Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
And then I feel nothing as Kratos twists the spike to the right. I scream in pain when lightning from his hand joins with the spike and shoves into my chest, through my armor.
Then I feel nothing.
I finally feel nothing.
This is better than death, isn’t it?
This is what being at peace feels like.
It feels like nothing at all.
If I could smile I would.
Instead, I pull away and whisper. “It’s time.”
CHAPTER 22
CLEO
“It is an old custom for the wisest to give way.” —The Saga of Harald Hardrada, ch. 27
My head hurts from staring at books all day, and I really just want a nice glass of wine and to sit at the tree. I wonder what Jake is doing, if he’s doing well, if he’s backpacking somewhere and lost his phone. Maybe Jake’s in a dungeon and Cyrus’s going to use him as bait or something. No matter how I look at it, I can’t leave, but I know I can’t stay.
I search the kitchen and finally locate the door to the wine cellar. It leads down thirteen stairs into a giant cavern full of wines that look older than this house.
I try to pick one that’s not too old, even though it says 1922, and go to the wooden table in the middle of the chilly room and uncork it. There are beautiful silver goblets everywhere with dragons painted in red on them but no normal glasses to be seen.
Each of the glasses includes a polished white bone protrusion on each side. They’re old but all of them look like they’ve just been cleaned, so I pour the wine into one and examine it then stupidly look on the bottom to see if they’re made in China or something.
The only etch I find means blessing in Egyptian.
I think I’m at the point where I’m just going to accept that Cyrus has an obsession which far surpasses mine when it comes to history. I mean I understand being a fan of all of this but it’s surpassing weird and as if to remind me how weird, I walk and hear the bell again just as my charms hit the silver cup and make a scratching noise.
I’m all alone in a wine cellar with weird jewelry I refuse to believe in. I really need to find a friend here, and the squirrel shouldn’t be one of the options, but at this point…
Am I really going to go sit on a giant tree and talk to a squirrel that apparently loves to gossip?
Yup.
And I’m not even drunk—yet.
I grab my mug of wine and the wine bottle itself and make my way up the stairs then walk outside to the tree.
Sure enough, Rat is sitting at the bottom with another nut and one of the cows apparently got out because it’s literally standing right next to the tree eating. Oh, it’s the cow that makes friends by kicking up dirt.
I used to be afraid of cows, but this one has an otherworldly feel to it, it makes eye contact. That doesn’t seem normal for a cow.
I just shake my head and drink more wine. “Not normal at all, giant cow.” I can’t believe this is my life now.
“The world is weird.” I grumble.
I climb up onto the tree and notice that some of the leaves are continuing to fall. It’s November. Shouldn’t the leaves have already come off the tree? I’ve never seen a tree like this before. Strange.
At certain angles it appears to almost glow in the moonlight. Or maybe that’s just the weird glowing coming from the island across the way.
Wait! What? Wide-eyed, I take a second look at the island then I gulp the rest of my wine, staring in disbelief. Rat jumps up onto the tree, scurries along a branch, and sits next to me eating his nut while looking at the water.
“Is that real?” I ask. And again, I’m talking to a damn squirrel.
He finishes his nut and gulps.
I pour more wine in my mug, and I swear on the very tree I’m sitting on, he tries to steal it from me before I jerk it away.
The cow moos.
I wonder if it’s more sad than weird that I’m drinking with animals apparently and staring at the ocean, wondering why it looks like a red strip is drawn across it from the shore on this side to the island.
Am I that drunk already? I mean it’s been a while since I’ve had this much wine.
I rub my eyes and look again.
The red strip is still there. Is it a trick of the water? A certain sort of fish that lives in the water?
I’ve heard of those sorts of phenomena. I put the wine bottle on the ground by the cow and then carry my mug with me and walk toward the edge of the cliff. The water is almost glowing, spilling over the red.