Next WIP snippet …

In this one, Lyn and Logan muse about Ahmed’s misanthropy.



Also, much like no one warded against harpies, no one warded against mummies – or the mummy cursed – either. Since he was sand, he could travel through this house a lot faster than them too, and never trigger a trap. “Hey, Ahmed, you wanna check out the upper floors?” Logan asked. “At the rate we’re going, we’ll get there by Tuesday.”


He sighed, which was always a neat trick since he didn’t technically breathe, and said, “Fine. What am I looking for again?”


“A nasty book that gives off mucho bad mojo,” Lyn said.


“Should I destroy it?”


“No, we might need it,” Logan admitted.


He rolled his eyes. “Of course we do. We need all the bad news stuff we can gather. Because if we’re going to allow an apocalypse, it’s going to be one we start.” Before either of them could reply, he became a dust devil, and blew off into the next room. The hellhound watched, looking as puzzled as it could possibly be.


“Would it be insensitive if I suggested he give Prozac a shot?” Lyn wondered.


Logan shrugged. “You could, but you know what he’ll say.”


Lyn scowled, because Ahmed didn’t have resting bitch face more than he had resting disapproving face, and said, “I don’t eat or drink. I don’t need to sleep, but once I slept for four years, because it was the Dark Ages and it was fucking dull. People are disgusting. How is the species not dead yet?”


“I’m kind of surprised he doesn’t have a hit podcast,” Logan admitted.


“I’m surprised he’s not the head of the Department of Health and Human Services,” Lyn replied.


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