The Knight Advocate by Jason Rose

Author:Jason Rose [Rose, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-20T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

On the way to Pavo’s building, my new office, I call Wilson but it goes directly to voicemail. So much for our plan to confront Sinn together. Well, I’m not waiting. I want to know, need to know, everything she knows about, my family, my new abilities, this ring that I can’t take off, my new job, and most importantly, monsters. I want to know their strengths, weaknesses, even their favorite colors. I want to know it all. I’m tired of getting bushwhacked. I want to be prepared for the next thing that threatens me, smells me, or tries to kill me. I don’t like feeling vulnerable. I like being the most prepared person in the room. My mother used to say I have a touch of OCD. My father used to laugh and say “A touch, that’s one way of putting it. Another would be, the kid’s nuts.” Yeah, Dad was a sport.

I pull into an empty parking spot across the street from my new office, an old, naked, faded red brick, two-story building, with voussoir arched windows, and oversized decorative keystones. It’s breathtaking. I took some architecture classes in college, so give me a break on the nerd terms. The building reminds me of my childhood. It looks a lot like the buildings I grew up around in Indianapolis. There’s something about brick buildings that calls out to a man’s soul. They perfectly embody man’s ability to build with his hands. Building with bricks doesn’t require fancy equipment, or a crane, all you need are bricks, cement, and willpower. It’s the type of building I always imagined running my own law office out of—it’s perfect.

A black limo pulls up and illegally parks in front of my brick building, partially obscuring my view, and completely interrupting the perfect moment I’m having. A massive muscled meathead, wearing an old fashion driver’s uniform, complete with white driving gloves, and a tiny hat, emerges from the vehicle and ambles around the side of the limo to the passenger door. His muscles are so massive it makes walking look awkward and painful. The driver opens the door for two similar looking women wearing nearly matching dark-colored pants suits. The women exit the vehicle without so much as a thank you to the driver and enter my building through the front door. The driver shuts the door and then leans his Venice-beach-body up against the limo.

After the week I’ve had, I can’t help but wonder, are these good people, bad people, in-between people, village people? Maybe they’re just regular old clients? Nah, with my luck, they’re bad people, itching for a fight. The women probably turn into dragons, and the meathead probably shoots lightning out of his ass. I hate being unprepared. I didn’t even bring the knife, it’s sitting on my nightstand. I wonder if there’s a back entrance. I’d like to get into the building, without alerting the two women, or lightening ass, that I joined the party. Maybe I can eavesdrop and actually learn something.

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