Free Wrath and Bones by A.J. Aalto Page A

flailing and toppling over like a drunken game of Jenga. And other positions in Harry's basement lair, afterward, which Wes had finally learned to tune out.
    I rolled my eyes up to the brittle stars and searched for the smug, winking one. Sure enough, it was there. “I don’t wanna know,” I told the Cosmos, but it wasn’t the Cosmos that answered.
    The Blue Sense reported with a cold jolt that something other than the debt vultures was watching me; Hood's attempts at teaching me personal defense kicked in immediately as I felt someone approach. I tried to drop before they got a hold on me, but I'd miscalculated how fast they were. Two strong arms snatched me, encircling me at waist level, trapping my arms at my sides. I dropped again, forcing my attacker's body down, and then tried to jerk my shoulder up to hit them in the face. I didn’t have a good enough target. Their head back too far for me to connect. I clutched at my assailant's arms in an attempt to pry their fingers off me while my brain demanded, Where the hell are Harry and Wes? I’m gonna die on the fucking porch, twenty feet from my revenants ?
    I cut a glance at my attacker’s footwear as their arms tightened further; running shoes laced with red muck. I went to stomp on their instep, but the second I lifted my weight off that leg, they danced aside, still not letting go of their relentless grip.
    The arms tightened a notch more and then stopped. That gave him away. This was no normal attacker. He wasn’t trying to drag me off into the cover of the dark woods. He wasn’t trying to throw me down. There wasn’t a strange vehicle nearby to toss me into.
    I flared my nostrils to draw in his underscent; although he’d spit out his eucalyptus mint before attacking me, the scent lingered. 
    I smirked, giving up the struggle. “If this is your way of telling me you’re madly in love with me, your seduction methods need a lot of work, Hood.”
    He grunted unhappily when I stopped fighting back. “You failed, and now you’re dead.”
    “That kinda sexy talk is not gonna work with me.”
    He dropped his arms. “Who are you kidding? That’s the only kind of sexy talk that would work with you.”
    Point: Hood . I stepped out of his hold and turned to face him. Sheriff Hood was a freckle-faced country boy, a natural redhead with a confident stride and an easygoing, forgiving nature; it was a good thing, too, since I’d blown up the shambling zombie that was once his chief deputy.
    “Sorry, sheriff. Knew it was you. Stopped trying because you’re my friend and I was afraid I’d hurt you.”
    He snort-laughed. “We try again next week.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “How’d you know it was me?”
    “One, neither of the dead guys bothered to help me, which means they were expecting this to happen. Two, you only tightened to the point where I was stuck, not to where I couldn’t breathe or it hurt my ribs. Three, I can smell you. You smell like you. You might want to get some strange cologne to throw me off before trying again. And, most annoyingly, four, you anticipated and countered all my moves because they’re the ones you taught and drilled with me. A regular attacker wouldn’t know my repertoire.”
    Hood nodded. “Noted. Next time, I crack a rib, if that’s what it takes to get this lesson through your thick skull.”
    “The crap arrow was a nice touch. It made me pause long enough to give you a chance to attack.”
    “The what?” He stared at my front door. “I didn’t do that. Are you sure it’s shit?”
    I blinked with surprise. “Taste for yourself, but that sure ain't Godiva.”
    He stepped closer to the door to peer at it, wrinkled his nose in disgust, and asked, “You wanna file a vandalism complaint?”
    “Nah. Poop arrows happen.” I propped my gloved hands on my hips. “Next week doesn’t work for me.”
    “You better have a good reason,” Hood said.
    “I'll be in Norway saving the world from a troll