The Foul Mouth and the Cat Killing Coyotes (The King Henry Tapes Book 2) by Raley Richard

Author:Raley, Richard [Raley, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2012-03-12T16:00:00+00:00

T-Bone took to the plan of cracking a gate or some pipes or whatever inanimate object of Vega’s we could find before Ceinwyn came to town and forced a peace. I let him believe the fiction. He was helping, that’s all that matter.

I wasn’t proud about using him, but I told myself it was the only way: fucking necessity. Besides, I’m partly right about things playing out his way. Ceinwyn makes a peace with Vega, what’s to protect us from him? Vega already proved he’s more than happy to flaunt the gentleman’s agreement already there to try to kill us, already proved he’d give the biggest show of violence Fresno had ever seen just to kill us too . . . and Fresno’s had itself some serious violence in its years.

I loved me some Ceinwyn, she’s family. I could count on her to protect me . . . but when it came to Horatio Vega or even what had happened with Annie B . . . Ceinwyn’s a veil of clouds, not a steel curtain. I had to settle this . . . now. Vega and I needed to meet . . . needed to have us a talk . . . then . . . if I’m lucky and he’s as big of a prick as expect . . . I get to kill him too.

The hope lightens my heart.

Be a prick . . . please be a prick.

“Why are we still sitting in your car?” I asked.

T-Bone brought my artifacts along with him. My static ring—still labeled with the good ol’ KHP—had never left my finger through lead cop or Ribera. It was charged up, ready for use again. My SEM-DEW went into my right coat pocket, on account of it needing to be thrown and on account of me being a righty.

The aero-fan went to my left pocket, though it didn’t much matter since it wasn’t charged. I flapped it a few times, frowning. It had taken the better part of a week of random couple minute fannings to build up that burst of air.

It wasn’t a good design. Wasn’t an efficient design as Plutarch would have scolded me. Every anima type has its weight, if you will. Geo, necro, hydro . . . those are heavy and dense, stop you cold. Don’t take much to get them to be useful. Aero . . . that’s right near the bottom.

Of course . . . the fan didn’t actually use anima. Just like the static ring didn’t. The anima only stored the physical equivalent . . . electricity or air. But aero-anima makes for a crap container, which means lots of flapping and flinging my arm to get this thing to work again.

There were other artifacts in the boxes. My two working pairs of Cold Cuffs . . . those I stuck in a pocket. Covered in pink fluff or not, I might need to restrain myself a Coyote or maybe even a coyote or two before the night was over.

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