Misfortune Market: A HASEA CHRONICLES STORY (BOOK 1.5) Read Online Free Page A

you’re here to kill me,” he said with a sigh, as he picked up the glass and set it back upright. His voice was deep and slow, filled with apathy that was slowly giving way to misery. “Before you do, I would ask that you allow me to have a final drink. I’d much prefer to die pissed.” He wiped the desk with a sleeve of the grubby white shirt he wore and then refilled his glass with whisky. Sighing, he took a deep, slow drink.
    What has to happen to a man in his life to make him this despondent? It was strange. Mature Shamans were powerful hybrids – more than even the most competent Witches. Instead, sitting in front of us was the husk of someone who had likely been very powerful once, but had long since faded – like the dying embers left in the wake of a roaring inferno.
    “We aren’t here to kill you.”
    Gabriella switched off her Kapre belt and gestured for us to do the same. There was no moment of confusion for the Shaman, no second before recognition kicks in. He simply blinked and said, “Oh.”
    “Do you know who we are, Mayor Henwick?”
    Albert took another long sip of whiskey and pointed the index finger of his glass-holding hand towards us. “You’re Guardians. From the HASEA.” I could tell from his heavy mannerisms that he was tipsy, leaning towards drunk.
    “Yes we are. And do you know why we’ve come here?”
    The Mayor scratched a thumbnail of his other hand against the wooden arm of his chair and gave a few heavy nods. “The kidnapped girl.” He looked up. “But before you do whatever it is you came to do, I want you to know I had nothing to do with any of that. I might be an old fool, but I am not a criminal.” He gestured out sharply, sending bit of whisky sloshing over the glass. “I don’t want a part of any of this depraved lunacy. I never did.”
    “You run Inferus.” I stated. “If you don’t like the market, then stop it from running here.”
    The Shaman threw back his head and laughed. It wasn’t a sound of humour, but one of anguish and despair – the sort of laugh someone makes when they realise they have lost everything. “You state that as if I have some say in the matter. I haven’t run this city in over a decade.” He held up his hand and stared at it as if it held the secrets of the universe. “I’m nothing more than a puppet with invisible strings.” He sighed. “That and the scapegoat people look to with disgust and hatred while this once great city falls apart around them.”
    We all frowned at each other. We are looking at a man dangerously close to the edge.
    “So if you’re the puppet, then who is the puppet master?” asked Gabriella.
    The Shaman stared down into his glass. “That would be the Overseer.”
    “The Overseer?” asked Gabriella.
    The Shaman looked up. “You’re part of the Alliance. Surely your organisation knows of him.”
    Gabriella pulled out her Biomote and tapped a few keys. She paused for a moment when a question mark came up on the screen where a photograph or drawing should be, followed by only the smallest bit of information. She gave an awkward cough. “Actually it seems we know remarkably little about him.”
    “How lucky for you.”
    “Does he have a real name?”
    “If he does, I don’t know it. I don’t even know what he looks like.”
    We exchanged glances again.
    “Surely you’ve seen the guy,” said Delagio.
    “Of course, far more than I’d like to. But he is always wearing his hideous mask.” The Shaman gestured to the door. “Like what everyone out there is wearing.” He widened his hand expression. “All of this is his creation you know. Misfortune Market started with him. That orgy of hedonism and crime evolved from his original ideas. It’s like a glimpse into the corners of his sick mind. And the worst part of it is everyone eats it up…they enjoy it.”
    “If I’ve learned one thing from my line of work,” said Gabriella, “It’s that given an opportunity to misbehave without fear of