Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“There?”
He points to the middle of the village as we pull up and park. “See that trail on the opposite end of the small café?”
I lean in and look at where he’s pointing. It’s clearly marked “The Trail of the Dead” in English. I glance at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Don’t worry they just label it that way so tourists don’t go up there, but at the very top of the hill there’s a local store that sells just about everything. The owners like to keep to themselves. They built it in an old house of worship.”
“What did they worship there?”
His face falls. “The Egyptian gods.”
“Do they still worship there?”
“During the winter, sacrifices are made up there to prepare for the following harvest, it’s tradition. But human sacrifices? They did away with those a long time ago.”
Eyes wide, jaw dropped, I stare at him.
He offers a throaty laugh. “I’m kidding, it’s always been animal blood.”
“Oh.” I awkwardly return his laugh. “Did you want to come with me?”
“Some journeys you have to take on your own.” He pats me on the thigh. “And my journey is leading me to the bar, not shopping.”
“Of course it is.”
He chuckles. “If I’m still here when you’re done, I’ll take you back up to the manor.”
I shrug. “Enjoy your drinks, I’m gonna take my time.”
“Good plan.” He nods. “Good plan. Oh, and Cleo?”
I’m already reaching for the door handle. “Yeah?”
“They don’t speak, so don’t make it weird.”
“Because they don’t like people?”
He looks up at the hill then back to me, his profile so sharp that it’s unreal. His messy golden-brown hair is tucked behind his ears, and he’s wearing Under Armor workout clothes, all black except for a green stripe down his pants and green shoes. “Well, it’s not really my story to tell, but rumor has it that the gods cut their tongues out so they wouldn’t tell people the secrets of Olympus. Things, you see, in mythology, were often passed down through stories around the fire. The stories in them are ones nobody should speak of…or hear.”
A chill runs down my spine. “On that creepy note.”
Another laugh. “You’ll be fine. Off you go!”
I hop out of the SUV and slam the door shut. “Thanks, Enki!”
He inclines his head, and I’m already making my way toward the path. Villagers walk around me like I have the plague and when I’m finally at the trail opening, I look over my shoulder and everyone has stopped, like actually stopped walking. They’re watching me.
If Enki is tricking me, I’m going to murder him.
I take my first step on the trail and suddenly feel warm again. The hike doesn’t take long. Brush has been cleared from the path, and I’m surrounded by jagged angry rocks, trees that seem just as tall as the mountains, and so many flowers that I’m wondering how they can survive in such crazy weather.
By the time I make it to the top of the hill, I can already see the small store. Smoke comes out of the chimney and trails into the sky. The building looks like a little hunting cabin. The symbol of a large scarab is burned onto the door. Normally that means power and rebirth. Interesting.
Am I allowed to just walk in? I feel like I should knock. So I do both. I knock, then I open the door.
It’s like the entire cabin goes on for miles, which can’t be right, maybe I just didn’t notice because I was looking at it from the front, not the side.
It’s two stories. On the left are different sorts of metal weapons in a glass case, next to sunglasses and sunscreen, followed by towels, little beach toys, candy bars, and on the right snow pants, large cable knit sweaters, stuffed animals. They honestly have it all, including several sculptures and rocks in the far corner.
“Hello? Anyone here?” I ask, not too loud. “I mean, sorry, the door was open, I’m here to buy some clothes.”
The sound of someone shuffling across the floor has my ears buzzing in anticipation. The sound hits from left to right, though, so I can’t really tell which direction the shuffling is coming from.
Suddenly, a small person appears down the aisle on the right. She’s hunched over with a cane. Her hair is bright white, and her eyes are a sparkling blue when they finally lock onto my gaze. She’s maybe four feet tall, and that’s being generous. Despite her white hair, she has zero wrinkles on her face. Her skin is so smooth I’m almost jealous. Her smile is wide and mischievous. She holds out her hand.
“You want me to take your hand?” I ask.
She nods twice.
I place my hand in hers. She’s warm, and for some reason, I can feel that she’s happy, really happy to see me.
That’s weird.