by J. P. Rice
“All right, but you can’t start making ridiculous requests.” I jumped over a creek and saw the shack in the distance.
“Everything will be well within reason,” Gareth promised.
“So I’m getting you drunk and taking you to a hooker. What else?” I asked, already annoyed with this situation.
“I want to sing karaoke at a country bar.” Gareth paused for a few moments. “What else? What else? I want the guy in the dress to change into something else. It’s freaking me out.”
“That will happen the first chance I get. That’s four,” Justinian said, breaking his brief silence.
Gareth said, “I’m going to keep the other ones in my back pocket right now.”
I slowed down and peered around the woods, trying to avoid an ambush at the portal shack. “That’s fine. We just need to get home and get cleaned up and then you can have your fun.”
“I’m out,” the Morrigan announced. “Sounds like you can make all of Gareth’s wishes come true. You don’t need me.”
“You’re ditching me?” he asked with a twinge of rejection attached to his words. “I don’t think so. One of my unnamed demands is that the Morrigan hang out with us at the country bar.”
“That’s five,” Justinian counted off.
“That’s fine. I enjoy the company of women.” Gareth chuckled.
I tapped the young wolf on the shoulder. “Listen Justinian, if you want me to take you home and explain to Octavius what happened, I will. Sorry again, for getting you involved in this.”
“Screw that. I want to see Gareth sing karaoke,” Justinian said, and the rest of us laughed. I wasn’t sure what was funnier, his joke or the tight dress he was wearing.
We arrived at one of the entrances to Sleepy Willow. They were scattered haphazardly around the land for those who knew exactly where to find them. It was nothing more than a small wooden shack in the middle of nowhere. Unless you knew there was a portal inside, most beings would travel right past it.
After the bouncer suppressed his laughing fit from Justinian’s attire, he programmed the portal for Pittsburgh. One by one, we entered the glowing blue transfer unit shaped like a normal front door.
I passed through the portal and ended up in between two mountains outside of Pittsburgh. The frosty chill hit me first, and as the rest of my crew materialized, a light snow started to fall.
We walked to my Jeep. I grabbed the fake rock near my back tire and pulled out the fob. I started the vehicle and cranked the heat as the scantily clad Justinian dove into the backseat, shivering. There was probably a forty-degree difference in temperature between Sleepy Willow and Pittsburgh, so I couldn’t blame him.
As we drove home, the exhausted members of the trip rode in silence, while Gareth sang several terrible renditions of “Singin’ in the Rain.” Apparently, he was warming up for his big performance later.
I dropped off everyone at my house and left Gareth in the running vehicle. I washed my filthy face and hands, changed out of my mud-stained gear, grabbed my purse and some cash, then we headed to the liquor store. Even in clean clothes, I still felt grimy from the trip.
We arrived at the state store around sundown, and I parked in the lot. “What do you want?” I asked as I turned off the ignition.
“Not even going to leave the heat on for me, huh?” he said snottily. “I would like a bottle of Laphroaig,” he requested politely.
“What now?” I asked, wondering what language that was.
He repeated the name and spelled it out, then said, “I want the 1815 Legacy Edition. It has such a nice depth to it.”
“What if they don’t have that bottle?”
“Then we can go to another liquor store, and another one until we find my hooch. It comes in a green bottle or sometimes in a hunter green tube. It ain’t cheap either,” he said, and belly laughed.
It took a couple trips around the whiskey section and I almost fainted at the price tag. I swiped the green cardboard cylinder from the shelf and walked out of the liquor store a hundred-and-fifty-six dollars lighter, but I had the bait to get Gareth to talk. And hell, I wouldn’t mind taking a few sips of this expensive booze.
I jumped into the car and popped open the canister. As I slid the bottle out, I asked, “So how exactly does this work?”
Gareth’s ruby eyes glimmered with excitement. “You just need to pour some of that fine hooch over my blade. Both sides and get it all over. Then I can drink it in.”
