Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1) eden Hudson (best book club books txt) 📖

“I’m not a spy or a vamp-groupie, either,” I said.

“Ever been to Nashville?”

“No, I—”

“Know anyone named Jason Gudehaus?”

“The Country Idol guy?”

“Harper, give her a break—”

Harper turned on her boyfriend and I used my newfound freedom to put the kitchen table between us. I didn’t feel like getting bitch-slapped less than twenty-four hours after my sister had sucker punched me.

“Don’t even get me started on you,” Harper said, jabbing a finger at Jax. “Every NP in the whole freaking world is trying to screw Tough to the wall and you’re cool with letting someone you don’t know wander around the house?”

“Tough’s a big boy and he’s at the Matchmaker’s right now. He’ll probably come home with a protector.” Jax grabbed Harper’s pointer finger and pulled her into his arms. “And you were the one who said there’s a rule about not messing with someone the Matchmaker’s got under contract. Besides, Desty’s okay.”

“You don’t know that. She’s been hanging around Tough since the night before last.” Harper’s shoulders were relaxing and it sounded like she was losing steam. “Throwing herself at him and stuff.”

Jax gave her a kiss and let her go.

“Scout hangs around Tough all the time,” he said. “When was the last time I accused Scout of having a vamp fetish or being a spy?”

“You know Scout. And, anyway, Tough wouldn’t just bring some tourist home,” Harper said. She gave me another you’re-a-dirty-skank look. “He’s easy, but he’s not that easy.”

“Jeez, I didn’t sleep with him,” I said. “And I’m not a tourist. I don’t give a crap about the whole NP-run-town thing. I’m just in Halo to get my sister. Or something like that.”

Jax snorted. “You’re supposed to use specifics when you lie so people will believe you.”

“Well, she’s Kathan’s familiar and she hit me in the face when I tried to get her to come home, so I’m sort of in the rethinking phase right now,” I said. For a second, my mind tried to spin things as hopelessly out of hand. I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “Also, Kathan mentioned having foot soldiers in Hannibal looking for me, so going home probably isn’t the option it used to be. At least, not yet.”

“Why’s Kathan searching for you?” Jax asked.

When I looked up, Harper was still glaring at me, but she didn’t say anything.

“Tempie and I are identical twins and our mom and aunt are twins, and I guess that’s one of the things that would make it possible for him to—”

“No way!” Jax closed his eyes. His eyelids flickered like he was dreaming. “There hasn’t been a commander since pre-human. Like, angels-falling-from-Heaven pre-human.”

Harper said, “A what?” at the same time as I said, “You know about that?”

“Yeah, but I only have some of the info about it,” he said. He opened his eyes. “What I need to do is go talk to the Witches’ Council. They’re going to want to hear this.”

“Kathan said all the books that have records of commanders were written by non-people,” I said.

“That’s why I don’t have much about it,” Jax said. “Bailey’s been working on some translations of these really old texts, but so far she’s only had me input a page of the one that mentions commanders.” He looked at me. “Want to come with?”

I’m such a big, giant, ridiculous nerd that the first thing I thought was how exciting it would be to read something not written by humans.

Then I saw the way Harper was trying to rip my face off with her eyes.

“I, um—”

She pushed past me to open the fridge. The door banged against the kitchen wall and she started slamming orange juice cartons down so hard the shelves shook.

I looked at Jax. He was trying not to laugh.

“I’ll go get my boots on,” I said.

He nodded.

I was halfway up the stairs when I heard him say, “Hey, Goddess, you’re not jealous of a mere mortal, are you?”

Tough

After I let Dodge know I hadn’t missed the Welcome Home bonfire because I’d skipped town again or gotten eaten, I headed over to the Matchmaker’s office.

“Hey, Tough!” Addison bounced to her desk and typed something into her computer. “Oh my gosh, I was at Rowdy’s last night. You guys were incredible. I don’t know how Morning Fang got by without you. If you were still singing, I bet Cris would have to get a set of those velvet ropes and people would be lining up down the street. No wonder Jason won Country Idol with your voice. That’s got to make you feel a little better, huh? Knowing you were good enough to be a star, even without your body?”

She smiled up at me and I wondered whether all that hair-bleach had given her brain damage over the years.

“You can go on back, she’s ready for you.”

I tried to shake it off as I headed back to the Matchmaker’s office. If I didn’t know any better, I would think Addison had said all that so I would feel like someone had smashed my face into a concrete slab.

“Have a seat, Tough,” the Matchmaker said. “How’s the job search going?”

The good thing about getting your face smashed into concrete is that it makes everything else feel numb. I only half-noticed the twinge in my side when I handed the Matchmaker the paper with the band’s information written on it and how much Rowdy paid. Surely no one but Addison was stupid enough to think I’d be happy that dumbass and his icy nympho wife had stolen my voice and ran off to win a million bucks with it.

“This is how much you make each week?” the Matchmaker said.