Page 13 of The Guru: Shadow

Gods, keep your mouth shut,she cursed at herself.

“Mhm,” he said with a soft huff. “Figured as much.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, not working.”

“It was not. See it as a compliment.”

“A compliment?”

“I just felt you didn’t want to be one of those people,” came his answer, and for the first time, she saw the hint of a smile run over his face.

Those people.

Does he mean Julie and friends?

Or the famous, successful ones in general?

Although it doesn’t matter in the end, I don’t want to be any of them.

Only I do.

Part of me.

I just want to have a place somewhere.

But his words, it’s so weird.

How is he able to read me just like that?

Maybe because you’re dressed like death in a cage of colorful canaries,answered her inner voice.

His eyes flashed over her head.

“That’s us,” he said, pointing at a black Mercedes G-Class outside.

G-Class. Black. Of course.

When they stepped outside, she saw it was definitely custom-made, much longer and somehow larger than a G-Class usually would be. The whole of it screamed mafia all over it.

Should I refuse and get myself a cab? Would be the wise choice. But then it’s only a car ride, she told herself.My life is such a mess anyway, it can’t get any worse.

So, she sent all the warnings, all the wise decisions into the wind and let herself be guided to the car by him.

The totally impassive driver opened the door for her without looking her in the eyes, and Deis almost lifted her onto the back seat. She was still shaky and trembling, so she didn’t mind, and he did so with no effort.

Whatever.

It was immediately clear this was anything but a normal G-Class. She knew quite a bit about cars, as it had been one of her obsessions as a teenager. The doors were much heavier and thicker than they were supposed to be, same went for the windows. She knocked against it. The sound was deep and saturated.

Yep, definitely armored.

Deis did not enter after her but stood outside the car, on the phone with someone, for at least a minute or two, giving her the chance to take in the car. It had this freshly manufactured car smell of new leather, mixed with perfume and a heavy scent of old whiskey and oak trees.

Her hands explored the car’s touch as she let them glide over the soft, almost silk-like leather. There was an emblem quilted into both rear seats. She tried to identify it, but the lighting wasn’t the best and her eyes still had a hard time focusing, but what she saw looked a bit like the horns of a ram with the number 333 in the middle.

What the hell is it with the 333 today?

A curved console separated the back seats. She opened it, just to investigate the car and maybe even get any further indication about who he was, but there were only two glasses and a bottle of whiskey in there. The only thing she recognized was the whiskey having a French label. Was he French? She only had his first name, Deis, and aside from being very unusual, it did not sound very French, nor Italian.