Death Cultivator by eden Hudson (knowledgeable books to read .txt) 📗

“He’s cloaking his Spirit,” Kest said. “That means he’s dangerous.”

Rali frowned. “I’d go with you, but Kest—”

“Yeah, no, you need to get her to a doctor or surgeon or something.” I looked from the metal band clamping Kest’s stump to the severed arm across the cage and cussed. “I’m sorry, Kest. If I’d listened when you said something was wrong with their gang—”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” Kest said. “Two seconds wasn’t enough warning.”

“We knew the risks when we walked into this,” Rali said. “We’re in this together.” He glanced at Warcry. “Burning Hatred cultivator who came to our rescue included.”

“Bleedin’ netskins,” Warcry growled, jamming his fists in his pockets. “Shove off, fatso, and take your sister with you. I’ll stick with the grav and make sure he don’t get himself killed.”

The four of us split up, Rali and Kest picking up her severed arm and heading for the exit. Warcry and I limped out of the cage, around the Peacemakers cleaning up the corpses.

The catfish was hanging out in the shadows of the hallway, waiting for us.

“Are you the one blocking my Spirit?” I asked before he could say anything.

He nodded.

“I told you to keep your head and not kill anybody. But—” He shrugged. “—I admit that gets complicated sometimes for Mortal supertypes. This was my backup plan. Are you going to do anything stupid if I let you go?”

“No.” In the moment, Dead Man’s Hand always seemed like the only logical choice, but when I’d had a few seconds to step back and look at the situation, it was hard to believe I’d been ready to use it.

The fist clamping down on my Spirit sea loosened, and I was able to cycle Miasma through my body again to rebalance my internal alchemy.

“What’s your game, fishman?” Warcry snapped. “We ain’t got all day.”

“I’m a recruiter.” He tapped his sleek black HUD, and my Winchester buzzed with a notification. “My card.”

I glanced down at the cracked screen. “Buddy Biggerstaff?”

“Number six in the Eight-Legged Dragons’ Van Diemann branch,” Warcry said. He sounded like he was trying not to be impressed. “You’re the cove who form-rejected me.”

“Don’t take it personally, Mr. Thompson. I don’t recruit anybody I haven’t seen fight with my own two eyes. After I saw you yesterday, I suggested that Shogun Genkei sign you.” He turned to me. “I also get one wild card each tournament, but we keep that out of the common knowledge. I suggested you, Mr. Hake.”

“Why?”

“Because a Mortal affinity always comes in handy,” Biggerstaff said. “And you not only don’t have a criminal record, but there’s no record of you existing at all before a month ago. Anyone with half a brain ought to be able to turn that to their advantage. What do you say?”

Warcry snorted. “You lot expect us to sign for nothing? What’re the Dragons ready to give us for affiliating with them?”

“Dude.” I glared at him. “We’re not really in a position to negotiate here.”

“You always negotiate.” He crossed his arms and scowled at Biggerstaff. “That’s rule one. This cove’s counting on you not to know that so he can get you cheap.”

The catfish whiskers twitched. “Tell me what it is you’d like in return.”

“Affiliation for my other two friends, the Selken twins,” I said.

Biggerstaff checked something on his HUD.

“I can offer to sign them, but the girl’s status is marked as pending by the Technols,” he said, swiping at the screen. He looked at me. “If she refuses the Technols, the Dragons won’t have a problem making a play for her. We focus primarily on physical strength, but we can always use a decent artificer.”

“Okay, that’s all I—”

“We both want room and board, too,” Warcry interrupted.

Biggerstaff nodded. “That’s standard.”

“And these off,” Warcry said, pointing out my OSS script tattoo.

“We wouldn’t let you in with those still attached,” the catfish agreed. He tapped his HUD screen again. “I’m sending you an address. Go when you leave here and our artisan will lift them for you, on us.”

“And—”

“Geez, man,” I stopped Warcry. “Don’t get greedy.”

“I seen me brand lawyer do enough of these negotiations to know that him not refusing anything yet means we haven’t asked for anything more than the lowball they offer every new recruit,” Warcry said.

The catfish made that croaking laugh sound.

“How about I send you both the usual affiliate offer with your requests added in?” he suggested. “You can read over it and let me know if it’s up to your standards. Send it to your brand lawyer if you want. You’ve got time. You’ll both be under the Eight-Legged Dragons’ provisional protection until the tournament week is out.”

I waited for Warcry to protest some more and screw this whole thing up for us, but he just nodded.

“Thanks,” I told Biggerstaff.

The catfish stuck out his hand. I shook it, and when he bowed over the handshake, I imitated the motion.

“Learn how to cloak your Spirit,” Biggerstaff said. “And don’t kill anyone in Jade City before the end of tournament week. If you violate the peace arrangement in that time, the Dragons will be honor bound to let Shogun Connor have you.”

I glanced out of the hallway at the Peacemaker robots hauling off the broken, bleeding corpses of kokugikon staff.

“I won’t,” I said.

Party Like You Lived

AFTER WARCRY AND I got our OSS tattoos removed at the script shop, we headed back to the hotel to find Rali and Kest. The healer hadn’t been able to reattach her arm, but they’d gotten her patched up with some of those bandages that sink into your skin. The fresh black script covering her stump wasn’t gross or ugly, but it really drew attention to what was missing. She acted like everything was cool, though, so I pretended like it was, too.

“Eat up, guys,” she said, nodding at the tableful of pizza. “I ordered the same amount we got yesterday, but Rali only ate like one piece.”

“How ’bout ya, big man?” Warcry slapped Rali’s arm on his