Good.
It took half a heartbeat to lift the mallet from its resting place and slip it into his wheeled bin. Only after he had made good his escape did Kynan allow himself a long, shuddering breath. Satan’s minions had not noticed the theft. If the Evil One had noticed, either he didn’t care or thought it amusing to allow his latest victim a chance at vengeance. Kynan touched the hidden mallet handle with trembling fingertips. At last, he breathed silently, eyes closed, l am a man again. Soon, the knave who had laughed at him would rue the day his betters had failed to teach him manners.
If a man must die in hell, it were best to die with a weapon in hand, striking down an enemy.
Fortunately for Kit’s peace of mind, Margo’s injuries healed quickly and cleanly. He made certain the leg would hold the strain of a lethal encounter by sparring with her in the gym while Sven evaluated `her performance.
”You’re favoring it,” Sven pointed out. “Does it hurt?”
”No,” she admitted. “Not really. I’ve just grown used to babying it.”
The admission brought a scowl to Sven’s lips. Kit wisely stepped aside while Sven Bailey really put her through her paces. By the time he’d finished with her, she was a limp mass of sweat and aching muscles.
”You’re out of shape,” Sven told her brusquely. “More practice.”
Margo just nodded, too tired to protest.
”How about that dinner at the Delight?” Kit asked. “We, uh, were interrupted last time we tried.”
A wan smile came and went. “Sure. No disgruntled soldiers this time?”