Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I laugh as she stands and strolls across the room toward the balcony with the others.
Seventy-Six
CAZ
After I’ve packed what little I brought with me, I leave my room at Luxor Inn, giving Killian’s door a knock as I pass it.
He opens it, eyeing me through a crack, before pulling the door a bit wider.
“Heading down for a bite. Coming?”
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he says, standing taller.
I cock a brow and try to look over his shoulder, but he blocks my view. My eyes move to his again. “A Luxorian? That’s a new low for you, Kill.”
“She’s only visiting Luxor. She’s from Kessel.”
“Where’d you meet her?”
“At the bar, now fuck off. I’ll be down in a minute.” He shuts the door in my face as the woman giggles, and I huff a laugh, pulling out a bloom from my pocket and sparking it.
I enter the pub after marching down the stairs, grateful it’s mostly vacant. Most people are shuttling into this place at nightfall, filling up on tonics and stuffing their faces with greasy Luxorian food. This morning, there’s a maximum of four people, all drinking tea or eating at tables, and the barman.
I bob my head at the barman, who nods back with hesitancy, before sitting at a table in the corner. A waitress approaches, her hair silver, dressed head to toe in black.
“What can I get you?” she inquires.
“A whiskey and toast will do, thank you.”
She nods and takes off, walking behind the bar to a door leading to the kitchen.
The barman cleans out a glass, eyeing me again. I pull from my bloom, eyeing him back. Then he sets his glass down and walks around the counter, and I slide my hand to the gun at my waist.
“Don’t worry. I’m not coming over to cause you trouble,” the barman announces, then he extends an arm, offering me a hand. “Name’s Harold.”
“Nice to meet you, Harold.” His extended hand lingers, and I inhale again before stabbing out my bloom. “Might as well put that hand down. I don’t shake with strangers.”
“Oh.” Harold drops his hand and stands up straight, dusting himself off.
“Why are you staring at me, Harold?”
“Was I staring?” He looks around, his face turning as red as his hair. “I apologize, it’s just that…well, you don’t remember me, do you?”
I tip my chin, assessing him—his green eyes, freckles splattered across his nose and upper cheeks—but nothing about him rings a bell.
“Can’t say that I do.”
Harold pulls the chair on the opposite side of the table back, and I draw my gun out. He pauses halfway. “Mind if I sit?”
I press my lips but keep the gun on top of the table. I don’t know who he is. For all I know, he’s a distraction, and the woman in the room with Killian is too.
“Buckley’s Fight Club,” Harold says, and my eyes widen as I glare at him.
“What?”
“We met at Buckley’s Fight Club—well, it’s not called that anymore. Do you remember? I was the water boy. I fetched the pails, brought water back from the Ripple Hill Riverbank for the fighters. Oh, man, I used to love watching those fights! Especially when you were in the ring! You’d really rein it in for those wins! Beating those bastards to mush!”
I stare at Harold a moment. Probably a moment too long because he begins to look uneasy, fidgeting in his chair. A disgusting feeling slithers down to my stomach, causing it to churn, and my jaw ticks.
“Look, I—I’m sorry to bother you. I—I’ll go now.”
I grip my gun, sliding it closer to me, ready to pick it up and point it at him. “Yes. You’d better.”
Harold skitters off, rushing behind the bar and into the kitchen. When he’s gone, I close my eyes briefly and draw in a breath.
“Guns on the table. Don’t you have any manners?”
My eyes pop open, and Manx stands in the center of the pub. His white hair gleams, and if I’m not mistaken, he looks younger. The wrinkles around his eyes seem to have faded—then again, he’s a jolly man. He never lets stress settle in his body.
“Manx. What the hell are you doing here?” I ask as he pulls the chair out at my table to sit.
“Oh, don’t you mind me. I’m here to see The Council. Apparently, someone ran off and eradicated Rami, and now I must testify since that someone made a stop in Whisper Grove beforehand.” He leans in, smirking. “They believe I told you to do it.”
“That’s ridiculous. It had nothing to do with you. Besides, they saw me last night about it and we settled things. Why bother you?”
“I don’t know.” Manx sits back in his chair with a sigh. “Perhaps they’re just checking off a list of people to interrogate about it to make themselves feel accomplished.”
The waitress approaches my table, setting down my whiskey and toast. She asks if there will be anything else, I tell her no, and she walks off again.