Nigel’s Patience
Here’s an excerpt from The Witch of Lurago to celebrate its going live for May 1 pre-order on Amazon today. Enjoy!
Nigel tapped a finger on his knee. Jules’ head drooped in that odd sideways tilt that meant he was sifting through the morass of Jorendon minds in search of one in particular. He was hunting the unique signature that matched John Deighton.
“Well, is he still at the palace?”
Jules cracked one eye open. “Stop rushing me. I lost my place.”
Nigel rolled his eyes. The man had developed an annoying penchant for theatrics over the years. The carriage wheels clacked over the cobbles. A dog barked. Crickets chirped. Paint peeled.
“It cannot be that hard to find such an aberration,” said Nigel. “Where is he?”
Jules sat up straight again and stretched his shoulders.
“You were far more patient when I first met you.”
“I am patient. I am an endless font of patience,” said Nigel. “Until a certain farsighted, poetry-reciting, cause-crazed secretary exhausts even my saintly limits.”
“I’ll have to try summoning a quicker mindgift.” Jules smirked as he cleared his throat. “Anne’s reunion was brief. She did not let him tarry. Deighton had his audience, but Franz is wary.”
The gods deliver me from man’s obsession with rhyme.
“I would consider killing you now, but I haven’t the time to break in someone new. Perhaps next week.” The carriage rolled to a stop, and Nigel pulled on his gloves. “Find the fly on the wall. I want to know why he dared come back.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Nigel slipped into the shadows beyond the lamplight. Pawley clicked to the horses and drove off. He surveyed the townhouse for signs anyone might be about. He could knock or let himself in. Either way, he’d need to deal with Driscoll before Deighton made it home.
