Nia's Home for the Wicked - Book 2 by P.t. Pelkin

Author:P.t. Pelkin [Pelkin, P.t.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-05-07T23:00:00+00:00

“Marco Tyler! Vuhat a pleasant surprise.”

“Tesserarius Vasile,” Marcus saluted back in respect, “surprised to see you up here at such an hour.” He’s not really, far too muddled to be surprised any longer this day.

“Aye, been up here a bit. A lot to be thinking on. Not the least being having seeing you fly in, from the south no less, an hour ago as if hell-hounds vhere upon your hide.”

“They might’ve been,” Marcus sheepishly returned, ashamed to being seen with his tail the only appendage sticking up between his legs. “Took a wrong turn. Daydreaming,” hoping he’s explained enough. “What’s got your tighty-whities bunched up?” Moving to change the subject, noting the ruddiness of the old man’s cheeks. The glassiness of the eyes.

“Many troubles, Master Tyler, if this be your ask. First, a sip?” Reaching inside his jacket, coming out with his flask. Screwing off the cap, holding out for Marcus to partake.

“A sip,” Marcus promises himself, readily taking drink on the heels of the secret words, here’s looking at you, kid. Smooth, tasteless. The hit sounding before he can even safely hand the canister back to the old man.

“To you, as well,” the old man toasts. Takes a sip. Thankfully, slips the flask back into his jacket before continuing, by ruffling through his pocket on the other side of his jacket. Coming back out with a small vial. “From Ms. Cioban, vith her blessing.”

Marcus accepts the small glass ampoule, holds it up to the setting light to the west. A bluish-hued, gooey liquid floats lightly inside. “You told her this was for me?” Hoping for not. For if Ms. Cioban knows it’s for him, highly probable Nia does as well.

“Of course. You vanted me to ask her for a dose, yes?”

“Yes. Thank you.” What’s done is done, as Lady Macbeth so fondly pointed out. “Have you ever tried this?” Not going for the laugh, nor surprised how full the one comes.

“Aaack, Master Tyler!” the old man chortles. “I’ve no vant of late. And in the day, no need. Though both of us vondered why one so young, does,” giving him a questioning side-eye. “I mentioned to her you’d problems vith your pecker. She vasn’t keen on giving you this, vithout examination. She says to try no more than a teaspoon. None of the spirit,” tapping the flask inside his pocket.

“No, of course not. I mean, issues, yes. To be expected when…” and while he cannot imagine a single good reason why to say this, seems incapable of stopping himself. “…One gets to thinking about one thing, while doing another.” Relieved to see, by the knowing nod Tesserarius gives in turn, he’s said enough.

“Another femeie, eh?”

Stop reading my mind! Marcus’s head screams. As a test. Just to be sure. No response. None expected. Continues, carefully. “Why would I think about another female when I’m doing Nee…” correcting on the fly, “…Nurse Tyler? I’d have to be a fool.”

“But a kind one the same,” Tesserarius graciously grants him. “You ask if I’ve tried a dose.

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