Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“She was injured when I arrived.”
“She can take care of herself.”
Vale held up his hands in clear amusement. “Ah, she is spoken for, I see.”
“I am right here, and I’m not spoken for.”
“Well, in that case, might I persuade you to stay in the market with me a little longer?” Vale said with a grin, rising to his feet and taking her hand to press a kiss to the back. “This is but my nearest safe house. There are jewels in my possession of which you have never seen the like.”
“Vale, cut the shit,” Graves said.
Kierse extracted her hand. “I’ll take the location of the bookkeeper.”
Vale didn’t look put out as he straightened. “If you insist. We should get moving, then.”
“Finally,” Graves said.
Niamh appeared then, looking decidedly more grounded. “I’m ready when you are.”
Vale led the way from his safe house and through the warren of buildings. He navigated the streets the way Kierse did the surface. New York was her home, and she knew it front and back. This seemed to be the same for Vale here in the market.
And he appeared well known enough that monsters shuffled out of his way when he approached. A good person to have on her side. She wondered what Graves had offered for his assistance.
It was another hour’s hike through the ever-darkening, winding streets before they came upon a door much the same as the first one in the Dublin quarter. This one said Rio, and beneath that, once again, beware of dog.
“So the dog survived,” Graves said.
Vale held his hand out to Graves, and they clasped forearms. “Until next time, my friend.”
“When I return to the city, I’ll complete our trade.”
“I know you’re good for it.”
Vale winked at Kierse, tipped his head at Niamh, and then loped off into the distance.
“What did you offer him?” Niamh asked.
“A set of armor,” Graves said.
“That tracks,” Kierse said. She glanced at the door with apprehension. “Think the bookkeeper is actually inside?”
“Let’s fucking hope so,” Graves said as he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Unlike the first shop, this one was new and gleaming with polished hardwood floors. Another damn bell jingled merrily overhead. The shop had the appearance of a jewelry shop with long glass cases along three of the walls, except they were completely empty. Not a single object or bobble in sight apart from an enormous, cracked-leather tome next to the cash register.
At the ring of the bell, a loud bark sounded from the back of the shop, separated from the entrance by swinging double doors. They nearly came off their hinges as the aforementioned dog rushed to meet the visitors.
“What the fuck is that?” Niamh yelled, jumping backward.
“Fuck!” Kierse screeched.
Graves didn’t move and sighed another insufferable sigh, as if the thing charging him wasn’t some sort of fucking demon. “Calm down. It’s a goblin hound,” he said.
Dog, or even hound, was a generous assessment. The thing looked more lizard than mammal. It had the characteristic green-gray skin tone of the goblins, elongated canines, and both pointed ears and tail. It was roughly the size of a mastiff and could almost be considered cute if she looked at it sideways. It jumped up onto Graves’s black suit coat, its tongue lolling out like a rather oversize labrador, panting with excitement.
“That’s a good boy,” Graves said.
“Daisy, down,” a voice called as a tall, thin goblin entered the shop from the back. They were dressed in black, fitted pants and a black vest. This must be the inimitable Rio. A hard goblin to locate.
The hound, Daisy, jumped off Graves and headed for Kierse and Niamh.
“Um, hi,” Kierse said, holding her hand out.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Rio said. “He’s still a puppy, and their saliva is acidic until they can control the venom.”
Kierse jerked her hand back. “Uh…right.” That probably explained the giant, acid-eaten pit in the middle of the last shop.
“Daisy is a boy hound?” Niamh asked incredulously.
“Obviously,” they said. “He likes scratches behind his ears.”
She slowly reached for the back of his head and gave him a good scratch. Saliva dribbled out of his mouth, dropping with a sizzling hiss to the floor, before the hound collapsed at her feet, rolling around against her shoes.
“He’s…friendly,” Niamh offered.
“Unfortunately,” they said.
“Vriosa, I assume,” Graves said.
“Rio will do,” they corrected. They ran their long fingers down the front of their black pants. Daisy trotted along past them to merrily flop on a fluffy pink dog bed. Rio settled their hand on the massive brown leather book. “Do you know what it is that I do here in Nying Market?”
“You’re the bookkeeper,” Graves said. His eyes were fixed on the giant book. “You know where to acquire information.”
“You and I are the same in that regard, are we not?” Rio asked with a raised eyebrow.