Titan Song Dan Stout (top 20 books to read txt) 📖

no offense to your friend, Ajax, simply can’t make a big enough impression. But the wealthy, the influential, the politicians and business owners? They’re boulders. And when they drop, they make waves.”

“Waves aren’t any more permanent than ripples.”

“No, but they’re bigger.” Gellica rubbed her hands together, warming to the topic. “There’s nothing that we can do, for good or ill, that can’t be undone by the next generation of fools and sages. But we can affect the right now. And for the people out there,” she pointed at the window, the view of the city, “on the streets and huddled in their homes, wondering how they’re going to make ends meet? For them, right now is good enough.”

I wanted to believe in her. I wanted to trust her, this woman who cared about the right now, who’d trusted me with secrets of her magical creation and shape-shifting strangeness. But as much as she’d wanted to embrace our shared connection to the supernatural, I wanted to turn away. And that meant our every interaction was destined to disappointment.

“The problem is that the people you admire, all those wave makers? They only do enough work to keep people satisfied, to buy time to enjoy their warm condos and nice cars.”

Gellica’s shoulders pulled back. She had a weakness for fast cars. “Better to enjoy life and help others, than to wallow in self-pity as the world burns around you.”

“Okay, enough!” We both jumped, and found Jax glaring at us. “You two have something to work out. I get it. But if you think I’m going to waste my time playing nanny—”

“Hold on,” I said, but he talked over me.

“—then you’re mistaken. There are people who lost their lives in the sinkhole. There are people who are scared about it happening again. And until we’ve gotten that situation resolved, the two of you are going to play nice. You got me?”

I frowned, but kept my mouth shut. Gellica nodded, all business.

“Fair enough.” She stood. “Thank you for the photos.” Her eyes met mine. “But if you have anything else to discuss with me, contact my attorney.”

28

JAX PAUSED WHEN WE GOT to the street.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

There was nothing to tell him. I couldn’t spill Gellica’s secret, but even if I could, would I lead with the magical homunculus clone or the shape-changing into a big shadow cat?

“Don’t worry about it, kid.”

“I know you two were getting close, but there’s obviously something else going on. Something involving Paulus and the bodies in the sinkhole.”

I kept walking.

Ajax whistle-clicked his displeasure, but jogged to catch up. “I thought we were finally getting to the point of you trusting me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” I said. “I trusted someone once. It’s not a mistake I’ll be making again.”

He stopped chasing me, and I slowed.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Every now and then I remember why you’re single and popular.”

I favored him with my most unpleasant scowl, then pushed forward, disappearing into the jostling crowd, blending in with all the other throngs of lonely people, every one of us isolated in the huddled masses. I needed time to think, time to put together a plan. And more than that, I needed a drink.

I stopped home first. I needed to feed Rumple and drop off my revolver. I can’t claim I’ve never carried while in a bar, but there’s a difference between grabbing a quick drink and needing to crawl into a bottle and ponder the world.

I managed to get the corner spot at the bar of Mickey the Finn’s. It was my favorite seat, down near the bar-back’s access. Lots of coming and going of the busy staff meant that I could flag down someone to order another round, and it was out of the way enough that I’d be left alone to read the sports page by pretty much anyone with common decency. That’s why I knew I was out of luck when the spots on either side of me were claimed.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked. The young, well-dressed Mollenkampi who’d sat to my right ordered a low-alcohol beer from a company that spent more on its advertising campaigns than its brewing process. The human woman to my left opted for an unpretentious house wine.

“That’s a mistake,” I told her, as the bartender walked away. “This isn’t a wine kind of joint.”

Smiling, and looking a whole Hells of a lot like her mother, Talena said, “I’ll risk it.” To my right, Jax said, “You couldn’t have gotten here too long ago—you’re still mostly upright.”

I had, though. I’d been there for quite a while.

“Sometimes I think about buying my own bar stool,” I said. “Something ornate, maybe even regal. I’d bring it with me to all my favorite bars.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’d be able to claim a seat by myself, and no one could elbow in next to me.” I folded the paper and set it on the bar top.

Jax chuckled, and thanked the bartender as he was handed a beer on a cardboard coaster. “That seems like way more heavy lifting than you’d be interested in.”

I considered that, then lifted my glass to concede the point. Plus, I supposed an ornate bar stool was a bad idea for someone who generally preferred not to be noticed.

A multitoned snarl from behind caused me to turn, in time for a pair of powerful biting jaws to clamp shut inches from my face. I jerked back reflexively, heart pounding. The pain of a Mollenkampi bite was deeply ingrained in my mind, and the ache in my finger stumps was always present when I moved in the colder reaches of the city.

It was Klare, the reporter from the Union Record. Jax had a hand on her shoulder faster than I could follow, and she snarled at him. I peeled myself off of the bar, back muscle twinging where I’d pressed into the curved metal trim of the bar edge.

I patted Jax on