Paperback
About the Author: Arwyn Sherman lives in the woods of Maine. Their work has been selected for four anthologies.
The bar is mostly empty when Edan walks in, his boots leaving an even print along the floor as he steadily examines the one large room that serves as both a bar and gambling hall. Morning light illuminates half-filled bottles of liquor behind a long, shined wood panel. No matter how much the barmaids scrub they can’t quell the perpetual smell of stale drunkenness. Even the air feels illegal here, covered in the silt that permeates the entire town. A dry and dusting reminder of the constant degrading of the land.
The owner, Garren, sits at the very back booth, jaw clenched around a cigarette and arms crossed, obvious displeasure in every crease of his face. His shirt is stained with sweat and dirt, pushing against his supple gut. His business partner crouches in the seat opposite him, limbs as thin as his counterpart’s are wide and clothed in what once was a nice suit.
They probably wouldn’t have called enforcers except it’s a murder they’re dealing with and even amongst the thieves and scammers that frequent this hole, they don’t deal with killings.
“When did you discover her?” Edan asks.
“Around about the time we called for you.” Garren spits onto the floor and takes a heady inhale of his cigarette.
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