Free Lies Ripped Open by Steve McHugh Page B

running around this park?”
    “There’s a clan of wood trolls who live in the park. Felix Novius is someone who inspired a lot of loyalty in a lot of people. Even after his exile from Avalon.”
    I pushed open the carriage door and stepped out into the rain, pulling the collar of my long coat up to stay as dry as possible, as the rain fell at unrelenting speed.
    “Wait in the carriage,” I told Diana and Alan, neither of whom seemed inclined to argue that they wanted to come out and get drenched.
    I felt a twinge of guilt for the carriage driver sitting in the pouring rain and scanned the surroundings, my gaze flicking back and forth every few seconds when something else caught my eye in the woodland not too far from where I stood. The driver glanced down at me, although I could barely see his face due to the shadows that covered it. He dropped to the increasingly soggy ground and gave some food to the two horses.
    “I won’t be long,” I told him, but he didn’t appear to care one way or the other.
    I walked up to the massive iron gates, which barred the entrance to the property. They were attached to a ten-foot-high stone wall. It was all very imposing and certainly gave the impression that whoever was behind it didn’t wish to be bothered in an y way.
    I pushed open the gate, which made a noise that made the inside of my brain hurt, accompanied by the exact same noise when the gate sprung closed after I’d taken a few steps.
    The garden was overgrown, but the grass and plant life didn’t impede anyone walking toward the house. The vines that ran up over the front wall of the house moved in such a way as to suggest they were meant to go there; they gave the appearance of being messy and uncared for while being the exact opposite.
    I reached the large oak door and used the brass knocker to announce my presence. After a few seconds, I found that the door was unlocked and pushed it open, stepping into the dark mansion. The foyer was lit by only a few gas lanterns that sat on either side of an ornate staircase that ascended up to a small platform before splitting off to go in two different directions to the floor above.
    “Why are you here?” a voice boomed from the darkness beyond.
    “Felix, it’s Nathan Garrett. Cut the theatrical bullshit. If we were a threat your troll friends would already have torn us to pieces.”
    There was a moment of quiet, followed by the sound of footsteps making their way toward me. It didn’t take long for Felix to come into view, walking down the stairs as the lights flickered to life.
    The entire mansion would have made most museum curators blush with envy—it was full of old paintings, ancient pieces of art, and furniture that actually seemed to look better as it got older. There was no dust, or anything to suggest that the interior wasn’t kept as immaculate as the exterior. It would have taken a lot of effort. Sometimes giving the impression that you want to be left alone is more work than actually making people leave you alone.
    “You promised you’d never be back,” Felix said as he strolled toward me.
    “Sorry, needs must,” I explained.
    Felix Novius was old enough that he saw the Romans move from small beginnings all the way to controlling a large portion of Europe, Asia, and Africa. And then watched it all crumble down to nothing not that long after. He had long white hair, but was clean-shaven. He wore a dark suit more appropriate for fine dining than sitting all alone in an empty house. He’d long ago lost his Roman accent and had replaced it with a nondescript English one.
    “They’d better be some damn good needs, boy,” he snapped. “Last I heard you still work for Merlin, and he still wants me dead.”
    I bristled at the use of the word boy . Felix was fully aware of how the word annoyed me, but never did seem to care enough to not use it. “We’ve got a lot of dead bodies in the city with ties to the Reavers.”
    “You mean the Reavers are murdering