We Unhappy Few
Page 20
“I’m fine.”
She looked into his eyes with her eyes the same color as the cloudy sky above, “I know you’re not.”
Damon opened his mouth to retort, but he closed it. Mist plumed from his nose as he sighed, “No, guess I’m not.”
She tapped his shoulder with her fist. “I know what it’s like. Trying to act normal, smile, laugh… put on the mask… hoping desperately that one day you wake up and it’s no longer a mask.” She looked down, kicking her feet.
Suddenly she stood up and tugged his arm from its pocket.
“What?” Damon said, half laughing.
“Come on.” She said, pulling his arm.
“Okay…” He said, letting Sparky pull him along.
She led him back into the cellblock.
“So, a little faery told me that your birthday is today.” Sparky said as they walked toward the wing where Damon’s cell was. She took him past his cell to the one next door. Like the rest of the cells this one’s door was open. “Boudira, Urani, and well everybody in our usual squad wanted to do something special for you. Seeing as you killed the ancient evil from eons past—“
“We all did that—“ Damon started.
“And it’s your birthday.” Sparky said, “So, I wrote a letter to the Justice Ministry’s Office of Prisoner Welfare. They’re the guys who got us the scryer and the billiards table, anyway, at first I got no reply, but then a few days ago I got this letter from some low-level functionary from the justice department who wasn’t just there to tell me to go away. She brandished the paper and Damon took it, skimming over it, and read it aloud.
“’Dear Miss Belamy,
Thank you for your letter. It is heartening to know that our corrections system can foster such comradery from those that society deems the worst elements of society. As such, we hope you will be pleased to learn that we have allotted funds to your request. Your package should appear in the next few days.
We hope that it meets your expectations, and thank you again for reaching out to the Department of Prisoner Welfare.
Yours truly,
Minister Horatio Lutaris’”
Damon looked at the letter again, “Your last name is Belamy? Like the Gilder Orchard Belamys?”
“We’re the poor side of the family,” she waved her hand dismissively, “plus, when you’re in prison for killing a portion of that poor side of the family you kind of get shoved in the nearest skeleton-filled closet. Anyway, you’re kind of missing the point.”
They turned the corner, and she held hands out toward the interior of the cell, “Ta-da!” She said, her chains clinking loudly with her flare.
Damon looked inside and saw a well-worn secondhand crystal harmonica sitting in the corner. It wasn’t the largest one Damon had ever seen, or even used, but it reminded him of his first ever.
He sat down on the simple stool and lifted scratched rolltop cover. He ran his hands over the tapering nesting cups of crystal, feeling the difference between the tiers, each set of crystal cups that delineated by bands of white-gold leaf of orichalcum. Damon marveled at the surprisingly clear crystal on the main tier. The other nested cups sat away, set up in an organ like fashion. Gold-plated bars were in the center of each long nesting of cups, set to a magical device that would turn them, allowing him to play it as it turned.
“Wow…” he said, “this is… thank you, Sparky.”
“Don’t mention it. Now are you actually going to play something?” She leaned against the bars of the cell.
Damon smirked and leaned down the side, he activated the simple rune that started each tier spinning. It wasn’t the most modern harmonica. He’d grown used to complex boards that could record and playback music for the frenetic nightlife scene of Gloriana’s clubs. Still, it had the one crucial advantage of the more advanced magical crystal harmonicas: it didn’t required the musician to wet his fingers.
Once Damon had tuned in the speeds of each rod of cup he ran his fingers over various notes, liking what he heard. Closing his eyes Damon launched into a classic piece that he had always enjoyed. It was a little old-fashioned, but as the hauntingly clarion sound of the reverberating crystal filled the cellblock the clear sound became more layered and nuanced. The melancholy sound of the song built to its full movement as Damon’s hands moved up and down skillfully. His eyes never opened once, a faint smile on his lips.
Note from the Author
WOW, I’M NOT GOING TO LIE: There were times when I thought for sure this would never happen. When I sat down almost three years ago on a lunch break at my retail day job and started wondering how I could meld together two of my favorite genres, I didn’t think it would carry me all the way through National Novel Writing Month. Though I ended up taking about a year off because of… well to be honest depression... I again thought this one was just going to die on the vine. I’m more than happy how it turned out in the end. It’s my first effort and I just want to thank each and every one of you dear readers and my friends who supported me by reading (and hopefully enjoying) my novel.
I may have finished Lich Corps for myself, but I wrote it for anyone who would hopefully give me a chance. Ever since college I’ve wanted to be a professional writer and I think I’ve put that off long enough. So if you loved Lich Corps Book 1, please give it a great rating and enthusiastic review. These things will help me leave this day job of mine behind and move on to writing as not only a passion but a career.
Don’t worry though, Damon and the rest of the Lich Corps aren’t done yet, not by a long shot. I have plans for the series going forward. I look forward to many more books to follow in both the Lich Corps and beyond.
Again, thank you all so very much. It means the world to me.
G.R. Fabacher
Please do feel free to direct all mail—fan or otherwise—to:
grfabacherbooks@gmail.com
Follow me on Twitter at: @GrFabacher