Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Seven
“Yeah yeah, take the next right,” Markel said from the bumpy passenger seat of the old pickup. “I remember it now. We’re almost there. It’s a couple hundred yards up. If you go straight you run into their neighborhood nocto compound.”
“All right,” Roman said slowing. “This is probably the only neighborhood where the noctos get along with everyone. Hey, there’s someone standing in the road—and a sign posted.”
“Yeah?” Markel leaned forward. “I wonder what’s up?”
As Roman began making the right turn at the rural crossroads, a kid of nineteen or twenty held up his hands and blocked their path.
“McConnell’s trading post?” Roman said out the window.
The kid came to the window and pointed at the sign. “You came to the right place, but it’s closed
