Blood On Borrowed Wings: A Dark Fantasy Thriller by Darren Stapleton Read Free Book Online

credits or me some rest.’
    Croel wanted to argue but decided instead to kick at Newton’s bulk, trussed up in Mckeever’s carrybag, ‘You sure you can manage him by yourself?’
    ‘Yeah. I lost an eye, not my backbone,’ said Mckeever.
    ‘Good. I’ll bring the harpoon gun along, should save us some time returning it to the Zeppelin boys after we have collected our pay and finished with Vedett. That’s if he pays us at all after your creativity with a blade.’
    ‘Yeah, well, he knows shit happens. It’s the way of the world.’
    ‘No, it’s the way of your world. Not mine. Yours. And let’s hope that the people at Primary House know that too.’
    Mckeever hung his head as Croel continued, his sharp tongue darted over his jagged, crooked teeth as he spoke; ‘You really think we are working for that weirdo directly? That sick fuck is just the go between, the mouthpiece for the Governor or some megalomaniac Government aide who wanted Newton and his three friends gone. For whatever reason. Now we have got to deliver him this incomplete pile of nubbed shit, and, as we both know, shit has a way of rolling downhill.’
    Mckeever slung the bag around his middle, nestling it in the small of his back and watched as Croel secured the clunky weaponry in much the same way.
    ‘Do you think he’ll tell us what he wants doing with the wings tonight?’ He nodded his head towards the bag that contained them behind the reception desk.
    ‘If he knows, probably, yes, though I am not prepared to go on any more errands this side of morning, Primary House or not. I am tired, my shot arm is seizing up and the cover of night is fast slipping away. That can wait for another day.’
    ‘It already is another day.’      
    They both checked each other’s gear was slung tightly and secured around their midriffs.
    ‘Let’s get a move on then.’
    Croel was the first to unfold his black wings at his back. He immediately stretched them, splaying the secondary feathers out to check they had not been damaged and to warm the muscles and tendons running along them. He locked his hands behind his neck and shrugged his wings up and down, moving the powerful shoulder muscles together and apart, like a weightlifter hefting heavy weights, wincing at his injury, he hissed disapproval. He fanned his wings wide and flapped down quickly causing dust to stir across the library floor and the ‘Quiet Please’ sign to swing noisily on its rusting chains.
    ‘That’s better, I hate them being bound for so long, feels like they’re turning to paper sometimes,’ said Croel.
    ‘Well, less of your flapping, my other eye’s streaming at the moment and it wasn’t helped by the wave of dust and tumbleweeds you just wafted in there,’ said Mckeever .
    Croel rested his arms by his side, ran out of the library and jumped from the access ramp into the night sky, beating his wings as he left the floor. The downdraft caused the dense, unkempt grass to stir either side of the walkway as he became airborne, the wood of the harpoon gun clacked inside its case and Croel adjusted his angle of ascent to take him onto the rotting library roof to watch his partner’s exit.
    Mckeever exited the building in much the same way but took more wing-beats than usual to leave the floor behind. He looked clumsy and stuttered into the air like a fledgling adolescent, not used to the sensation or change in perception flying evoked. Croel saw this and knew that Mckeever’s disabled vision would make a huge difference to how he flew, as much, he supposed, from a lack of confidence as any real physical handicapping or disadvantage. He left the roof, flew around the Four Point church to swoop alongside Mckeever and said ‘Follow me, if you can?’
    Their black wings beat in unison as he encouraged Mckeever into a flying rhythm then turned to talk to him, as they flew side by side. They had to shout to be heard above the onrushing wind.
    ‘Has your other eye narrowed to