Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
“Coin?” She squints her eyes at me. “Why would I need coin? I’m in the God’s Tower, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So… where the hell is he? You’re not him, obviously.”
“Where the hell is… who?”
“The god.” She says this in a mocking tone. Like I’m a literal idiot.
I chuckle. “The god? The god is dead, darlin’. Has been for hundreds of years.”
“Dead? How could he be dead? He summoned me last night.”
My chuckle turns into a laugh. “Did he now?”
“He rang the bells. I’m number nine. He can’t be dead. He’s been calling us in for nearly a decade now.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“He’s not dead! I’m Maiden number nine. Clara Birch. I’m Clara Birch! He called me! That bastard had better not be dead because I gave up my whole fucking life to come into this tower! I gave up Finn! I gave up all my riches! I gave up everything and I wanna see that fucking god, right fucking now!”
She sits there huffing at me. Her face bright red with anger, or frustration, or both.
In my experience, crazy women need to be dealt with in a certain way. You ignore them as best you can depending on the circumstances.
So I ignore the psycho outburst and proceed with questioning. “Is that why you were in the server room?” She shoots me another frenzied, wild look. Maybe she’s still high from last night, or something. She doesn’t look high, but maybe there’s some new drug out there that I don’t know about?
“I don’t even know what a server room is. I walked through the door, it closed behind me, and I woke up here.” She points to the ground. “In your bed.” She growls those words out. “So what happened to me and how did I end up waking in your bed while you were naked in the shower?”
My laugh is now a guffaw. I point to myself. “Are you accusing me of something? I saved you. How many times do I have to say it? You were a—”
“A million levels below ground. I heard you. But that doesn’t seem very likely.”
“Doesn’t it?” I laugh again. “You’re funny, ya know that? I haven’t laughed this much in years. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“You’ve already said that, too.”
“For the coat, I mean. You’re wearing my coat. That dress is something else. You look like a whore from the Shipping District.”
She sneers at me. “I didn’t pick the dress. Obviously, I know I look like a fucking down-city tavern whore. But thank you for reminding me, I feel so much better now.”
“Down-city!” My mouth falls open in shock. “Wow. I haven’t heard that term since I was Sweeping the Omega Outlands. Down-city.” I shake my head. “You’re a fuckin’ princess, huh? Up-city Clara Birch. Yeah, it kinda fits.”
She scowls at me, her face goin’ even redder than it was. “Wha… I don’t…” Then she blows out a breath. “I only meant that I understand that I look ridiculous. I didn’t get to choose the dress. The Matrons did. It was delivered. I had no choice, I just had to put it on! I mean, I did object, of course, but I was trying to be poised, proper, and polite, for fuck’s sake! Nine! Nine Maidens!” Her eyes dart back and forth, searching mine for understanding. She takes a breath, trying to calm down, and then her last few words come out low, nearly whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I was number nine. Tyse? That’s your name?”
I nod.
“I was Maiden number nine. Nine chances out of ten that I would not get called into the tower. Ninety-percent chance of total happiness. And I get it—how ironic that the girl who was Chosen, and placed so high because she was in love with the Extraction Master’s son, gets what’s coming to her.” She huffs out a sardonic laugh here. “I bet people were even happy about it. I bet they were saying I deserved it.”
I’m not even sure what to say. She’s… crazy. Her explanation, if that’s what it was supposed to be, made so little sense, I kinda stopped listening back at the first mention of ‘nine.’ “Uhhhh…” I scrub my hands down my face, absently wondering, Why me? “Maybe we should get you to a health center?” I say it very slowly, trying to keep her calm.
“What?”
“For some tests.”
“Tests?”
“Look, I don’t know what you were smokin’ at that party last night. Or maybe… you’re like… one of those people who can’t handle the spark?”
She wheezes out an incredulous snort. “What?”
“But you’re not makin’ no sense, lady. And I… I’m just the wrong guy, ya know?”
She growls at me. “Wrong guy for what?”
“I don’t know what you’re lookin’ for here. Comfort? Sympathy?”
“What?”
“Whatever emotional reaction you’re trying to get out of me, it’s… just… you know.” I shrug. “Not my thing.”