Magical Midlife Challenge – Leveling Up Read Online K.F. Breene

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
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“Have ye been motherin’ long or what?” Niamh asked sarcastically, and my mouth dropped open. I furrowed my brow and looked between the two basajaunak. I hadn’t realized they were related. Dave never used Mom or a similar name. “He isn’t tryin’ta force ye onto his path or journey or whatever it is yer talkin’ about. He’s tryin’ ta include ya, fer fuck’s sake. He’s tryin’ to show off how powerful his new family is, and the only way he can do that is if ye see us in action. Ye haven’t lived unless ye’ve seen a female gargoyle at work. Or a phoenix or thunderbird. Or even what Austin Steele can get up to when he’s roused. Ye have no idea the sort of magic that weird mage can spin. The strange vampire? He’ll give ye a shock with how well he fills in the natural gaps in battle. Sassy Smith or whatever we’re callin’ him is proud.” She looked around and then glanced into her cup. “And I’m empty. Let’s hurry this along. I think I might actually feel a little buzz from this stuff. It’s been a while. I’m enjoyin’ meself. Anyway, the other reason has got to occur to ye as well. I swear, yer bein’ awfully daft. After all this time, he has finally found his purpose. Now he wants to merge both parts of his life. Cop on to yerself. He doesn’t need you on his journey. He just needs everyone to get along.” She pointed with her free hand. “Right. I need to go fill ’er up. I’ll let yis sort out this mess.”

She walked off without looking back.

“She came with the house,” I said quickly. “I didn’t choose her for the team, she just sorta…came with it all. Also, I’m not very astute, and I honestly didn’t know he was your son. He never mentioned it.” I furrowed my brow. “I actually have no idea how Niamh knew that. Was she eavesdropping or something—”

“I need to think about all this,” the basandere said. “Her, you are absolved of blame. I will consider it an incorrect judgment call that you rectified before it affected us. Next time, however, I will not be so lenient.”

“Understood. Thank you for being—”

“Tomorrow,” she went on, “or when you deem it fit, I will direct you to a different place where there will be more space for your battle. We will send a small group with you to ensure you do not starve or die while waiting for this threat to find you.” She hesitated. “Though I must admit your hunting and fishing prowess should serve you adequately. As a favor to Buln’dan, we will also teach you the best ways to hide and then ambush your prey. When the enemy draws near, we will depart. This is not our battle. And while you are welcomed guests, now and in the future, you are not family. We have no obligation to you, nor you to us.”

“Agreed,” I said, letting out a breath. It wasn’t exactly what we’d hoped for, but it was better than we’d feared. I’d take it.

She nodded, spearing Dave with a look. “You and I will speak more about this later.”

“Yes,” he said, and I could feel the emotions swirling through him. Before, that might’ve made me nervous, but the knowledge of their relationship eased my worry for him. She wouldn’t kill her son. Whatever she did do wouldn’t be forever. Not if she’d already bent this far for him.

“Go. Enjoy the rest of the celebration,” the basandere said. “I think a wager has been placed on how much your puca can consume.”

“The money—or whatever it is you wagered,” I said, “is going to go to the most extreme bet. She’s going to drink you dry, you watch.”

The basandere looked that way, but Niamh was already gone. We found her back at our area, sitting and watching the growing number of dancers by the music.

“Did it work?” she asked as we sat down. “Did she feel motherly guilt and go easy on you and him?”

I frowned at her. “That was your plan?”

“Of course that was me plan. She’s a shrewd one. Hard. Good leader. But mothers are easy. They have a lot of pressure points.”

“How do you figure?” I asked as Ulric handed me a mug of that awful, gasoline-tasting fruit alcohol.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She waited for Austin to squeeze my shoulder before moving off toward Broken Sue. He would fill him in on what had just happened and the change in plans. “Now, I don’t know this personally, but I’ve seen it often enough. Mothers never seem to feel like they are doing enough, do they? They tell me these stories, and I always think, the poor cratur! They juggle a million things at once, seems like. They’re always overwhelmed. Ready to crack. They’re expected to not just keep the wheels on the bus but construct the bloody thing, too. Then drive it. And wash it. And change the oil. I don’t know how they don’t just randomly start punching people. I would. What do they get fer their trouble? Ignored. What bollocks. I hear it all the time. Do it all, do it perfectly, and your reward is to be ignored. Is it any wonder they all feel, deep down, like they are failing? It makes me bloody furious. I tell these women all the time, I say, ‘Love, you just need to burn it all to the ground.’ They always laugh. They don’t take me seriously.”


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