Return of the Hunters (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 4) by Sonya Bateman Page B

time, we’ll meet him wherever, and I’ll DeathSpeaker him before he kills you.”
    “You don’t get it,” she said in flat tones. “He don’t need to be anywhere near us to kill us. Hell, if he felt like it, he could do it right now.”
    “Jesus Christ. Are you serious?”
    “Of course she is, child.”
    There was a collective gasp at the voice from the bottom bunk—a hollow, rolling tone that echoed in the confines of the suite. Zoba slid off the bed, shivering like a wet dog as he straightened with the stiff jerks of a badly controlled puppet. He pivoted slowly to face the table.
    His eyes were blank, pure white. And his mouth was filled with white flames.
    “I have missed part of this conversation, no? An important part, I wager.” The white eyes stared directly at me. “Now, you want to tell Papa Legba all your secrets, do you not?”
    I swallowed hard. “Not especially.”
    “Oh, but you do,” he said. “DeathSpeaker.”
     
     

C HAPTER 13

     
    O kay. That could not be a good sign.
    “What is this you bring to me, children?” Zoba-Legba took a shuddering step toward the table, and the Duchenes shrank back collectively. “You are not planning to rise against me,” he said. “That would be…very unwise. But you know that, do you not?”
    I couldn’t look away—but at the corner of my vision, I saw Denei moving slowly in front of Reun, like she was trying to block him from view. Reun seemed to take the hint and tried to make himself as small as possible.
    It was a little too late for me to hide. Even though I kind of felt like ducking under the table and cowering until he went away.
    “Tell Papa everything, child.” That voice was absolute. I actually wanted to tell him—just open my mouth and spill out my whole life story, all twenty-six years of it at once. “Come, now,” he said. “My children are hiding something from me, and I will know what.”
    I had to start talking, or my tongue was going to run ahead of my brain and do something stupid. “I’m just along for the ride,” I managed. “Never been to New Orleans.”
    “Are you, now.” Zoba’s body trembled even harder, his tattooed face a mask of pain despite the calm command of the words leaving his mouth. “Oh, my children. How you have disappointed me,” he said. “But we will deal with that when you arrive, no? Perhaps if you make a gift of this…DeathSpeaker, your suffering will be brief.”
    “Hey. I’m not gonna be your gift, goddamn it.”
    The instant I said it, I figured that was probably a bad idea. But he looked at me and forced Zoba’s face into a cruel semblance of a smile, baring his pointed teeth. “You are certain of that, are you, child?” he said. “Serving me does have its advantages. You would obtain power far greater than you can imagine—and all I ask in return is your soul. When you are finished with it, of course.”
    I shuddered. “Hell, no.”
    “Such disrespect, child. Tread carefully when you come to me.” The white eyes flashed, and he turned stiffly toward Denei. “As for you. Tomorrow at noon, in my club, and not a moment later. Do you understand this?”
    “Yes, Papa,” she whispered.
    “And do not think I have failed to mark your presence, Fae.” He shook his head and faced the table again. “You will come to me. Perhaps you will change your mind and serve me, no? I have no child such as you, and you would be richly rewarded. Consider my offer.”
    The glow left Zoba’s eyes and mouth. He shivered once, and then collapsed.
    Before anyone could react, the entire car lurched and swayed violently. The lights flickered and went out.
    And the train ground to a halt.
    “What the hell?” I blurted. “Did he do that?”
    “Nah, wasn’t Legba,” Denei said in shaken tones from somewhere in the gloom. “Somebody make a light.”
    “ De’àrsahd .”
    The rasping word came from Reun. When he spoke it, the main cabin light came on weakly. Denei stumbled over and dropped next