Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
His blue eyes swirl with fury, locking into mine with the intensity of a storm. “At least one thing Tyrell says is accurate, however.” He clears his throat like he’s uncomfortable. “You’ll need to know all of the drinks by heart, we have a very particular menu at Styx, most of which you’ll be attempting to sample tonight.”
“You’re serious?” I ask with a faint smile. “I mean maybe if I take tiny sips, and we’ll have food right?”
Cyrus doesn’t answer. Instead, he beckons a staff member over, and within ten seconds I’m being served some sort of fish, fresh vegetables, and four more small samples of wine with a menu placed gently next to my plate.
“Dag,” Tyrell says between bites. “How are things in our crime ridden City? You always have the best gossip.” Well, that was a subject change if I ever saw one.
Tyrell’s father rolls his eyes and takes a bite of fish before shoving his plate forward in disgust like he knows how the conversation is going to go. It’s strange, he looks the same age as his sons. His hair is slicked to perfection but doesn’t look oily like a used car salesmen; instead, it looks classy like he was born out of his time or something. Even his gray suit is immaculate, with a red shirt beneath the vest. He’s wearing spectacles that look oddly suiting, and the closer I look the more he looks like he possibly East Asian.
Dag, the only other man at the table, is cutting his carrots into tiny bites like he has no teeth in his mouth and needs them as small as possible to digest them. His auburn hair is a mass of messiness. His lips press together in annoyance. His skin is darker than the others, but his eyes are extremely blue. “Oh, you know even big cities have rumors. Yesterday someone reported a sighting of the giant squid that the locals call the Kraken, said his dad nearly had a heart attack. I’m sure it was just drift wood.” He laughs and shoves at his carrots with his fork. “And just yesterday a tourist asked the mayor where they could see the giant squid we’ve been keeping here for a hundred years.”
I smile and look down at my food. “Are people really that gullible?”
Dag turns to me then points his fork at Tyrell. “Exhibit A.”
“Very funny.” Tyrell crosses his arms, his bulky chest strains against a black T-shirt. “If anything, they should be worried about waking up the cranky ass Kraken.”
Cyrus starts choking and nearly spits out his drink then wipes his mouth with his napkin. “You can barely walk on two feet without tripping let alone holding your own against a kraken.”
“Hear, hear!” Tyrell’s father lifts his wine and bursts out laughing.
Dag joins in. “You’d have to find your courage first and I heard since failing your challenge you’ve been drinking it away at Apep’s pub.”
Tyrell rolls his eyes. “Apep has great beer, and I have courage I just don’t have super powers like others to match it.”
He locks eyes with Cyrus. Weird.
“One loses courage when in the presence of an immortal.” His eyebrow arches. “Right, Cyrus?”
I smile at their teasing, knowing that it’s in good-natured fun, but I’m semi-weirded out that they’re suddenly talking as if immortals and krakens exist.
“Those are my favorite movies right down to Hercules. I still can’t get over the cartoon version. I have every song memorized,” I should really stop talking. And sampling wine.
Dag snorts out a laugh. “Hercules, huh? Heard he’s even stronger than…Ra.”
Cyrus drops his fork onto his plate, and the room goes quiet. Glancing around the table, he gives a nonchalant shrug. “It slipped.”
Tyrell suddenly looks very intrigued. “How very fascinating.” He leans in. “I’d be intrigued to know what you find so…attractive about it.”
“Yes,” Cyrus agrees, suddenly recovering from his fork slippage. “What do you love about those…stories?”
I pause mid-bite and set my fork down. Did I offend them? I lick my lips and suddenly feel hot as all eyes fall to me. “I’m like anyone else I think. I love the fantasy of something that’s not the reality we live in.”
Cyrus leans in over the table, his smile almost. “Is there something wrong with the current reality?”
I scoff. “War, famine, more war, fighting, divisiveness. Everything is wrong with our reality. Why else would people jump to social media? Why else would we be consumed with technology? Reality sucks, it’s total chaos. Fantasy is our win.”
He leans back a bit. “Chaos and Fantasy are often one.”
I’m clearly a bit buzzed and in need of a nap, because I keep talking. “Well, why is this place called Styx other than Cyrus has a private collection of Egyptian artifacts. It’s his escape from the chaos I’m assuming.”
Everyone is silent. Did I say too much?