Casablanca: The Book Novels & Stories

The next day, Charlie and Merlin assumed their new Portuguese-Oskian identities Helena had procured and flew directly from Norway to Lisbon, the capital of Portugal. Their destination this time was Casablanca, the largest city and largest port of Morocco, which was quite famous for a classic movie with the same name. It was also one of the few relatively modern cities in Africa, ranking in their top ten. On the flight to Lisbon, Charlie sat in a semi-private first-class cabin, casting the hand seals he had learned from the aurora under the blanket he covered himself with.

He could only let out muffled sounds. After that, I knocked him out once again. At the same time, I heard many screams of agony. I just closed my eyes to tune them out. Those young and beautiful blind masseuses dreamed of making a ton of money when they boarded the cruise. But they would never be able to leave the cruise with the money. Finally, the sounds died down at night. I clutched the keycard that I had found in the gray-suited man's pocket as I opened a small gap in the door.

No gleaming gold bars. The secret vault is a treasure trove of madness. Neat rows of pills and small bags of fine powder. Paraphernalia for consumption. And beneath them, files. Contracts and agreements between Tristan, the Laurent Group, and a major drug cartel—a syndicate that was, until recently, the FBI’s most wanted. A violent chill races down my spine. Every muscle in my body locks rigid. My throat is desert-dry yet burning at the same time. I am frozen, staring, unblinking, at the lineup of hidden insanity that has lived under my roof, beside my bed.

Carmen never used to like diary books and thought that they were stupid, reminding you of the reality you want to escape from. Tears fell down her cheeks as she was reading it. 'As you are reading this, you perhaps already know that I left or I am on my way to the airport now. My plane flies at 10 pm. I don't honestly know where I am going and why. But always remember that I'll forever support you. We'll talk daily, please don't cry. I miss you already. Happy birthday again.' As she finished, a sound of a car was heard. Carmen rushed to her bedroom's window and stared outside. It was Liam!

Her eyes sparkled with excitement. I smiled and agreed, though the corner of my eye drifted toward Phoebe. On the train ride back, Shanine chattered endlessly about the next trip: staying longer, drinking better wine. I looked out the window at the mountains sliding past and suddenly remembered Phoebe's words from the night before. 'If only tomorrow wouldn't come.' She was leaning against the seat in front of us now, pretending to nap, sunglasses hiding her eyes. ... On the high-speed train home, the scenery outside passed by in fragments, but I could not focus on any of it.

But, it cannot be denied that they are talented. “Mmmhh, what’s that?” Clandes jerked a little bit when someone whispered right in her ear. She looked at the man with a furious face but the man only chuckled. “Just kidding,” Mauvais said and sat beside her. “So, what’s that?” “A book, obviously.” Mauvais frowned at her. “What’s wrong with you. You’re so grumpy.” “Nothing.” Clandes kept the book and napped. She was not in the mood to talk. She felt weird lately since she read the novel of Lilia Desaix. There’s something from the novel that changed the way she talks, moves, and thinks.

Up close, I could see better how beautiful the blue combined with honey of his left eye was, and how clear the honey color of his right eye was. Mason tilted his head. “Do you like my eyes?” I looked away. “No, they're just…” fascinating, different. “Different...” Mason said the word slowly as if evaluating something. Looking down, I could see the book resting on his lap: 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. A classic, huh? Mason lifted the book slightly. “I told you I liked to read.” "I didn't think you were telling the truth." He raised an eyebrow. "Have I ever lied to you?"

She reached for his arm and pulled him inside, “Come on… you’ve got so much to tell me.” A whistle escaped the assistant’s lips when he entered the living room and saw how plush the whole place was. “Reggie, who is this man again? And please tell me you know at least one more of him so you can set me up for life! Damn, when I saw the exterior of the house, I thought to myself, “Now, this house shouldn’t be in Ghana, but fuck the inside takes the fucking cake! This place looks like heaven!”

“You asked me to.” He stepped aside, letting her pass. The air inside the cabin smelled of cedar and ash, something wild and old. The walls were lined with books—some new, others ancient, with leather covers and golden etchings. Maps were pinned across the far wall, all hand-drawn. Aiden closed the door behind her and locked it. Evelynn turned slowly in place, taking it all in. “This is where you live?” “Sometimes. It’s where I learned to live.”