by J. P. Rice
Chapter 3
“SOUNDED LIKE YOU NEEDED something on the phone. Little warm in here,” Mike said and removed his heavy winter coat. He hung it over the back of a chair at my kitchen table and sat down.
I set down the can of Coke that he’d requested and slid into the chair across from him. “Yeah, I might need a little help getting into the Red Cavern.”
“I’ll help as much as I can. This shit is killing people now,” he said, staring out my kitchen window at the permafrost known as Pittsburgh. “I can’t believe how close I was to getting that Harp. It seems like ten years ago now.”
“Did you just bust in through a portal?” I asked, as he cracked open his beverage.
“Yeah, there’s one out near the mountains. It takes you to a stone area with meeting rooms.” He dented the can near the mouthpiece and took a drink.
“Did you see any devils there?” I asked, and Mike nodded in response.
He swallowed the mouthful of liquid and unfastened the top two buttons on his blue dress shirt. “Yep. Two of them. Montidore and Bruceras.”
Bruceras was the illustrious King Bres, the Fomorian. I didn’t know Montidore’s true identity.
“That won’t work then. Last time I went in through a black magic cult that had connections to the Red Cavern. Does anything like that still exist?” I asked and walked over to the thermostat.
Mike played with the tab on the can. “I’ve heard rumors about it. I can ask Bloduewedd about it.”
I turned down the heat a touch. “Why would you ask her?”
I sat back down, and Mike said, “As an owl shifter, she’s organized all the birds of Pittsburgh and its surroundings to gather information. She is my eyes in the sky. Surprisingly, she still has a winter fleet surveying Pittsburgh.”
“Must be fookin’ nice,” I said under my breath.
“What?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Nothing.” I couldn’t believe they had given this little twit divine resources on top of a friggin’ guardian angel. He was the chosen one and they were protecting him as such. “Just meant it sounds like to have a resource like that in the back pocket.”
“No doubt. My instrument for contacting her is at my house, so I’ll do that later.” He took another swig of Coke and scratched his head.
“What do you think about going?” I asked bluntly. If he was the chosen one, bringing him could keep me safe.
“If you’re going to crash the scene and try to take it by force, I’m in. Problem is they’ve tightened up security at that portal where I entered on earth and the entrance of the underworld,” he explained. He seemed to have an unquenchable appetite for destruction. I liked that.
I joked, “Well, you just ruined it for everyone, haven’t you?”
He smirked and his sapphire eyes reminded me of my father. He lowered his head and said, “Sorry about that. You know how it is when your life is on the line.”
“Indeed,” I agreed. “What about joining the magic cult with me?”
“I can’t.”
“Pussy,” I coughed.
“What?” he asked as his smirk melted downward.
“Nothing. I was just yawning,” I said, stretching out my arms for added effect. “Why can’t you go?”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Because they all know who I am and what I look like.”
“That’s why you shapeshift, you stupid ass.” I shook my head. For a sharp young wizard he could also act like a stupid little brother.
Mike looked down and a crimson tint covered his cheeks, breaking through the blond peach fuzz. “I can’t shapeshift.”
“Really?” I couldn’t believe the Golden Boy lacked that ability. “That surprises me.”
“It’s the truth,” he mumbled and looked away, embarrassed.
“No. I wasn’t calling you a liar. Then I guess I’m going alone. I’ve done it before,” I said and stopped. I didn’t remember how much I’d told Mike about my past. One of the many problems of lying.
It worried me as a spark of recognition ran though his eyes. “I have someone you need to meet.”
“Who?” I asked, genuinely intrigued. Those weren’t the words I had expected.
“We’ll talk about that later. You can shapeshift and stay that way for days at a time?” he asked.
“Yes I can. One of the skills I obtained from a glamor witch, which sounds oxymoronic.” I realized I had said too much. “I mean, she taught me how to set the spell, that is.”
Mike’s eyes widened with excitement. “Do you think you could teach it to me?”
Son of a bitch. He’d called out my bullshitting. Did he know? I said, “I don’t really remember it all now since I absorbed it a long time ago. It just comes with a little recall these days. Sorry.” Unfortunately for him, I was much more adept at taking magic than giving magic.
Mike cracked his knuckles. “I’ll do my best up here. I’ve got Blodeuwedd on the lookout for the demons bringing the harp to Pittsburgh. They have to keep playing it to keep extending winter. I don’t know how often though. It’s not like Punxsutawney Phil, who makes his annual appearance.”
“I don’t know how long it lasts either. I’d ask the Dagda, but I’m not on his good side right now. Not yet, at least,” I lied.
He replied, “I know he asked you to find his harp. You bring that to him, I’m sure he’ll hold up his end of the bargain.”
How did this kid know about my deal? That was another danger of lying. Getting caught. “You’re not mad he didn’t ask you?”
