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he don’t like us none either, since we winged him when he came busting through Aingeal’s window.”
    “We’ll find the rogues,” Bevyn spoke up. “If not us, then Cynyr will. One way or the other, those two murderers will be put down.”
    One of the men gathered around them introduced himself simply as Guthrie. “I own the hotel and you are welcome to free rooms.”
    “We pay for what we use,” Arawn said.
    “Just like Cynyr,” Samuels said with a grin.
    “Damn if you men aren’t a sight better than those other two Reapers what came through here a few years back,” the sheriff said. “They expected the town to wait on
    ’em hand and foot.”
    “Do you recall their names?” Arawn asked. If his men acted in such a way, he wanted to know of it and remedy the situation.
    “Kullen was one of them,” Bevyn said. “He mentioned he’d been here a few years back.”
    “That sounds right,” the sheriff said. “Don’t recall the other one’s name though.”
    He looked at the other men but they shook their heads.
    “I’ll ask Miss Moira,” Samuels said. “She’ll remember it.”
    “Is that the old crippled lady?” Arawn asked, and was stunned when the men around him burst out laughing.
    “Don’t you make the mistake of saying that in her hearing,” Brady warned them.
    “She’ll box your ears for sure!”
    “And call her old at your peril,” the sheriff joked.

    20
    Reaper’s Revenge
    Standing with Arawn as they waited for the train, Bevyn couldn’t stop smiling.
    “What’s so amusing, Coure?” Arawn asked.
    Bevyn reached up to tip his hat back. “I was just thinking of the first time we met Miss Moira.”
    Arawn grunted. “That’s a day I’m not likely to ever forget.”

    “So which one of ye is the Prime?”
    The querulous voice came at them from behind as Arawn and Bevyn were walking to the Guthrie House. They turned to see a little old woman hobbling toward them, her cane stabbing into the dusty street as she moved.
    Both men removed their hats as she approached.
    “You must be Miss Moira,” Arawn said. He was staring at the hump on her back that bent her frail body forward at a heartbreaking angle.
    “Who the hell else would I be?” she demanded, craning her head to look up at them. “Ain’t but one of the likes of me, lads.”
    “Cyn said as much,” Arawn agreed. “I’m Arawn Gehdrin, the Prime.”
    “Well, come on with ye,” she said. She turned around so quickly, both men hurried forward, afraid she’d fall.
    “Where are we going?” Bevyn asked.
    “For supper,” she replied. “From the looks of ye, ye could do with a good homecooked meal.”
    “We don’t want to put you out, ma’am,” Arawn said, and was a bit surprised at how fast the old lady could walk.
    “Ye ain’t,” she said. “Saves me from having nobody but that good-for-nothing daughter-in-law of mine to sit with while I eat.”
    “That would be Annie,” Bevyn said.
    The old lady had stopped and cocked her head to look at Coure. “Cynyr told you about that worthless chit?”
    “Aingeal did,” Bevyn replied.
    Moira narrowed her eyes. “Ye got a mate, don’t ye, boy?”
    Bevyn glanced at Arawn. “Aye, Miss Moira. I do.”
    She’d swung her head the other way. “What about ye?”
    Arawn shook his head. “No, ma’am, I—”
    “We’ll remedy that,” Moira announced, and commenced walking again.

    “She’s set on foisting Danielle Brewer off on me,” Arawn complained. He straightened up for the train was in sight, its engine slowing down.
    “Speaking of the little minx,” Bevyn said, “here she comes.”
    21
    Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    Arawn groaned and unfolded his arms to thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather uniform pants.
    “Hey there, Arawn,” the lovely young woman said as she came strolling up to them, twirling the parasol that rested on her shoulder.
    “Miss Danielle,” the Prime Reaper acknowledged with a cold tone. Bevyn tipped his hat politely, but the