Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
His first set in the old days had at least been made from human femurs. That had been a sturdy, deadly accurate collection. He’d later upgraded to blood marble and white jade. What he wouldn’t give to have that first set back. Any of them, really. But those bastards had stolen everything from him when they’d snatched him up and tossed him in here.
Whatever. He wasn’t staying here much longer. He could feel it. Shawn was going to be his ticket out.
Assuming he didn’t end up getting killed by the power that lurked inside the man.
Clutching the bones tightly in his fist, Tyche hurried to the wall where they both sat and talked while passing food. He kneeled on the concrete floor and hunched as he poked at the tiles in his hand. He’d sanded down the chicken bones on the rough concrete floor, forming them into long, rounded sticks that were flat on two sides and about the length of his fingers. Into each stick he’d carved four symbols with his fingernail or even a bit of another chicken bone. The symbols ranged from very good to very bad. He’d even used a bit of his crappy coffee to color each symbol so that it stood out against the white bone.
He cupped his hands around the six bones and shook them lightly. The bones clacked softly together as they hit each other. He lifted his hands to his lips and closed his eyes. “Tell me this man’s luck.”
Three shakes.
Tyche opened his eyes and tossed the sticks at the wall. They hit and scattered in front of him. Only three landed with an end pointed toward Shawn’s cell, while the rest landed at odd angles near Tyche, so he discounted those. The three pointed at Shawn’s cell?
Very bad.
Bad.
Neutral.
“Bullshit,” Tyche snarled in a whisper as he scooped up all the bone tiles and shook them in his hands again. “We all know he’s not just a normal man. I felt that spark. Twice. He’s made a bargain with a god. Now, be serious. What’s his luck look like?”
He threw the bones at the wall a second time.
Bad.
Neutral.
Neutral.
That was better. Fuck. It was the best reading he’d gotten for any of his cellmates, but he still wasn’t convinced. It was hard as hell to get a good reading in this place. His focus was shit. Tyche was the first to admit that he was an introvert, but that didn’t mean that he could actually survive without people. He needed them in more ways than he cared to admit.
He snatched up the bones and clenched them in his fist. “Fine. You’re getting warmed up. We’re out of practice. I get it. Let’s do an easy one. What’s his luck look like in terms of surviving his interrogation?”
The bones hit the wall and came back three good and two very good.
That was more like it. Unless Shawn did something stupid and forced them into a corner, they wouldn’t kill him.
Ugh, unless he opened his mouth and confessed who he really was. Tyche might not know the truth about him, but it was a safe bet he was someone powerful, and that was something these people couldn’t afford.
“Okay.” He exhaled over the bones in his hands. They trembled, and Tyche squeezed his eyes shut. His mouth had gone dry, and he had to swallow to get his tongue unstuck. He hated to do this, but he wanted to throw everything behind this guy. He’d tried to be patient, but he was so fucking tired of being trapped here. Shawn was going to be the one to get him out. It was the one hope holding his sanity together, and it was critical enough that he was willing to risk a tiny mote of magic.
He summoned a tiny speck of energy and pushed it into the bones. It was all he could chance in there.
“What are the chances of Shawn getting us both out of here alive?” he whispered.
He tossed the tiles, the soft clicking of the bones hitting the wall and the floor. Tyche took another breath and slowly peeled open one eye and then the other.
Very good
Very good
Good.
Very bad.
Yeah, that was what his gut had been telling him. Good luck was on their side for a breakout, but it was going to be dangerous as fuck.
Fine, he’d take it. This was the best reading he’d gotten yet. There was no way he was going to waste it.
On the other side of the main door, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. Someone was coming. Tyche snatched up the bones and stuffed them into the pocket of his filthy pants as he stood. His footsteps instinctively carried him back, deeper into the cell, as he put as much room between him and the door in the bars.