Chapter Five
Cottonmouth
Underneath all the death and gore, his lost warlock was gorgeous.
Short, plump, with a babydoll face that sported the prettiest, pouty lips—utterly delicious.
He liked that with each swipe of the rag against her skin, he found more freckles, hidden treasure beneath all the caked-on blood.
And boy howdy was she covered in it. Callum had gotten dirty on jobs before, they didn’t hold a candle’s flame to her.
He picked teeth out of her hair at first, then found chunks of meat dried to her calves.
The knuckle bone he found behind her ear made him laugh, which is what woke her up.
From there, he was trying his hardest not to leer too hard.
She was frightened, but as evident by a few well-spoken barbs, she was not without teeth.
He expected she was more shaken by the train experience than him.
Besides, when she truly realized the power humming beneath her fingers, their dynamic could drastically change if he didn’t lock her in quick.
A warlock.
A true, bona fide cursed one. What. Were. The. Fuckin’. Odds.
It was perfect—she was perfect!
In a matter of minutes, rinsing the blood from her hair, he realized this warlock was his out.
He didn’t want to be here. Callum didn’t want to be Cottonmouth anymore.
He very well couldn’t just walk away; he’d have a target on his back.
They’d hunt him down. Even puny little shits who didn’t deserve a slice of him would take pot shots at him.
No, he needed to leave the same way Mad Madeline, his predecessor, went.
With a glorious bang. What better way to frame his death and escape into the ether than a fucking warlock! She was wanted by the Paladins, clearly, and was a murderer. It was perfect! She. Was. Perfect!
He just…needed to figure out how to frame it.
A few short days keeping her captive ought to do it.
They’d believe she lost it and killed him, and he’d be on a boat to the Chroma Coast before they even put cuffs on the poor thing.
Plus, with all the coin he had stashed, he could start a whole new life, lounging on an island in fuck-elsewhere from here.
A shame, pretty thing like her? He would hate to watch her hang.
But that’s life, toots. He’d spent too many years clawing his way out of this shithole, he couldn’t waste this opportunity.
And hey! Who is to say she dies, huh? Maybe she becomes the next Cottonmouth.
Maybe she cracks like an egg and becomes…
shit, very well can’t give her a name if I don’t know hers.
Callum folded his hands over his dining table and leveled his total focus on her. “What’s yer name, darlin’?”
“What’s it matter?” She furrowed her brows.
“You want me to call ya ‘toots’ instead?” he scoffed.
“Avelina,” she spat.
“Atta girl.” He winked, earning a repulsed shiver from her. “Now, what’s a warlock such as yerself doin’ in these parts?”
“You mean why was a woman covered in blood running for the only cover from Parandor Paladins?” She shifted in her seat.
Plucky, I’ll give her that. Avelina picked her battles, letting out little pockets of steam.
However, it didn’t escape his notice, her eyes continued to dart away from him.
Her hands were balled into fists around the hem of his shirt, trying to keep that delicate cunt of hers covered.
Callum would have let her pull on some of the backup trousers left in his abode, but he didn’t want her comfortable.
A comfy warlock meant a fried snake tail.
Plus, he liked how she squirmed.
“Aye, how did ya come to be so…dirty?” he purred, reveling in the way she licked her lips quickly and glanced to her lap. Her everything was tense. Shoulders up to her ears, she was on high alert. Good. Be afraid, little viper. Maybe you won’t end up dead. Being scared means ye’ve got sense.
“Someone robbed the train. They killed my father and I kind of panicked” Kind of?
His eyebrows went up into his hair as she bore holes into the table in front of her.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to hurt anyone else, but then the people on the train started acting like I was the monster.
And maybe I am, because next thing I know, I wake up.
Covered in blood, and I’m running from Paladins. ”
“Hmm…so ye’ve not been a warlock for long, huh?” He pushed his arms up on his elbows and planted his chin on his folded hands.
“No,” she confessed with a huff. “How did you know?”
“Not many spellslingers I know can knock a pack of Paladins with an acid blast. Not really in their skill tree,” he teased.
Her gaze finally darted up, and in the candlelight, her blue eyes were more silver with cracks of black than sapphires.
Interesting. “Been some time since a warlock walked through Gloomsdale.”
She didn’t answer, instead staring directly at him. They sat there, locked in a contest for a while. He waited, having all the time in the world for her to fess up. She broke, after an impressive few minutes, exhaling heavily. “What do you want?”
“I want you to work for me.”
She blinked rapidly, mouth ajar. “What?”
“What? Like ye’ve got something else lined up?” He snorted, sitting back on his coiled tail.
“No one would hire a wretch like me,” she muttered.
“Oh, she splatters a couple heads and suddenly she’s a wretch,” he snickered under his breath.
She glared at him, but those puffy lips of hers were trembling.
Poor thing, this world is rough. Time to suck it up, buttercup.
“Listen, ye’ve got a Paladin problem. I have a habit of getting’ rid of those.
Work for me, pay off that debt, and yer a free warlock. ”
The slight narrow of her eyes said she didn’t believe him. Ahhh, so clever, little viper. She shifted forward in her seat and finally put her fists over the top of the table. “What do you want me to do?”
“I have a lot of use for a warlock such as yerself. And besides, where else are ya gonna go? No coin, no clothes on yer back. Nothing but…well…this…” he shrugged, pulling out the rock from his bag.
