CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The bones on the floor made the ones in his body rattle. Kirn turned back to Flanagan, with fear now sealed in his heart like gold in a treasure chest.

Flanagan's next question rang in his ears like a pesky bell. “Is the pack house still heavily guarded?”

Kirn wondered why Flanagan had asked that question.

Why did some crazy drunk with the looks of a Greek god want to know if a castle, a place where he himself hadn't really seen the sights, was heavily guarded?

If the pack house was guarded or not, what did it matter to him?

Kirn inadvertently thought back to his last cabbage sale. He vaguely remembered the old woman who had asked if the cabbages were fresh from the farm, or wholesale from the barn.

And when he answered wholesale; the woman had haggled the price to the ground, saying wholesale was meant to be cheaper. She'd added that it wasn't fresh because of too many hands touching it.

And now Kirn also felt like there were too many hands on him.

Hands on his