Page 34 of Wolf of Ashes
“Fries,” he says.
Okay, yes, I know about fries. These are just much thicker than the ones Mom described.
I smash several into my mouth on top of another bite of burger, not caring that the sauce is dripping down my chin. “Fuck me twice.”
Within minutes, I’ve devoured the first burger, only to find a second one hiding beneath the now-empty fries holder. Wiping my chin, I give the keeper a happy smile.
His lips draw back from his teeth in a snarl-like grin. Whatever windswept visage he’s maintaining right now, he can’t seem to subdue his dark power.
Before I can take a bite of the second burger, there’s a flurry of movement from within the shop. Some sort of minor commotion.
A human figure has lurched up from their seat, which was previously hidden behind the peeling posters plastered against the glass, and now hurries toward the door.
I pause, the burger raised to my mouth.
A moment later, a man bursts from the shop into the parking lot. He’s definitely human. Maybe early thirties. I don’t detect any magical power emanating from his body and he doesn’t appear to be armed except for a paper napkin scrunched in his fist.
He storms toward us, his cheeks flushed red.
“Oi, mate!” he shouts at the keeper, pointing at the vehicle we’re sitting on. “That’s my ute.”
Ute?He must mean the truck.
The keeper calmly extends his hand toward the man, at which dark light shoots through the air. The human is breathing so hard that he sucks the darkness right up into his nostrils.
“This is not your ute,” the keeper says.
The man pulls up short, now only five paces away. He blinks at us. “Mate, that’s not my ute.”
The man peers around the parking lot, his face flushing again, his hands lowering. “Why am I out here?”
“I don’t know,” the keeper says. “Why don’t you go back inside?”
“Yeah.” The man nods. “I’ll go back inside.”
The human pauses mid-turn and casts a glance back at the keeper. “Nice sunnies.”
“Thanks,” the keeper replies, tapping his glasses.
Sunnies. It must be a colloquial term for sunglasses.
The man disappears into the shop, muttering something about “bloody drongo wearing sunnies at night.”
I let out my held breath, my forehead creasing. “What did he call you?”
The keeper shrugs. “Australian slang escapes me.”
Now that the interruption is over, I bite into the second burger.
The keeper’s attention returns immediately to me, no longer quite so nonchalant. “Tell me about the man you seek.”
The burger instantly sours on my tongue. “Dammit,” I mutter. “I was enjoying my food.”
The keeper side-eyes me, giving me an unfeeling look over the top of his sunglasses that turns quickly into a piercing stare. “It’s important to have a plan.”
“Oh, I have a plan,” I say. “Of course I have a fucking plan. I’ve had years to think about it.”
Years to think about all the things Idon’tknow and all the ways Ican’tplan.
