“What do you mean?” I touched the handle of the flail hanging on my side. Not a good place if I were going into battle, but that hadn’t been the plan when I wore it into Ish’s anteroom. It had been for show alone.
“There are legends around it, if it’s the flail I think it is.” Bryce reached out and grabbed one of the spikes, pulling the whole weapon up so he could see the designs on the haft. “But it isn’t good. If that really is the weapon Marsum created, then it’s powerful, yes. But the stories Father told me say it’s dangerous to the user too.”
For a moment, I stared at him, sure that I’d heard him wrong. I had to have heard him wrong. “Marsum. Did you say Marsum’s flail?”
Marsum was the Jinn who’d destroyed our family, killed our father and maimed Bryce. No small thing in my world, and to have a weapon he created . . . I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Bryce nodded. “I did. Our great-grandfather stole the weapon from the Jinn, and then it went missing on his next raid. Take it with you, but be careful. I don’t know what it can do, but . . .”
I didn’t know if I should snatch my hand away from the wooden handle or hang on tighter. “There were enough ‘buts’ in that little story to make a gay man giddy. You aren’t leaving me with a lot of confidence in taking it at all.”
He shrugged. “I only mention anything because of the seal of the lion on it.” He ran his finger over the lion’s head on the handle. “This is Grandfather’s crest. The rest is just what I remember Father telling me and he wasn’t sure on anything either. Bring her home, Zam.” He raised his eyes to mine and again I found myself backing down, bowing my head to him. He turned his wheelchair and left me standing there. No goodbye, no come home, not even a be careful. Just bring Darcy home.
My heart ticked with discomfort, that once again, I was passed over for someone else. Despite our strained relationship, he was my brother. He should have cared for me a little. Then again, if he knew the truth of his injury, I wouldn’t blame him for hating me.
I watched him roll down the hall, then opened my door and stepped over the threshold. His words worried me and I considered doing the opposite of his advice and leaving the flail behind. I knew my two kukri blades, the shotgun, and the other weapons I carried well. What did I need with some magic shit that could end up doing something weird to me?
I rubbed the heels of my hands over my eyes, indecision wracking me. Damn it. I needed to choose and choose quickly if I was going to get ahead of Maks. I paced the room for a good five minutes as I fought to figure out what would be best. Take it, don’t take it.
It finally came down to one thing. Bryce was still my alpha and he said I needed the weapon, so for now, I’d take it. If things got ugly, I’d just drop it where I stood.
Right.
“I’m coming for you, Darcy.” I grabbed my bedroll and saddlebags that would hold most of my gear behind my saddle. I stuffed them with what I would need for the colder country I was headed toward. Fur-lined clothing, gloves, a fire starter, dried food, more of the oat and fat balls for Balder, thicker blankets for me, collapsible buckets for melting snow into water. The bedroll was twice the size it normally was and my saddlebags bulged.
I grabbed the flail from my bed, rolling it over once so the lion’s eyes glinted up at me. At least it was light and wouldn’t add much to the weight Balder had to carry. That was the only thing I figured it had going for it. “I think you’re just ornamental, but if you really are special . . . let’s see what you can do.” I rigged up a leather sheath that strapped the flail diagonally against my back, the handle sticking up over my right shoulder. I barely felt the weight. I looked over my shoulder to see the twin spiked balls also tight against my back, but I’d not tied them there. They didn’t bump against me as I tested out walking around with it. “You really are magic, aren’t you?” I muttered. Of course, the weapon didn’t talk back. I mean, talking weapons, even I wasn’t that far gone.
But still, the line of the handle against my back seemed to heat in response to my query. Yeah, that was what I thought and that made me nervous, because if Marsum had made the flail, it would be bad news.
I had no more time to waver on the choice. I was packed and ready to go. I didn’t go around to the outside to get to the stable, but crawled through the window right into Balder’s stall. I still had half an hour before Maks was supposed to meet me at the stable. Half an hour and I’d be long gone.
Balder gave a grunt and a snort as I woke him.
“Sorry, friend. Let’s get you saddled up before that human shows up.” Much as I wanted Bryce to feel he was in charge, he was out of his mind. I wasn’t taking no stinking human with me. We’d sneak out now, because there was no way the human would be ready to go before I was off and running.
I brushed Balder down, currying his coat and loosening the sweat stains from the ride in. His wound was completely healed and I knocked the last of the dried hacka paste from his hip.
A scent curled around my face that was not hay, horse, or anything else that belonged in the stable. Musk, the scent of musk that didn’t belong on any supe, which meant only one thing.
“Damn it,” I grumbled.
Maks was here.
Chapter Five
Maks was a big guy, especially for a human. If he’d been a supernatural, I could see why Darcy would have been interested in him—physically, at least, seeing as he was the most passive guy I’d met. He didn’t fight, just let people roll right over him like a doormat.
His shoulders were almost as wide as Bryce’s, and he was fit, athletic, and moved with an easy grace that came with being comfortable in one’s own skin despite the submissive behavior. He had dark blond hair streaked with lighter strands from working in the sun all summer. Blue eyes and a scar along the edge of the left side of his jaw gave him an interesting face. In the six months he’d been at the Stockyards, I’d not spoken more than a few words to him.
That was about to change on an epic scale.
“Thought you’d leave without me?” he asked.
I tightened Balder’s girth and then looked over my shoulder at him. “Yes. And I still am.”
“No, you’re not,” Maks said, his voice confident in a way no human had a right to be, not here, not on this side of the wall they’d had Merlin create to keep the rest of us in.
The telltale squeak of Bryce’s wheelchair made me grind my teeth for only a moment. Without words, Bryce’s presence meant that his previous command came home to roost on my shoulders. “Maks, get Batman and saddle him up,” I said.
Maks laughed. “I don’t take orders from you.”
Now that was unexpected. “Fine, you stay behind and play with Steve, entertain him while his wound heals and I’ll get Darcy myself.”
Maks disappeared and Bryce grabbed the edge of the door and hauled himself up with an ease that showed how much he worked his upper body. “Work with him. Please.”
It was the please that slowed me. Bryce never asked nicely, not for anything or anyone.
“I love her too, Bryce,” I said softly. “She’s family.” No matter what history had passed between her and Steve while I’d been married to him.
“I love her best,” he said.
I laughed and turned to see his face. He was smiling, but it was pained. “Okay, you love her best. I’ll bring her back. I swear it.”
“And . . .” he grimaced, “I love you too, little sister. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole.”
I bit my lower lip and gave him a quick nod, not sure I could trust my voice. How long had it been since he’d told me he loved me? Was it a way to make sure I went after Darcy? Was it a form of manipulation? Possibly. Which made the sting in my eyes that much worse—that I doubted him.
He nodded at me as if he understood, then lowered himself into his chair so I could no longer see him. I dashed a hand against my pooling eyes. Crying, there was no crying on this side of the wall, that’s what my father always said. Crying was for the humans, for the weak.
The door swung open; Bryce held it for me and Balder. I walked out, Balder followed. Maks and Batman were ready, and I noted his bedroll and saddlebags were at least as full as mine. That much was good, I supposed, at least he was prepared. Or what he thought was being prepared. He’d not left the Stockyards in all the time he’d been here. Maks had no idea what he was getting into.