Page 38 of Snake Eyes & Bad Luck

“Uh…boss?” They called out, having come to the reasonable conclusion their feckless boss was somewhere in the warehouse. “Shit, did we forget something?”

“Is that a fuckin’ Paladin?”

“Sonofabitchthat—”

Callum heard enough panicked voices. He struck out, getting all three of the gawking buffoons with a single swipe. Their strangled sounds mixed with the thump, thump, thump of their bodies. The record player got quiet all of a sudden, and he slithered forward in the alley as a fourth pawn toddled out of the room. Alcohol, strong enough to peel the hair off his brows, filled his nose as he came chest to chest with the late-comer.

“Guys! What’s all the noise…” the drunk pawn trailed off as his wide eyes roamed up Callum’s chest. Just a puny elven man, short blond hair, big green eyes, one tooth missing at the front of his face. Callum could guess it came from the ass whooping he got, sporting a black eye and busted lip as he stumbled back from the outlaw. “Cottonmouth.”

It was the last word he got out before his throat opened up. No resistance, buttery smooth, the pawn’s flesh practically sliced itself. Callum tucked his dagger back in his belt and glanced toward the stall Avelina disappeared inside, “Find anything?”

“How did you know he had barbeque?” she hissed. Avelina pushed out of the large curtained off stall with an arm full of paper wrapped hunks of meat. The stain on the paper told him the meat was drenched in sauce and whatever she’d stashed in the large canvas bag strung across her torso smelled herby. She looked impressed and Callum was reminded that most of his crew thought he was a psychic. It would take more time than they had to explain that Dan only ate one fucking thing. Instead, he chuckled, shaking his head. She gave him an impressed but ultimately irked expression. Avelina quickly tucked all her spoils in the bag before slinking back out the door they entered in.

Callum glanced around the room and knew he had just enough time to rig something. All it took was a little of the shabby rope, some of the dry rotted sheets, and some machinery from the record player, he had a simplistic ankle trap. Good enough to send a message.

Only one Outlaw in the swamp ever used traps like him. Callum ducked into one of the stalls as his trap was set, pushing the old wood out of the window as Dan entered. He heard all he needed. Dan roaring out in fury at the pile of bodies only for something to snap. The telltale sound of something heavy being hoisted into the air followed by his screams would be Callum’s lullaby. He slunk out of the warehouse as his crew worked to cut him down…and three Paladins, on the hunt for their missing elder, found the crew red-handed.

“Why did we do that?” Avelina asked as the pair sat on another log, further back in the swamp, eating their spoils. She’d gotten away like a bandit, several baked potatoes, fresh bread, corn, and, of course, swaddles of brisket.

“First rule of being an outlaw, darlin,” he chortled, ripping off fresh, juicy kernels from his cob. After a moment, he spoke through his full mouth, “Never let ‘em pin ya with yer own crimes.”

She scoffed, squinting at him in disbelief. “Don’t outlaw’s live by their reputations?”

“Yeah, and didn’t ya get accused of killin’ yer daddy.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, rolling her eyes at the word. “So, you frame Dan with Pavlin, the Paladins slaughter his crew. How does that help us?”

Callum smirked, licking his chops. His eyes were glued to the fire currently burning through the warehouse. The Paladins set it ablaze with all their holy light. Golden flames danced around the building as the righteous warriors hunted down and killed the last of Dan’s crew. He’d died first. Callum assumed it by the way the rest of the crew screamed. Little rats, their king was dead and they scattered in fear. Perfect pickin’s. “The paladins are pissed. They’ll be forced to show force. That’s two big wigs in the Order that just got merc-ed by outlaws.”

Avelina made a sound that tore Callum’s gaze from the slaughter. He beamed at her as recognition filled her features. “They’re going to come to Gloomsdale. They’ll hunt everyone down.”

“And while they’re stretched thin, fighting Murderin’ Mary and every other thievin’, murderin’, no good, rotten bastard in these here parts,” he wiggled his brows at Avelina salaciously. “We hit the vaults. Ain’t nothin’ better for coverin’ up tracks than utter chaos.”

She stared at him. He couldn’t tell if she was distraught or utterly shocked. Didn’t matter. He winked at her, returning to his feast and show.

“We’ll head back home tonight, get a good night’s rest, then head for the tavern tomorrow. We strike while the griddle’s hot, darlin’.”

News would travel fast.

The Paladins wouldn’t sit ideally and let bygones be bygones. The other Outlaws would hear of Dan being put to the pyre. The vault would almost be worth hitting for real if he weren’t already calculating his escape.

It was a shame he’d not be able to take Avelina with him…he could almost imagine her smiling at him from their balcony on the boat, headed anywhere but here. He could almost imagine her happy, reading one of her romance novels to him while he fell asleep like a fat cat with a belly full of milk. He could almost…almost…consider taking her with him. But that would mean admitting he felt something for her, and a man who could burn the world to get what he wanted couldn’t afford to feel anything.

That was the first real rule of being an outlaw. Never care for anyone or anything more than yourself. No matter how pretty the fantasy. And definitely not because the thought of leaving them behind makes the hole in your chest ache like it’s never done before…

Chapter Twenty:

Avelina

Avelina made it back to the cabin by the time the moon was high in the sky. Callum made quick work of talking to Rat and Grahm, but she was headed for the shower on the side of the porch. Stripping down to her underwear and the undershirt, she cranked the faucet on and stood like an ostrich in the rain. Head back, mouth open, ready to drown; she didn’t care if it was cold or tasted of metal. The mud permeated everything and she had to gargle to get it out from behind her teeth. Thankfully, their meal did a lot to change the flavor in her mouth. The food was filling, albeit sticky.

What was one more horrible sensation on top of everything else?

Callum joined her, rinsing off the caked-on grime as she finally got the clumps out from between her toes. He helped untangle her hair with his claws. It was a quiet eternity where she was just a hollow creature running on pure automation. Her body moved around solely because it knew what to do. Her head was empty. Tired. Empty. Spent. She was ready to sleep and never wake.

Callum pushed a palm against the small of her spine. “Run us a bath, why don’t ya, little viper?”

She stepped out of the rinse without question, chucking all her dirty clothes and the sack she stole from Dan onto the table. The floorboards groaned under her, step after step, as she skulked to the bathroom. A few days ago, she would be apprehensive of that room. Worried Callum or Catalysta or some other horror was behind it. In that moment, it was just a room. The world was just the world. And she was a warlock with a hefty death toll.