“Your imitation of a Southern drawl is pathetic and, yes, drop him off here.” He rattled off an address. “They take in strays all the time. But you better do it in the next hour or they’ll be gone.”
“Gone where?” I asked.
“Who knows? I t doesn’t matter. They’ll all be gone. Everyone. Now hurry the hell up. I’m paying your bill this time. I’m a puck, a trickster, and a used-car salesman. Don’t think I won’t squeeze every penny out of Niko’s well-shaped ass if you don’t perform this job to perfection.” His phone disconnected in my ear.
“Who was that?”
I grinned down at my brother. “Robin is hiring us for a job, and I’m thinking seriously about taking a dive in the fifth, because it’s your ass on the line if we screw up.”
“Goodfellow will be a good client. He wouldn’t cheat us.” Niko finished the knot on the rope and slitted his eyes at me. “And let us leave my ass out of it. Why I claim you as my blood, I will never know.”
That wasn’t true. I didn’t know why he put up with me, but I took it on faith that Niko knew something that made me worth keeping around. Niko knew extraordinary things that most others didn’t know and wouldn’t ever know. He was like that. Then again, very rarely, Niko screwed the hell up, wasn’t the infallible older brother—because no one was infallible. No one. I hadn’t kept count before, of the times he was wrong, but if I’d known what was headed our way, I might’ve starting adding them up now.
Number one was a little over sixty minutes away and headed for us like a freight train.
Tick-tock.
Also by Rob Thurman
The Cal Leandros Novels
Nightlife
Moonshine
Madhouse
Deathwish
Roadkill
Blackout
The Trickster Novels
Trick of the Light
The Grimrose Path
The Korsak Brothers Novels
Chimera
Basilisk
Anthologies
Wolfsbane and Mistletoe
EDITED BY CHARLAINE HARRIS AND TONI L. P. KELNER
Rob Thurman, Basilisk
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