His Dreams End

“I want you to find something for me. A book.”

She smelled of the deep sea, cold and vast and enchanting.

I shrugged. “Okay. Show me.”

Her mind touched mine. I saw the rite and smiled. “I can get you the Azif. Easy, but not cheap. There may be deaths.”

Her mouth-tentacles twitched. Artists for a dozen miles fell into dread nightmare. “Do what you must. You will have what you wish.” She turned, showed me a bit of glistening leg. I admired the view. “Soon. His dreams end.”

“I can read the stars”, I said. “And they’re almost right.”

———-

Friday Fiction picked up this week from Darleen at protein wisdom and Smitty from The Other McCain. Read their stories, of course, and bathe in the noir!