Myths and Gargoyles by Jamie Hawke (interesting books to read in english txt) 📕

“Brah,” he said, then motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “Bathroom’s right there. Forty bucks and I’ll give you some lotion.” He was serious, too, holding up one of those little hotel bottles. Apparently, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Judging by the ladies that walked by next, all wearing nothing but green loincloths with their skin covered in blue body paint so that they looked like water fairies, it made sense.

“No, I’m—I’m good,” I said, annoyed and embarrassed. But I did start to head for the bathroom, just in case.

It wasn’t that the Disney characters themselves turned me on. No, that would be weird. But I grew up on them, so seeing ladies dressed like the characters totally gave me this weird sense like I’d seen them mature and we were all the same age now, and so it could feasibly be possible that the Little Mermaid and Belle would want to have a ménage à trois… in a weird way.

Nobody needed to know that, though, so when I saw Chris heading my way, I held my tote bag closer and nodded at him.

“Jackass,” he greeted me, grinning at his favorite way to mock the fact that my parents hadn’t come up with some fancy name like Skyler or Landon. They thought Jack was great, and so did I, so the idea that he would mock it always pissed me off. Which was, of course, exactly why he did it. “You won’t believe what I found for sale.”

“You know I’m not here to spend money,” I reminded him, glad to see that his presence was doing a great job of making my boner go away. “Press. Talk to people, go to events, write the story.” He grinned, and already I knew this was going to hurt. “What is it?”

“Follow me.”

We turned a couple of corners, passing booths of comics, posters, and statues modeled on various myths and legends. Basically, this was a new con that had popped up in celebration of everything geeky. Since we prided ourselves on our geekery, it was perfect for us. This was the place fans of Marvel, DC, Disney, hell, even Care Bears—whoever the hell made them—could come and drool over cool memorabilia.

At a desk full of Deadpool comics and figures, I glanced over to see a woman in the crowd looking my way. She looked young and like she could be quite stunning, if not for her disheveled hair and the wild look she was giving me. At first I thought the hair had to be part of a costume, but the closer she got, the more it became clear that wasn’t the case.

“Come on,” I said to Chris, pulling him by the sleeve to check out another area.

We turned past that row and saw a large crowd coming our way, likely from some special event or performance. I picked up the pace, Chris grunting in annoyance as we went, and then we were past them, the weird woman lost back there.

I couldn’t have explained why I didn’t want to be around her, but the feeling was strong.

“What’s the rush, dillweed?” Chris asked. “It’s not that way. Over here.”

He moved to the next aisle and I realized that, from where he stopped, we’d be relatively hidden by the banners.

And then there it was, the epitome of perfection in swords—exactly how I’d always imagined Excalibur, complete with Celtic engravings on the hilt and intricately designed patterns at the base of the blade. I had to have it. Every ounce of me craved it, needed this Excalibur in my life. Chris was looking at the statue of Merlin with a blown-glass magic effect next to it, apparently thinking that’s what I was into, but this sword truly called my name.

“How much?” I asked, knowing I shouldn’t.

The man behind the table looked at me closely, a lady at his side looking me up and down, frowning. She wore a skimpy black top and skirt. Her ears were pierced along the tops and she even had a piercing at the bottom of her black-painted lips. She licked her lips, considering, and then glanced back at the sword for a moment. I didn’t think it was that difficult a question. Or were they judging me? Debating how much they could get away with charging me, or whether I’d even be worth responding to?

“Not for sale,” the lady finally said.

“Damn.” I frowned, let down, and was about to walk away.

“It’s… actually a raffle item.”

“The fuck?” Chris said at my side. “We gotta win that.”

“Sorry,” I mouthed, noting the way she frowned at him standing next to me. “How exactly do I enter?”

She eyed me again, then looked knowingly at the man next to her. They seemed to share some unspoken agreement before she held up a card. “It’s a sleep study. People at these conferences get overwhelmed, even stressed. We’re offering a natural, organic and approved sleep alternative.

“Um, pass,” I said, and Chris blew a raspberry as if we’d never even consider the idea. Considering how well I knew him, this woman’s looks alone made the whole thing quite tempting, but come on—who gets stressed out from a convention like this?

“Well, if you change your mind.” She handed me the card and I looked it over, pretending to care for the sake of this lady. It was simple, with an address, phone number, and a logo of a white swan.

Damn. I really wanted that sword hanging over my mantle. I know, most guys my age thought having a sword was nerdy, or would rather have Longclaw or some other sword from Game of Thrones, but not me. All of those things would be nice too, but I’d grown up going to Disneyland and watching the classics, such as the Sword in the Stone. On top of that, this was the most badass Excalibur I’d ever seen. It was like I was drawn to it, like the fucker was a siren singing a