Page 34 of Snake Eyes & Bad Luck

Callum panted for air, fishing himself out of the water. The paddlefish made a giant jump, but Avelina’s boot was faster. Before he could get hands on it, halfway out of the water, his warlock stomped the monster’s head in. Silence echoed over their heads as they looked at each other.

“Nice strike,” he blurted out.

“Does that one have teeth?” She stepped off the smashed face of the paddlefish.

Callum glanced down at the dead fish, then back up to Avelina. “I don’t think it much matters now, little viper.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” she sighed, sinking down onto the edge of the dock next to him. Callum settled back into the water. Arms folded over the hard wood, he studied her. Her legs kicked, splashing the water lightly. The gore of her recent kill was washed away quickly.

“Don’t tell me yer feelin’ guilty over a fish?” he teased, elbowing her.

“No!” Her voice pitched defensively.

Callum rolled his eyes. “It’s a fish.”

“I know that!”

“So, stop feelin’ sorry over a fish.”

“I’m! Not! Feelin’! Sorry!” She whirled to swing on him. He really should have seen it coming. Should have anticipated the way she toppled too far. She squealed as she fell toward the water. He struck forward, getting ahold of her, but there was nothing to keep him above water. They both splashed against the lake’s surface.

He howled with laughter as she thrashed. One knee into his kidneys, one of his hands into her ribs, they fought. Tumbling over and over, two logs rolling in a bunch of foam. They scared half the wild-life away from the dock. He didn’t know how they even made it back. She clawed up the side of it like a drenched cat. Only, with each giggle, cackle, and snort, they slid back into the water. He’d get a grip on the wood, and his claws would just slide through slime. Their ruckus echoed off the trees and filled Gloomsdale with life.

It took an eternity to get up onto the dock, and when they did, they were both aching at the sides and gulping down air greedily.

“You fucker,” she wheezed.

“Me?” Callum laid on his back, staring at her next to him. Pink in the cheeks, bright-eyed, smile plastered to her face, his warlock was pleased with herself. Despite how they both looked identical to drowned swamp rats, she looked good. Delicious. Perfect. The words swam in his head as he tried to catch his breath. From more than half drowning.

“You did that on purpose,” she sneered.

“If you wanted someone able to catch yer trout floppin’ ass from fallin’ in, ya shoulda found an outlaw with wings.”

She wheezed; hands slapped to her belly. It was the most serene moment he’d had in ages, lying there on the dock, staring up through the swamp. Well, she was staring up. His eyes were glued to her profile, memorizing it. The slope of her bunny button nose, the curl of her lashes, and the color as it returned to her skin. The cold bite of the water warmed up under the oppressive, trapped heat in the swamp.

When she turned her head to him, he saw his doom. Because she smiled at him like she actually liked him, like she was some princess he’d stolen out of a castle tower and stashed away in his shit-hole cabin. He was the big bad dragon, hoarding her for himself. Fuck. Fuckin’ shit, fuckin’ damnit! This is what he got for letting her into his head.

That sounds lonely. He replayed her words over…because he was lonely.

Callum ‘Cottonmouth’ Zaspair was so unequivocally alone on his rickety throne of death and deceit that he couldn’t even fathom someone else existing there with him.

“Now who’s lost in their own head,” she murmured and his arm reached out of its own accord. He dragged her across the dock, their lips meeting tenderly. His tail curled up around one of the pillars as she leaned into it. For the first time, their kiss wasn’t a frenzied need to unclothe the other. There was no desperation. Hunger, certainly, as she rolled onto her side and cupped the side of his face with her hand. But the usual desire to sink his fangs into her neck was somewhat subdued. Or all together missing. Odd.

Was this? A good time? Was he having a good time? Grinning like a fool, gently slithering to lay stomach to stomach, chuckling softly. Her fingers twirled his wet hair. There was a tint to her cheeks that deepened as he pulled back. One quick kiss after another to other parts of her face while she giggled in between them. Callum hummed with appreciation as he cupped the back of her head. “I’m about to be lost in somethin’, alright.”

“Don’t say this swamp, we’ll never get home.” Her laugh was a sweet twinkle of bells in his ears. Oh, I gotta hear that more often.

“What ever will we do?” he mumbled as she slowly leaned into another kiss.

Gold. A sharp glint of yellowy gold stabbed through the trees and directly into his eyeballs. Seconds before he closed them, ready to forget the fish and spend the rest of the afternoon catching her left over cooties while playing jump rope with her tongue, he saw it. Or rather, it carved through his corneas and he hissed. Wrenching back from her, he sat up on the dock. Avelina gasped, following him. Across the lake, five bodies emerged from the trees. Two semi-familiar faces, the rest unknown, but all wearing the same uniform. Paladins. The paladins from the cattle door.

“As I said,” an older elven man with long, flowing silver hair in gleaming armor. The sun on the front of his chest reflected the light like a blade slicing through the air. His giant morning star was as yellow and gaudy as the rest of his plate mail as he hoisted it high over him. “Follow the stench, find the wicked.”

“Lord Pavlin,” Avelina blurted out.

“Avelina Dalethorn.” They all brandished their weapons, but it was the man with the morning star that spoke. The others fell in line behind him with their shields and religious judgement armed at the ready. Lord Pavlin spoke again, “You have been marked a heretic and a murderer. I have come to see justice done for your father, and all those victims you claimed on the train.”

Callum glanced at his warlock, expecting to find her cowering or teary-eyed or even pale. Avelina glared darkly. She looked pissed. There was a poison in her eyes he knew all too well. Well, well, well…seems like I’ve rubbed off on you, sweetheart. His lips curled into a cruel smirk.