to see to. I am his replacement.”
“How do I know you aren’t lying?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Besides the obvious, which is that I could have killed you in your sleep? I suppose … a demonstration.” Casually waving his hand, he mumbled under his breath and golden light gathered in the train car.
A thousand fireflies of light gathered around Tabitha and lifted her. She struggled, but it was useless.
Andrew giggled in her arms.
The sitting man snapped his fingers and she dropped. “You are young wolfling. You have much growing to do. I could kill you any time I wanted. But, you see, I made a promise to Wells. Satisfied?”
She nodded mutely, warily standing.
He sighed and got up. “I’m going to the restroom. You two need to eat. Do so. By the way, my name is Loki.”
He turned and walked to the end of the car, slipping into the bathroom.
Tabitha, stunned, let out a sigh of relief. Her new bodyguard was, well, he was intimidating. Sitting Andrew down at the table while he stared at her, wide-eyed, she glanced towards the car’s bar. Food was laid out, banquet style.
She hadn’t made it two steps when the roof of the train car, metal screaming in protest, was ripped away from the walls and went sailing off into the night.
A screamingly pissed Elizabeth Bathory leapt into the car and grabbed her by the throat. “Who was he, pup? Who do you have protecting you?”
***
Robert Crowley
Robert wiped some of the sweat off his dark tanned skin, rubbing it between his fingers and focusing on the slick texture. He shifted his weight slightly, spooning a ladle of water onto the hot rocks in the center of the room. Steam rose, clouding the already hazy room with a close heavy sultriness.
He sighed and leaned back. Heat kneaded its way through his flesh and muscles, soaking down to the bone. Robert relaxed contentedly.
Wiping his hands on the damp towel around his waist, he clapped once. “Show yourself, spirit.”
The steam coalesced, swirling in place, until a form began to appear. He closed his eyes, tasting the spirit’s essence with his mind. There were three of them, though they had the feel of something singular, spinning in place as though uncertain which manifestation to take. Eyes still closed, he focused on his hearing, projecting that sense beyond the physical plane.
Across the reaches of time and space the ethereal voices of three women could be heard. Voices echoed in his mind, teasing his soul. He raised an eyebrow. They were bickering with each other.
“… seen one before. You two always say I’m too young! Poo! I’m tens of thousands of years old, I just look young.” In all fairness, the speaker did sound very young to Robert.
“You are too young, dearest. Function follows form, you know that. You look young, so you are young. It should be me. I can appreciate the advantages of a naked man in a sweat lodge. Appreciate them fully.”
A cracked voice, heavy with age, spoke last. “You’re both too young. You get distracted. You also make too many distractions. I shall deliver the message.”
The second speaker jumped back in. “Not so fast, you old crone. I get the yummy man. You haven’t let me have one since Plato died. That’s just wrong. I’ve had blue bean for two thousand years. I’m more frustrated than a Trojan at the gates of Troy.”
Robert grinned.
“That’s right I haven’t let you. Last time I let you spin the Fate of a naked man you started a war half a century too early!”
The little girl giggled. “But I ended it, lightning on the sea. Snippity snip, kindling from a ship! The Peloponnesians went to the sea’s bed, Nicias replaced the thread.”
The crone spoke again. “Indeed you did, dearie; indeed you did.”
The middle aged woman spoke again. “As is her right to cut the threads. And it is your right to draw the length of the life, dear sister. But it is my right alone to spin the life.” She sounded smug.
Robert got the feeling he was
“How do I know you aren’t lying?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Besides the obvious, which is that I could have killed you in your sleep? I suppose … a demonstration.” Casually waving his hand, he mumbled under his breath and golden light gathered in the train car.
A thousand fireflies of light gathered around Tabitha and lifted her. She struggled, but it was useless.
Andrew giggled in her arms.
The sitting man snapped his fingers and she dropped. “You are young wolfling. You have much growing to do. I could kill you any time I wanted. But, you see, I made a promise to Wells. Satisfied?”
She nodded mutely, warily standing.
He sighed and got up. “I’m going to the restroom. You two need to eat. Do so. By the way, my name is Loki.”
He turned and walked to the end of the car, slipping into the bathroom.
Tabitha, stunned, let out a sigh of relief. Her new bodyguard was, well, he was intimidating. Sitting Andrew down at the table while he stared at her, wide-eyed, she glanced towards the car’s bar. Food was laid out, banquet style.
She hadn’t made it two steps when the roof of the train car, metal screaming in protest, was ripped away from the walls and went sailing off into the night.
A screamingly pissed Elizabeth Bathory leapt into the car and grabbed her by the throat. “Who was he, pup? Who do you have protecting you?”
***
Robert Crowley
Robert wiped some of the sweat off his dark tanned skin, rubbing it between his fingers and focusing on the slick texture. He shifted his weight slightly, spooning a ladle of water onto the hot rocks in the center of the room. Steam rose, clouding the already hazy room with a close heavy sultriness.
He sighed and leaned back. Heat kneaded its way through his flesh and muscles, soaking down to the bone. Robert relaxed contentedly.
Wiping his hands on the damp towel around his waist, he clapped once. “Show yourself, spirit.”
The steam coalesced, swirling in place, until a form began to appear. He closed his eyes, tasting the spirit’s essence with his mind. There were three of them, though they had the feel of something singular, spinning in place as though uncertain which manifestation to take. Eyes still closed, he focused on his hearing, projecting that sense beyond the physical plane.
Across the reaches of time and space the ethereal voices of three women could be heard. Voices echoed in his mind, teasing his soul. He raised an eyebrow. They were bickering with each other.
“… seen one before. You two always say I’m too young! Poo! I’m tens of thousands of years old, I just look young.” In all fairness, the speaker did sound very young to Robert.
“You are too young, dearest. Function follows form, you know that. You look young, so you are young. It should be me. I can appreciate the advantages of a naked man in a sweat lodge. Appreciate them fully.”
A cracked voice, heavy with age, spoke last. “You’re both too young. You get distracted. You also make too many distractions. I shall deliver the message.”
The second speaker jumped back in. “Not so fast, you old crone. I get the yummy man. You haven’t let me have one since Plato died. That’s just wrong. I’ve had blue bean for two thousand years. I’m more frustrated than a Trojan at the gates of Troy.”
Robert grinned.
“That’s right I haven’t let you. Last time I let you spin the Fate of a naked man you started a war half a century too early!”
The little girl giggled. “But I ended it, lightning on the sea. Snippity snip, kindling from a ship! The Peloponnesians went to the sea’s bed, Nicias replaced the thread.”
The crone spoke again. “Indeed you did, dearie; indeed you did.”
The middle aged woman spoke again. “As is her right to cut the threads. And it is your right to draw the length of the life, dear sister. But it is my right alone to spin the life.” She sounded smug.
Robert got the feeling he was
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