The Exile Episode 43

“Catches on quick, doesn’t he?” Lorelei said mockingly.

“Take it easy. He’s new to all this,” Jeckle explained. “Still getting used to the offensive play.”

“Well there’ll be no more running, little rabbit,” Lorelei said leaning toward me.

“Hey,” I said, taking offense at the moniker.

“Don’t be angry,” Lorelei said. “I like rabbits.”

“Mmm. With crisp bacon and rich red wine simmered over a low flame,” Heckle moaned, smacking his lips.

A turn of her head, and Lorelei’s flashing eyes quickly silenced him.

Lorelei’s comments confused and flustered me, and I decided that I didn’t like her.

“What you said about the running. Calypso has talked to you?” Jeckle asked.

“Of course,” Lorelei said. “She’s always a step ahead. Surely you know that.”

Jeckle nodded his agreement.

“All right. Here’s the plan,” he began.

“You want me to distract the head cheese of some rinky-dink lower management so you can work your way up the metaphorical food chain, take out the head of the company, and free what’s his face here,” Lorelei said, gesturing to me.

“My name is Wesley,” I said indignantly.

“Nothing personal, sweetie. Names are for friends. You stick your neck out for friends. If things are to run smoothly, you’ve got to remain objective. The one thing about Heckle I like is his habit of nicknaming. Makes my life a lot easier,” Lorelei replied.

“Lorelei,” Jeckle said, bringing her back to the point of conversation, “these aren’t your standard corrupt businessmen or drug running thugs. We’re dealing with corporate, big business, the kind of people who can hire armies.”

“How tough could they be? I’ve dealt with all types,” she scoffed.

“But—” Heckle began.

“Enough stalling. Where is he?” Lorelei demanded.

With a look of confusion, Heckle answered, “Who?”

Lorelei reached out, grabbing Heckle’s shirt, and growled, “Don’t start with me. You know whom I mean. Calypso said I’d be working with that two timing back stabbing rat—”

She was interrupted when someone suddenly came crashing through the window. Stunned, the crowd moved in to curiously gawk at the man who lay on the floor, covered with glass shards. Heckle jumped up from the bar stool and pushed the patrons aside to get to the man. He bent down and turned him over before helping him to his feet.

From where I sat, I saw it was Cazonetti.

“Oh there he is,” Lorelei purred.

The sounds of a scuffle outside brought everyone’s eyes up just as the Ferryman came tumbling backwards through the front door.

Right behind him stepped a hulking man. I figured he was at least 6′ 5″, his arms as thick as tree trunks. A plethora of colorful tattoos covered his pale skin, but the flaming eyeball on his chest caught and held my attention.

“Oh great,” Heckle grumbled as he moved a stunned Cazonetti out of the way.

“Who is that?” I asked.

In a low voice, Lorelei warned, “Hide, kid. That’s the Cyclops.

Published in: on November 30, 2013 at 7:14 am  Leave a Comment  
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