Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Tristan parts his lips, stops. How’d you know I buried him?
“What did you summon me here for exactly, sugar bottom? I’m a busy man tonight, a busy man with a backroom massage appointment in an hour—one of them massages that don’t just involve hands, if you catch my meanin’.”
Sadly, I do.
“And seein’ as you didn’t bring sweet-tush with the tits and freaky black-and-white hair tonight, seems like you don’t got an interest in keepin’ my attention for very long.”
Regrettably, she’s recovering from having half her arm torn off by the undead abomination you created.
Mance had reached for the lever again, freezes. “Say what now? He ate half her arm?”
Bit it right off. Broke some of his teeth in the process. I had to lie to an orthodontist and get him new ones. He doesn’t even know.
“Shit.” He leans back, folds his arms. “That’s fucked up.”
Tristan can’t tell whether Mance feels any actual guilt or is still just trying to picture a sexual situation with her. But even if by some miracle Raya had decided to forgive Tristan for what he’s done, he still wouldn’t dare bring her to another meeting with lecherous Mance, especially not to just keep his attention.
You can control the dead, can you not? Mance shrugs, pulls on the lever, watches the reels fly. Like you did with Raya in the tunnels. I was just wondering if there is a possibility you could control Brock.
“Brock who?”
You said his name a million times while resurrecting him with the forty-four books with B in the titles … you know exactly who Brock is.
“I know, I’m pullin’ your dick, and yeah, I can control the dead, easy peasy.” Only now does he half turn his head toward Tristan, smirking. “Want a demo? Maybe you can warm me up for my ‘massage’.” He grabs the crotch of his skintight leather pants and gives it a firm squeeze. “Bet your lips are awful soft. I don’t discriminate. Mouth’s a mouth with my eyes closed.”
Tristan takes a step back. No demonstration required.
“Aw, c’mon,” says Mance, rubbing his crotch to life. “I can do the denial thing if it turns you on. Keep you from bitin’ my dick, no matter how badly you want to. Forced to just suck it, nothin’ else. I know this is turnin’ you on.”
As enticing as that sounds, says Tristan, my question is whether you can control Brock from a distance. Remotely. Or if you must be near him. I think he might be … a danger to society at present time, and I happen to care for him.
“A magician never shows his tricks.”
Tristan wonders if that response answers a different question he hadn’t intended to ask. Good thing you’re not a magician.
“Sure you don’t wanna suck me off a little? It’ll sweeten the deal, whatever it is you’re here to ask.” Still rubbing himself, he pulls the lever. “Better get to the point soon before my patience runs out. It ain’t beneath me to force you to do what I want.”
You want Lord Markadian to pay.
Mance stops rubbing himself at the mention of his name. A flicker of darkness passes over his eyes, and for a brief, scary instant, everything becomes real, becomes dangerous, the room itself seeming to darken.
I wonder if I can tempt you with something … bigger.
Mance says nothing, pulls no levers, merely stares ahead at the machine. It isn’t clear whether he’s listening to Tristan or lost now in a maelstrom of dark thoughts.
There’s no telling what inspires Tristan to take no caution himself, but he dares to come right up to Mance’s side, crouch down, and bring his face closer. I wonder if I can tempt you … by offering the whole fucking thing.
Mance’s eyes snap to Tristan’s, still nothing, still listening.
Tomorrow night, they will be holding a banquet at the House of Vegasyn, Tristan tells him. Many higher-ups will be in attendance. From all across the west region, they’re already there. Markadian’s friends and colleagues. Even his sister, Tristan adds with a note of darkness in his voice. All of them will be at your disposal.
Mance squints, sucking on his teeth, still listening, still silent.
I know getting into the House is tricky for you. I will secure you a way in, a guaranteed way in. You can do what you want with them. I only ask in return that you don’t bring any harm to the humans we keep there, nor to Raya or myself.
“Wouldn’t dream of hurtin’ a freakish hair on her freakish head. Love a woman who puts up a fight. It’s hot.” He speaks distractedly despite his attempt at humor, gears still turning.
We will need to decide on this quickly, Tristan points out. The opportunity is soon, and I must prepare your way in.
“An invitation,” says Mance, greasy eyes on Tristan, “that’s what you’re tryin’ to pay the piper with. An invitation to the big bad banquet.”