Billos lifted his mug and drank deep, stilling his trembling hand. At any moment they would make their move, he was sure of it. But even as the cool nectar ran down his throat, he knew their every intention, their exact locations, and precisely how he would dispatch them.

“Think of Paradise as your test,” Black had said.

In that moment a supreme confidence settled over Billos. For the average warrior, Paradise might be a test of champions, but he would show them all that for Billos of Southern, battle came as naturally as a stroll along the lake.

He loved Black, and he loved the power Black had given him, and he loved Paradise, the village in which he would prove once and for all that he was worthy of both Black and the power.

“Easy, man.”

Billos drained the last of the drink and slammed the mug on the counter. He drilled Steve with a hard stare. “We can do this the easy way, or if you insist on playing coy, the hard way. But I must warn you, I’m better than all four of you put together.”

The man blinked. “Four? What are you talking about?”

“The man in the jukebox. He’ll be first. Give me the books, and I may let you live.”

The man blinked. Crafty indeed, playing his deception to the bitter end.

“Hold on, son. You’ve got this all wrong. I don’t know what you think you’re doing here or who sent you, but it’s wrong. We’ve had our share of trouble, but Johnny took care of that. Now . . .” Steve took a breath. “I suggest you take your black wannabe duds out of here and hit the road before someone gets hurt.”

A new voice spoke behind Billos. “Everything okay, Steve?”

Billos froze. Steve glanced past him toward the door. “Morning, Jerry.”

Billos slipped his hand under his trench coat, felt the cool steel at his fingertips, and spun around. A man dressed in blue stood in the open doorway. He wore a brass star on his chest and a gun on his hip. Jerry. A warrior.

Jerry’s eyes shifted to Billos’s hand under his trench coat. His hand reached for the gun that hung at his waist. Billos moved then, while he still had the upper hand. He jerked out the gun from which the suhupow came.

The man in blue grabbed for his own gun, and Billos threw himself to the right, pulling the lever as he moved.

Boom! The gun bucked in his grasp.

He saw the man spin around with the suhupow’s impact; then Billos was on the ground, rolling to his right. He had to assume they would unload their own suhupow immediately, but moving would make him a hard target.