Page 82 of Wilde's End
I hear my brothers approaching behind me, but they lose my attention when the cat isn’t alone.
“That wasn’t very hospitable.” The voice comes before the man. Devoid of emotion, but not in the bored way that Hart has perfected, it’s the kind of voice that makes that spark in my chest die.
The man who steps into my view doesn’t make me feel any better either. There’s nothing friendly in his tight expression. My gaze runs from his red hair, shaved on one side, long and wild on the other, to his tense arm muscles, to the knife he’s holding. Though I’m not sure that thing can be called a knife when it’s as long as my forearm.
My arms fly out to grip the doorframe on either side of me, trying to block my brothers from view.
“What the fuck …” Kennedy squeaks.
“What do you want?” I ask the man.
“I thought city boys were supposed to have manners.” His voice is low and hums with the tension of keeping it there. “First, you scare poor Bob. Then you shout at him. And now you haven’t even bothered with introductions.”
I have no idea what game he’s playing, but as long as he stays down there and I stay up here, I’m going to play along. “Hudson. Who are you?”
His smile is chilling. “Lynx.”
I’ve heard that name. Where have I heard it though? Probably from Wilde, and the way it spiked worry in my gut means whatever he said wasn’t great.
“Ah … you’ve heard of me.”
“No,” I lie. “But I remember Bob.”
Lynx’s gaze drops to the bobcat. “Most people do. He’s not very friendly.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Not like me.” Lynx’s eyes are cold when they meet mine.
I swallow thickly, fingers aching with how tight my grip has gotten. “You’re friendly?”
“Life of the party, some would say.”
“Funny. Most friendly guys don’t carry around machetes.”
“Occupational hazard.” His head tips to inspect my brothers. “You’re twins.”
“They are,” I say before they can answer. When it comes to this man, I want my brothers left out of it.
“Ominous.”
While I want to ask why, I also don’t want this conversation to go on longer than it needs to. “Why are you here?” Now I sound like Wilde.
“The three of you have stirred up Wilde’s End. I wanted to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Well, you’ve seen. Now you can go.”
Lynx’s eyes narrow, and Bob makes a warning sound. “You don’t make the rules in the End, little boy.”
“This is my town.” I sound a whole lot more confident than I am.
“You think money and some deeds get you ownership out here?” His laugh sounds all wrong as it’s eaten by a rumble overhead. “I tolerate Wilde. I won’t tolerate you.”
Lynx steps onto the bottom stair, and Bob moves toward me to give him room. I’m coiled and ready for any sudden movements when a sheet of light rain breaks free of the clouds.
“Go away and you won’t need to tolerate me at all.”
Lynx taps the machete against the stair rail. “What are you doing in this town?”
