Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
“Hi!” He indicated the vacant chair with the bag of Tostitos he was about to open. “Join me in a nosh?”
Lyric blinked. A couple of times. But here was the thing. The tension in her drifted off as she approached, all the chaos in her mind settling, the tightness in her shoulders and neck gone as if it had never been. She’d been expecting some kind of formal audience, with Lassiter in ceremonial robes—and, like, maybe an ancient tome tucked under his arm. This was…
Well, exactly what the male was like.
Lyric sat down as the angel popped the bag open, and as he tilted the Scoops! to her, she reached in for some and then went for the dip just to do something with her hands.
“So their standards are slipping.” He took out a chip. “Does this look like a scoop to you?”
He turned the disk around, examining it from all angles. “This is flat. Maaaaybe slightly concave. If it says ‘scoop’ on the label, you expect scoops. All scoops. Not these Frisbee things thrown in every four or five of them. How’my going to guac this. Come on, Frito-Lay, do better.”
Having no idea how to respond, Lyric eased what she’d filled into her mouth and bit down— “Mmmmm.”
“Good, right? Should we add queso? I feel like we need queso.”
With a pop and a curl of smoke, the table got bigger, and a bowl over a little tea light appeared.
“Perfect.” The angel picked up his pineapple and took a draw from the straw. “Just fruit juice, mind you. I don’t drink while driving, so to speak. And actually, that’s a lie. I don’t drink at all, I’m high on life. Cheers!”
Figuring in for a penny, in for a pound—or in for the chips-and-dip, in for a sip—Lyric palmed up the scratchy exterior of the one left for her and brought the straw to her lips.
“Oh… my God.”
“Right?” Lassiter took his flamingos off and gave her a wink. “Only the best up here.”
As the Madonna song switched to another pop-ish melody about walking like an Egyptian, she looked out over the lawn and wondered who tended to it. There didn’t seem to be any lines associated with mowing—
“It is as it is.”
She came back to attention. “I’m sorry?”
“The lawn. The flowers. The trees and the buildings. All of this is as it is. In this respect, the Sanctuary is like destiny. There is nothing to attend to because the immutable requires no gardening.”
Lyric glanced down into her pineapple. “Then why do we have free will.”
“To keep things interesting,” Lassiter said with a smile. “And to give the illusion that people have some control over their nights and days. Otherwise they’d just give up and bed rot—not that that isn’t appealing and appropriate from time to time.”
“So is everything…”
“Meant to be?” The angel shrugged. “Does the answer to that really matter? It’s not going to change your experiences.”
“So… do you already know why I’m here?”
“I’ve been expecting you. But why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
As she stared into her own soul, Lyric shook her head. “I don’t know why I came.”
Okay, that wasn’t true. She just couldn’t seem to find the words for anything.
“Talk it out.” Lassiter reached to the far side of his chair and brought up a reflective half circle. “It can be helpful to just hear our own voices sometimes.”
Settling the shiny expanse across his bare chest, he eased back in the chair and closed his eyes, as if there were a sun to bathe under.
“G’on, then. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Lyric stared out over the lawn that was so even in color and blade that it was like a carpet. Then she focused on the temple that was all closed up, the one that was just off the white colonnade where she’d heard the birds and the falling water.
“Is that the Temple of the Sequestered Scribes?”
“Yuppers. That’s the one.”
“I’ve heard there’s also a library here, and the books on the shelves contain all the history of the species… every vampire soul and whatever they went through is listed on those pages.”
“You’ve got it right. And the seeing bowls with their water levels are still at the transcribing stations that feed all of those pages.”
“Why haven’t you kept it up? Is it because the Primale freed the Chosen?”
Lassiter shrugged. “It’s just not my style. Plus, there’s another way.”
“What other way?”
“It’s a secret.” With his eyes closed, he made a shhhh! with his forefinger over his mouth. “But that’s my business, as I’m in charge now and each one of us will do things in our own way.”
“Each one… wait, how long do you think you’ll stay here?”
“Until it’s my time to turn this over to someone else.”
A strange alarm struck in the center of her chest. “You’re supposed to be permanent.”