Rented Souls | Eirik Moe Dahll-Larsson
My name is Dwarf. These are my notes. Well, I stole some of them. Most of them are mine, though. Anyway. The world is messed up. Like, really messed up. There's crazy demonic pimps around every corner, little brown mud-men trying to get at our mirrors, and something big and bad hanging out behind all of it, just biding its time. And I just figured, you know, someone ought to tell you about these things. Someone who's not afraid of the repercussions. Like, say, someone immortal. Like me. I don't have a lot of friends left by now, but there's a few. The shirtless man with the wonderful hair, mainly. I figure he'll be with me until I die. If I ever do. Him and his angel's wings. You know, I might be getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should tell you about the agency first. King and Book, Dove and all the others. How all this started. How we ended up here, on the brink of extinction. All because of a stupid job offer...