Page 154 of The Last Hope
“How about you stop telling me what I am, youpouchthief.” She holds out her palm. “Give it to us.”
Riktor tosses his cleaning rag at her face. Cloth brushes her cheek. I feel the fabric like he threw the rag at my body—but greater than that sensation,hostilitysprings inside me.
Mykal is sensing Franny, but he’s not running back here. I can only assume he’s encountered a hotel owner like we did or different trouble.He’s fine.
He’s fine.
I try not to cage my breath. I trust that Mykal can handle an Influential like Stork just did, and before it reaches that point, Zimmer can try to talk them out of a confrontation.
“Your boss is unconscious in the hallway,” Stork tells Riktor. “You throw any shit at her or try to jump us, and your lights are out next.”
Riktor lets out an uncertain laugh. Not understanding all of what Stork just said.
Let me try. “We’ll break your neck.” I think of Mykal.
Always.
Riktor hoists a hand and backs up into his cleaning cart. “Heya, no need for that kind of violence. But that pouch is mine. I’d only part with it for a cost.”
I roll my eyes, and the baby wakes more, squealing playfully. “Shh,” I whisper, rubbing her back.Sleep.
“What do you want?” Stork asks.
Franny crosses her arms.
Riktor skims her up and down. “You seem fairly skilled with your mouth. An hour with me and the pouch is yours.”
I clench my jaw.
“Gods.” Franny cringes.
Stork flashes the most biting smile I’ve seen from him yet. “Counteroffer. An hour with me, and you’ll learnexactlywhat I’m skilled at after I’m done with you.”
Riktor is still eyeing Franny.
“My mouth is good forspitting,” Franny retorts. “You want to find out just how good?” She prepares to spit at him—
“Heya, I’m well-liked in Montbay,” he rebuts, shifting against the cart. He’s not scared of us, so why is he so fidgety? “If you start a stew, you’ll have worse hells to pay out of that door.”
“I’m shaking,” Stork says, sarcasm thick.
Riktor peeks over his shoulder at the cleaning cart.He’s blocking the cart.
“The pouch is on the cart,” I say.
Riktor points at Stork who takes a step closer. “There’s no value in the pouch. Joke’s on you. It’s just a rock!”
Like Mykal is with us, Stork disarms the Fast-Tracker in two blows. One elbow to the throat, and then he rams his head into the wall.
His body thuds to the floor, unconscious.
Franny and I reach the cart. Packed with bottles of antiseptic, fresh towels, a bowl of mints—I find the pouch next to a bar of soap.
“I have it.”
They gather around, and I remove… a small black stone. Smooth along all sides and lightweight.
“Is there anything else?” Franny asks, worried. Her stomach is knotting mine.
