looking or they simply looked trashy. He told her at that point that he thought her trashy looking anyway. That statement didn’t go over so well either, he thought with a laugh. And now here he was about to be famous. He wondered what she’d think of that, and found like the rest, he didn’t give a crap about her.
“But she’ll regret it now that she didn’t give me a little more time when I asked for it. Once the bucks start rolling in for the shit I’m going to be able to sell off my dragon, the money won’t be spent fast enough. Yes, sir, she is going to be shitting herself then.” He reached behind his head for the list that he’d made up of the parts he was going to sell and their worth. He regretted not having his book that Helena had given him, but he’d get that back as well when he went to the house.
Every single part of a dragon could be used. Not just for magic, because while he really didn’t believe it, he knew that there were enough nutballs around that did. Even the scales were worth more than he made in a year’s time. And they were so versatile, as were all the parts.
Selling them whole netted a great deal. Grinding them into a powder brought in more per ounce than gold did. Pieces of wings were nearly priceless, and if you were lucky enough to find a blue dragon or a red one, then the amount of money for each nearly tripled for some reason.
He hadn’t a clue how many scales were on a dragon. The one that he’d killed had been pretty good sized. But without even knowing how big each one was, he was still clueless as to how many he could sell. Ralph was thinking five hundred would be a good number.
“I’m going to be fucking rich. And famous.” He grinned as he rolled to his side. “Fucking amazingly rich and famous.”
As he drifted off he heard something in the kitchen area. Peeking around the corner he didn’t see anything, but he had left the light on. Getting up, grumbling about it the entire time, he entered the area and stood staring at the table he’d left the map on.
The footprints were still there, all around the area that he’d yet to go to. But in addition to it, there was what appeared to be blood and a crudely drawn picture of a man. He knew it was him without even getting close enough to see the clean-shaven face and the camo jacket that he always wore. Walking closer to it, he saw the words printed there.
Leave or die .
He sat down on his chair and stared at the map. When a cool breeze touched the back of his neck, he grabbed the gun off the table and shot four times in the general direction behind him.
He stared at the damage for several seconds before he realized what he was seeing. Christ, he was off his rocker. He rubbed his eyes several times before he looked again.
The footprints moved across the counter and to the now open window, like whatever it had been had walked in fresh ink. Or blood. Glass all over the counter as well as a broken curtain rod sat in the mess there. But it was the tiny little hat that had him shaking as he reached for it. It was blue, as blue as the sky was in the late evening. And so small that it didn’t fit on the tip of his littlest finger when he’d picked it up.
He sat there, for how long he had no idea, but he kept staring at the mess he’d made and the hat. The hat that he was sure hadn’t been there before. The little prints that seemed to just materialize, and which he knew there could have been no way for someone to get in and put them there.
And if they hadn’t been there before, then where had they come from? Why were there prints on his map? Who had drawn a picture, a little bitty picture of him dead? And most of all, how the fuck had they gotten in to do all this shit?
~~~
I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t want you to get mad at me. Well, not mad, but testy, like you have been lately. Elam looked at Casdon and nodded. His own mind was a mess of questions, but he wasn’t even sure if he knew how
“But she’ll regret it now that she didn’t give me a little more time when I asked for it. Once the bucks start rolling in for the shit I’m going to be able to sell off my dragon, the money won’t be spent fast enough. Yes, sir, she is going to be shitting herself then.” He reached behind his head for the list that he’d made up of the parts he was going to sell and their worth. He regretted not having his book that Helena had given him, but he’d get that back as well when he went to the house.
Every single part of a dragon could be used. Not just for magic, because while he really didn’t believe it, he knew that there were enough nutballs around that did. Even the scales were worth more than he made in a year’s time. And they were so versatile, as were all the parts.
Selling them whole netted a great deal. Grinding them into a powder brought in more per ounce than gold did. Pieces of wings were nearly priceless, and if you were lucky enough to find a blue dragon or a red one, then the amount of money for each nearly tripled for some reason.
He hadn’t a clue how many scales were on a dragon. The one that he’d killed had been pretty good sized. But without even knowing how big each one was, he was still clueless as to how many he could sell. Ralph was thinking five hundred would be a good number.
“I’m going to be fucking rich. And famous.” He grinned as he rolled to his side. “Fucking amazingly rich and famous.”
As he drifted off he heard something in the kitchen area. Peeking around the corner he didn’t see anything, but he had left the light on. Getting up, grumbling about it the entire time, he entered the area and stood staring at the table he’d left the map on.
The footprints were still there, all around the area that he’d yet to go to. But in addition to it, there was what appeared to be blood and a crudely drawn picture of a man. He knew it was him without even getting close enough to see the clean-shaven face and the camo jacket that he always wore. Walking closer to it, he saw the words printed there.
Leave or die .
He sat down on his chair and stared at the map. When a cool breeze touched the back of his neck, he grabbed the gun off the table and shot four times in the general direction behind him.
He stared at the damage for several seconds before he realized what he was seeing. Christ, he was off his rocker. He rubbed his eyes several times before he looked again.
The footprints moved across the counter and to the now open window, like whatever it had been had walked in fresh ink. Or blood. Glass all over the counter as well as a broken curtain rod sat in the mess there. But it was the tiny little hat that had him shaking as he reached for it. It was blue, as blue as the sky was in the late evening. And so small that it didn’t fit on the tip of his littlest finger when he’d picked it up.
He sat there, for how long he had no idea, but he kept staring at the mess he’d made and the hat. The hat that he was sure hadn’t been there before. The little prints that seemed to just materialize, and which he knew there could have been no way for someone to get in and put them there.
And if they hadn’t been there before, then where had they come from? Why were there prints on his map? Who had drawn a picture, a little bitty picture of him dead? And most of all, how the fuck had they gotten in to do all this shit?
~~~
I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t want you to get mad at me. Well, not mad, but testy, like you have been lately. Elam looked at Casdon and nodded. His own mind was a mess of questions, but he wasn’t even sure if he knew how
Similar Books
