Fireteam Delta by J. Halpin (popular novels .TXT) 📗

“Shit.”

He started looking for his journal. It wasn’t in his lap anymore. He’d fallen asleep on the deck, and it must have rolled off.

“Don’t forget,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t forget, don’t forget . . .”

He spent another moment searching frantically before he saw Asle a few feet away from him, his journal still in her hands. She held it out to him.

“You talk in your sleep,” Asle explained.

He took the journal, looking at the small, neat handwriting on the pages. It looked like a conversation— parts he could still remember, parts that were fading.

“Thank you.” Summers breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t everything, but it was more than he’d have been able to do. He wrote for a moment longer before he was satisfied.

“There’s not a lot in there.” Asle looked at him, still tense.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I know.”

That was the most worrying part for him, not knowing what else he could write. It could be the panic, the pressure of having to record everything in his head overwhelming him. Or those memories could already be gone.

How much could he lose before he wasn’t himself anymore?

Summers looked at the city in the distance, the sailors around them hustling to get the ship ready to dock.

Synel was standing on the bow. She must have heard him, as she looked back. He saw the corner of her mouth twitch ever so slightly as she approached.

“Good, you’re awake.” She sat down beside him, wincing as she did. “I was speaking with your friends, and I think we might have found a solution to your problem.”

“What?” Summers blinked once, still half asleep, before the words fully registered.

She handed him a small sheet of paper, words in Nos scribbled onto it.

“What’s this?”

“A shopping list.” She pressed a finger to her lips in thought. “No, actually, more like a menu.”

Chapter 33: Takeout

Summers waited as Synel spoke to an elven man behind a stall. She had assured them her contacts in the city could support their search. And frankly, he was a little flattered she was so adamant about helping him.

He glanced back down at the short list in his hands, three creatures Synel had thought may be able to fix his condition. Much like their philosophy on dueling, the elves believed that eating a powerful creature would lend you a degree of its strength. Ironic, given that that was exactly what Summers was trying to do. So, the problem wasn’t finding them, per se. It was more an issue of the cost.

The creatures Synel had suggested were some of the most dangerous, and therefore most expensive, in the region. There was a market for them, but it was an exclusive one that catered mostly to nobility and the most affluent merchants. A single monster could cost as much as three stones, and that was just for a taste.

“You smell that?” Nowak wrinkled his nose as a ribbon of smoke passed by.

“You know I do,” Summers responded.

A stall nearly twenty feet away was selling some of the most horrific kebobs Summers had ever seen. Something like giant insects spit-roasted and grilled over an open flame. They also had the distinct scent of rotten meat.

Actually, now that he was looking at it properly, he’d seen them before. They were the same insects that created the skin-walkers. Knowing what they were made the somehow appetizing scent all the more disturbing.

“I don’t like leaving the boat unguarded,” Cortez muttered. “We’re just asking to get our shit taken away from us again.”

“It’s only for a day,” Nowak explained. “And Summers told the captain to take off if he runs into any trouble. We should be fine. Besides, the more people we have on this, the faster it should go.”

Nowak looked to Summers, more than a little worry in his eyes.

Before Summers could respond, Synel turned from the stall, heading back in their direction.

“How’d it go?” Summers looked to the woman who was clearly not happy.

“I have a few leads. However, I have a feeling this won’t be easy.” Synel had already begun counting through a coin pouch at her side, before tucking it back into her robe.

“We still have a stone or two left, don’t we?” Summers looked to Nowak.

“That won’t be enough,” Synel countered. “In fact, I don’t know if even I have the funds for it. And let me assure you, I have been remarkably successful as of late.” She patted the pouch in her vest for emphasis.

Summers glanced at the crowd around them.

“You sure you should be saying that so loud?”

“Oh, please. You could break them in half if they tried.” Synel spoke even louder, watching the crowd mill around them. “Besides, I happen to take pride in my work.”

“Fair enough,” Summers conceded.

“Money isn’t our only concern. It seems that while some of these creatures were on the market recently, they’ve already been sold. Given that we’re on a tight schedule”—Synel reached for the paper she’d given Summers, tearing it into three neat strips—“I suggest we split up and try to track down the buyers.”

“I can take one,” Asle offered, reaching up as Synel handed her a section.

“All right,” Nowak began. “Summers, you and Synel should pair off. I can take the privates, and . . . Asle, think you could translate for me?”

Asle nodded in response.

“I can take Orvar.” Cortez nodded to the man at her side. “I’ve been teaching him English and got enough of the local language down to get by.”

“Fuckin’ eh,” Orvar agreed, with a heavy accent and surprisingly formal tone.

Summers didn’t even try to address that and instead handed Cortez the last strip of their list.

“Guys, are we sure this is worth it?” Summers looked down to the