Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
The table erupts in conversation, arguments, and laughter.
It doesn’t take much encouragement for me to prepare my burger, to include pickles and a juicy slice of tomato, nor do I even consider turning down crispy, salt-licked fries. “Okay, Braylon,” I say, lifting my burger in my hands, somehow finding a lighter side to myself. “It’s time for the test.”
His lips curve. “Bring it. I know my burgers.”
Micah bites down on his and nods. “You got my vote, Braylon. Damn, man. Always the best.”
Braylon beams, and it’s easy to see how much he hungers for Micah’s approval. It’s my turn, and I dig into my burger, the flavors exploding inside my mouth. It’s incredible. “Hmmm. Wow.” I wipe my mouth and add, “Dare I say that’s magical?”
Braylon holds up a finger. “There’s no magic used in the creation of that burger.”
Silas cackles. “He’s all serious and shit.” He straightens his spine and imitates Braylon. “There is no magic used in the creation of that burger.”
“You’re such a dick, Silas,” Braylon mutters.
I choose to ignore their sibling-like exchange and focus on Braylon. “You should have a cooking show. Maybe you can go undercover with the humans as the next Bobby Flay.”
Braylon beams while Gabriella rolls her eyes. “Do not feed that idea in his head. He’s already done a stint as a Navy SEAL. He was basically gone for ten years.”
“Right in the middle of the Kraken uprising,” Zeke adds. “Bastard.”
Braylon bristles. “I was playing hero to heroes every single day. That’s a good way to spend my time, and it was twelve years, not ten.”
“That was thirty years ago, and you still look like one of them,” Silas points out. “You just can’t let go.”
“What was the Kraken uprising?” I dare.
“Krakens are demons from the underbelly of the Earth,” Silas explains, already finishing off a burger. “They were sealed in the seventh layer of the Earth hundreds of years ago, but a higher-level demon set them free to wreak havoc on humans.”
“They possess humans,” Gabriella adds, “which then makes the humans do nasty things, like murder and mayhem.”
“They’re not gone,” Micah adds, “but we’ve lessened their numbers by a majority.”
“How did you kill them?” I ask.
“They have no physical form,” Gabriella says. “We had to send them back, which requires magic.”
“What if they’re inside a human?” I ask.
“There’s no way to kill a Kraken once they are inside the human without killing the human,” Zeke explains. “And there’s no saving the human that’s been infested. They’re already dead.”
The idea of killing a demon that looks like a human is horrifying. “Can their families tell what’s happened?”
“They’re good at pretending to be human, and those close to them just think they seem off, and not in a good way,” Micah chimes in, “which is why I hate them so much. It’s not uncommon for them to kill the human’s family.”
“How many were there?” I ask.
“Thousands,” Micah says, “but most were captured before they possessed anyone.”
“Back then, there was no internet,” Zeke adds, “and police departments didn’t cooperate with each other. That made it easy to deal with the possession. Surprisingly, in present day, it’s not that much harder. Humans are so self-absorbed, the top story on the news channels is who Taylor Swift is dating, not who just died. Nothing against Taylor Swift. It’s not her fault the news puts her story above others, and it works in our favor.”
They’re right, but it’s rather terrifying to hear it from those who some might call angels.
Much later, our bellies are full and cheeks tired from random laughter that has done much to soothe my frazzled nerves and battered spirit. We end up gathering in the living room, me on the couch sandwiched between Micah and Gabriella. Braylon sits in an oversized leather chair and produces a tall gold glass bottle with a crystal blue top. “Wine, anyone?” He begins filling glasses and handing them out.
I’m about to give it a try when Micah catches my hand. “Careful with that. It’s from Nephilim grapes. This you’ll feel. You might tell me all your secrets.”
“I already invited you into my mind, Micah,” I remind him, lowering my glass, “but just to be clear, there’s something called quid pro quo in the legal field. Turnabout is fair play. Give and take.”
“I’d rather hear your secrets from you.”
“I’m lucky I get to keep my name. I don’t know a secret to keep.” I sip from the glass, and there’s a fizz on my tongue that is almost lemony and yet sweet like honeysuckle. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, and I have to fight the urge to slug it all down. “That’s incredible.”
“Is it the first time you’ve had anything from the motherland?” Silas asks, sitting on an ottoman on the opposite side of the coffee table.