Death's Collector by Bill McCurry

Author:Bill McCurry [McCurry, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780984806270
Publisher: Infinite Monkeys Publishing
Published: 2020-04-27T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY

I ached when I saw the loathing in Manon’s eyes, but it didn’t surprise me. I forced myself to nod at her and turn away, but not because of her anger. She wouldn’t get any more dead, but other people might soon. I limped away from her like she was a horse I’d once owned and sold for something better.

I needed power to treat people, unless I wanted to spit, make mud, and pack that into the wounds. I breathed deep, looked around, and kicked Halla’s earthen wall hard to distract myself into thinking about survival.

Before I could lift myself to call for Harik, he yanked me out of my body with a surge of nausea.

“Murderer!” Harik shouted like thunder inside my head. “I did not give you leave to read my book again! I should refuse to trade with you for a month. For a year! I should manifest there before you and extract your bones one by one through the closest convenient orifice!”

I called up my most businesslike voice. “May I point out, Mighty Harik, that you never said I couldn’t take a peek at the book again.”

Harik’s voice dropped and sounded like he was dragging it across a wasteland of petrified trees. “Do not attempt to engage in sophistry with me. You are nothing to me—no more than a bad smell that will blow away in a moment.”

I put on a huge smile. “Ouch. That hurts like holy hell, Your Magnificence. I thought you liked me at least a little.”

“I care no more for you than I would a fruit tree growing in a convenient spot. You are filth in my sight.”

I drew my sword, revealing the place of trading in the Gods’ Realm. Harik stood on the bottom level of the marble gazebo, the sinews bulging on his crossed arms and his teeth gritted. Wind appeared to swirl his black robe, even though the air lay still and damp.

Harik’s crashing tirade had come close to unnerving me, but I pushed ahead. “I have come to trade with you, oh great, whiny nose-goiter. My memories of Manon are off the table, though.”

Harik wrinkled his forehead and frowned, allowing himself to appear less than ideally handsome. “Yes, fine, you made certain of that by poking through my book as if you were a jittery magpie. Now that you have called the Tooth, removing your memories of her would cost far too much.”

I couldn’t keep myself from perking up like a dog that saw a rabbit. “Cost too much? Why? Do you mean it would cost you something?”

Harik paused. His robe stopped swirling and fell straight with a soft whoosh. “No.”

“No, as in it would cost more than the right amount?”

Harik shook his head. “No. No, nothing.”

The gods had always acted as if they could just burp or wave their little finger to make things happen. For more complicated things, they may need to wave two or three fingers, but that was an annoyance to them, not an effort.

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