I grabbed him and jumped out of the vehicle. Getting pulled over in a car soaked in booze didn’t seem like a good idea. I unscrewed the cap with one hand and tossed it on the driver’s seat. With my left hand, I held the bottle firm and flattened Gareth’s blade. Standing next to my Jeep, I poured the liquor over the blade, flipped it over, and coated the other side.
“Aw yeah. That’s the stuff, right there,” he cried out in a deep and sleazy tone, almost causing me to drop him.
Something caught my eye and I turned to my right. A man walking toward the state store stared at me, his eyes about to pop out of their orbits. I hadn’t really thought about how strange it would look to passersby. Just another day in my life. Who didn’t get talking daggers drunk in the parking lot of a liquor store? Apparently, that guy, who turned away pretending like he hadn’t been staring at me.
I yelled to the man, “Don’t worry. I’m not crazy.”
He increased his pace, which led me to believe that my words hadn’t been convincing. I got Gareth good and drunk. At least, I assumed he was drunk, but I’d never partied with a dagger before. I wiped the blade off on my shirt and took a swig of the whiskey.
Mmmm. As it tingled my tongue, I noticed it had nice depth and a smoky element that sneaked up on me. I set Gareth on the passenger seat and put the cap back on the bottle as I got in. As I started the ignition, the only thought on my mind was jumping in the shower the second I got home. Unfortunately, we still had a dirty, little stop to make.
We arrived at the escort service, which looked like a one-story motel with about ten rooms. I’d called on the way over to reserve a lady for Gareth. I picked the dagger up off the passenger seat and sheathed him on my beltline.
“You ready, big boy?” I asked.
“Big boy? You making a joke or something? What have you heard?” he asked, getting irritated.
“Holy shit, relax. I didn’t mean anything. You ready to do this?” I asked, staring at the huge sign the size of a billboard. Golden script letters spelled out ‘Lion’s Lair.’ It seemed strange that the cops allowed places like these to operate freely.
Gareth took a few deep breaths. “All right, let’s do this.”
Chapter 21
I WRAPPED GARETH IN a hand towel and angled him into my purse, leaving the handle sticking out. I jumped out of the Jeep and walked across the parking lot toward the ugly beige building. As I opened the front door, a cloying smell of incense hit me. Gareth wisely remained quiet as I approached the front desk.
I saw hallways branching out from the reception area, which was nothing more than a few black leather couches on an ugly brown carpet near the front desk. Two large men with holstered pistols stood near the front door. They were big enough and packing plenty of heat to make a thief think twice about robbing the joint.
A plump, bald man in a silver track suit greeted me with a slow nod from behind the window of the front counter. He slid a pane of hard plastic to the side. “Hello, and welcome to the Lion’s Lair. How can I help you?”
I nodded and smiled politely. “I called a little while ago and reserved an appointment with Sophia.”
His chubby, black stubble-covered cheeks scrunched up in confusion. “That was you, huh? Sounded different on the phone.” He groaned as he leaned over and picked up a pack of Marlboro Lights. He packed the fresh pack, slapping it steadily against his meaty palm. “All righty, then. Flat fee is three hundred. That covers oral, vaginal or anal. Either/or, not all three. That’s extra. You do get a discount for
the trifecta, though.”
No. Gross. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I had a special request,” I squeaked, unsure of how to ask the required question. I’d never negotiated this kind of deal before. Shocker, right?
He thumbed the side of his wide nose. “You gotta work that out with Sophia. But after taking a good look at you, I’ll bet she’ll accommodate you.” He winked and tore the cellophane off his cigarette pack. “You have to negotiate that with her, though. But to get back there, I need three hundred.”
I reached in my back pocket and pulled out three bills. I set the hundreds on the desk. The bald man dropped his pack of smokes like a bad habit. His hand slapped down, covering the notes and pulling them toward his big belly. He checked the notes, angling them in the light to make sure. Nodding, he picked up a little glass bell from the tabletop and rang it.
A few moments later, a woman in a pink dress that barely covered her lady bits hustled over. She stumbled in her high heels as she approached.
