Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
His last thought as he died was that he’d never told the male he loved him.
Probably for the best.
CHAPTER TWO
The King’s Audience House
Caldwell, New York
No, Annabelle comes first—”
“Absolutely not—”
“Does too.”
“Does not.”
As the highly intellectual argument went from a simmer to a parboil, Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, glanced across what had been a dining room and was now the King’s receiving hall—just in time to see his roommate, Butch, look at Rhage like the brother had called someone’s momma a five-finger felon.
“Annabelle: Creation,” the former homicide cop pronounced. “You watch that first. Everyone knows it.”
Hollywood pointed to the guy with his sterling silver, Mint Chocolate Chunk delivery device. A.k.a. soup spoon, because the tea ones were too small. “The origin story has better resonance if you go back to it. More context.”
“Why would you start in the middle?”
“Because it’s the way the filmmakers made the films. It’s in their title. Making, films.”
“Thank you, Einstein. You want to draw me a—”
“—portrait? Sure. Do you want it with or without common sense? I mean, if it’s the former, you’re not subject.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a picture of what goes through your mind when you’re losing an argument this badly. Is it a hopeless void?”
“That’s my stomach actually.”
“Okay, I’ll agree with you there.”
As the tennis match of insults and cinematic continuity issues continued to roll out, V decided to do some rolling of his own. Unhooking his lean from a sideboard, he walked across a Persian rug that had been hand-loomed and purchased new a good century and a half ago. He could remember when the bowling-alley-long stretch of jewel colors had anchored a dining room table that could seat twenty-four. Now it was Holi lawn for the polished hardwood flooring, no furniture marring its vast, vibrant pattern of swirls except for a pair of armchairs set in front of the hearth down at the far end.
There was only one other seating area. On the opposite side of the elegant, rectangular space, off in the corner like he’d been a bad, bad lawyer and put in a shark tank time-out, the King’s solicitor, Saxton, was sitting at his desk. As usual, the male was nattily dressed, his handmade suit and waistcoat as tweed as an Englishman’s knickers, as Rhage liked to say, his thick, Dread Pirate Roberts blond hair swept off his handsome face just like Cary Elwes in his prime.
As usual, the male had his aquiline nose buried in a book of the Old Laws, his brows drawn tight, his buffed nails tapping at the corners of the parchment.
Like he didn’t like what he was reading.
“You mind if I pull over a chair so I can play with my tobacco?”
The attorney looked up with confusion as if his brain struggled to parallel-process both the spoken and the written word.
“Oh, yes,” Saxton said. “Of course. Come, come.”
One of those perfectly manicured hands motioned at a spare armchair.
V picked up the mahogany ass palace and put it at the edge of the desk. “Thanks.”
“You are so welcome. I enjoy the smell of it.”
As V parked himself, he took out his pouch of Turkish perfect and a pack of Rizla+ Black King Size Slim papers. “So what’s the verdict on outlawing the prison camp.”
“I’m still researching the issue.”
“I’ll say it again—why bother.” Rolling up a perfect pinch of leaves, V ran the tip of his tongue down the gum arabic strip. “Wrath’s gotten rid of blood slaves and sehclusion for females. He can do whatever the hell he wants.”
“Yes.” Saxton tapped the book of the Old Laws. “But the camp was not established by him. It was a construct of the Council. The Princeps were the ones who chartered, endowed, and serviced the facility.”
“Facility? Is that what that shithole is supposed to be called? Because when we got into the place, it was a fucking nightmare.”
“I gather its previous location was very grim.”
“We were so close to finding it in time. We missed it by like a night or two at most. Frustrating as hell.”
On that note, V glanced across the room. Rhage and Butch were still slapping each other’s dicks about Ed and Lorraine Warren movies as well as all manner of personal failings and inadequacies.
“But come on, the Council’s been disbanded.” V shrugged. “Most of the aristocracy is dead. Who the hell’s going to complain? And P.S., fuck the glymera.”
Saxton smiled as he stretched his arms overhead and moved his neck from side to side. The fact that his hair didn’t shift at all was not a fact of Aqua Net. It was because every inch of him was just that refined and well-behaved.
Likely down to his proverbial knickers, which were unlikely to be tweed.
“While I appreciate that sentiment,” the solicitor hedged, “nonetheless, we need to be of care. The King is of course free to do what he wishes, but it’s my job to ensure that any implications of his actions are presented to him for review.”