Run the Day Read Online Free

contributor to why there's so few of us to begin with, and why we're spread so thin. All that amazing power, but we're still only human. I worked the clippers tenderly around my aching skull and watched the patches of ratty black hair and beard fall. Toying with the forces of Creation had contributed to the untimely demise of my entire family, in one way or another, and was more than likely going to be what did me in someday.
    Hopefully not someday soon. Knock on wood.
    Sheered and looking like a naked rat I stepped under the scalding water of the shower with a hiss. I needed to wrap my head around this whole situation, figure out where the hell Bugbrain had come from and who he was working for, track down any leads I could about where the Libro Nihil might be. That would more than likely require a fair bit of work, and pumping some questionable entities for information. And I still had the nagging feeling that things were just going to get worse.
    The thing about being paranoid that reality's out to get you and the shadows are full of horrors isn't delusional.
    In my experience, it's a survival mechanism.
    Chapter Three
    After the shower I felt almost sub-human, and entered the comfortable darkness of my room. I clicked on the lamp on my desk and winced at the sudden light. My room was much the same as the rest of the house, cluttered, the floor hidden under piles of books and boxes containing things that looked like they belonged in a museum, or lab. The bed was a nest, heaped and piled with pillows and heavy blankets, and there were clothes thrown about everywhere. I snagged a pair of pants, a black t-shirt that smelled mostly clean, and my trusty coat then made my way to my desk.
    In the chaos of the room, my desk was an altar of austere order. The top was clear of clutter and debris; the only things on it were a computer tower and monitor, along with a care-worn keyboard and mouse. The evolution of the internet has been an amazing thing, with a kind of magic all its own, and was as much an invaluable tool to my work as the ancient grimoires and eclectic relics I'd stockpiled over the years. I pressed the power button on the monitor, and it glowed as it came to life.
    The screen opened up to my email, showing a metric ton of new messages. I perused the senders and came to the conclusion that I really needed to stop visiting certain more questionable sites, but stopped when a certain name stood out from the rest. Hack Spencer. That was weird, I hadn't heard from the old man in years, ages even. Hack was an old friend of the family, as in he was friends with my great-grandfather Henry. It was Hack who took care of me and fostered my talents after my parents died almost twenty years ago. He was like another grandfather, but we'd had a falling out a while back and hadn't spoken since.
    That he had reached out to me after all this time got me curious, and a little worried. He had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with me, and that was that. I had made some stupid, selfish decisions, decisions that could have had some truly cataclysmic repercussions. If Hack was contacting me something had to be wrong, and the subject line on the email confirmed it, Red Sky at Morning
    . Sailors take warning.
    Hack used to say it when times got bad; it meant a storm was coming. If it was bad enough for him to start talking to me again, it had to be pretty damned bad. Hack was a survivor, I'd never figured out how old exactly, but any mage who had survived as long as he had was a real magical bruiser.
    After getting dressed, I clicked the message open and grabbed my boots off the floor, lacing them up as I read it.
    Tommy,
    I hate these stupid machines.
    Sorry it's been so long, boy. I wish I had more time to explain things to you but time's the one thing we're all in short supply of, just please believe I'm sorry for everything.
    Something's come to the valley and it's bringing doom with it, for the whole damn world. I can't