The bald man said, “Sarah. We have a guest for Sophia. Could you please show her the way?”
Sarah turned and started walking away. She beckoned for us to follow with her index finger. She led us down a hallway with drab green carpeting and closed white doors with golden knobs on both sides.
From behind a door on my left, I heard a man’s voice scream out, “Spank me mommy. I’ve been a bad boy. Spank me. Spank me.”
I didn’t want to hear that or the slapping sounds that followed, but it made me more confident that this place could handle my unusual request. Our guide in the tiny pink dress stopped and knocked on one of the doors.
About thirty seconds later, a woman with bloodshot eyes in a black negligee answered. She smiled upon seeing me, exposing her nasty brown teeth. “Oooh. Haven’t had a girl in a while.”
Sarah turned and started down the hall as I entered the room with Gareth hanging out of my purse. Thinking about it, I was shocked the guards hadn’t confiscated him.
The room consisted of a king-size bed, two nightstands flanking the head and a makeup table in the corner. Black silk sheets covered the bed and a matching skirt kissed the red carpet. The piney scent of weed smoke hung heavy in the air.
“My name is Sophia. How can I make your dreams come true?” she asked, producing a heavy odor of cigarettes and vodka with her words. Party girl.
Sophia stood about five and a half feet tall. Her rich oiled skin glimmered in the dim light coming from the cheap chandelier. She had messy short hair, dark brown eyes and a massive amount of makeup on including glitter around her eyes.
I fumbled for words. “I was wondering. I have a special request.”
Her smile faded quickly. “It’ll cost you more. But don’t worry, we got a lot of freaks in Pittsburgh. What’dya have in mind?”
I had a feeling this request had never come up before. “That’s fine about the money. I wanted to know if you could have a little fun with my knife here.” I slid Gareth out of my purse.
He faked a coughing sound and muttered, “Dagger.”
“What the hell was that?” the woman asked as her eyes widened, causing the glitter to twinkle.
“Nothing. Just the hiccups. I meant can you have a little fun with my dagger?” I asked, and flicked Gareth right above his eyes.
“Before this gets weird, I’m not doing anything with the blade,” she explained.
We were already well past the weird stage. I said, “No, that’s fine.”
She pointed at Gareth and asked, “So you want me to pleasure myself with that thing while you watch?”
I waved my open hands in front of my chest. “No. No, no, no, no, no. I don’t want to be in the room when it happens.”
“Whatever floats your boat, freak.” She bit her bottom lip and squinted in thought as she bounced up and down on her right leg. “It’ll be an extra two hundred.”
This fookin’ dagger was causing me to go broke. I had a feeling I could drive the price down if I haggled, but the clock was ticking on the death cards. “Done.” I peeled off two more hundred-dollar bills and handed them to her. She sashayed over to the nightstand and dropped off the money.
I removed the towel from the blade of the dagger and extended it to her. She walked back to me and snatched Gareth out of my hand.
“Thank you.” I hustled over to the door and exited as fast as I could.
I shut the door behind me and strolled down the hallway. The ridiculousness of the situation caused me to giggle internally. I couldn’t even make this shit up. If it were in a Hollywood script, producers would reject it for being too far over the top.
Barely a minute had passed when Sophia shrieked. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. The door swung open, and she stormed into the hall. Carrying her nightie, she tried unsuccessfully to cover her huge boobs as she jogged away from the room.
As she passed me, she said, “No. Hell no. I don’t mess with that possessed stuff.” Apparently, that was a bad shriek.
Had I just spent five hundred dollars for thirty seconds? I went back in through the open door and spotted Gareth on the bed.
He screamed, “Hey, hold on a second. Let me make myself decent.”
“Okay, okay.” I turned my back to him and wondered what the hell he was talking about.
About thirty seconds later, he said, “All right. I’m ready. Can we go out the back door?”