When he stripped her for the bath, the smooth opal tumbled out.
At first, he thought it was the reason she blew up a whole train but the rock itself was nothing more than a simple enchantment.
Pretty, but otherwise useless for one task.
It didn’t interact with him, so he assumed it was attuned to the warlock.
However, when he fished it out, holding it up with two fingers her body language changed.
Her eyebrows shot up, and she lunged like she might climb over the table.
Callum immediately wrenched his arm backward and hung it high.
A darkness he’d never seen came over her.
A shadowy shroud draped over her face. Inky lace coated her skin, droplets of glossy obsidian dribbling out of her eyes. “That’s mine! Give it back!”
The sound of her voice was haunting. Dark and scratchy, she was possessed from beyond the grave.
A shiver, cold and merciless, ran down the length of his spine into the tip of his tail.
Her enchanted stone snapped out of his grip and reappeared in her cupped palms. With a blink, she was returned to her regular pallor.
Eyes soft and full of regular tears as she hugged the rock to her chest.
How…intriguing.
He lifted up and she jerked back in her chair. Scrambling back into its embrace, she cried out. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I so—”
Callum whipped around the table and caught her by the chin.
Her feet flailed, trying and failing to catch something to hold her up.
Lifting her an inch out of her seat, he let her panic for a moment.
Let her struggle to find her footing, her sharp inhale mixing with a ragged exhale through her nose.
Even though it would behoove her to strike him, she didn’t.
Avelina continued to clutch that useless rock to her chest and flung her legs left then right.
He set her back on her feet and locked her gaze in his. “That’s a mighty fine trick ye’ve learned.”
“I won’t do it again. I promise. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me what the rock does,” he growled.
“It’s just a communication stone. My best friend got it for me. It only goes to her.”
“Nifty. Show me. Tell her yer alright, safe and sound.” He nodded at the rock that she slowly lifted to her mouth.
Pressing her thumb to it, all the little grooves around the rock lit up and filled with magic.
It was distinctly not hers, which meant someone made this for her.
Before she could speak, he pushed her thumb off it with his finger, the light dying on the rock.
“Never mind that. Best if this little trinket of yers sits here with me, yeah? Wouldn’t want you giving anyone the wrong idea that yer being mistreated. ”
“She’ll get worried about me,” Avelina’s voice took a sharp tone as he wrenched the stone from her.
“What a good friend ye’ve got,” he snarled darkly. He tucked it away onto his belt and patted the pocket it sat in. “Tell ya what, prove yerself to be a good little warlock, behave, and I’ll give it back.”
Her face screwed up. Callum arched a single brow in challenge. Avelina shook hard, he could feel her toes curl against the wood and fists rattle by her sides. In the end, she spat out, “Yes, sir.”
“Atta girl,” he purred victorious, dropping her face and letting her sag against the nearby wall.
Twisting, he took up her elbow and swiftly tossed her into the bedroom.
She spun to face him, but he stopped her with a single nod toward his bed.
“Now put yerself to bed. I’ve got work to see to and it’s been a long day, hasn’t it? ”
“Wait!” Avelina lurched forward, hands to the door frame. “Wait, you never said what kind of work I’m doing? Or why I’m sleeping in your bed.”
Callum smirked. Pressing a finger to the center of her forehead, he walked her backwards into the room. When she was good and bewildered, her cute nose scrunched and lips pursed, the outlaw took hold of the door knob. “Sleep tight, darlin’.”
He slammed the door, pressing his nail to the locking mechanism and listened to it click into place.
While he wasn’t a spellslinger, he once worked alongside a Tinkerer who showed him a few tricks.
Every piece of machinery in his cabin obeyed him.
Evident by the way Avelina pummeled her fists against the door, yelling through the wood, unable to get that doorknob to turn an inch.
He imagined her turning red in the cheeks with her fists rumbling against the door.
A beautiful, petulant temper tantrum. What he wouldn’t give to make those ruby cheeks and her pale backside the same shade.
He ought to have bent her over the table for that little snatch, but he’d been too interested in seeing if she was lying.
Now that he knew what it did, and where Avelina’s weakness was, he had a good base to start his plan. They just needed a few more players. “Rat!”
His voice bounced off the floor as a trap door at the back of his cabin creaked open. A tiny, murky brown haired helfen with glowing red eyes and green horns popped up and out of the hole. “Yeah, boss?”
Avelina’s fists steadily slowed till he heard the tell-tale thump of a woman slumping to the floor. Atta girl, give in. He bowed down toward the trap door, holding the wooden flat up. “Gather the crew, we’ve got a new job.”
“New…job? But the boys didn’t even come back from the last one.” Rat gawked at him.
Callum rolled his eyes. “They died. Little warlock in there killed them.”
“Ooof,” Rat grimaced. “Plannin’ on guttin’ her, boss?”
“Not at all.” Callum hummed thoughtfully as he stroked his claws against the aged wood grain.
Splinters sprang up around him, unable to dent his thick hide.
Callum plucked one and held it up in front of him.
“She’s one of us now. And I got just the thing to break her in.
Grab the crew, we’re hitting the vault.”
“Now we’re talkin’, boss!” Rat scurried back into the dark. Callum let the door swing shut. It thudded back into place. Straining his ears, he tried to listen for any sounds muffled through the door, but it was silent. Even as he slithered back, he found the bedroom quiet.
Good. Now, onto step one: Funding my final act as Cottonmouth.