Page 112 of Mortal Sins

would see him, and he would be turned into the council as a sodomite. He was going to burn in hell,

and the council would offer him no mercy for such a shameless display of sin.

He had to remind himself that there was no council here and no terrible punishment was awaiting him.

He could enjoy this. He could let himself pretend this was real.

Snod offered a small smile, nodding. “Tonight.”

“Take care of him, Rees,” Frankie warned, smirking at the old man.

“Aw, like he was my own,” Rees promised, snickering softly as he gave Frankie a happy wave. “See

you tonight, darling.”

Frankie smiled sweetly, waving as he left, the door shutting behind him.

“Have a seat, Obadiah,” Rees said, gesturing to the bar. He waited for Snod to sit down, asking

bluntly, “So, you used to be in the Order and now you’re knocking boots with a vampire?”

Snod scowled, furious with Frankie for saying so much to this man, but he held his tongue. He gritted

his teeth, replying quietly, “Yes.”

“Pretty deep shit, huh? Going from hunting him to rolling in the sheets with him?” Rees pressed,

pouring himself a shot of whiskey. “Rather amazing, making that kind of change in your life. Good for

you.”

Snod tilted his head, watching Rees carefully. “Thanks,” he said slowly, “I appreciate that.”

“You know,” Rees said casually, knocking the rest of the alcohol back with a soft hiss, “just saying,

you better be careful with how you proceed. Frankie is very special.”

“You gonna threaten to kill me with robots, too?” Snod asked dryly.

“Nah,” Rees chuckled in a friendly tone, grinning wide. “Lorenzo, I’m guessing? Was that him? Sweet

kid and all, but meh, lacks imagination.”

Snod frowned, his gut lurching uncomfortably. He didn’t like how Rees was smiling at him at all.

“I know I don’t look like much,” Rees went on, gesturing to his slender frame. “Back’s worthless and

I’ve arthritis in my knees. But you know what works great? My trigger finger. You may know all kinds

of nifty ninja bullshit, but I’m a hell of a good shot. Damn good. Plus, I wouldn’t need to aim much to

blow your knees out with a shotgun.”

Snod was unimpressed at first, saying coolly, “Yes, I get it. If I hurt Frankie, you’ll shoot me—”

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” Rees spat, his painted eyes narrowed fiercely. “Blowing out your knees is just

so I don’t get any fuss out of you. Don’t worry, I’d tourniquet your legs, make sure you don’t bleed out