“Whoa. You just can’t get enough, can you?” I took his silence to mean he didn’t appreciate the joke. “Sure, buddy. We can go out the back.” I picked him up. I felt dirty holding him after whatever had happened, and even dirtier when I slid him into my purse.
I sneaked Gareth out the door at the end of the hallway. Looking on the bright side, that hadn’t taken that long. I got in the Jeep and set Gareth on the passenger seat. A tense silence ensued.
“Look, that’s never happened before. Okay?” Gareth blurted.
“What? I didn’t say a word,” I said defensively. I noticed his ruby eyes had lost a bit of their shine.
He grumbled, “I know how you broads like to talk. I heard Sophia whispering to you outside the room.”
The lady of the night hadn’t said anything. I went to respond but the words got caught in my throat.
The dagger continued in an agitated tone, “I’ve been cooped up for a long time without a woman in sight. If you give me one more chance, I guarantee I’ll be at peak performance. I’m just out of practice. Don’t go telling the rest of the crew about this.”
“Your secret is safe with me, sir. She did scream at the top of her lungs, though,” I said, trying to cheer him up.
His silent response told me I needed to change the subject. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”
“Tell you what. Since you bought me the good stuff without putting up a fight, I’ll tell you something most people don’t know. I used to belong to Sir William Wallace. Maybe you’ve heard of him?” he asked, his Scottish accent growing thicker.
“Of course, I’ve heard of him.”
“I fought right alongside him too.” He sniffled, then the floodgates burst open and he sobbed uncontrollably. “I can’t hold it in anymore. It was my fault. It was all me. I started all the trouble.”
He sniffed in a deep breath and gathered himself. “Sir William only wanted to stab Young Selby once to teach the rapscallion a lesson. But I was young and stupid. A real hothead. And I kept stabbing until the son of the English Governor was dead. It was all my fault. I was only supposed to be a ceremonial dagger. Why did Young Selby have to insult us?” he whined.
I couldn’t believe a dagger had stronger emotions than I did. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Wallace was a hothead too.”
“Sir William, please.”
“Oh, so sorry.”
“Just a sensitive area for me. That’s why I don’t tell anyone that I’m a ceremonial dagger or a Sgian Dubh. I don’t think anyone’s on my trail, but you never know.” He sniffled and went o
n, “Before he met his demise, Sir William hid me away, under the shade of a mossy boulder, wrapped in a dirty white cloth. And I stayed there for about five-hundred years.”
“You think I could get another swig of the good stuff?” Gareth requested.
“I’m trying to drive over here.” However, I really wanted to hear the rest of his story. I grabbed the bottle and unscrewed the cap with one hand. Using the bottle, I nudged Gareth’s blade flat on the seat. With one hand on the wheel, I held my thumb over the opening of the bottle. Guided by moonlight, I poured out the liquid and it trickled onto the blade, the fat golden drops sliding off immediately and soaking into my seats.
“All right. Back to the story.” I put the top back on the bottle and focused on the road again.
“Right. Where the hell was I?” He thought for a few moments and cried out, “Oh, yeah. So I stayed under that damn rock for five centuries until a young peasant found me. I was sold a few times and ended up in the possession of a man named, John Henry. He took me to this faraway land called America.”
Gareth belched. I didn’t know how, but he did. He continued, “Next thing I knew, I found myself on the back of a cart loaded with a swathe of weapons. Scared silly and a million miles from home, I was sold to a tribe of Native Americans. The Cheyenne. A beautiful people.” He was getting choked up and tried to fight it off.
He cleared his throat and spoke dismissively, “You know what, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You heard enough about me.”
He went silent and about a minute later, I said, “There’s a lot of stuff I don’t like to talk about too.” It was a stupid line, but I thought he needed to hear something reassuring.
“It’s not. Oh hell. I can’t stay away anymore,” Gareth babbled. He sighed mightily. “I want to cash in another one of my demands.”
“And what would that be?” I asked, hoping this would be an easy request.
The dagger said, “You need to take me to the Senator John Heinz History Center down on Smallman Street.”
