“A coupon. I hear you’re selling dragon-slaying weapons.”
“We might be, but I assure you, there aren’t any coupons out there. We sell premium products and only to those who can afford them.” His gaze dropped to my combat boots and utility belt. “I wouldn’t think your assassination services came cheap, but to be frank, you’re a bit shabby. Our last customer came in wearing a Versace dress and driving a Range Rover.”
“Only in Seattle would those things go together.” I plucked at a peeling piece of paint on the siding. “Are you sure she wasn’t lost?”
“Not at all.”
“Let’s assume I can afford premium weapons. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”
“Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?” He eyed my chest again.
I drew Fezzik from its holster, pulled out the retractable buttstock and folding front grip that transitioned from a pistol to a rifle. “I’ve got a custom monster hunter here—it’s taken a few shifters down in its day—and then there’s Chopper.” I pointed the barrel downward as I indicated my sword.
Since the shifter was magical, he would have no trouble seeing my weapons.
His gaze shifted from my breasts to the gun, and his smirk disappeared, his face growing hard and unfriendly. “That’s one of that Thai girl’s dinky little guns. I’m surprised you would carry something so inferior.” He squinted into my eyes. “Maybe you’re not as dangerous as I’d heard.”
There was a challenge in his gaze, and it reminded me of the werewolves that had attacked me outside of Bend, just because they’d wanted to be able to brag to others that they’d taken me down.
I slid the stock back in and held Fezzik up with one hand. If he attacked me, I would be within my rights to defend myself. And if he died in the process, that would be unfortunate, but these things happened in this line of work.
“You’re welcome to find out,” I said.
His lewd smile returned. “I could kill you, but I could think of more fun things to do with you than fighting. I do love blondes, you know. And so does my brother. Why don’t you come into our lair and meet him?”
“I’m more interested in meeting your dragon-slayer weapons, ah, what did you say your name is?”
“Kurt. My brother is Otto. And if you like guns, we have ’em. It sounds like you’ve got a fetish. We don’t mind that. We don’t judge.” Kurt looked back as he headed inside, flashing white teeth that were more pointed than normal for a human. “Otto,” he called. “We have a visitor.”
“A visitor or a customer?” a gruff male voice said from a back room.
The living room, complete with wood paneling and old green-fabric couches, was covered in gun magazines, metal and rock posters, and racks and racks of weapons. Most of them weren’t magical, but a few were on par with Fezzik.
In a far corner stood what looked like a liquor cabinet, but one door was cracked open to reveal boxes of ammunition. They gave off a faint magical signature. Interestingly, they were sealed, as if they had been shipped here rather than made in-house. Did the brothers get their weapons and ammo from someone else and then resell them?
“That’s what we’ll find out,” Kurt called back. “If you can tear yourself away from your work.”
As I followed him deep into the house, I peeked into a kitchen and dining room that had been converted into an office overflowing with boxes and papers. He led me down the single hallway, past two bedrooms that were messier than my apartment had been after the ransacking, and to a room with a couch and a TV.
Inside was another magical being, one that looked enough like Kurt to be his twin. He was playing video games from the couch, his shirt off and corn chips dusting the cushions next to him. Only slovenly magical shifters could eat like that and have the hard muscled bodies of fitness-magazine models.
In addition to the corn chips, there were boxes of cartridges and empty magazines. He was probably supposed to be loading them when he wasn’t too busy playing his game. So far, it looked like more cartridges had fallen onto the floor than made it into magazines. They oozed magic similar to what had been in the cabinet out front. The magic seemed no more powerful than what Nin made for Fezzik, and I doubted the bullets could puncture a dragon hide.
“I could tear myself away for her any time.” The brother—Otto, presumably—paused his game and gave me a long leer as his brother stepped aside.
I still had Fezzik in hand and planned to keep the gun there.
Ignoring their leers, I tried to identify and locate the third magical being I sensed. The aura was muted, and I struggled to guess what species it belonged to.
Before, I had thought the person might be out back, but it felt like he or she was under us. Maybe there was a basement. Or at least some pit that had been dug out after the mobile home had been installed. But how did one get down there? I hadn’t seen stairs on my way in.
“She’s interested in our guns.” Kurt smirked again.
“Oh yeah? Mine’s always loaded.” Otto rubbed his cock through his jeans.
Negotiating was going to be futile. I could tell. I was starting to wish I’d driven by, tossed a Molotov cocktail on the roof, and gone to buy lotions and potpourri at the farmers market.
“Where’s the showroom?” I pointed at the faded gray rug. “Basement?”
“The showroom is right here,” Otto purred, shifting to his feet, his hand still on his junk.
“There’s nothing in this room that can slay dragons.”
“Don’t be too sure about that.” Kurt smirked and reached for me, his hand moving more quickly than a normal human’s would.
But I was used to dealing with that kind of speed. I caught his wrist before he could touch me, and glared into his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure.”
Not surprisingly, he wasn’t daunted. He smirked wider, as if pleased with the development.
“The Ruin Bringer doesn’t want to have some fun before making a purchase?” Otto asked. “That’s disappointing. Maybe we could give her a discount if she spends the day with us.”
“You ever do two guys at once, pretty girl?” Kurt asked. “Or maybe a man and a panther?”
He shifted, his wrist melting out of my grip as he transformed into a large black panther. My feline guess had been right.
As he shifted, I took the opportunity to touch my cat figurine and summon Sindari. I would fight two on one if I had to, but if these guys were as strong as their auras suggested, I wouldn’t walk away unscathed. Evening the odds made sense, and Sindari always enjoyed a fight.
“I can’t say that I have,” I said as Sindari materialized in the hallway behind me. “Do you actually have urges and find humans attractive in that form? I’ve heard that shifters are only attracted to what they’ve shifted into.”
“Not necessarily true.” Otto strolled closer, coming up to rest a hand on Kurt’s feline back. “We’ve hosted some killer parties here and experimented a lot.”
Kurt’s long black tail swished in the air and then demonstrated some possibilities for those who drifted toward bestiality. Otto laughed uproariously.
What were the odds that I could get any decent information out of them? Or think of a way to convince them to leave Nin alone?