Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
"Good morning," I say politely and gesture at their guns. "I'm going to ask you to put those away before I can help you."
They ignore my request. One moves to the doors and flips the “closed” sign over. The other heads to the windows that I've opened, pulling the metal shutters closed.
My mouth goes dry. A shiver of fear goes up my spine, but I remain straight and stiff. "What is this?"
"Lord Azar's orders," one of the men says. "The clinic is to remain closed until further notice."
I clench my jaw. "People need my help. There's no one else in town providing medical assistance."
They ignore me, shutting all the windows and closing all the doors and cabinets. When they're done, one gestures at me with his gun, indicating I should leave as well. I cross my arms over my chest. "I live here."
"Not now, you don't. Lord Azar wants no one inside this clinic until he gives the okay." He gestures at the doorway again. "If you wish to speak to Lord Azar, we've been told to escort you safely to him." And he waits, watching me.
Aha. So that's what this is.
Azar's tired of playing at being patient. He's tried bribing me, and now that the carrot hasn't worked, I'm getting the stick. I know this game. Does he think a woman alone hasn't had to play games to get somewhere in the After? Please. I know exactly what he's up to. I'll get my clinic back as long as I suck his dick, or whatever gets him off. Hot rage boils through me, because he's got men with guns—and dragons—and isn't afraid to push people into doing what he wants. I have no choice in the matter.
I can either pack up my clinic and leave the fort—and take my chances in the dragon-infested wilds—or I can stay in “safe” Fort Dallas, under his thumb and in his bed.
For a moment, I’m so full of hot, blistering rage I could scream. This clinic is all I have. It’s mine. I’ve fought for it, tooth and claw, to get to a place of respect here in Fort Dallas. I don’t have family – they died in the Rift and the horrible months afterwards. I don’t have friends, because you can’t trust anyone in the After. All I have is my clinic, and I’ve poured everything I have into running it, into giving people options, into working to make this shitty world a slightly better place.
And this bastard wants to take the one thing I have from me?
My jaw clenched, I nod at one of the soldiers and storm out of my clinic.
Let's get this over with, then. Let's see what part of my soul I have to sell in order to keep doing my work and helping people.
I keep my head held high as I march through Fort Dallas, the soldiers at my back. I hate this, because it feels like everyone knows what's going to happen next. It's like a scarlet letter has been branded on my chest, but there's nothing I can do about it. Instead, I pretend to be unruffled. I study the streets that some of the militia men are cleaning, and someone's burning a pile of garbage. In seven long years, no one's bothered to clean up around Fort Dallas, and the smell of it is a constant reminder that civilization has fallen. I can't even be pleased that someone's finally taking control and deciding to make this a better place, because that person is…Azar.
The barracks of the fort are in the remains of a strip mall that's been converted to living quarters. I don't know what the stores here used to be. The signs have been dragged down and destroyed, the concrete surface tagged and painted a dozen times over. Metal doors have been put over the existing glass doors and windows, and a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire has been erected around it to keep the rest of Fort Dallas's citizens out. A short distance away, the old parking garage looms, no longer filled with cars, but with makeshift barns for cattle and sheep, and tents in which fencers sell scavenged goods.
The men lead me past the chain-link fence, nodding at the guards there, and then toward the far end of the strip mall, in the mayor's old quarters. Once we step inside, everything looks vastly different to how I'd expected. Paintings cover the walls—rich and beautiful and expensive. I pass a Monet in wonder, heading in. There are women here, cleaning the place, and the rooms are decorated with antique furniture. Exquisite vases are on pedestals and gorgeous swaths of fabric decorate the shuttered windows. It's obvious that someone's been keeping items from a museum, but seeing it all here is staggering.
I'm led past one room with a massive dining table, full of blue and white china. Another room is set with a grand piano and several instruments of different kinds. There's another guard in the hall, and he nods at us as we approach, gesturing at double doors that have been added at some point post-Rift. The doors open and I stare into the largest library I've seen in a long, long time. Shelves cover every single wall, crammed full of books of all kinds. There are a few candelabras with candles to provide light in the center of the room, atop a glorious old wooden table. An old-fashioned globe on a stand is nearby. Seated at one end of the table, flipping through a children's book, is Lord Azar himself.