Blog Tour: The Orphan The Soulcatcher and the Black Blizzard by Kimberlee Ann Bastian
Author Kimberlee Ann Bastian has stopped by my blog today with an excerpt for her blog tour. Check it out!
“Victor’s House” From Chapter 5: Frankenstein – Charlie and Bartholomew arrive at the home of Victor, the leader of the Morgan Street Polish Gang
Charlie knocks with his knuckles again. Maybe he should send Buck away. At least long enough for him to soften up Victor. But before he can, the lock on the door clicks and opens ajar.
Through the crack, Charlie sees a bouquet of yellow daffodils covering the face belonging to two little eyes. He bends low in order to address the flowers at the same height.
“Morning, Tabitha,” says Charlie in a soft, friendly voice. He knows Victor’s little sister responds best to calm tones. “Do you remember me?”
The daffodils bobble with her nod.
“Is Victor in?”
Again, the yellow flowers bob.
“May I speak with him?”
Instead of nodding, the daffodils close the door. The etched glass window made with pale yellow and frosted squares rattles.
Charlie rolls back his spine and stands right up again. He glances over his shoulder to find Buck still standing patiently at the bottom of the stairs, his expression giving him the same confused look. He could have explained things more, but without Victor’s permission, he dare not breathe a word to an outsider, not when so much is at stake. Charlie sighs. He can only hope Victor will allow the stranger to be a part of the meeting.
The lock on the door makes another click and opens with a squeak.
Charlie turns away from Buck to see Victor’s monstrous frame filling the doorway. He swallows hard at the sight of the brute’s features, never having gotten used to them, but holds his composure all the same.
Victor is not what the dames would call attractive. His face is full of scars and deep dimples. His nose, which has been broken twice, sits crookedly on his face. His physique, a close relation to Frankenstein’s monster, is both intimidating and nightmarish. Although, unlike the monster, Victor’s eyes do not glow, nor are his mischievous thin lips black. His height is roughly eight feet, but it is hard to know for sure.
“Charlie, my boy,” says Victor, in a sly baritone voice. He closes the door behind him shaking the windows once more. He extends a large hand, his fingers the size of kielbasas.
Charlie takes a hold of Victor’s hand without hesitation and feels the grip crush his bones, but keeps a pleasant face as to not insult his friend.
“Morning, Victor, good to see you.” Charlie clenches his teeth into a smile.
Victor returns the gesture enthusiastically, highlighting the sharp grooves around his cheekbones and yellowed teeth.
“That it is, a good morning, a very important morning, one too important to be running late,” a hint of disappointment underlies his comment.
Charlie does not mention it as it will only agitate Victor and start a quarrel.
“And where is that small sprout of a cousin of yours? Tabitha hasn’t stopped badgering me about when she is going to see him again,” says Victor, his voice full of more vim than usual.
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