He Who Fights with Monsters 11 (He Who Fights with Monsters, #11)

by Shirtaloon

“Boris Ketland, you sneaky bugger,” he called in a thick Australian accent. “I don’t know if anyone won the pool on you. A bloody angel? Who’d guess that, you skirt-chasing sleazebag?” Boris chuckled, holding out his hand for the man to shake. “It’s good to see you, Bruce. I’m hoping your presence here can smooth things out.” “I wouldn’t go pinning your hopes on smooth, mate. You’ve right kicked the hornet’s nest. Showing up with these two blokes and a divine host at your back? Some bloody powerful people just got woken up.” Boris nodded. “I guessed as much. Anyway, Bruce Montgomery, allow me to introduce Taika Williams and Rufus Remore. Taika, I’m sure you know of already. Rufus has yet to learn any Earth languages.” “Yeah, facial recognition pegged Taika the moment he brushed the dirt off his face. Had bit of a rough landing, mate?” “The trip was a bit rough,” Taika said as he shook Bruce’s hand. “What was that about a pool?” Bruce laughed. “In the Cabal,” he said, “none of the human members ever turn out to be human. There’s always a pool on anyone who hasn’t shown their true colours.” “It’s generally not polite to ask,” Boris said, “but Bruce here is an ogre. Or so he says.” “Oh, don’t you bloody start,” Bruce said. “I think he rigged the pool,” Boris said. “I think he’s not an ogre but three humans in a big coat.” “Where would I even get a twelve-foot coat?” Bruce asked. “And you’ve seen me in my real form. You bought me those stretchy purple pants, you cheeky sod.”