Halo Breaker: Feathers and Fire Book 10 by Shayne Silvers

Author:Shayne Silvers [Silvers, Shayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Argento Publishing
Published: 2021-04-28T16:00:00+00:00

30

Before I could respond, a furry paw darted out from the crowd and slammed a liquor bottle onto our table like it was a mountaineer’s climbing spike, reaching the peak of her greatest challenge. Then she released the bottle with a laugh and fell, bowling over close to a dozen Freaks who promptly buried her in a pile. The white paw and fluffy ears disappeared and I heard a drunken “Oof!” followed by another bubbly laugh from somewhere within the pile.

I snatched up two daggers on instinct, fearing I had become the target of the Easter Bunny and that Dorian had unintentionally gotten me killed in a chance storm of ultimate irony—on a street already named after me. Less work for my survivors.

Dorian shot me a reassuring look, hopped down off his barstool, and then crouched down low, reaching into the swarm of people. Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, he found a furry white paw and pulled. A moment later, the highly intoxicated Easter bunny stood before him, giggling and laughing as she released his hand and used her paw to shift her breasts back into her top since they were in danger of falling free entirely. She hiccupped loudly and then plopped herself down on one of the free stools across from me. She set a gilded wicker basket down onto our table, almost fell off her stool, and then caught her balance with deft paws. When she removed them, my eyes took note of the deep gouges left in the wood from her claws.

I hadn’t even seen them through all the fluffy fur. I surreptitiously eyed the wicker…Easter basket. Really? Dorian sat down beside her and politely slid her liquor bottle towards her. It was Don Julio 1942. Couple hundred bucks a bottle.

“Finding Dory!” she giggled at him in a sultry, singsong voice, scrunching up her nose and wiggling her whiskers in that cute way bunnies did. I stared at her from within my hood, doing my best not to openly gawk. Up close, I realized the tribal designs on her ears, cheek, and arms were actually branded into her flesh, leaving her fur to grow out from the undamaged skin so that it looked like a barber had simply cut the designs into her fur. I counted numerous black throwing knives sheathed on her halter vest and I saw two much longer, sinuous kukri blades hanging on her hips. Judging by the daggers I could see, she probably had a whole lot more tucked away on her person. Her basket was closed and I desperately wanted a look inside to see if she really carried Easter eggs around with her. Maybe it was just her version of a purse.

“You found me,” Dorian replied with a nervous chuckle. “It’s always a pleasant surprise to see you, Grace. I’ve missed you at my parties.”

Grace—apparently—chuckled, squinting down at her liquor bottle as if needing to devote her full attention to working the complicated device. Rather

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