Nick Land Book Novels & Stories

The book is called JERICHO (For obvious reasons) Follow my In$t@gr@m account of you want to read any of my kindle books or paperbacks : the handle us @authorkyliegopal.

“Here you go,” Niko says holding out an old brown book. Like the mafia rules, there’s nothing written on it, no title, or author's name. not even an abstract design. Just a plain book. At least this one seems to be just an old journal not like the other one Niko described to be bound in human flesh, yuck. The original Mafia rules, not the copy I read but still. I still sniff at it a little. Only smelled old woodsy smell and nothing gross like rotten flesh or skin.

Police lights strobed small and insistent at the marina, a string of ants around a spill of sugar. Nick thought about the dream again—the black jet, the faces he loved going under—and tasted pennies. He forced breath in and out, in and out, like counting burns in a set. His phone buzzed yet again. He didn’t look. He couldn’t. Rachel did. “It’s Frank,” she said. “He says he’s got… books.” She made a face. “And holy water.” “Fantastic,” Nick said, dry enough to crack. “Maybe we can baptise the fucking ocean.”

With sad puppy eyes and soft reminders like, “You left me for five years, you owe me.” So here we were. In the library. In the farthest, dustiest corner, where the silence was thick and the presence of other humans was a rare phenomenon. The table was cracked slightly in the corner, the air smelled faintly of old pages and carpet cleaner, and the only sound was the occasional soft thud of books being closed somewhere far off. I was just about to crack open the textbook when Nick leaned forward, rested his arms on the table, and said— “So. Explain.”

"Good is not in your vocabulary Nickolas. Till you prove it, you're going. I want a report on that book at the end of the term. Am I clear?" "Yes ma'am." He left with the book. I let out a deep sigh. I just turned sixty five. I am not getting any younger and my legacy is still without an heir. Since I disinherited Nate we have been estranged. We have not spoken to each other in thirteen years and I fear it may be till my death. Nicko is only thirteen and barely trustworthy with the billions at stake.

“Lunch is ready!” They stood reluctantly, hands lingering before they let go. --- Afternoon deepened into a golden haze. In the study, Nickey leafed through an old book, trying to steady his mind. The ledger lay nearby, waiting, reminding. Trina entered silently, gliding across the carpet. “What are you reading?” she asked, perching beside him, her thigh brushing his. “Old stories,” he muttered. But his eyes betrayed him, drawn to her lips as she leaned closer.

All because of Nick. He is therapy.

Nick had so disliked Ava. Emily had told him, she had said to him that day at the store. “..…Never judge a book by its cover. A beautiful appearance does not guarantee a captivating personality or well-written content beneath the surface; while another book might have a worn-out dust cover, it could contain hidden treasures that only those with a genuine appreciation for beauty can recognise.” Ella wore an ugly dust cover to hide her true beauty and protect herself. Nick couldn’t wait. Ignoring his straining erection, He reached for the phone. “Devlin, I need to be on a flight tonight.”

Evan asked. I snapped my head to Evan. I didn’t like it when he said her name. Nick seemed to notice my body’s reaction but he didn’t say a word, for once. I cleared my throat, “Yeah did you guys find anything? I haven’t really been able to focus these last few days.” “Well I’ve been doing a ridiculous amount of reading in these ancient looking books, that smell terrible and are covered in dust… and nothing. I can’t seem to find anything in them about werewolves mating with humans. But…” he trailed off.

“A…. J… Nie-lan? Nillan?” Ben freezes behind me, then coughs. “It’s Nyllan,” he corrects. “Oh, ok. A.J. Nyllan. Theoretical Text Volume Three.” I begin to write it down in the ledger, then return to the book, looking for a publication date. “Oh,” Ben says from behind me. “I can deal with that one later.” “What is it?” I begin flipping through the pages. It looks like some old scientific journal.” “Actually, Lo. I’m really pretty tired. Sorry. Do you mind if we pick up tomorrow?”