Sandro sat on his usual bench in the park, across from the duck pond, and watched a man tap his way along the path with a white cane. He was pulling a large wagon, the kind landscapers used to move plants around. It was empty.
Heltia had left Palloren as prepared as any warrior could be for the long journey to the Infinite Armory. Now, as she finally stood in the fabled Hall of Implements, she feared it would come to naught…
The headless corpse of a chupacabra lay in the mulch below the lion topiary. “Third time this month,” grumbled Tom the gardener, prodding at the thing with his foot as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.
Gn’thiv smirked at the image carved into the face of the stone monument. He often marveled at what ancient beings would do to protect their treasures.
Lunette imagined the sound of the metal spade swooshing down. She imagined their wails and it made her smile, made her hand hurt less.
There was a protocol for cases like this. She didn’t get the sense he wanted out completely—not that she could’ve granted such a wish. He just wanted a fair shot, and that she could do…for a price…
