Wrath of an Exile (The River Styx Heathens #1)

by Monty Jay

“TP! TP!” Shouting the nickname Dad told me to use, I burst into Uncle Thatcher’s office. He says it’s his favorite, and I think it’s funny ’cause it stands for toilet paper. I skid to a stop in front of the humongous wooden desk. “Yes, mini version of Rook?” He looks up at me from the papers in his hands, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, looking annoyed as per usual. “Where is the coffin Aunt Lyra sleeps in?” I blurt out, rocking back and forth on my heels, tired of searching their never-ending house. He lets out a small laugh, something I don’t hear from him a lot. “You think we are vampires?” “Not you. You’re not cool enough. You sell houses. But her, yes. You live in a haunted house, and she always wears black!” He raises his eyebrow at me. “I see.” “So? Where is it?” I’m practically bouncing on my heels, waiting for him to tell me. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but she isn’t a vampire.” Uncle Thatch sets his papers down, leaning forward and peering at me from his chair with a small grin. “And if she was, I’d be one too. Whatever your Aunt Lyra is, I am.”

I miss them so bad