“She’s not my pocking daughter, and I don’t give a troll’s ass if you diddled her,” Einar interrupted, his accent thickening with his agitation. He took a deep breath, his barrel chest heaving. “Now, will you hear me out without you trying to brain me with that tire iron you’ve been eyeing?”
“You said diddle.” Pixel giggled.
“Can you be serious for five minutes, you pocking faerie?” Einar glowered, his leather jacket creaking as he crossed his arms.
“Remember ‘dwarf,’ you’re here as an ‘advisor.’” Pixel included air quotes with the last word, her eyes turning magenta. “The Nine Realms are only involved out of politeness.”
“Politeness! If you pocking Tuatha and Tylwyth Teg hadn’t folded up when the Milesians came at you, maybe we wouldn’t be here to begin with!” Spittle accompanied Einar’s protest. “Tylwyth? More like Toothless!”
“Like your jarls didn’t roll over and show their bellies when the Avramites showed up with their One God and their gold!” Pixel rose up on her toes. “Your people took their god and took their gold and then attacked our ancestral lands!”
“Guys!” Liam had stepped over to the workbench but hadn’t picked up the crowbar. “Are you playing one of those live-action role playing games or something? Because if you are, I’m calling my garage out of bounds. Take your LARP somewhere else.”
“We’ve come a long way to speak to you,” Einar replied, looking away from Pixel. “I’m from Asgard.”
“Asgard? You mean like Thor and Odin? What kind of game are you playing?” Liam hadn’t moved from the workbench, but he’d mapped in his mind the steps he’d need to take to reach a stout pole which would serve as a staff while he back-pedaled to his workshop, where a half-dozen half-finished sword prototypes rested. From where he stood, though, he didn’t feel as threatened. He knew a bit about gamers because there were a fair number of them among the pagan community, and he’d absorbed bits and pieces of it. Maybe someone had pointed Liam out to Pixel as research about druids for one of these games—an over-enthusiastic player who wanted to more convincingly roleplay one.
“Gods I hate those pocking things,” Einar grumbled, rubbing his forehead while Pixel stifled another giggle. “Look, can we sit down and talk to you? This is much more serious than some pocking games you folk play with your costumes and your toy weapons.”
“This isn’t a game, and we aren’t hippies with New Age books and a need for self-validation.” Pixel added. Her eyes had faded to a lavender color. “Liam, we need your help.”
* * * * *
Get “A Reluctant Druid” at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07716V2RN.
Find out more about Jon R. Osborne and “A Reluctant Druid” at:
https://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/jon-r-osborne/
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of The Warp:
Corruptor
___________________
Jason Cordova
Now Available from Anticipation Press
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “Corruptor:”
Prologue
He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the young girl was trouble from the moment he laid eyes upon her.
There was no obvious reason for his gut to scream a warning as she entered the shadowy entrance to one of the ruined buildings across the street. Instinct warned him to keep his head low behind the partially destroyed brick wall he had taken cover behind minutes ago.
He knew who she was, knew of her reputation. That, combined with the continuous warnings which erupted from his churning, roiling stomach, set his nerves on edge.
He rested the butt of the rifle on his shoulder and leaned against the fallen wall, the muzzle of the weapon pointed at the doorway of the opposite building. He knew from her profile she was sometimes careless about her patterns of movement; it was a reasonable deduction she would use the same entrance upon leaving the building.
He looked around to ensure the girl was alone. He recalled she often worked with others, a few close friends she had recruited to help her become the scourge she was. She was a bane to his kind, and he was determined to put an end to her reign of terror. Being rewarded handsomely for it was a nice bonus, he thought with a vicious grin.
A breeze swept down the deserted, ruined streets, and he coughed slightly as dust from the wall was kicked up and tickled the back of his throat. His eyes watered as he felt the tickling sensation slide further down his esophagus. He rubbed his chest with a gloved hand and grimaced at the amount of noise he had made. He focused back on the old building, but the girl had not reappeared. His grimace melted away as he thought he spotted her shadow moving across the third-floor window. He peered through the scope mounted on top of the rifle, but she had moved too quickly. There was no way to get a clean shot; he would have to wait.
The sun slipped behind the clouds, and the temperature around him dropped slightly. He shivered and wondered if the weather was going to change. He had anticipated clear skies and sun, and had packed accordingly. Adverse weather would not only ruin the perfect view of the building his target was in, but would also make him very uncomfortable. He frowned in annoyance as a few drops of rain struck the ground around him.
“Perfect,” he growled under his breath. “This is why I am the best, little girl.” He exhaled slowly and checked the front door of the building again. His eyebrows raised slightly, surprise coursing through him. He shifted slightly and peered through the scope for a better view.
