Swift (Strangetown Magic Book 1) by Al K. Line Read Free Book Online Page A

and think of the future, of what needed to be done. This was the best place to start.
    I let the battered wooden saloon door close behind me, the creak of the hinges as familiar as the grinding of my knee that I have to fix every few years now—old age, comes to us all, I guess.
    The noise inside was bearable as it was still only early afternoon. Late nights are too much and I can't be bothered with the hassle. Too many fights, and Strange fights are never fun, even when you are half gone on one of Yuki's wondrous cocktails.
    A few stalwarts were hunched over tables, nursing pints and reading the papers, there were a couple of new faces talking excitedly at a table, wide-eyed and snapping away with their cameras like Ye's was the best thing they had seen in their life, and two wizards were trying to play darts, no easy thing with the bent bits of metal as old as time itself.
    Feet sticking to the floor like I was some kind of gecko, I made it to the bar and sat on my favorite stool, it's got my name on it and everything. The hard wood is so smooth you slide off unless you sit in exactly the right spot, so I took my time, wiggled my ample behind until I was assured of my safety, then put my elbows on the bar and rested my head in my hands.
    My reflection in the dirty glass wasn't cheering me up as I looked exactly like someone who's house had fallen down, who'd been chased by a troll, watched a new friend squished, and had to cook lunch for an elf and a demon before starting her day's work.
    "Pint please, Yuki," I mumbled, turning away from the image that depressed the hell out of me.
    "Bad morning?"
    "Sometimes it feels like a bad life."
    "Different day, same old problems, eh?" Yuki drew my beer, perfect as always, then set it down gently in front of me. I took a sip and things felt a little better instantly.
    "Yeah, something like that. Aah, that's good." The beer slid down easier than an eel on a slide, the temperature perfect, the dark liquid bitter and delightful. This is real beer, none of that mass produced crap you get in the new places. This is brewed locally, by professionals with pride in their work, and the bonus is it's damn cheap too.
    I slipped a few coins onto the counter for Yuki. He scooped them up, flipping one into the air and catching it on a wrinkled and faded tattoo-heavy elbow—one of his party tricks.
    Yuki smiled and carried on cleaning the bar. He's an odd one, been here for as long as I can remember, and apparently one of the first wave of Japanese immigrants to settle in the UK, way back when. Rumors go he was heavily into the Yakuza life right back when it was starting in the seventeenth century, and his ink, now so faded and smudged it's hard to tell what's what, seems to confirm this. Why he won't wear a damn t-shirt I don't now, but as long as I have known him he's been this wrinkly dude with a slender and toned body covered in more scars than should be possible if you are still breathing.
    That's Japanese Yakuza wizards for you, I guess. Quirky in his old age, whatever that may be, but enduring. Timeless, and dangerous as hell if you ever try to mess with him.
    He must be ancient, like thousands of years ancient, so how he got embroiled in gangster life after so long is a mystery, but for him to look like he does, and to be so powerful with magic, means he's a proper old-timer. This magic we have, that we have gained access to, it doesn't stop you aging totally, but it sure as hell slows down the process. Not immortality, but as close to it as you can get.
    I know for sure he was around before the birth of Christ. I've heard the stories of the man, and his tales of the world, but as for his past, for the details, the reasons why he is here, why he refuses to cover the signs of his life, he won't say.
    In other words, he's just another magic user with a past, same as us all. We all have tales to tell.
    I like him. He's nice, and he is one hell of a fighter.
    Once, years ago, somebody decided