Read Online The Saint by Melanie Jackson - Free Book Online

tomorrow.”
    Adora blinked.
    â€œWe’re going to be traveling? To New York?” She frowned. Ben hadn’t said anything about traveling. She didn’t mind—was thrilled, in fact—but it did complicate things. She had packed for the more casual environs of L.A. It would mean a fast trip home—
please, God, not in the Storch
. She said aloud, “Where else would we go? Assuming I take the job, will I need my passport?”
    â€œOh, no. We won’t be going anywhere that requires a passport. Yet. To begin with, I plan New York and San Francisco. And perhaps Palm Springs. These days I’m also doing a bit of a Robin Hood gig and need to stick close to home while arrangements are made to rob Prince John. He goes by the name of General Anaximander these days. His Sheriff of Nottingham is a creature called Raxin.”
    She’d heard the name Raxin but couldn’t recall in what context. Adora wanted to ask what he meant, but she was interrupted by the entrance of a small, nervous man in a dark green suit.
    Kris said, “Miss Navarra, let me introduce my publicist, Maxwell Brand. He handles many of L.A.’s up-and-coming stars and will see to it that your book is made known to the world. Max, this is Adora Navarra, the biographer.”
    The biographer.
She liked the sound of that.
    â€œA pleasure,” Max said, and somehow managed to sound like he meant it. Perhaps she was looking like a sane ally in the land of sugarplums and legends. Even for L.A. publicists, Santa Claus had to be an
out-there
kind of client. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Kris, but Mugshottz has been looking for you. He’s had a cable from . . . from your nephew. Things sound . . . on course. But Jack would like a consult as soon as you’re able to get away.”
    â€œExcellent. I think of Mugshottz as my Little John,” Kris added as an aside to Adora. “He’s certainly tall enough.” He turned back to his publicist. “Max, tell him I’m—never mind. Here he is. Mugshottz, come and meet Miss Navarra. She’s going to be writing about me.”
    Adora looked at the creature lumbering down the hall toward them and swallowed hard. She had understood that she was in a goblin city and that it was possible she would see some lutins, but her online research had led her to believe that goblins were diminutive creatures that had surgery to appear human. This person was the size of a smallish grizzly bear, and if he’d had any surgery to help him look human it had been done by a mad scientist who spent too much time watching B horror movies.
    â€œCall the Fab Five. We have a fashion emergency,” she muttered, again speaking aloud without meaning to. And when she got a better look, she whispered, “He’s got a head-piercing—right through the temple!” Adora found herself staring at the bolts projecting in a Frankensteinish manner from Mugshottz’s head. She didn’t like to make snap judgments about people, but she thought it unlikely that she and this creature would be best friends. Certainly she would have to be nuts to take style advice from him.
    â€œYes, Mugshottz is a troll-goblin mix,” Kris answered, assuming she was speaking to him. He added loudly, “He claims to have some gargoyle blood too. I’m not exactly sure where he keeps his brain, but I have long suspected that it isn’t in his head.” His voice returned to normal. “He’s a good bodyguard, though, and would die to protect me, which is all I can ask.” Then he again lowered his tone to add one more thing: “By the way, he’s from the Bronx. Pretend not to notice the accent. He’s self-conscious about it.”
    Adora pulled her eyes away from the monster long enough to see if her new employer was kidding. He didn’t seem to be. He looked genuinely concerned about hurting this creature’s feelings— and why