Read Online Holier Than Thou (The Tome of Bill) by Rick Gualtieri - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rick Gualtieri
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the assholes who’d nearly vaporized me...go figure. I couldn’t wait to see how that was gonna turn out. If I was a betting man, though, I’d venture to guess it wouldn’t be in my favor.
Without Bad Luck, I’d have No Luck at All
“A conference call?”
“Of course,” James replied. “What did you expect me to say?”
“Something with a bit more killing, for starters,” Sally said.
James chuckled. “Sally, my dear, this isn’t the thirteenth century. We don’t take up arms for the slightest offenses, especially at this moment. We’ll soon have our hands full enough of enemies. I’d prefer we not add to their number.”
I bristled at the slightly offensive remark. I don’t consider myself hot shit or anything, but I’m not jaded enough to shrug off attempts on my life as no big deal.
Sally raised her hands and shrugged. There wasn’t much we could do to protest. By bringing Boston into this mess, we had to accept their judgment on the matter. Regardless, neither of us was quite expecting a conference bridge with the folks who, in all likelihood, just succeeded in sending about a dozen vampires screaming into the great beyond.
Talking to those psychos was not a good thing at any time, but right now, it had potential to be epically disastrous. Harry Decker and his fun bunch claimed to have known about my birth through their scrying or whatever the fuck they did. Assuming they weren’t full of shit, I wasn’t about to rule out their ability to do the same for the Icon. Considering they somehow thought that Sheila would be the death of them - which was hard to wrap my brain around since she wasn’t a killer - there was little doubt they’d be keeping their eyes open for her arrival.
This was shaping up to be the worst conference call of my life, even worse than that time I accidentally clogged the school toilet back in first grade with my Boba Fett figure (I was pretending it was the Sarlaac pit).
Talk about a shitty situation.
* * *
Once more, Sally and I played the waiting game, as there were diplomatic channels to be opened on Boston’s end. If there was an upside, it was that Colin was again forced to act as James’s toady. No matter how far up in the vampire hierarchy he got, he was still just someone else’s bitch. That alone was worth a fraction of a smile.
The evening stretched into the wee hours of the night. Despite my orders, Dread Stalker left at some point...probably to go and commit some heinous act or another. Hopefully he ran into some witches in a dark alley. It was a horrible thought, but fuck it - I’m not applying for sainthood anytime soon. If the asshole wanted to get himself killed, that was his problem. Starlight was kept busy with some more of Sally’s bullshit paperwork. Firebird continued resting, albeit probably not comfortably. She still looked like a charbroiled chicken, but the blood transfusions appeared to be having some effect. She looked a little less crispy in places.
Sally and Alfonzo disappeared into her office for a while. I couldn’t even amuse myself with the fantasy that he was railing her behind closed doors. I probably had far more of a chance with him than she did. No, she was probably doing something douchey like getting her hair colored. It would figure. We almost got our asses turned into Baked Alaska, and her biggest concern was whether her roots were showing.
At last, her door opened. Alfonzo exited and indicated that Sally wanted me back in her office. I was supposed to be the one in charge. I should be summoning her into my office (if I had one).
Oh, who was I kidding? I would have gladly handed her the keys to the castle. Hell, I would have dropped to one knee and proclaimed her Queen Shit if I could’ve turned back the clock a year and gone down a different path. Even two months back would be enough. I could have told Sheila, “Sorry, babe, but I just don’t think you’ve got it in you to do any better.” Sure, it would
Without Bad Luck, I’d have No Luck at All
“A conference call?”
“Of course,” James replied. “What did you expect me to say?”
“Something with a bit more killing, for starters,” Sally said.
James chuckled. “Sally, my dear, this isn’t the thirteenth century. We don’t take up arms for the slightest offenses, especially at this moment. We’ll soon have our hands full enough of enemies. I’d prefer we not add to their number.”
I bristled at the slightly offensive remark. I don’t consider myself hot shit or anything, but I’m not jaded enough to shrug off attempts on my life as no big deal.
Sally raised her hands and shrugged. There wasn’t much we could do to protest. By bringing Boston into this mess, we had to accept their judgment on the matter. Regardless, neither of us was quite expecting a conference bridge with the folks who, in all likelihood, just succeeded in sending about a dozen vampires screaming into the great beyond.
Talking to those psychos was not a good thing at any time, but right now, it had potential to be epically disastrous. Harry Decker and his fun bunch claimed to have known about my birth through their scrying or whatever the fuck they did. Assuming they weren’t full of shit, I wasn’t about to rule out their ability to do the same for the Icon. Considering they somehow thought that Sheila would be the death of them - which was hard to wrap my brain around since she wasn’t a killer - there was little doubt they’d be keeping their eyes open for her arrival.
This was shaping up to be the worst conference call of my life, even worse than that time I accidentally clogged the school toilet back in first grade with my Boba Fett figure (I was pretending it was the Sarlaac pit).
Talk about a shitty situation.
* * *
Once more, Sally and I played the waiting game, as there were diplomatic channels to be opened on Boston’s end. If there was an upside, it was that Colin was again forced to act as James’s toady. No matter how far up in the vampire hierarchy he got, he was still just someone else’s bitch. That alone was worth a fraction of a smile.
The evening stretched into the wee hours of the night. Despite my orders, Dread Stalker left at some point...probably to go and commit some heinous act or another. Hopefully he ran into some witches in a dark alley. It was a horrible thought, but fuck it - I’m not applying for sainthood anytime soon. If the asshole wanted to get himself killed, that was his problem. Starlight was kept busy with some more of Sally’s bullshit paperwork. Firebird continued resting, albeit probably not comfortably. She still looked like a charbroiled chicken, but the blood transfusions appeared to be having some effect. She looked a little less crispy in places.
Sally and Alfonzo disappeared into her office for a while. I couldn’t even amuse myself with the fantasy that he was railing her behind closed doors. I probably had far more of a chance with him than she did. No, she was probably doing something douchey like getting her hair colored. It would figure. We almost got our asses turned into Baked Alaska, and her biggest concern was whether her roots were showing.
At last, her door opened. Alfonzo exited and indicated that Sally wanted me back in her office. I was supposed to be the one in charge. I should be summoning her into my office (if I had one).
Oh, who was I kidding? I would have gladly handed her the keys to the castle. Hell, I would have dropped to one knee and proclaimed her Queen Shit if I could’ve turned back the clock a year and gone down a different path. Even two months back would be enough. I could have told Sheila, “Sorry, babe, but I just don’t think you’ve got it in you to do any better.” Sure, it would
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