Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1) by eden Hudson (ebook reader with highlight function .TXT) 📗

stairs shocked me into action. I didn’t have any pants or underwear on. I pushed Tough off of my chest and found a pair of boxer briefs on the floor. The butt didn’t fit right because they were for a guy and the empty front hung loose, but they were better than being naked.

“Anybody up here?” Bailey called down the hall.

Tough didn’t help me when I rolled him onto his back, then pulled up and buttoned his jeans. I’d just gotten them zipped when Bailey stepped into the doorway. She had a professional vamp-hunting stake in one hand and a little cheesecloth bag in the other.

“In here,” I said, a little breathless and a lot late.

“Yeah, I see that,” Bailey said. She turned back and called down the hall, “Up here, Brandt.”

Brandt—the man who worked at the Council with Bailey and Raelyn. The three of them were Jax’s protectors. Had been Jax’s protectors.

“You’re here because of Jax,” I said.

Bailey nodded.

“I’m not going to let you stake him,” I said, backing closer to Tough. But I could hear Brandt jogging up the stairs. I probably couldn’t take them both and I didn’t have any sea salt or know any other ways to disarm a witch. I probably shouldn’t have tried to bluff, but “So don’t try” came out before I could stop it.

Bailey held up the bag. “Garlic. The stake is just in case he doesn’t go peacefully.”

Garlic? Instant vamp-paralytic. All you had to do was put it in the vamp’s mouth.

Brandt made it to the room and I was officially outnumbered. I raised my fists and tried to stand like Coach C had showed us in PE/Self-Defense.

Brandt put up his hands to show he wasn’t a threat.

“Tough has to appear before Kathan,” he said. His voice was soft, sure, and safe. I wanted to hear more. “Legally, we can’t exact revenge for Jax, but we can petition Kathan to put down a problem vamp. You’ve got to let us take him to the Dark Mansion to stand trial.”

Brandt took a step closer, but he wasn’t going to hurt Tough, so I didn’t move. By the time I realized he was using a pacification spell on me, it was too late.

“Good job, sweetheart,” Brandt said, his voice still warm and comforting. “Now put your fists down. You’re safe.”

If it had been Tempie, she would’ve kicked Brandt in the balls for trying to pacify her, roused Tough somehow, disarmed Bailey, and walked out, throwing some smart remark over her shoulder.

All I did was let Brandt zip-tie-cuff my hands behind me and hate myself.

Bailey stepped around me, but I couldn’t turn to see what she was doing.

“Tough, wake up,” I said. I couldn’t raise my voice or even make it sound urgent. “Please, Tough, help me.”

It sounded like the world’s shortest struggle—sudden onset, suddenly over.

Bailey stood back and nodded at Brandt. He took a cell phone out of his pocket and pushed the call button. “The Whitney kid’s immobilized. Bring in the coffin.”

I let Bailey lead me down to the front room. I watched Raelyn bring in a pine box on a dolly. The pacification was fading. I wanted to start screaming—especially when Bailey and Brandt carried Tough’s paralyzed body downstairs. Except for his open eyes, Tough looked like a corpse who had choked to death on that little bag of garlic. His arms and legs hung limp and his head lolled on his shoulders as they loaded him into the coffin.

Bailey shut the lid and latched it.

 “You’re taking him to the Dark Mansion?” I asked. Holy crap, the pacification had worn off and I still sounded calm—almost disinterested. They were loading Tough up like a dead guy on his way to the graveyard and I was just talking. Not screaming or freaking out or anything. “Do I have to go, too? I wasn’t here when he killed Jax, so I wouldn’t be much good as a witness.”

They looked back and forth at each other for a few seconds.

“Guess you’ve got a little self-preservation in you after all,” Bailey said. Raelyn handed her a Swiss army knife and Bailey cut the zip-tie cuffs off my wrists in two sharp yanks. “You’re smarter than Jax was. Go.”

As I left, I grabbed Tough’s John Deere hat and my shorts off the floor. I skirted the white contractor van backed up to the porch and ran for Tough’s truck.

Tiffani

 

The lull before the lunch rush. I leaned on the counter, looking at the third empty booth from the door and planned for tomorrow. Maybe I would make cinnamon rolls.

Yeah, and then maybe I should watch some of Colt’s favorite X-Files episodes, and later go hang out near Lonely’s Tattoo Parlor where I could smell the ink. I shook my head and went back to wash some dishes while there weren’t any customers. What I needed to do was wait out the sun and go eat someone.

Mitzi’s connection opened and I looked at the clock.

What’re you doing up? I asked. It’s not even noon yet.

All this traveling is playing hell with my circadian rhythm, she said.

You’ve been in Nashville for almost two months.

Well, now we’re headed back to Halo. She sounded pissed. Your stupid little experiment’s running amok and Jason wants to get to him before he gets us.

I put my hands under the hot water. Experiment?

Tough Whitney, Loaded Gun, she said. He found out that Carpenter kid helped Jason steal his voice and then he killed him. Snapped his neck, Jason said.

Damn it. This was exactly the sort of thing I should’ve seen coming before I made Tough, but I’d been so caught up in the idea that he could get Colt away from Mikal.

Yeah, great job, Mitzi said. Now Jason’s got it in his head