AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What a coincidence. I can alter reality with a touch, too.”
He spread his arms wide. “As if a human weapon could injure me. I invite you to try.”
I cocked my head. “Who said anything about a human weapon?”
That seemed to humble him. He dropped his arms to his side with a disappointed huff. “Who are you?”
“We’ll get to that.” I had more questions of my own, but first I needed to make sure Wentworth didn’t die, mainly because I didn’t want to have to evict another ghost from my property.
“Then let’s move this along because I have an appointment with my optometrist in…” He checked his digital watch. “Twenty minutes.”
I observed Wentworth as he attempted to crawl away, his belly dragging across the grass that was damp from humidity. How far did he think he could get?
“Do you really think this guy is going to stop cheating people because you made him vomit in a cemetery?”
The mage toyed with the fringe on his boa. “It sends a certain message.”
I couldn’t bear to watch this play out. “This is pathetic. Can you stop the spell?”
The mage heaved a weary sigh. He patted his pockets and produced another card. In a few long strides, he reached Wentworth. He leaned over and wiped Wentworth’s drool with the second card before sliding it into the man’s shirt pocket.
Wentworth grew still and quiet. I thought the mage might have killed him instead, until the portly man sprang to his feet with surprising agility and took off toward the gate.
The mage stared after him in admiration. “Wow. I wouldn’t have pegged him as a sprinter. Did you see how fast his legs moved? He’ll have shin splints tomorrow, for sure.” The mage returned his focus to me. “Now, tell me who you are.” He sounded more curious than annoyed.
“A Good Samaritan.” Not that I wanted that title. I would prefer to be in a ratty T-shirt with a paint roller in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. I wanted music playing in the background, the kind with a beat that would keep me motivated. Repetition tended to bore me, most likely because it was out of my comfort zone, one of the downsides of a disorganized childhood.
The mage seemed delighted by my answer. “Ah, my natural nemesis.”
“Because?”
“I’m an assassin.” He pulled another card from his pocket; thankfully this one was a business card. He handed it to me with a dramatic flick of his wrist.
“Gunther Saxon,” I read aloud. An assassin named Gunther. Well, it wasn’t like his mother knew his future career path when she gave birth to him.
“Friends call me Gun,” he said.
Much more appropriate. I held out my hand. “Lorelei Clay.”
He shook it with a light grip.
“It doesn’t actually say you’re an assassin on the card.”
“That’s what the logo is for.” He pointed to the picture of two crossed swords on the card. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold this little snafu against you, Lorelei Clay.”
“That’s very generous.”
“But if it happens again, I won’t be as easygoing.” The glint in his eye assured me that his words were genuine.
“If you’re an assassin, why didn’t you kill him?”
“Because it’s prohibited.”
I squinted at him. “Sort of defeats the purpose of calling yourself an assassin if you feel compelled not to break the law.”
He rolled his eyes, and I was tempted to tell him if he did it one more time, they’d freeze that way.
“No,” he said. “I mean it’s prohibited in Fairhaven. That’s the deal. We can live here and hold our meetings here, but only if we agree not to conduct business inside the town border.”
