Order of the Omni: A Supernatural Romantic Suspense Novel (The Immortalies Book 1) by Penny Knight (good english books to read txt) 📗

much about that, either. We both need this to go as quick and pain free as possible to get it done. We have big plans together and we already have come so far.

Ten years ago, there was a skinny, light brown-haired boy hiding behind the green dumpster in the back alley of my old apartment building. It was when I first moved from the Barossa Valley into the city.

He was shaking with fear, arms covering his head. With my hand resting on the door handle to the back entrance of my building, I was just about to open it when I heard distant curses. I leaned back, looking down the street and a group of four teenage wannabe thugs were scouring the streets looking for something. Their jeans so low it exposed the tops of their underwear and chains hanging from their pockets. I could tell from looking at them, if they saw a genuine gangster, they would crap their pants. But to this scrawny kid hiding, they were very scary.

That’s when Topher’s head lifted, and his eyes met mine. One look from the frightened boy and I exhaled a long, resigned breath. I made my choice to step out from the shadows, and this one time, get involved. I opened the door and mouthed, “Hurry,” and that was all he needed before he bolted into the safety of my building.

One night turned into two, and before I knew it, Topher was living in the then crowded apartment. Two lost souls who found each other. He was an orphan like me, although technically, I wasn’t an orphan. Could be, I don’t know if my birth parents are dead, but it’s something I believe in my head and it comforts me.

He begged me not to turn him back into Social Services; he was only fourteen. It may not have been the right thing to do, but who was I to turn my back on a child in need. If the Gottschalk family had turned their back on me all those years ago, I dreaded to think where I would be right now.

So, I am used to him whining. It’s like I have raised him since then. There’s only one sure way to get his head back in the game and to move past his current anxiety.

“Listen, once we get through this, I will play Seven Wonders with you.” I say.

“Don’t shit me, E,” he breathes. I can hear the excitement in his voice.

“I’m not.” I shake my head at the things I do to keep Topher focused. “But one condition, head in the game. No more sooky lala about the weather. I wanna get home ASAP. My head is killing me.”

“That bad?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m ok, let’s just get this done. I will be online in ten, ok?”

“What do you mean in ten? He will be here any minute.” I check the time. He’s right, I’m cutting it close.

“Tony will flip out if we stuff this up,” he says. “Let alone give us the backing we need. He will probably have you repossessing cars in Port Augusta again.”

“I will be there, relax.” Our plans to offer Penetration Testing as a service at the firm have fallen on deaf ears. Tony gives us no time and won’t even consider or listen to a pitch. That’s why I know once he finally gives us a sit down and I show him the numbers, he will be yelling at me for not bringing it to him sooner. The money is there, and it’s big money, too.

The case we’re working on has gone through three other PI firms, and the commission is enough to keep a smile on Tony’s face for one, maybe even two months. But more importantly, he has agreed to a sit down, at last.

“I know, I’m sorry. The appointment ran late this morning.” I say collecting my things.

“Did you ask him what the fuck?” And here he goes. “Did you tell him you just had one three days ago?”

He’s already worried enough with his online searching into brain tumours, clots and bleeds. His paranoia coupled with the increase in frequency that this is happening is now making me freak out. It’s at the point I have to hide how bad it is, just so I don’t stress him too much. Problem is, it’s getting harder and harder to do.

“I got my prescription refilled so I can function like an actual human today. I didn’t have time for questions.” My stomach knots at the lie. More like omission. I technically didn’t ask questions. Apart from if he could refill my prescription. Again. A few too many times in the last three months, hence the referral.

“What did the doctor say?”

Nothing I’m going to tell you about right now. That is what I want to say to him, but I don’t.

“Same, same. Let’s talk later. I’m gonna head in now.” The perfect excuse to end this topic.

“But -,” he tries to push further.

“Job. Cheater. Money. Food.” I run through the basics of what is at stake right now.

“Fine,” he says. “Later, then.”

I sigh and agree. That ends the conversation about my health for now. We hang up, and I pack the rest of my tools for this operation into my leather satchel and open the car door. Taking a deep, stabilising breath, I push the pounding out of my head aside and try to psych myself up.

Game time Elita.

When I get close enough, I look up in amazement. This hotel should be in a European countryside, a palace of opulence misplaced in the south end of Adelaide City.

It may not be bigger than about eight stories, but it’s the grandeur, the flowed curved lines, the gorgeous ironwork that frame the windows that make it so beautiful. And the windows, for such an old-style building, are modern with a mirrored dark tint. They shouldn’t belong together but somehow it works.

It works especially well if you wanted a private place to meet