Fireteam Delta J. Halpin (top 10 books of all time TXT) 📖

Nisha told him simply that the recruits would not see Logan as a potential combatant, regardless of his skills. Apparently, missing a leg came with somewhat of a stigma.

And so, they found themselves walking toward the inner walls of the city through the market, ready to meet the men they’d be teaching how to shoot in the short time they had before all hell broke loose.

“All you have to do is punch him, I’m telling you,” Cortez spoke low.

Summers had shown everyone the strange, alien strength he’d apparently acquired. And after a few hours of testing, they’d concluded that he was, in Cortez’s words, “absolute bullshit.” Between the newfound power, and his difficulty doing anything even remotely delicate, Nowak speculated that somehow the fog had made his body more akin to that of a primate. Strong, dense muscle, that couldn’t do jack for shit with fine motor control.

Because of that, Cortez had been suggesting popping Rhodes in the head and seeing if it—for lack of a better term—exploded.

“Again, let’s pretend that’s the backup plan,” Summers replied.

Killing the man the entire city seemed obsessed with didn’t seem like a solid long-term survival plan to Summers—or anyone else, for that matter. But it was nice to have an ace in the hole, just in case.

Eventually, their path took them around a corner and face-to-face with two giant, hulking skulls strapped to a wagon, pelts of their owners’ hides laid neatly in a pile beside them.

Summers recognized both the head of the alpha lizard and the strange black beast that had attacked them. They were the two creatures Summers’ group had sold to Synel, and the woman herself stood at the front of the wagons, directing guards through the gate of the inner wall.

She glanced up as Summers’ group approached, and to his surprise, he saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward before her placid expression returned.

Did she just smile?

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Synel raised her head, looking to their group. “What happened, and what can I do?” Synel looked at Summers expectantly.

Summers almost smiled himself, but managed to catch it just in time.

“Nothing, for now.”

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Summers managed to explain everything that had happened to them, how Asle had been taken, and the deal they’d struck with Rhodes. By the time he’d finished, Synel had agreed that there really wasn’t much she could do for them.

“So, what’s all this for?” Summers indicated the guards wheeling the trophies toward the castle.

“Gifts . . . for the council.” Synel gave an almost imperceptible sneer at that last word. Summers was getting better at spotting those subtle cues.

“That . . . seems like a lot.”

Synel had bought the bodies of the creatures off them for what amounted to a small fortune. The fact that she was giving them away was a surprise. He watched as she gestured to the bodies.

“It is a warning. That we are”—Synel switched to a surprisingly clear English—“not to be fucked.”

Summers struggled not to smile again. “I think you mean not to be fucked with.”

Synel inclined her head to him before speaking slowly in her own tongue so Summers could follow. “They assume to control my caravan, to control you. It is important they know who they are trying to control.”

Summers assumed that meant she hadn’t found a way out of the city yet. Between the refugees and the coming army on the roads, it would be difficult, if not outright impossible to leave by road. By sea was another story, but as they’d learned, the council controled any ships that came or went. And by the looks of it, every ship in harbor was being retrofitted for war.

Still, Synel’s subtle threat was more of a plan than they’d managed so far.

Another wagon came to a stop beside Synel, open crates showing stacks of small jars. He recognized the bottled fog Synel had been transporting from the last city.

“Jesus.” Summers looked at the sheer amount of the drug Synel was bringing in. “Uh, another gift?”

“A sale. But for you . . .” Synel corrected. She turned back to the cart and handed each of them a bottle. “Yes, a gift.”

“Isn’t this expensive?” Summers glanced at Nowak.

Nowak nodded. “As hell.”

Summers moved to hand the jar back, but Synel lowered his hand.

“Please.” She pushed the bottle back into his arms. He could see the slight wrinkle on her forehead; she was worried.

That was a surprise to Summers, but he accepted the jar. What he was going to do with it was another question. Given the fact that he was somehow marinating in the stuff, God only knew what a fresh dose might do.

Synel bowed before leaving the group to find their stations, and their waiting recruits.

“You know your girl’s got an angle, right?” Cortez side-eyed Summers.

“Everyone’s got an angle,” Summers agreed. “But I can’t complain about the results.”

Summers watched as every head in the courtyard turned to the two wagons adorned with the skulls of monsters as large as they were. Something told him their reputation would be getting around, and that was never a bad thing.

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Asle flattened the long black servant’s dress Nisha had provided for her. She was thankful for it. The loose pants she’d worn on the road, along with the tunic, did their job, but they would hardly pass inside the castle. This was far less conspicuous.

She had spent most of the day cleaning, and the servants had been surprisingly welcoming. The castle, as a whole, was huge. And even with a full team of servants, she didn’t find herself lacking work.

All in all, it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. She missed her friends, but that was something she could deal with.

Then Rhodes had sent for her. She’d expected as much, but where he wanted to