AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t need a bloody babysitter,” Brayden muttered.
“Considering I just had to shoot a woman, and we still don’t have our hands on the artifacts, I’m not taking any chances,” Winifred snapped back. “Now, be a good boy, and try not to screw up any more today, okay? I’m going to start looking for the artifacts. They have to be on board somewhere.”
Brayden glared at Winifred, who ignored him, spun around, and left the car. Rosie grabbed a magazine about the tourist town of Cloudburst Falls, West Virginia, that someone had left behind on a nearby seat and thumbed through it, although she kept glancing over at me.
“Okay, Gwen,” Brayden hissed in my ear. “You’re going to sit down and behave, or I’m going to make you wish you had cooperated—”
“Excuse us,” a voice called out.
Brayden and I both froze and looked over our shoulders. An elderly couple was waiting for us to move out of their way so they could walk down the aisle and find their seats. Rosie tensed and slowly lowered the borrowed magazine to her lap.
Brayden flashed the couple a friendly smile and tightened his grip in warning, his fingers digging painfully into my upper arm. “Oh, sure. Sorry about that. My girlfriend and I were just talking about how good lunch was.”
I wanted to punch him in the face for daring to call me his girlfriend, but I forced myself to smile at the couple, knowing that Brayden would kill them if I didn’t play along.
“That’s right,” I chirped in a bright voice. “The food was so good.”
The man and woman frowned, as though they could hear the blatant lie in my voice, but I kept my fake smile plastered on my face. They murmured about how good the food had been, then moved past us.
The second they were out of the way, Brayden shoved me forward and pushed me down into my seat, then took the one across from me where Gin had been sitting earlier. Another wave of guilt and sadness washed over my heart. Whether she’d been an assassin or not, Gin Blanco hadn’t deserved to die just because she’d had the misfortune to try to save me from a bunch of greedy thieves.
Brayden leaned back in his seat. To a casual observer, he probably looked like he was relaxing, but he shoved his coat aside and curled his hand around the hilt of the sword belted to his waist. I knew that he would draw the weapon, lunge forward, and gut me without hesitation if I did anything he didn’t like. A few seats away, Rosie also dropped her hand to her own sword.
“Reaper scum,” Vic hissed in a low voice, still sticking up out of the top of my messenger bag.
Brayden rolled his eyes at the sword’s snarky words, then focused on my bag, which I’d propped up in the seat beside me. I’d tried to turn it so that the bulge of the box wasn’t so obvious, but his gaze locked onto it anyway. Drat.
“So that’s where you’re hiding the dagger. Of course. Hand it over. Now.”
I glared at him, but Brayden casually patted the hilt of his sword.
“Hand it over, or I’ll start stabbing people,” he replied. “A few of them might escape, but they won’t all get off the train before I kill them.”
Yet again, I had no choice but to do as commanded, so I reached into the dark depths of my bag, drew out a long, rectangular gray velvet box, and passed it over to him.
Brayden glanced around, but other than Rosie, no one was paying any attention to us, so he slowly cracked open the box. His eyes brightened, and he let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Now, that is an artifact.”
Most of the mythological weapons I’d seen were rather plain, and the power hidden inside them was far more important and valuable than any adornments attached to the outside.
Not this dagger.
Minerva’s Dagger was crusted with jewels. A stunning array of rubies, topazes, citrines, and white diamonds covered the hilt, forming a pretty mosaic pattern, while smaller, matching jeweled chips were embedded in the gold blade itself. Given the plethora of gemstones, the dagger looked like it was intended for more decorative and ceremonial purposes rather than being used in battle, although I would have dearly loved to snatch it away from Brayden and see just how sharp and strong the blade was by plunging it into his rotten heart.
Brayden tossed the box onto the empty seat beside him, then carefully grabbed the dagger by the blade and held it up to the bright afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows. The mosaic pattern on the hilt featured a circle with several jagged rays radiating out of it, making it look like a dazzling jeweled sun. Strangely enough, the pattern reminded me of the scars I’d seen on Gin’s palms earlier. What had she called them? Oh, yes—spider runes, whatever that meant.
A fresh wave of guilt and sadness crashed through my chest, and I made a silent vow to myself—that Brayden, Winifred, and the other Reapers were going to pay for what they’d done to Gin Blanco.
Brayden let out another low, appreciative whistle. “Just the jewels on the hilt alone are worth several hundred thousand dollars. We could always pry them off and sell them one gemstone at a time. Or maybe we’ll sell the intact dagger to a mythological collector for even more money.” A greedy grin creased his face. “I’m not too picky as long as I get my cut of the score.”
The whistle shrieked, making me flinch, and Winifred stepped back into the car. She slowly moved along the aisle, still playing the part of the friendly conductor, nodding and smiling as she reminded everyone that the train was departing and to please take their seats.
She stopped beside Brayden and gave him a sharp look. “Put that dagger away before someone else sees it!” she hissed.
He huffed with annoyance, but he lowered the dagger to his side. Winifred walked on, and Brayden glowered at her back.
“Seems like you have some issues with your big sister,” I said.
“Winifred is fifteen years older, so she thinks that automatically makes her the boss,” he grumbled, a sour expression twisting his face. “She might be the brains of our crew and plan all our heists, but I’m the boss.”