She was standing still, partially hidden in the darkened doorway. Her strawberry-blonde hair moved slightly in the breeze of the coming storm, while her blue eyes were staring in his general direction. Calm and deadly, like the sea before a storm. Not a muscle moved in her body, and the man felt himself relax as he prepared for the shot. He pulled the trigger back slowly, carefully.
Why isn’t she moving, a small, tiny part of him asked as he felt the pressure on the trigger grow.
The world around him exploded in a bright white light.
He flew backwards and slammed into the side of the building behind him, his body creating a deep dent in the brick surface before he fell to the ruined sidewalk below. In a flash, he was back on his feet as gunfire exploded from the direction of his target, each individual round kicking up a small cloud of dust as it impacted around him. He felt a tug on his sleeve as one came particularly close.
He dove behind another, smaller pile of rubble as the gunfire tapered off. Coughing from inhaling too much dust, he pressed his back against a small, flat slab of fallen concrete, tossed aside the sniper rifle, and shouldered a smaller machine gun. He quickly checked to ensure she was not outflanking him as he snapped a fresh magazine into the gun.
“You give up?” a feminine voice, mocking and cruel, came from somewhere nearby. A chill ran down his spine. It wasn’t cruelty in her voice, he thought suddenly with a sick realization. It was boredom.
“Do you?” he called back. A long minute passed as he waited tensely, rivulets of sweat pouring down his face.
“What’s your name?” she called out again, from somewhere closer, her voice echoing loudly through the deserted streets.
“Mordecai, little girl,” he answered after a momentous pause. “I already know yours.”
“Indeed,” was all she said. He shivered again at the sound of her voice. There was something definitely wrong with this situation...
“You’re a scary little girl,” he admitted as he risked a peek around the corner of the rubble he was hiding behind. He could not see her, but knew that meant little; she could be anywhere.
“You’re a brave man, coming after me alone,” she retorted, her voice floating as if across an open grave. His grave. He shivered uncontrollably once more.
He waited a few more seconds for the girl to say more, but silence reigned. What was she doing? He asked himself as he looked around again. Even the wind had disappear
ed, he noticed. He had to act quickly, before she got to him. He shifted to a kneeling position and checked the street once more. Still empty, he saw. He whispered a brief prayer as he prepared to move. He never got the chance.
The girl slid from the shadows behind the rock, her tiny form moving toward him with supernatural speed. Paralyzed momentarily, Mordecai had no chance as the girl slashed downward with the daito she held, and he staggered back as the Japanese sword cut through him. Pain blossomed in his chest as he fell onto his back. The machine gun fell from his hands and clattered to a rough landing a few feet away.
He found himself on the partially destroyed rock he had been using for cover. His eyes fixed on the gaping wound in his chest, and he moved his hands to cover it, but realized it was futile; he was finished. He looked up and saw the dark shape of the girl towering above him. He focused on her as the pain went away.
“You’re lucky,” she murmured as she flicked her sword at him, her face expressionless. “You’ll be back in a day or two at the most, and you’ll try again. And again. Each time, I promise you, you will fail. Just go find someone else to collect your bounty from.”
“Cocky much?” he asked in a weary tone. She shrugged.
“Just stating the facts,” she said. Her voice lacked any heat, any sign of displeasure. Mordecai shivered.
“How...many?” he asked. She cocked her head to the side for a moment, thinking, before she responded.
“You’re number six,” she answered. He nodded.
“Make it quick? Dragging these things out really bothers me,” he observed as he looked at the clouds beyond her. The girl nodded and slashed the sword one final time. No other sound was made as she cleaned and sheathed the weapon.
The girl watched as the body slowly broke down pixel by pixel and was absorbed by the street, forgotten as the Moderator no longer resembled his formerly impressive self. She waited until the last shred of clothing had soaked into the street before she looked around and grimaced. Bad enough the Grinder mission cost me so much energy, she thought. She had been nearly unprepared for the ambush Mordecai had set up; only a stray bit of rubble knocked loose by a tripwire had alerted her to his ambush. Sloppy of me, she chided herself.
Her eyes tracked skyward, and sure enough, the familiar black letters appeared. She grinned and raised her right hand into the air, first clenched. Victory, she thought as excitement washed over her. She read the message high above: “Mission Complete.”
She looked over her shoulder at the fallen building and smiled as it slowly began, brick by brick, to rebuild itself. She knew within an hour or so the building would look as though it had never been brought down by explosives. She grinned, youthful exuberance spreading across her face. Normal people would have called it beautiful. Ancient Finns would have recognized it as something far more terrifying.
She whooped loudly, her voice echoing down the empty streets of the ruined city.
“God, I love this game!”
* * * * *
Get “Corruptor” at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075FHZBNP.
Find out more about Jason Cordova and “Corruptor” at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/.
* * * * *
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