Clovenhoof 03 Godsquad by Heide Goody & Iain Grant

Author:Heide Goody & Iain Grant [Goody, Heide & Grant, Iain]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Humor, Clovenhoof, Saints, Comedy, Satire, Fantasy, Urban Fantasy
ISBN: 9780993060731
Amazon: B00T8GYKKI
Publisher: Pigeon Park Press
Published: 2015-04-22T23:00:00+00:00

With a wrinkle of his nose, Christopher killed the boat’s engines but, while the boat had suffered little beyond a superficially cracked prow, the damage to the pontoon was significant and already done. Among slowly sinking pot plants and bobbing plastic chairs, dozens of soggy men and women trod water in the dark river.

Christopher wrenched open a locker by the forward entrance to the boat and flung orange life vests out to the swimmers. There were squeals and shouts as models, fashionistas and the well-to-do squabbled over the floatation devices.

“Typical,” he said.

He looked down at the Wolf of Gubbio beside him.

“This is your fault, you know,” he said.

The wolf snorted and then leapt into the water. Christopher momentarily thought that it was a simple act of indignation but then saw that the beast was swimming purposefully towards a somewhat familiar and apparently naked figure.

“Oh, great,” said Christopher and jumped in after him.

With strong strokes, Christopher quickly caught up with the wolf and, together, they approached Francis who was flailing unproductively. Francis saw the wolf, gave a shout of joy and immediately sank.

“All right, mate,” said Christopher, hooking an arm around Francis’s neck and dragging him back up. “I’ve got you.”

Francis spat out a stream of water.

“Ack! It’s like my pilgwimage to Jewusalem all over again!” he moaned.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Christopher as he hauled him towards the bank. “At least I’m here this time. Patron saint of travel here to get you out of shtuck.”

“A decent patwon saint of twavel would have stopped the boat hitting us in the first place,” said Francis.

“I could let you drown if you don’t stop mithering,” said Christopher.

“No, thank you. You’ve got to go back for my entourwage afterwards.”

“Entourage?”

“Claude and Aurelie and Marcelle and Sabina. I’m a famous fashion designer, you know.”

“And is that why you’re naked?”

Francis frowned.

“I might have had a bit to drink.”

“Is that so?” said Christopher wearily but, despite himself, smiling. “Do you know what this reminds me of?” he said.

“By any chance,” said Francis, “is it something to do with cawwying the infant Chwist across a wiver?”

“That’s spooky,” said Christopher, impressed.

“Lucky guess,” said Francis.

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