The Cursed (League Of The Black Swan) - Plot & Excerpts
He’d never heard of fox shifters, but that didn’t mean much. He’d never heard of giant ducks, either. The puzzle occupying his mind the most, though, centered on King Assfart’s snide little comment. The League owed him a favor, he’d said. “The League” had to be the League of the Black Swan. Luke doubted that the Bordertown Brew Pub softball league cared a tinker’s damn about Pict kings and their schemes. Also, he wasn’t much of a believer in coincidences. The League had suddenly jumped back into Luke’s life, focused in on Rio, and then Rio had gotten caught up in a scheme that had folded too quickly and without bloodshed. No bloodshed if he didn’t count the fried Grendel and the headless goon, who were both Dalriata’s thugs—so he didn’t. Count them. He snorted, and the bedraggled fox opened one eye to glance at him and then fell back into an exhausted sleep. Luke didn’t know why or how, but he had a feeling the fox was more than just a random stray that had happened to be in the building.
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