He inclined his head in turn to the Viking warrior. Rumor had it Bjorn had been one of the original Norsemen who had invaded Dark Age Normandy.
"I've heard of you," he said to Bjorn, then he turned to look at Syra. "But no offense, ma'am, you I don't know."
"Sure you do. The assholes on the loop call me Yukon Jane."
He smiled at that. Yukon Jane was an Amazon warrior from the third or fourth century b.c. She was rumored to be almost as ill-tempered as Zarek. She loved to hunt and kill, and was stationed in the Yukon because she'd once maimed a king who annoyed her.
"Well, now," Jess drawled with a wicked grin as he gave her elegant pose an appreciative once over, "all I can say is none of them that insult you have ever had the pleasure of your company, Miss Syra. Otherwise, they'd be calling you Queen Jane."
She smiled warmly at that. "You are a charmer and polite, too. Zoe was right."
Jess's grin widened.
Allen cleared his throat. "Well, Lord Debonair and Lady Lethal, if we can have a minute of your time, we do have a psycho to hunt."
Jess glared over his shoulder at Allen, but before he could comment, Syra shot another bolt from her crossbow.
Allen went flying and landed flat on his back in the snow.
Syra walked over to him and stared down. "I don't particularly like Squires and I really hate the Blood Rites. So save yourself some pain and don't speak to me again. Or next time I'll use a Daimon bolt on you."
She reached down and picked up the flathead bolt she'd used.
Jess laughed. He liked a woman with gumption.
And a deadly aim.
"So," she said, turning around and eyeballing the lot of them. "I've been chasing a group of Daimons for the last four days as they headed toward Fairbanks. Bjorn followed a tribe of them up from Anchorage. That explains why we're here. What about the rest of you? Jess, did you trail Daimons from Reno to Alaska?"
Otto moved out of the group of Squires and paused in front of Syra. "We've come to kill Zarek of Moesia, and if you get in our way, little girl, we're going to kill you!"
"I'll be damned," Jess said, pulling his sunglasses down low on the bridge of his nose to stare at Otto. "He speaks. Or rather growls."
"But not for long if he doesn't watch his mouth." Syra gave Otto a mean and lethal glare. "For the record, Squire, it would take more man than you to even scratch me."
Otto returned her glare with a flirtatious smile. "I live for a woman who scratches. Just make sure you keep it on the back, baby. I don't like scars."
Otto brushed past her.
"I really hate Squires," Syra snarled. She pulled another flat bolt out and loaded it, then shot it at Otto.
Moving so fast he could hardly be seen, the Squire turned around and caught it without flinching. He held the bolt up to his nose and inhaled it lovingly. "Mmm," he said. "Rose. My favorite."
Jess exchanged a knowing look with Andy. "Perhaps we should leave you two alone."
"Yeah," Allen said with a short laugh, "this does remind me a bit of the mating rites of the mean and the surly. All we need now is Nick Gautier."
Otto slung the bolt at Allen who grunted as it made contact with his stomach.
Syra's face was beet red as she glared at Otto, who ignored her and sauntered toward the cabin.
"Do you have a Squire, Jess?" she asked as she and Bjorn walked beside him.
He nodded toward Andy. "Raised that one from a whelp."
"Does he listen?"
"Most days."