Another insult, no doubt. But Billos had to admit, Black would prove to be a monstrous adversary. Best to deal with his kind in kind.

“Did I threaten you, you black slug?”

A smile pulled at the edges of Black’s mouth. He spun the weapon in his hand as if it were a toy, then slammed it home in the scabbard on his hip. He withdrew his hand and cracked his knuckles.

“Can I have one of those?” Billos asked.

“Slap your hip, baby. The holster will be there.”

The suhupow Black brought with him was enough to make Billos’s head spin. He impulsively spun his gun, poorly mimicking the man’s move, and shoved it down against his hip. The gun slapped into a holster.

Billos withdrew his hand and cracked his knuckles.

“Just a tad juvenile, don’t you think? I know how good it feels. Trust me, the feelings that come with true power will make your knees tremble. I can make your wildest fantasy real.”

It occurred to Billos that the slight tremble now in his fingers was the result of desire. He’d never felt it so strongly.

“Or I can cut you to ribbons and feed you to the crows. Which, to be perfectly honest, happens to be my wildest fantasy.”

“Assuming you could,” Billos said, only slightly alarmed.

“And that’s why I chose you.”

“What is?”

“The fact that you’re so full of yourself that you actually believe I won’t ruin you for life. Takes a strong fool to knowingly play with me. A king. The chosen one. You, baby.”

Billos wasn’t sure how to take these backhanded compliments. But he did know that his fingers were still trembling.

“Are you ready to hunt?” Black asked.

The village outside had gone strangely quiet. “I was born ready.”

“Then get me the books. And kill them all.”

“Stop talking my ear off and I will.”

“And to make up for your stupidity, I want you to bring me the imposters, Dorksel included. Share the spoils.”

“How do you know they’re imposters?”

He ignored the question. “Kill the big creep; bring me the two pop tarts.”

Billos stared at the door. He could feel, maybe hear, a bead of sweat breaking past his temple.

“It’s all about the books, baby,” Black said softly. “You know she’s an imposter, because she’ll come between you and the books. So you choose between the power of the books and this one imposter who may mean something now but will mean nothing when you’re on top. Think of it as your sacrifice, the only one I’m asking you to make for me.”

The tremble in Billos’s fingers was now motivated by something more than desire. Destiny and fear, all mixed into one heady, powerful emotion.

“You choose between yourself and her. Give me one or the other. The crows are waiting.”