“There was no WWIII. There was no EMP blast. There was just the Rhain, the Fludd, and the Drayn.”
Everyone wants their next book to be the next best thing–just like the first: exhilarating and original.
The man stood a proud six feet with a bright pink vest and white collared, blue striped button-up shirt; his couplings were of laden gold airplanes. His checkered pants fit well to his circus-like figure and about his identity was a mouse costume mask—the man must have lost his dignity long ago to dress so bizarrely. And yet he stood composed, his hands propped into the small slits of his pink vest.
Carls was hesitant.
“Do you wish to see my merchandise?” the man asked, a red glove reaching out toward his cart. Carls betrayed a quick glance down at the Hensers. Hensers? He was selling cards?
“The Gambler,” Carls inquired, “do you know him?”
The man’s shoulders lowered, as did his tone. “Oh… so it’s you. Pity… you should have come to me first—for you can only deal with one.” (more…)