How to Lose Your Dragon (The Immortality Curse Book 1), Peter Glenn [e book reader for pc .txt] 📗

if I could avoid it, but what choice did I have, really? “Yeah, that’ll work,” I replied, flashing her another grin.

“Great.” She scribbled something on her notebook. “We’ll see you then.” With that, she turned to look at her computer screen, ignoring me.

My expression soured a bit. It looked like my attempts to charm her were completely ineffective. I’d have to work on that later. But at least I had my appointment window.

I pushed open the wide office door at exactly two o’clock. The secretary must have been out for a break or something, since I didn’t see her at her desk when I came back, so I just headed on in. In hindsight, I probably should have knocked.

A rather distracted-looking man looked up from a big stack of papers, looking a little bewildered.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

“Mr. Richard Veinne, I presume?” I said, pronouncing it like vain. I smiled at him.

The man shook his head slightly and blinked a few times. “It’s pronounced ‘ven’, like ‘pen’,” he said, sounding rather annoyed.

I gave him a once-over. He was wearing an off-white button up shirt with thin, vertical blue lines running up and down it, and brown slacks. Not a great color combo, but I’m not sure what I expected. His face was pale, like he barely got any sunlight, and his eyes had a slightly sunken look to them, as though he didn’t sleep well at night, or he’d spent hours reading tiny words. Probably it was a mixture of both.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My mistake.” Some people could be so picky about how you said their names. “Mr. Richard Veinne, then?” I used the “pen” pronunciation this time.

He nodded. “Yes. And you are?”

“Li Xiang,” I replied, using my given name. I wasn’t fond of it, but that’s the name I’d given the secretary. “I’m here for my two o’clock appointment?”

Richard looked a little flustered, and he gazed back down at his stack of papers. “She did it to me again,” he muttered.

“Did what now?”

Richard’s head shot up and he glared at me. I was a little taken aback, seeing as I’d been nice to him up to this point. “My secretary, she, umm… did it again.” He flashed me a slight smile. “Made an appointment for me without telling me, that is.”

I felt a wave of heat rush to my cheeks. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is this a bad time? I could come back later?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. It happens all the time.” He beckoned me forward, pointing at a plush chair across from him. “Come on in. Take a seat.”

I nodded and entered the room fully. I extended my hand to him, and he took it. His hands were soft and smooth to the touch, and his handshake weak. This was not a man that saw a lot of hard labor. But I hadn’t come here for that, so it was of little consequence.

“What did you say your name was?” He asked.

“Li Xiang,” I replied, smiling at him again. “But my friends call me Damian.”

“Damian?” He looked slightly confused.

I nodded. “Mm-hm.”

“Well, Mr. Damian, what can I do for you today?” He sat back in his chair and put his hands in front of him, fingers intertwined.

I took my seat and kind of sunk into it. The cushions were really nice. Especially for an office chair. This guy must be doing well for himself. “Well, Rick - can I call you Rick?”

“To be frank, I’d prefer it if you didn’t-”

“Great!” I cut him off. “Well, Rick, I heard you were the foremost expert in ancient cultures and languages.” I cut right to the chase. “Best in the whole world, I hear.” It never hurt to lay in a little flattery when you could, in my experience.

Rick nodded slowly. He looked a little embarrassed, which meant it was working. “Well… I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been called that before, yes.” A wry smile crept onto his face.

“Good. I have an inscription I’d like you to decipher for me.”

“An inscription?” He furrowed his brow. “That’s a little vague. What language?”

“I’m not really sure.” I started rummaging around in the pocket of my pants. I’d put on a decent pair of khakis and a polo shirt just for this experience, but the pockets of khaki pants could be notoriously difficult to operate when sitting.

“You don’t know?” He glared at me. “How am I supposed to help you decipher something if you don’t even know what language it is?”

“That’s the thing, Rick. You see, I figured with you being the expert and all, you could tell me that answer.” It made sense in my head.

He let out a sharp laugh. “Ancient languages aren’t as easy as you make them out to be. There’s a lot of nuance, even in dead languages.”

Based on his overall tone, it sounded like he gave this speech a lot.

Rick let out a small sigh and held out a hand. “But never mind that. You’re not the first person to assume such. Very well, let me see this piece you want translated.”

I flashed him another toothy grin. This was going to be easier than I’d thought. Finally, a little spot of luck in this whole sordid mess.

“It’s in here somewhere,“ I assured him. With a little more finagling, my fingers finally closed on the small scrap of cloth in my pocket and pulled. I produced the bit of purplish cloth with markings on it and handed it over to him.

Rick frowned and squinted at the bit of fabric. At my urging, he took the cloth from me with two of his fingers, picking at it as gingerly as he could and touching only the tiniest of corners.

He studied it for several minutes. “What’s this dark spot here?” he asked, his expression souring even more.

“Uh, oil I think,” I lied. It was blood. The cloth had gotten a little bloody in the aftermath of the alley battle, but I didn’t want to scare