Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“Niamh is the last person I would’ve expected to sparkle,” she whispered, edging out a little more to get a better look at the creature.
Sue grunted, his version of a laugh. Agree.
The suit was all wrong on that creature, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. The jacket fit well enough, though it was a little too big in some places and small in others. From what she could see of the pants, they were the same. Black on black, matching. But there was a stretch in one shoulder and not the other. The hem seemed high on one side and not on the other. Or was that a trick of the eyes?
His feet hung strangely, too, one a little off kilter and neither resting on the footrest of the stool. His hands hung limp, as though he didn’t have use of them, but she’d seen them move. The greased hair—
The list was long. All the little details didn’t add up to the whole.
NINETEEN
Niamh
The dark wisps rising from his person intensified, heightening the smell. For anyone else, a shock of terror would’ve filled them with dread; their hearts would become hunted rabbits. She was immune, however—something about the origins of her magic reducing her susceptibility to creatures of the shadow and death march realms.
“You will not—”
“Can you fellas procreate?” she asked suddenly, noticing the similarity between his nightmarish magic and Tristan’s powers.
“What?” he asked, thrown off his outrage a lot easier these days. His minimalistic diet was showing. “No.” He looked into his lap. “My genitals didn’t survive the rotting period.” He shook his head at her as the barman very slowly worked his way down the bar. Most of the other patrons had left. “I see nothing has changed with you. Always poking right where it hurts the most.”
“That wasn’t intentional—”
“And for your information, Volkan means disaster, like a volcano. It’s a fitting name.”
“Is it, now? What disaster have you caused?”
“What is it the Dicks say? Dress for the job you desire.”
“Aha. Well, the Dicks are gonna make fun o’ya if ye don’t change your name.”
The barman made it closer, licking his lips nervously. “Something for y-your friend?”
“A cheap whiskey will do him rightly,” she said without missing a beat, sending him quickly away. “Cider first, though!”
“You run with shifters now?” the revenant asked, lacing his spindly fingers on the bar and staring out at the few remaining patrons. “Those two little mice who scurried away were shifters, correct? There aren’t many in this city, but I come across their scents every now and again.”
Oh yes, he’d been around. He was casing the city, it seemed like. Maybe had been for a while. Immortals didn’t tend to move as quickly when they got older. Niamh had surely slowed down, content on her porch, happy in pseudo-retirement. She’d gotten a nudge, though, and was slowly but surely waking up. Stretching back into her old life. The process took some time, but as she got the wheels a bit more greased up and got rolling, things had started moving faster and faster.
This creature would be no different. He just needed to be properly fed. She’d have to speak to Tristan to see if he had any ideas about that.
“I run with some of them,” she said. “Gargoyles, too, remember those?”
“Ah yes, gargoyles. Useless. Too stubborn to admit their fear, and because of that, dead too quickly to really suffer. I never had much to do with them. Bad feeding. I have not seen them in an age.”
“They’re mostly isolated these days. Anyway, Ivy House has found a new heir. Know anything about that?”
“Ivy House.” His tatters rustled, the movement almost like gargoyle wings. “Yes. I met one of the heirs, visiting a king in…” He tilted his head upward in thought.
The barman hurried over with the whiskey and placed it on the very edge of the bar before backing away.
Niamh sighed. He clearly didn’t plan on getting her the cider.
“Are you going to drink that?” She pointed at the whiskey.
Volkan slid it her way. “I would certainly rather not, but I would’ve if you’d insisted.”
“That’s why I got ye a cheap shot. Joke’s on me.”
He went back to thinking. “No. It was a queen I was visiting. Victoria, I believe. The heir was headstrong and powerful, I remember, but very fond of opium and the like. She was sent away shortly after arriving. Or was she assassinated shortly afterward? I can’t remember the timeline. She was assassinated, I know, I’m just not sure when. I remember trying to get in contact with her for a trade she’d alluded to, but then I heard the news.”
“Assassinated by her lover?”
“No, she had many of those, and they were all gargoyles. Loyal to the letter. Made it damn hard to get in a room alone with her. Always naked, too, flaunting their perfectly sculpted, intact bodies. Distasteful.”