Soul Jar: A Jubal Van Zandt Novel by eden Hudson

Author:eden Hudson [Hudson, eden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: s Adventure Fiction, Fantasy Action and Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal and Urban Fantasy, Thrillers and Suspense Supernatural Witches and Wizards, Mystery Supernatural Witches and Wizards, Mage, Warlock, Thief, Knights, Revived Earth, Halo Bound, eden Hudson, Men&apos
Publisher: Shadow Alley Press, Inc.
Published: 2017-07-12T23:00:00+00:00

TWELVE:

Jubal

Nick messaged me early the next morning to see what the plan for the day was. I told him to meet me in the Ratlines’s lobby at ten. That gave me plenty of time to eat a lazy breakfast in bed, get dressed, and message Crotalinae headquarters to find out why my app said that the ’Shan’s damage list was still Pending.

According to the customer service representative, my Mangshan’s dedicated mechanic had found something wrong with the ’Shan’s core sensors, but hadn’t been able to determine what was causing the problem. For legal purposes, Crotalinae policy restricted making the list of Repairs Needed available on the app before they were sure they had everything.

I let them know that was a stupid policy, filed an official complaint, then raided the penthouse’s pop-up fridge for something sweet. The last handful of chocolate-covered coffee beans and a few sticky rolls from room service did the trick.

When I stepped into the lobby at three minutes ’til ten, Nick was leaning against the back of a leather couch, watching the penthouse elevator. He stood up when he saw me, like a guard dog whose master had just come home. The jeans and black shirt he’d been wearing since we started this mission looked as if they could use a good burning. He stuck out like the proverbial pinkie in the penis lineup in the finest hotel on the west coast, but he was going to fit in nicely with the unwashed rabble at the dogfights later.

“Somebody’s early,” I said. “Did you miss me?”

“I’m tired of sitting around doing nothing.” His eyebrows scrunched together as he took in my new cream-and-indigo tourist shirt. “Did you go shopping?”

“The clothes I left Taern in were starting to smell the way you look.” I patted my tourist shirt’s breast pocket. “Additionally, I was ready for a change of color.”

“They make them for men, too?”

“Your fiancée’s got an iron stomach, you’ve got iron eyes—you’re a match made in indigent heaven.” I pulled on my ventilator, then gestured at the lobby’s revolving doors. “Let’s get this showboat on the road. We’re meeting with our bookie in half an hour.”

“Bookie?” Nick repeated, with a level of confusion that only someone slower than a brained fish could muster.

“Short for bookmaker,” I said. “It’s a person who takes bets on the outcomes of sporting events. In our case, dogfighting.”

“I know what a bookie is. What I meant was, why do we need to see one?”

“He’s a huge fan of toadies overencumbered with muscle and underencumbered with brains, and I wanted to show him mine,” I said. “Obviously, we’re going to bet on the dogfights. You look like an Enforcer, so you’ll have to have a ticket from a bookie to convince anybody that they should let you in.”

That was mostly true. Plenty of corrupt Crystebon Enforcers frequented the dogfights, too, but they would have betting tickets because why go if you weren’t making a little back on your admission? Besides, my plan required that Nickie have a stake in the fights.

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