Shifting Shadows: Stories from the World of Mercy Thompson

by Patricia Briggs

Asil thought that it had served Bran well to have a son who oozed threat like a Twinkie oozed plasticky cream filling.

Charles looked at the prisoners and smiled. Asil had practiced in a mirror, trying to get that smile. His own were very good, but he hadn’t gotten quite the same “I’d rather rip you to little pieces, but my father says I can’t—yet” effect. Asil was better at the “I’m crazy, and you are about to die.”