No more.”

Why is she so unwilling to explore her sister’s apparent gift, if that’s what it is? At the very least, we need to know what it means. Whether it’s real or just the random ambiguity of a child still in shock.

“Let her finish,” I say, taking hold of Laney’s wrist and trying to pull her away.

“Don’t touch me, Carter,” Laney says, her eyes blazing. She’s still got the Glock in the other hand and I’m tempted to reconfirm with Huckle that it’s not loaded.

“What are you scared of?” I say.

“Nothing,” she says, but I can see the fire in her eyes die just a little, replaced by something resembling anxiety.

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