Titan Song by Dan Stout (top 10 ebook reader .txt) 📕

“Kinda.” I drained the beer and held the glass up to the light. The bartender said, “Coming up!” and I decided the next round was meant to be. Just one more, I told myself.

“Kinda?” Talena sipped her wine. She was still on her first drink. How did people do that? There were nights I drank people’s leftovers, since it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. “What do you mean, kinda?”

“I mean kinda. You know—sort of, but not really? The city attorney makes decisions for all kinds of reasons. Doesn’t mean they’re always the right reasons. They’re just reasons. That’s why they’re the shitty attorney.” I pushed my empty glass farther down the bar. “Hey!” I called at the bartender. “Can I get something with some kick?”

“You’ve had about all the kick you can take,” Jax said. I stared at his talking mouth, the tiny, needle-sharp teeth that tinkled with every syllable.

“There are a lot of mistakes we make,” I said. “I make more than most. But I always pay my tab when the bill comes due.”

“That’s true,” the bartender said, dropping off two fingers of amber liquid. Something with a little more kick.

I gripped the tumbler, marveling at the precision of the pour. The liquid perfectly matched the height of my left ring and pinky fingers, the ones I was missing. “Maybe I’m trying to fill them back up,” I said.

“Fill what?”

“My fingers,” I said.

I looked around, realized Talena was to my left, and felt a rush of happiness. She was so like her mom, stubborn and funny and generous. I was damn proud of her, and wished I could think of the words to say so. Instead I gave her a smile and said, “Hey. I’m really sorry I made fun of your shitty neighborhood.”

Her jaw clenched, and she pushed the half-empty glass of wine across the bar. “I’ve had enough.” I tracked her movements in the bar mirror as she stood and crossed behind me to squeeze Ajax’s arm. “You coming?”

He hesitated. “I better make sure everyone gets home okay. Can you wait a while?”

Lips tight, she shook her head. “Not tonight. Catch you next time.”

Then she was gone, and I had a different glass in my hand. I turned, and found a heavy-set Gillmyn in her seat, arguing with someone about a local carabella team. It took me a minute to figure out that someone was me. Jax was still to my right, thumbing through his notebook.

“I don’t know,” I proclaimed.

He looked up. “Don’t know what?”

I smacked my lips, marveling slightly at their distant, numb feeling. “What I’m trying to fill.”

I ordered just one more shot, threw it back, and disappeared into darkness.

29

I SAT UP, BELCHED, AND IMMEDIATELY regretted both those actions. I shook my head into a semblance of clarity and looked around. Then I froze. I wasn’t home.

I was tangled up in a red-striped sheet, my shoes off, lying on a couch. The walls were covered with bookshelves. There were rows of bland black and gray hardcovers with titles like Logic: A Textbook or Manna and the Path During Warfare. Two shorter shelves packed with a rainbow of colorful paperbacks, their spines cracked into vertical stripes from multiple readings. These had more evocative titles. The Robber Prince’s Conquest, The Concubine of Cloudswar, The Heart is a Battleprize, A Dalliance or Two.

There was a noise, and I spun in that direction. I regretted it immediately. Jax strolled in, carrying a mug of coffee and bottle of pain relievers.

“Oh, you’re awake. Good. I was afraid I’d have to call the coroner’s office this morning.”

“What happened?” I gripped the couch, hoping the room would stabilize.

“What do you remember?” He handed me the coffee.

“We were having a couple drinks,” I said. “Then . . .”

“You woke up on someone’s couch. Does that happen to you frequently?”

It happened most every night, since I tended to pass out on the couch at home. But I didn’t tell him that. I washed two pills down with a swig of coffee. I sloshed a little on myself in the process, unaccustomed to drinking from a cup tapered to fit a Mollenkampi mouth.

“You remember the big guy sitting to your left?” he asked.

“Sorta.”

“Well, you and he really disagreed about carabella.”

I ran a hand over my head, probing sore spots and wondering how badly I was bruised. “You didn’t take me to a doctor?”

“Didn’t seem like a good idea, considering you’d picked a fight.”

“I must’ve lost.”

“No, you won.”

“Feels like I lost.”

“It probably feels like you took him to the floor then threw up on him. Since that’s what happened.”

That would explain the breath, at least. I did my best to drown it with more coffee. The details of the previous night were fuzzy. What had Klare said about people working together? She’d do it better than me? My head ached, and I could barely focus.

“You in shape to head for the Bunker?” He held out a blue washcloth.

I accepted the cold washcloth and pressed it to my face. “I do need to swing by my place and feed Rumple.”

“That cat’s got to be hungry.”

“He’s used to unusual hours.” I took a breath and braced myself. “Last night. Was Talena . . . ?”

“She was gone by then,” he said, shaking the last drops of vinegar into his coffee. “Luckily for both of us.”

“Both of us?”

“I don’t think she’s crazy about me hanging out with you socially. She thinks it encourages bad behavior.” He was already dressed for work, in a tidy suit and tie. He sat in a velvet chair with a low-slung back, his legs crossed, holding a steaming mug emblazoned with the Trelaheda University seal.

“You’d think she’d hope you’d rub off on me.”

“You’d think, but when I brought that up to her, she told me a story about a mechanic who washed his hands every night. She said the towels never got any cleaner.”

I sat up, pausing to let the room catch up with me. I