Den of Smoke: Absolutely gripping fantasy page turner filled with magic and betrayal. Christopher Byford

      ‘So you are. Wow.’ She watched her hand bounce around in his grip. ‘And a fine hand you have there too. Nice eye.’

      * * *

      Cole withdrew his hand in embarrassment. ‘Is this your establishment?’

      Wyld slanted her hips, tugging at her apron strings. The apron was removed, folded and put aside.

      ‘It’s my name above the door ain’t it? It’s my pride and joy. You’re new, so I’ll let you in on a slim little secret,’ she intimately whispered, ‘if you’re looking for iron, I have the best in town. Honest.’

      ‘That so?’ Cole chuckled nervously.

      ‘That is so. I have a dealer in the empire so everything you see here is as quality as you can get. I sell none of those copy-cat pieces.’ Wyld raised her voice and bounced back straight to address the others. ‘Anyhow! I suppose you’re all here for your orders. Just one moment please. Umbra dear, can you get the boxes over there and to the left please? The ones with the red stamps on it.’

      The man complied, taking possession of the packages, all whilst eyeballing Cole the whole way from one end of the shop to the other. When he reached the cabinets, he placed the boxes down, gently, their weight seemingly nothing. By now Cole was dreadfully aware of his presence. His height advantage was disconcerting, causing Cole to glance this way and that so as not to provoke him. Finally Umbra spoke, low and with conviction.

      ‘Someone is getting awfully familiar. Do you mind stating your intentions, lad?’

      Immediately Cole recoiled, attempting to stammer his way through a combination of surprise and apology. Not that he knew what the apology was for, just that he was keen to avoid the seemingly inevitable third beating on the job. Jackdaw intervened before the youngster fretted himself to a sweat.

      ‘Leave him alone, Umbra, he’s still fresh to all this.’ Jack pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘He barely carries a scar if you need evidence of that.’

      ‘All I’m saying is that you come into the shop, make kissy faces at the lady here …’ he grumbled, sizing the young blood up.

      ‘If you could find it in yourself to stop terrorizing my man that would be quite appreciated. He’s a customer, just as much as I. We don’t need someone of your sort giving us hassle when we’re just trying to do business.’

      ‘You assume your dirty money is any good here.’

      ‘It’s a mite more soiled than your average, but it’s as good as anyone else’s.’

      Finally Umbra carved a smile over his tired features and shook Jackdaw by the hand, firmly. It was warmly reciprocated. The exchange of moxie between them was amusing.

      ‘Still causing trouble out there, Jack?’

      ‘Not enough to turn my back on it that’s for sure. Have you considered my offer any further?’ He withdrew his hand, shaking the tingle from his fingers.

      ‘I told you –’ Umbra waved at the air between them ‘– I’m done with all that.’

      ‘Nobody ever parts with their nature, Umbra, not even you. It’s a good offer – you’ll make plenty. With you on board, we’ll be nigh on untouchable. Most don’t know your reputation around here but I sure do. I have better ears than most.’

      ‘Maybe.’ Umbra seemed wary about exactly how much Jackdaw was privy to. ‘But the answer still stands.’

      ‘It’s got to be boring behind a counter after what you two got involved in up north.’

      ‘I prefer boring. I’m sure the games you all play are entertaining time sinks, but I’m not a criminal. I’m not looking to go toe to toe with anyone … and I prefer not to glamorize murder.’

      ‘Yet you’ve partaken in it,’ Jack stated. Cole looked between them hurriedly. Despite the pair’s obvious relationship it was clear that this topic was skirting the lines of what constituted as respectable conversation.

      ‘We do what’s required of us. War is war. Death is just one facet of its tapestry.’

      ‘And mercenary work?’

      * * *

      Umbra stopped and surveyed the man before him. If it was anybody else he would have provided sterner words or, if they were very unlucky, a series of threats. There was no malice of course – that wouldn’t have got Jack anywhere. It was a serious question and one to make him reassess his viewpoint. Someone like him stuck as a shopkeeper was a tragedy. Still, promises being what they were, he was obligated to put down his weapons and take up a more peaceful life. Umbra owed her that much at least.

      ‘I’m afraid the answer is still no.’

      Finally Jackdaw conceded, patting the case he leant upon. ‘Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying, right?’

      Wyld returned, intervening. ‘He won’t blame you, but I sure might. I’m not letting him out to play and that’s final.’

      Umbra smirked, nudging her playfully upon passing. ‘Woo, I’ve been told …’

      The storeowner rummaged her way through the box on the counter, unpacking each order and addressing each member of the party in turn.

      ‘Alvina. Sixty cartridges of wolf pepper,’ Wyld stated, checking off the collection on an inventory. The brown-paper-wrapped boxes were slid over, each one holding twenty shotgun shells each.

      ‘Checked?’

      ‘Aren’t they always?’

      Alvina took one, tore a flap open and inspected a shell between thumb and finger. The cap seemed to be set neatly and the crimp of good quality. She slid it back inside, signing the invoice and sliding over the required monies.

      ‘Can’t be too sure. Counterfeits are everywhere nowadays,’ Alvina mumbled, having been stung before. A misfire in their line of work could be fatal. It was only by the grace of the Holy Sorceress that she’d survived that unfortunate situation.