Friends With The Monsters - Albany Walker Page 0,1

to open.

I narrow my gaze at the creature in front of me. My glare should be enough to scare anyone, but the long-limbed shadow in front of me just holds my stare. “Uncle Skinny Legs,” I warn.

A rusty, rasping sound comes from him: a laugh, but no words.

“Fine.” I toss my cards on the table. “I’m out.” His long fingers trail forward and snag the marbles off the tabletop—his winnings. He slowly lifts the baubles up near his face and a grin splits his lips. His razor-sharp teeth are dripping with thick saliva.

“You don’t need to gloat.” I tuck my arms over my chest and pout.

Uncle clicks his tongue, giving me a censuring look that, even though I can scarcely make out his eyes, I know is there.

I drop my arms and the glower. “Fine, but I’m going to win next time,” I tell him confidently. He pockets the marbles into his chest. I have no idea if he has a coat, or if he absorbs the treasures some other way.

A thump upstairs has me looking at the ceiling. “Who do you think it is?” I ask, almost too eagerly.

Uncle stands. “You’re not leaving, are you?” I stand, too, and crane my head back to look up at his considerable height. He’s all long limbs. If he turned to the side, he’d barely be visible.

I already know my answer. He never stays long. He’s been visiting me almost as long as the Will-o’-the-Wisp have. Skinny Legs isn’t really my uncle. I only call him that because I feel a familial bond with him that was always lacking with my family.

Uncle pats his chest over where he placed the marbles and gives me a slight bow before turning and disappearing wherever he came from.

Another thump from upstairs draws my attention. I grab a copper chamberstick that holds a taper candle and move into the long hall so I can go greet my next guest. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, a thrill of awareness skates down my spine. I can taste an essence in the air—agony. It smells of ripe strawberries, delicious and new.

I slink up the wide staircase, making sure to stay quiet as I do. It brings that sweet taste even closer, and my mouth waters. Damn, I must be hungry again. You’d think it would be easy being a Sin Eater, but I devour little lies like licks of a lollipop, yummy, but not at all filling. I don’t even really know if that’s what I am. With all the monsters I’ve met, none are like me, and none are sharing if they know others of my kind.

I open my mouth and pull in the tiniest bit of essence to taste. I roll the flavor over my tongue but can’t place it, other than the soul-shattering agony. It announces itself like it has its own billboard. There’s something achingly familiar yet also unknown to me, about whoever is up here.

Not everyone who visits me is eager to be my friend, so I stand here, as still as a virgin at her first lay, and as silent as a corpse. Well, most corpses anyway. Sometimes they’ll talk your ears off.

When another sound alerts me that whoever is here hasn’t left, I creep closer to my room, since that’s where the noise is coming from.

“Shit,” a masculine voice curses. I peer around the door, gauging if the entity will stay. Sometimes I scare the monsters, which is kind of scary if you think about it.

So, I don’t think about it.

The sight on my bedroom floor frightens me more than Uncle Skinny Legs or any of the other monsters ever have.

There’s a man sprawled out on my rug, half leaning against the footboard of my bed, holding his middle like it might spill out if he lets go. If the blood covering his hands and pooling beneath him is any indication, it just might.

Forgetting I have no idea who he is, I rush over to his side, setting the candle beside him and kneeling. “What happened to you?” I ask, pulling the throw off the end of my bed and balling it up to press it against his wounds. I take a second to look him over. His clothes are dark: black pants and what looks like a bulletproof vest over a long-sleeved, black shirt.

“Nothing too serious,” he slurs, as he stares at me. I glance down, noticing there’s something strange about the way he’s looking at me. He’s