Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
“That was a sucker’s bet. Well, I’m off. Whistle if you need something.”
The bird hopped up and flew back to the kitchen and out the window.
“It’s hard to lie there without moving,” Roman said. “I know you’re awake. You might as well throw in the towel.”
The boy sat up. The shepherd sat in front of him, putting herself between the boy and Roman.
Trigger turned to look at the kid, his iron fur ringing with a metallic jangle, and the little puppy bared her teeth.
“Let’s start with who you are and why people are chasing you?”
The boy didn’t answer. His mouth was a hard, flat line across his face.
“Don’t feel like talking?”
No answer.
Roman sighed. Story of his life. “Well, it is what it is. The die is cast. For whatever reason, I decided not to let them have you, so you are stuck here with me. Unless you want to make my life easier and walk out to the welcoming committee outside?”
The boy shook his head.
“Do you have a name, or is that a secret?”
“Finn.”
“And lo, he opens his mouth and sounds come forth.” Roman shook his head. “Do I need to let someone know where you are? Is anybody worried about you? Did you run away from home?”
“No.”
“Is that no to a particular question or to all three?”
“No to all three. My sister will find me. She will come for me.”
“Oh, good. Then we’ll just have to wait for your sister. But you must understand one thing. Some of the people tracking you can’t track anyone anymore. That’s a heavy burden. If I have to start taking lives, we’ll revisit this conversation. Killing cannot be done lightly, and I’ll need to know why I’m doing it.”
No response.
“Are you hungry?” Roman asked.
Finn nodded.
“Well, let’s get you and your hound fed.”
3
Roman pulled the smaller pot off the stove and set it on a trivet. “Hand me that stack of bowls over there, will you?”
Finn brought the bowls over. Roman lifted the lid and scooped the rice, cubed venison, and soft veggie mess into the top bowl and handed it to Finn. The boy looked at the food, clearly torn between hunger and being grossed out.
“It’s not for you. This is for Trigger. And this smaller one is for your puppy.”
Finn blinked. “Can dogs have carrots?”
“Dogs are omnivores. Carrots are good for them, and these two need a quick punch of energy to recover, so some brown rice will do them good, too. Now cats are a different story.”
Smoke swirled, and Kor popped into existence on the table, his long, fluffy tail curling around the bowls.
Roman waved at him. “Off the table.”
Kor purred.
“What kind of cat is he?” Finn asked.
“Kor isn’t a cat. He’s a korgorusha. They have a mind of their own, like cats. When they love you, they protect your house and property and bring you presents they steal from the neighbors. When they’re mad at you, they’ll claw your pillows and break your dishes.”
Roman ran his hand along Kor’s soft back, sending a bit of smoke curling up from his black fur, worked his fingers under the front left paw, and raised it. Wicked claws shot out of the fur and curled around his finger. “Iron claws.”
The kid opened his eyes wide. “Really?”
“No. But they might as well be. They’re magic. There is no cutting these. You’d need a hoof trimmer. Trust me, when he claws someone, they know it.”
Kor purred louder, his eyes small glowing slits.
Roman gave him another pet.
“Are you going to feed him?”
“He takes care of his own food. But I’m going to treat him.”
Roman pulled a bottle of milk out of the refrigerator, poured a bit into a bowl, and set it in front of the korgorusha. “Feed the dogs, Finn. We feed the animals first, then we feed ourselves.”
The boy took the two bowls into the living room.
Kor lapped the milk.
Roman brought a sack of chicken feed out, poured it into the long trough he used for the kolovershi, spooned some rice and meat into it, stirred it, set it on the floor, and knocked on the table. The kolovershi flew from the living room, gliding from their hidden perches, past Finn as he was returning to the kitchen, and for a moment he was caught inside the flock. Finn froze. The kolovershi landed in the kitchen and scurried over to their dinner.
“What are they?”
“Kolovershi and kolovertishi. Witch helpers. When a witch or a koldun, a sorcerer, starts working their magic, they attract these guys. They just come out of the woodwork. They feed on magic, and they are what they eat, so each pack is a little different. Some look like rabbits, some look more like owls. These weirdoes are mine.”
The melalo waddled over to the trough.
“What about the bird?” Finn asked.
“Him.” Roman grimaced. “He’s a melalo, a Romani disease demon. Unclean creatures don’t have the best origin stories. Some are born from muck, some from corrupted witch spit, but he takes the cake. He’s the product of the most vile, sick shit that will turn your stomach.”