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)
Vishous shook his head and flexed his gloved hand. Underneath the black leather, there was a weave of lead, and without it, anything his glowing curse came into contact with would be destroyed—people, places, things.
Just another gift from his mahmen.
In contrast, Payne’s inheritance was not destruction, but regeneration. It was not free, however. Balance had been the Scribe Virgin’s watchword, except for as it applied to herself, and accordingly, there was a price and a payment that came out of Payne’s hide every time she used her “gift.”
As for why she would waste it on a human? That was her choice. Just like she had chosen to heal her hellren’s racehorse, and decided to keep George, the King’s service dog, alive and well for the next couple hundred years.
Which was a public service. Who the hell wanted to live with Wrath if anything happened to that golden.
Jesus, Armageddon would be a better time—
A gold and brown municipal SUV with bubbler lights on the top came steaming down the back road, its tires squealing as it angled into the parking lot and slammed to a halt in front of V. What got out was a taller, thinner, younger version of Mr. McTierney, and V pulled a quick glance behind him to see whether wiping out the memory of a brilliant, mystical light was going to be on the night’s hit parade.
Nope. It had faded.
“Vinnie?” the guy said.
“Yeah, hey, Ernie.” V exhaled and offered his gloved hand to the guy. “How you doin’.”
“Doing good. How you doin’.”
Well, weren’t they all Soprano-tastic.
They shook, and the guy started in with the he-does-this’s again. And fucking hell, not that V tended to give a shit about anybody else except for his short list of besties in the mansion, but you had to feel for the son. He looked frickin’ exhausted, like not only was he getting a regular diet of these nocturnal wanderings, but the waking hours weren’t much better when it came to Dad-management.
“Thank God you came along when you did. Couple of nights ago, he walked in on the burglary.”
“The place does look a little torn up.”
“I don’t think we’re going to find ’em. I should have put up cameras in the back a long time ago, but things like break-ins don’t happen in Leczo Falls. Not usually, at any rate. We were lucky he wasn’t hurt. I guess they were on their way out when he got here. He knew enough to call me, though—he took out the laminated card you found in his pocket and dialed my number. It was a miracle. Lately, he doesn’t even recognize me.”
As Ernie McTierney kept talking, V let the guy go. What the hell did he care—he wanted to finish his cigarette anyway, and it wasn’t much different than having a TV on in the background.
“He’s here, but he’s not, you know?”
“Yeah.” V nodded back to the store’s closed door. “So you got any leads on the break-in from your dad?”
“He was talking a lot about soldiers, but he lost a brother in Vietnam, so who knows. Mostly he’s forgetful, but sometimes he sees things that aren’t there. And what are the chances a platoon of Army guys pulls up here to steal a bunch of antibiotics and Band-Aids.”
“Nothing else is gone? Fucking weird.”
The sheriff cursed under his breath. “That’s what I said. Anyway, I’ll go get Dad.”
At that moment, the back door reopened, and the elder McTierney stepped in between the jambs. As he stared across at his son, the old man seemed at a loss for words.
“Hi, Dad,” Ernie said with utter exhaustion. “I’m here to take you home.”
The father couldn’t seem to move.
“Dad, it’s me, remember?” In a lower voice, the guy muttered, “Of course you don’t—”
“Ernie?”
The son’s eyes came up. “What did you say?”
“My God… Ernie.”
The old man closed the distance on a shuffle, and he grabbed on to the shoulders of the adult his child had become like they hadn’t been in the same country for a decade, holding his progeny still so he could have a proper look at his boy.
“Dad?” the sheriff said with wonder. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” The old man shook his head. “I have no idea.”
The sheriff glanced around. “I think we better get you home—”
“Wait, because I don’t know how long this is going to last. I need you to know…”
“What, Dad?”
“I’m so proud of you.” The old pharmacist searched the face of his son. “You’re such a good man. And I know it hasn’t been easy with me, especially since Momma died.”
“Dad…”
“Come here.”
As they embraced, V looked away and put his hand-rolled out on the heel of his shitkicker. Tucking the butt into his ass pocket, he figured he might as well go and deal with a family reunion of his own.
Slipping through the back door, he glanced around. The pharmacy was empty—