III
III Lucan relaxed in the black leather seats of the government sedan. The elven man in black eased into the seat next to him and shut the door. He pulled a grimoire out of his shirt pocket and it flashed in his hand. The windows, already tinted, grew even darker. A pink, plasma-like substance oozed through the windows every now and again, and two blue, cabochon-like eyes blinked into view. The sedan began to pull off, and as it did, Lucan felt a pit in his stomach. He tried to keep his cool, but a bead of sweat broke through on his forehead. “Mr. Grimoire, do you know why you’re here?” the elven man asked. “You wanted to take me to a clam bake, right?” Lucan grinned. “Great use of taxpayer dollars.” “No, that’s not it.” “Well damn, that sucks,” Lucan said. “I love clams.” “Mr. Grim
- Writer
