|OPENING of #MusicMeisterThreeGrandCrisisPrix|
Frank’s fingers drum atop the ebony black, round steering wheel keeping beat to the staccato percussion surrounding him. Wagner, if he had to guess. Or Mahler. He knows, somehow, instinctively, that if the boss were here, -
laying her gently on the backseat. “She’s not going to be happy when she wakes up, but at least we don’t have to deal with her asshole boyfriend. They must have split up.” Sliding back into the drivers seat, -
he had been nursed back to health by a coven of witches who upon finding him thought he was the living embodiment of Vidar,the silent son of Odin. Not that that hadn’t had its moments in the end.
“Ten minutes. Then we’re back on the road.” His tone brooking no reply from Vandal.
nearly every bone in the left half of his body had been crushed. It took him a week of laying there, trapped under the rocks for his spine to repair itself. Fortunately the summer rains provided enough moisture dripping between the rocks to sustain him.
For nearly three years, -