Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“So it’s my fault I was taken by those men? Or that I got spooked when I heard a voice? Oh look! A squirrel!” Sky pointed to a tree along the sidewalk.
Damien had had enough. All he wanted was for this to be over and to return to his life of fine wools, linens, and silks. Fabric never gave him any trouble. Buttons neither. And you can’t kill them.
“Pet, after you’ve served your purpose here today, you will take your shitty little wings and your tiny, perverted mind, and you will flutter off. If I ever see you again, I will crush you. Do you understand?”
“Wow. You really are an asshole.”
Wrong. I’m a cursed asshole. Deadly, too. “Yes. And never forget it.”
The house belonging to the Brown brothers, where Pet had been held captive, was your average redbrick, one-story home in an average neighborhood twenty minutes from the Browns’ exotic salsa factory. A factory that was now shut down given that the company was under investigation and the owners were on the run, thanks to Sky’s work.
Interestingly, though, Damien had checked Sky’s website several times, and there was no sign of the third article. Had she changed her mind about releasing it before her death? He’d have to ask later.
“You are sure this is the house, yes?” Damien checked the online county records. The deed was registered to the Browns’ deceased mother. The brothers themselves owned nothing. Even the factory was titled to some holding company.
“Yeah. I could never forget that smell.”
“What does it smell like?” he asked.
Pet blinked her big blue eyes at him, an intense sadness in her gaze. “Bad things.”
Okay. A bit cryptic, but Damien was about to find out what sorts of bad things. “Tell me which side of the house the bunker is on.”
Pet pointed to the left. “There’s a staircase in the basement, leading to the first floor. Underneath the staircase is a hidden door. It looks like a big ventilation grate. The bunker with the cages is below.”
Why hadn’t she told him this before? He’d had the impression he was going to have to spend hours searching for the hidden entrance. There’d been no reason to even bring the annoying fairy.
“All right, I will go take a look. You stay here.”
“You’re leaving me alone?” she whined.
“Yes.”
“But what if the Brown brothers show up?” She started to tremble.
Not likely. He already knew from the headlines that the Browns had gone underground. According to Pet, they’d been in Ohio recently, but that wasn’t likely. Pet had probably heard a voice that simply sounded similar. Just like she had seen a ball of lint that looked like Cousin Ronald. Like he said, sex-fairies weren’t the smartest.
If Damien had to guess, the Browns were still hiding out, and the men who’d assaulted Sky’s nephew, Miguel, were linked to someone who still had something to lose: the governor’s brother.
“If the Browns show up, then you fly away,” Damien said. “In fact, why don’t you do that now?” He no longer needed her to find this hidden bunker.
“Nuh-uh. They have nets. They’re bad men. They’ll catch me.”
First Pet never wanted to return here, and now she wanted what? To come inside with him? Fairies were psycho.
“I do not have time for this.” He reached for the front of his travel bag and grabbed his tools. He just wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. His only interest was inspecting this bunker to see who might still be there and what it was made of. Steel? Lead? Some supernatural insulation?
Whatever the case, he needed to go back to the gods with an update. Hopefully, that update would entail saying he’d hit a dead end and they should seek a solution elsewhere.
For example, the probability that Pet and her friends had been inside the bunker during the blast was extremely low. The Browns were in the business of selling exotic creatures, not keeping a zoo. And if her friends had all been in different locations during the blast, that information would tell him nothing. The only way this lead could go somewhere was if all the creatures in the bunker had a common denominator, such as a key genetic trait or special powers. Otherwise, he highly doubted he’d be able to explain why some immortals were spared and others were not. Certainly, he did not expect to find a solution to bring everyone back.
Damien exited the vehicle. Pet flew out behind him, wiggling back into his pocket.
Fine. As long as she stayed out of his hair. “And no more eating my suit,” he grumbled.
He marched up to the front door and knocked, trying to look like a man on official business. Meanwhile, his hands got to work on the lock.
Pop! The door swung open on its own.
“Hello, sir. May I come in?” Damien extended his hand inside, pretending to greet someone. “We had an appointment to discuss your insurance.”