How to Lose Your Dragon (The Immortality Curse Book 1) by Peter Glenn (beach read TXT) 📕

spoke. The whole room seemed eager to see this one play out. Then, without warning, the distinct sound of a gunshot rang out from the tiny speakers, followed by a swanky drum beat and a guitar solo.

I nodded and slapped Sevin on the back again. “Well, done, my man! I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“‘Tis a gift, mon ami,” he said, bowing slightly as Hank also looked in his direction, nodding appreciatively.

“Pfft,” another voice blurted out.

It was Isaiah, holding a cell phone in his hands and pointing to it. Isaiah was an actual, full-fledged magician that could cast real spells and stuff. A talent I’d always envied a bit, to be perfectly honest. Anything was better than my dull, boring life.

“I can do that, too, genius,” Isaiah continued. “It’s called a ‘playlist.’”

My eyes squinted to make out what was on the cell phone’s screen from several feet away. Slowly, it came into focus. There at the top in big, bold letters was “98.4 The Click! Best hits of the 80s.” And below that were a series of tiny words and numbers, which I could only guess was their playlist for the day.

The whole room erupted into laughter at Sevin’s expense and I turned to look at him, pity in my eyes. His face was even redder than before, and his lips had disappeared into the collar of his polo.

“Non, monsieur,” he retorted. “I did it without ze playlist.”

But no one seemed to even hear him over the raucous laughter, so he buried his face in his shirt even further.

“Is okay, friend,” a voice from behind him boomed a moment later. Yuri, a tall, slender Russian man, walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder.

“Can’t win them all, but next time, no?” he said in slightly broken English. He gave Sevin another pat, then sauntered on over to the bathroom, leaving his drink unattended.

Unlike Sevin, Yuri was full-on Russian. He’d only moved into the Washington area a few months ago looking for work after the recent food shortages in his home country had threatened his livelihood.

I wasn’t quite sure what Yuri did, either, but I wasn’t too keen on asking. The guy had a rather gruff attitude most of the time, which felt kind of intimidating.

I gave Sevin one last grin, then turned my attention back to Mei and settled down on a barstool, where I figured I’d spend the next few hours of my life.

“What’ll it be, stranger?” Mei asked when the commotion finally died down. “Your usual?”

My parched lips cracked upward. “Absolutely.”

I took in her sight for another moment, reveling in it. She was wearing silky black top and matching trousers, with regular, comfortable looking shoes on her feet, ideal for standing hours on end. She really was quite beautiful.

“You know, they don’t make a good Manhattan in Ireland. I had to settle for stale beer.”

She reared her head back slightly. “Ireland, eh? And what did you get up to there?”

I patted my new weapon that was strapped to my back. You might think it odd to come armed to my friend’s bar, but I guarantee you everyone else here had at least three weapons on them, Mei included. The magic areas of town could be dangerous business to the ill-prepared.

“This beauty,” I said. I turned so she could see the burnished bronze hilt in all its glory. “It’s called Grax’thor, Hope Render.”

“Ooh,” she let out. “Nifty.” She paused a moment while she mixed together whiskey, vermouth, and bitters, giving them a shake.

My dry mouth ached as I watched her work. I could almost taste my drink, and I hadn’t even gotten it yet. Her Manhattans really were that good.

“So what does this ‘Grax’thor’ of yours do, exactly?”

I grinned at her. “It’s a cursed sword, of course. It’s said to bring whoever wields it terrible bad luck.”

Hank scrunched his nose. “Why in hell would you want that thing if it’s cursed?” he blurted out, eyes crossed.

I put my hands on my hips and turned to face him. “To counteract my good luck, of course,” I winked. “Why else?”

Hank shrugged and shook his head a few times, then went back to nursing his drink, muttering something I didn’t catch. The big man had never quite understood my obsession with ending my own existence. I could respect that about him, but in fairness, he hadn’t lived nearly as long as I had, either.

Mei kept talking. “So, do you think it’ll really work?”

I frowned. “I’m not really sure. I haven’t really gotten a chance to try it out for real yet.” I let out a long breath. “Sure wasn’t any help to me back in that Celtic barrow.”

“Yeah?”

She finished shaking the contents of my drink and poured them into a chilled martini glass that had a twist of orange in it. The orange peel swirled around in the liquid in a slow, intoxicating pattern.

My mouth watered even more. Finally, Mei shoved the glass into my hands. I snatched the base greedily and pulled it toward me, but Mei’s hand grabbed mine first, stopping me.

“You gonna pay for it this time?” she asked.

I lowered my eyes in shame and hurt. “Come on, Mei, you know I’m good for it.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said before this last trip of yours, too, but you still have a hundred dollar tab open.”

I bit my lip and retracted my hand. She did have a point. I was behind on my bills a lot, and Mei kept pumping out the drinks anyway. Just like a good friend would.

“Hang on a second.” I rummaged around in my back pocket and pulled out a couple crumpled bills. There were two twenties and a fifty. I felt around in the other pocket and dropped a couple coins on the table. They were euros, but with the exchange rate, they should about cover the other ten dollars of the tab.

“There,” I said. “My tab is paid in full. Now can I have a new one,