The Thief Who Wanted More

CHAPTER ONE: Excerpt

This massive fucker with a face like an ass if the ass had been mauled by wild dogs blew some kind of powder into my face. Only it wasn’t powder; it was glittery, like golden motes of light, like butter and sunshine and hope, and when it made contact with my skin and eyes it just sort of melted away. Like a politician’s promise.

I flinched, then took a swing at him. He didn’t flinch, or even try to block. When I connected, I understood why.

“The hells are you made out of?” I asked, cradling my hand in my other hand. “And what the fuck did you just do to me?”

“It worked, then,” Ass-face said. “The mage knows his business.”

“Who the fuck are you?” But as soon as I asked the question, the answer floated up from somewhere into my badly out of joint mind.

“I’m Timiny,” he said. “You don’t remember.”

“I– I remember saying I wasn’t going to call you that. I remember you as Meat. For obvious reasons.” He was just absurdly big.

He looked relieved. “It’s a relief to be talking to you instead of that murderous demon.”

“What murd-“ And then I had no space for words because I was too busy getting the contents of my stomach from inside me to outside me as quickly and painfully as I could, and if my stomach went with the contents, that seemed to be just fine by it. It was an on-hands and knees, eye-watering, whole body trembling heaving.

“The mage said that might happen,” Ass-f— Meat – said. I heard it, but honestly it didn’t really register for some time. The entirety of my concentration was on… expulsion.

Gods, I hate puking.

Eventually the violent heaving subsided into pathetic retching.

“Here. You’ll want to have a go around your mouth.”

He was holding a folded handkerchief out to me. It didn’t look particularly fresh, but then I didn’t feel particularly fresh, so that was fine. I leaned back and sat on my ass, legs loose and askew, and wiped the sick off. And for the first time took a look at my surroundings.

“Meat,” I said after a while.”

“Yes, boss?”

“Where the fuck are we?”

“You don’t remember. You should remember now.”

“Just answer the fucking question. Please.”

“We’re in a very bad place, Amra Thetys,” he said with a sigh, and squatted down next to me, looking out over the same vista I was taking in.

A corpse-littered, gore-spattered vista.