Gareth was in no shape to fight, but he had no choice. He stumbled upright as Talyarkinash put his arm around her neck and wobbled with him towards the door.
A crash nearby signaled the secret door being broken open, and suddenly there were people pointing guns at him.
Gareth tried to manage his drunkenness, but his body was only vaguely under his control at this point. He recognized two Warreth females, both holding what looked like stun pistols pointed at he and Talyarkinash. Both women were cherry-red, with the taller one having black and white highlights and the shorter one having mostly yellow underplummage.
A Vanir male entered a second later. He was magnificent. At least seven-foot-four and built like a linebacker. Handsome face with dark, curly hair covering the man’s head. He seemed to be familiar.
“It looks like we’re too late to stop her from upgrading you,” the man said in a cruel voice. “But that just means that I’m not too late to stop you.”
He smiled down at Gareth, but it was more of a sneer.
After a moment, Gareth finally recognized the man. The scale had thrown him off.
Intellectually, he had known it was a fact, but coming face to face with it was something entirely else.
“Hello, Marc,” Gareth said slowly, trying to sound more coherent than he was. “Or should I call you Maximus now?”
“Either will work, old friend,” Gareth’s worst nightmare smiled. “Welcome to the Accord of Souls.”
And then the bastard shot him.