Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
He had personally visited the neighbors listed in the report he’d bought from a liaison in the police department while his brothers took care of officials outside the neighborhood. When they were done, the facts would be so unverifiable as to be called fiction and completely dismissed. All evidence was purchased and destroyed so there was no real traceability. In the end, even the live reports at the scene would be in dispute. Luckily, no one with a camera had managed to salvage any footage of the dragon itself.
Olcan turned at the sound of footsteps behind him, surprised to see James standing there. He stood looking at the charred remains with him as Niamh appeared from down the street, where she’d gone to speak to another well-wisher. James looked at her, seeming surprised to see her there, but he said nothing about the wine or her sudden disappearance.
Instead, he spoke to Olcan, “I still can’t believe a dragon burned your house.”
“A dragon? What are you on about, James,” Olcan replied.
“Come on. You know what happened. Tell me. I won’t tell another soul,” James replied.
“You’re out of your mind, James. There’s no such thing as a dragon,” Olcan told him, motioning for Niamh to get in the car.
“I thought we were mates. I mean, I let your girl off the hook for all that wine. I had no idea you two were a thing, but look at you. Peas and carrots, dude. Good going. I mean, that ass. Wow.”
Olcan grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close enough for him to smell the orange juiced he just finished off.
“Don’t you ever talk about Niamh like that again. We are not mating. I am not your dude, and if you don’t stop talking about fucking dragons, your whore wife is going to have you put in the goddamned loony bin where you belong. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” James muttered, pulling back and smoothing out his shirt like it was just playful banter between them.
“Get the fuck off my lawn and stay off or I’ll have the bulldozer that’s on its way to clear off this place scoop you up with the charred wood. I doubt there’s anything that gold digger wife of yours would like better than for you to bite the dust so she can collect the insurance.”
“You’re a dick, man,” James spat at him, storming across the lawn.
“Aye, and you’d do well to remember that. Stay off my lawn, and don’t ever talk to Niamh or me again. That goes for your perv wife too.”
He watched as James stomped home and then joined Niamh in the car, squealing his tires just to annoy James, who stopped on his front porch to glare at him.
“What was all that about? He still mad about his wine?” Niamh asked.
“Nah, he’s just mad because he’s got a little wang and his wife likes to spend her time down at the local bar servicing sailors coming in from the harbor.”
“You’re awful. You didn’t erase his memory of the dragon?”
“Nope,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because fuck him,” Olcan replied. “I’ll enjoy him turning into the crazy guy on the block that claims dragons exist.”
“Like I said before, you’ve a mean streak,” Niamh laughed.
“Aye. That I do,” he replied. “You ready to go find a new house?”
“That I am.”
They made their way to the realtor and spent the rest of the day, without success, looking at houses. It wasn’t until a week later that they got a call at their hotel telling them there might be something to interest them in the Brighton area. They met the realtor in front of a large brick colonial, prepared to be underwhelmed if the rather austere outer appearance was any indication of what was inside.
“Based on what you’ve told me and the shortcomings you’ve listed of other places we viewed, I think you’ll find this place to your liking. It’s a thirties colonial, nearly five thousand square feet, and an underground two-car parking garage, as well as six spaces above ground for guests.”
“It looks like a library,” Olcan told her, scowling at it.
“That’s nothing you couldn’t cure with an added awning, maybe a more colorful garden. I’ll admit it’s not the most eye-catching exterior, but you strike me as people who like to blend in rather than stand out,” she said.
Olcan understood that she’d checked them out during the time apart and now understood who she was dealing with and what special needs he might have. The house was not too far from other neighborhoods, but it was secluded down a long extension from the cul de sac of an adjoining suburb. It looked secure as it was, and a few enhancements might assure it remained a lot more intact than his last house had.
“All right, let’s look inside,” he told her.
She retrieved the key from the lockbox and let them inside, walking across the large grand foyer, her heels clicking across the black and white marble tile. She took her time showing them the huge house, which, much to Olcan’s surprise, he found himself liking a lot more from the inside. When she finally stopped and asked what they thought, Olcan asked her to excuse them for a moment, and she nodded, telling them she would be just outside the front door when they were ready.