Read Online Bride of Death (Marla Mason) by T.A. Pratt - Free Book Online
Authors: T.A. Pratt
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eyes and pointed her pencil at me. “If I hear any chirps or squawks, you’ll have to take it outside, all right?”
“Understood.”
“Water? Coffee?”
“Yes,” I said.
The waitress slid a menu across the table and walked back around the counter. I flipped the menu open, and my stomach grumbled. Nicolette wanted to come here to eat chaos, but I could go for a plate of eggs and sausage.
The little boy in the booth next to mine was standing on the seat, staring at the birdcage. “Did you know parrots can live for a hundred years?”
“In captivity, maybe,” I said. “If you call that living. “
“Sea turtles can live even longer,” the boy said. He had ketchup on his face. Cute? Disgusting? Who am I to judge?
I wondered how we’d gotten onto the topic of sea turtles. I figured I’d roll with it, though. I’d been off the surface of the earth for a month, so I could use some conversational practice. “I used to live in Hawaii. I saw lots of sea turtles there.” I even met a turtle god, but I figured maybe I shouldn’t mention that.
“Leave the lady alone,” the mom said, and tugged the child back down to his seat.
So much for human interaction. Who needs it? My mission was inhuman interaction anyway.
The waitress came back with the drinks and took my order, and I warmed my hands on the porcelain coffee mug. I didn’t get any sense of impending chaos, but then, if I had a good sense for that kind of thing, I could have avoided a lot of problems in the past, and I wouldn’t have needed Nicolette.
A few minutes later, the waitress brought over a big plate of fluffy yellow scrambled eggs and crisped-black sausage and a little plate of light brown toast. I took a couple of bites as she refilled my coffee mug, right to the brim with scalding rocket fuel. All good stuff, but I couldn’t enjoy my meal, because I couldn’t relax. Was anything even going to happen here? Had Nicolette actually sensed impending chaos, or was she just messing with me, asserting her independence, wasting my time?
I slid the wedding ring off my finger. I’d given Death a plain old ordinary gold band, but his ring for me was a little fancier. I held it up to my eyeball and looked through the hole, peering around the diner. Doing so doubtless made me look like a weirdo, but I was already the chick in a leather coat who brought a birdcage into a diner, so that ship had pretty much sailed.
Peering through the ring can give me a glimpse of the future. The immediate future of the immediate area, and, if I focused on an individual, a deeper look at their personal future. Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – the future isn’t fixed, so the ring just shows me the most likely futures, and the view is more-or-less blurry depending on just how likely, or unlikely, a given future is. The layout of the diner itself didn’t change much, which meant that, shockingly, it would still be standing for the next ten minutes or half hour. I caught a glimpse of flashing lights outside, implying police cars or fire trucks in the future. Okay, that was something. I focused on a couple of the truckers, and saw nothing unremarkable – them, driving trucks, eating beef jerky, watching TV in motels. The little boy popped up and stared at me again, so I gave him a long look, and was surprised – mostly I saw haze and blurs and school corridors and beaches, but I did get a brief, sharp image of him much older, probably in his twenties, in a jungle, his face and bare chest smeared with blood, his hair decorated with bright feathers, a halo of bluish magic crackling around his upraised hands. The kid had at least a chance of stumbling into the world of magic and becoming a sorcerer at some point. The future holds all kinds of weird possibilities.
His mom tugged him down again, so I swept my vision toward the approaching waitress –
– and saw her crumpled on the diner floor, a gash in her throat and a wound across her face, blood
“Understood.”
“Water? Coffee?”
“Yes,” I said.
The waitress slid a menu across the table and walked back around the counter. I flipped the menu open, and my stomach grumbled. Nicolette wanted to come here to eat chaos, but I could go for a plate of eggs and sausage.
The little boy in the booth next to mine was standing on the seat, staring at the birdcage. “Did you know parrots can live for a hundred years?”
“In captivity, maybe,” I said. “If you call that living. “
“Sea turtles can live even longer,” the boy said. He had ketchup on his face. Cute? Disgusting? Who am I to judge?
I wondered how we’d gotten onto the topic of sea turtles. I figured I’d roll with it, though. I’d been off the surface of the earth for a month, so I could use some conversational practice. “I used to live in Hawaii. I saw lots of sea turtles there.” I even met a turtle god, but I figured maybe I shouldn’t mention that.
“Leave the lady alone,” the mom said, and tugged the child back down to his seat.
So much for human interaction. Who needs it? My mission was inhuman interaction anyway.
The waitress came back with the drinks and took my order, and I warmed my hands on the porcelain coffee mug. I didn’t get any sense of impending chaos, but then, if I had a good sense for that kind of thing, I could have avoided a lot of problems in the past, and I wouldn’t have needed Nicolette.
A few minutes later, the waitress brought over a big plate of fluffy yellow scrambled eggs and crisped-black sausage and a little plate of light brown toast. I took a couple of bites as she refilled my coffee mug, right to the brim with scalding rocket fuel. All good stuff, but I couldn’t enjoy my meal, because I couldn’t relax. Was anything even going to happen here? Had Nicolette actually sensed impending chaos, or was she just messing with me, asserting her independence, wasting my time?
I slid the wedding ring off my finger. I’d given Death a plain old ordinary gold band, but his ring for me was a little fancier. I held it up to my eyeball and looked through the hole, peering around the diner. Doing so doubtless made me look like a weirdo, but I was already the chick in a leather coat who brought a birdcage into a diner, so that ship had pretty much sailed.
Peering through the ring can give me a glimpse of the future. The immediate future of the immediate area, and, if I focused on an individual, a deeper look at their personal future. Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – the future isn’t fixed, so the ring just shows me the most likely futures, and the view is more-or-less blurry depending on just how likely, or unlikely, a given future is. The layout of the diner itself didn’t change much, which meant that, shockingly, it would still be standing for the next ten minutes or half hour. I caught a glimpse of flashing lights outside, implying police cars or fire trucks in the future. Okay, that was something. I focused on a couple of the truckers, and saw nothing unremarkable – them, driving trucks, eating beef jerky, watching TV in motels. The little boy popped up and stared at me again, so I gave him a long look, and was surprised – mostly I saw haze and blurs and school corridors and beaches, but I did get a brief, sharp image of him much older, probably in his twenties, in a jungle, his face and bare chest smeared with blood, his hair decorated with bright feathers, a halo of bluish magic crackling around his upraised hands. The kid had at least a chance of stumbling into the world of magic and becoming a sorcerer at some point. The future holds all kinds of weird possibilities.
His mom tugged him down again, so I swept my vision toward the approaching waitress –
– and saw her crumpled on the diner floor, a gash in her throat and a wound across her face, blood
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