Page 60 of Death Dance

“You’re planning on killing people with a bowl. Hitting them with a book seems mild in comparison.”

The bowl, which rested in a sling my father had made for it on my side, would give me my first gray hair. When he’d given it to me, he’d neglected to mention it could, on its whim, float, glow, produce holy water, chime, and otherwise behave in ways unbecoming of a dish. “I’m not sure if the book or the bowl scare me more,” I confessed.

“You are as wise as you are beautiful,” my husband complimented. “Personally, I am grateful this specific book did not see a need to erase me from existence. And should I cross paths with Breckenan, I will not hold back when I bitch slap him with it.”

I raised a brow at that. “Are we going for the forehanded or the backhanded bitch slap?”

“Forehanded. I want to see his head snap to the side before he gets reduced to a smear before me. The snap is less satisfying with a backhanded slap.”

“I see you have put thought into this.”

“I do hope they give us at least a little sport.”

“Famous last words again,” I muttered. “I’d prefer zero sport, their immediate eradication, and extra time tonight to enjoy our visit to France.”

“She makes a good point,” Meridian said, and once again, she showed off her fangs. “We should make bets on how quickly we can finish this.”

“Thirty minutes to clear them out, but Breckenan will make a run for it, requiring us to hunt him across Europe for at least three days,” my spouse announced.

I did not, under any circumstances, wish to hunt anyone across Europe for any number of days. “How about an hour, but we get to eliminate the entire lot of them without running around Europe.”

“Three hours, and we’ll be playing cat and mouse with the assholes in the docks because they’re weak prey, and weak prey runs.” The wereviper hissed, and while soft, the sound captured everyone’s attention. “Whoever is closest wins, and the other two must provide the winner with a gift. The gift must be something crafted. I weave blankets. You carve. I am sure we can create appropriate gifts for the winner.”

“I like this wager. What if we’re all wrong?”

“We will give each person wagering a gift.”

I liked the way the wereviper thought. “You’re on. I could use a new blanket, and new blankets made with love are the best.”

“Well, you will not be getting love from me, but you will get warmth and skill, that much I can promise,” Meridian replied with a rather sly grin. “I am sure your husband can assist you with any love you might require. Personally, I don’t see the point in keeping the men after they’ve outlived their usefulness. Men are delicious. I can go a whole week without needing another feeding after I’ve had one.”

I burst into laughter. “I went a whole month on a single man once. He tasted disgusting, and the thought of dealing with yet another disgusting man turned my stomach.”

“You need to go for the lazy ones that are just a little plump but not overly fat. They have the best flavor. They get just enough exercise for the muscles to have good structure and sufficient fat content for flavor. I wonder if their weight changes their blood’s taste profile.”

I pondered that. “That would be an interesting experiment, I do confess. The next time I’m forced to hunt a miscreant, I shall begin recording taste profiles based on temperament, body type, and weight. For me, the more vile their behavior, the worse their blood tastes.”

“That’s sad. I find the taste of evil to be particularly delicious. Goody-goodies taste bland.”

I snickered and nudged Emerick with my elbow. “You hear that? You’d taste worse than even cardboard to her.”

“It’s not much, but I’ll accept my status as bland. She’s that much less likely to eat me when there are many delicious morsels coming our way. Do be ready, ladies. This party is about to get started.”