Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Vars, who followed Magpie inside, gestured for Jake to approach their host.
Following the advice, Jake squeezed Magpie’s hand when it was offered, but for a moment he’d considered if he wasn’t supposed to kiss the rings on it instead. “Jake Baker, sir.”
He was definitely neither ‘sweet’ nor Knight’s boy, but they were here to beg for Magpie’s help, so it wasn’t like he would fight the man over an honest mistake.
Magpie nodded, looking Jake up and down. “Ah, what a wholesome name! I’ve heard all about your predicament, Jake, but let us talk over brunch.”
Jake had never had brunch, but he was more than happy to try it.
Magpie led them to a second set of doors, which opened into an oval room that seemed dedicated solely to eating. A long table stood in the middle with a set of distinctly modern chairs that had a transparent honeycomb-like pattern at the backs. With all the furniture—including a huge glass chandelier hanging low above the middle of the table—painted white, the mint color of the walls stood out and transformed the space inside a building in Manhattan into a dining room in some fairy-tale-like palace in Europe.
Tall windows made the room bright, and the wooden plates, mixed with white crockery, added a touch of coziness. But as soon as Jake took in the dainty elegance, his attention focused entirely on the variety of dishes on offer. There was everything one could possibly want in the middle of the day—from soups, through bagels, waffles, eggs with ham and a yellow sauce, a basket of bread that was still steaming, salads, meat—all in quantities even four adult men couldn’t possibly devour.
Magpie led the way and sat at the top of the table, gingerly placing a white napkin in his lap. “Please, do tell me if you need anything. I’m sure the staff can make arrangements if you have any special dietary requirements, Jake.”
“N-no, sir. This looks, I mean… I will try everything once,” he said, already reaching for what looked like a toast dipped in sauce and covered in banana slices.
The way Knight sniggered at Jake’s words made a flush crawl back to Jake’s face. In the context of their last conversation, maybe Jake shouldn’t have said that.
Knight looked particularly strange with his leather jacket and messy hair as he spread avocado over a bagel with a dainty silver knife. “You do the best brunches.”
Magpie’s smile grew wider. No grill adorned his teeth this time, but a tiny diamond glistened at Jake from one of Magpie’s fangs. “Still, nothing like the sandwich your beloved prepared for me the other day. Kiwi and peanut butter. Who would have thought the combination could be so delightful?”
Jake pushed a huge piece of toast into his mouth, unwilling to participate in such ridiculous small talk. The whole setting was bizarre. He was sitting at the table of a demon who ate French toast at midday and acted as if he were royalty, even though there was an assassin on his payroll.
Jake had never seen Knight eat avocados either, so maybe it was an act for Mr. Magpie’s benefit.
Across the table, Vars winked at him, smirking behind his fist, which he pushed against his mouth so that his former boss wouldn’t see it. Thank fuck for that. Jake immediately felt less alienated.
They spoke of trivial things as they ate, with no one approaching the topic they’d actually come here to discuss. Food disappeared from plates while the conversation went from the newest Broadway show Magpie wanted to see (he invited them to his booth), to the benefits of using private jets to island-hop rather than going on a cruise (which only Magpie had any experience with), to the newest technology developed in Silicon Valley.
Like Jake, Magpie had a taste of every dish, only he ate an entire plateful every time, as if his stomach contained a black hole that left him hungry. Or it was the demon inside of him feeding while wearing his person suit. It was only after three members of staff clad in white-and-golden uniforms replaced the main dishes with a wealth of desserts that Magpie said the g-word.
“The gargoyle... what was his name... Asaug?”
“Azog,” Vars offered, sipping black coffee, as if the colorful cakes and pastries in front of him didn’t exist. He’d only taken a few small morsels from a board of cheese and fruit when he realized everyone else had something on their plate.
“Of course. Azog. Thank you. Azog was offered by Baal to your William Fane as a means to aid him in his crimes. It can exist on its own, but its power is then diminished. It needs a host—like a parasite, if you will.”
Jake’s lip curled and something clenched in his insides, making him imagine Azog gripping his stomach with his tiny claws. “So I’m the host. How do we get him out?”