He shook his head and his shaggy blond hair swung from side to side. “Nope. Not at all. I told you. I want to take a step back. I won’t shy away from it, but I was told you can handle yourself just fine. And I’ll help you with anything you need.”
Mike was like a pendulum. One second, I hated his guts and wanted to smash his face in, and the next, I wanted to give him a big hug and kiss on the cheek. He had a pure spirit and noble intentions, something I wasn’t used to dealing with.
“Made any progress on the wolf and vampire bullshit?” he asked casually.
Fook. I’d almost forgotten about that. “No. But thank you. That reminds me I need to call Caesar today. He’s been avoiding my calls. On the other hand, Jonathan won’t stop calling me about the duel. He wants it to go down yesterday. And I thought setting up the duel would be easy.”
Mike stood up and shook his empty Coke can. “You recycle?”
“Just set it on the table,” I said, and thumbed for him to sit back down.
As soon as his backside hit the seat, he asked, “Is Octavius stalling or are the other wolves stalling for Octavius?”
Could be either. “Never thought of that. He agreed to it immediately when Caesar had asked him about it. Now, I can’t get ahold of him to save my ass. If he doesn’t answer in the next few days, I’ll take a trip to their house.”
“You sure?” he asked and shot me a leery look. “You don’t exactly have a great track record out there.”
“Oh, Mike.” I laughed and leaned forward on the table. “The naivety of a mortal. If you are in this business long enough, every person will become your enemy at some point. Beings you’ve tried to kill will rush to your defense one day. Why? We’re all free agents. Entities of convenience.”
He closed one eye. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I hated to shatter his noble dreams, but someone had to tell him. “Your friends. They know your secrets. Marley said it best. They can hurt you much worse than your enemies. They stab from behind as they lurk in the shadows. You know your enemies, which makes it hard for them to sneak up on you. There will be a time when it’s convenient for you to save an enemy’s life, only because it will help you in the long run.”
The Morrigan could teach a class on why one should avoid friendships.
“Already been there,” Mike revealed.
The kid seemed to have a ton of experience. “Then you understand. Your closest friends cou
ld become your bitter enemy. It’s a long ride with many twists and turns. Just when you think you have everything figured out, it turns upside down.”
“Luckily, I only have a few close friends,” he joked.
From experience, I could tell him the number was probably fewer than he thought.
Chapter 4
“I’LL HAVE MY USUAL,” Caesar said to the server, who jotted it down on her pad.
She turned to me and pointed at me with the eraser of her pencil. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll just have an Iron City. Bottle, please,” I said.
“No problem. I’ll be right back.”
Caesar had asked me to meet him at the Butcher’s Block, a restaurant owned by the wolves. Designed as a rustic log cabin, the fifty-seat establishment was almost full of male wolves. There were a few lady wolves, which I had never seen before. As I peered around again, I saw about a half-dozen humans mixed in.
I wondered why Caesar had called and offered to buy me lunch. Something didn’t feel right. Surrounded by a large group of the pack, I kept my magic at the ready. My nose didn’t detect any magic in the air, but I couldn’t let that lull me into a false sense of security.
“So what’s the deal, Caesar?” I asked, getting down to business.
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “No deal. It’s just Octavius will be away for the next few weeks.”
“What do you mean away?” I asked as irritation started to build inside me. “I’ve got Jonathan up my ass about this duel.”
Caesar peered around the room and lowered his gruff voice. “He had to go to Florida to take care of some business. No big deal.”
“Business? Why didn’t he take you?” I questioned.
Caesar leaned forward and cupped his hand in front of his mouth as he spoke, “He left me to run the operation in his stead. What’s the problem? Tell that vampire scumbag to settle down. Not like he’s dying.”
The server came back with our drinks and Caesar’s meal. Damn that was fast. She slid a frosty mug of golden lager to Caesar and handed me the Iron City bottle. Then, she laid a plate in front of the wolf, and he nodded in pleasure.
The server smiled and knocked on the table. She winked at Caesar, turned and headed toward the kitchen.
I zeroed in on Caesar’s meal. He had French fries and raw ground meat smashed between a bun. “What the hell is that?” I asked.
“Brulee burger,” he stated proudly, smiling and patting his stomach.
I said, “Still doesn’t answer my question.”
Caesar pushed the fries to the other side of the plate so none weren’t touching the burger. “The chef makes a seasoned burger patty and coats both sides with sugar. Then he brulees it with a blowtorch to make it nice and crispy on the outside. Sweet meat, he calls it. You want one?” he asked, thumbing toward the kitchen.
I sat back and took a swig of my beer. “No thanks. I like Pittsburgh rare, not raw.”
“Your loss,” he shrugged his shoulders and picked up the top half of the bun. He squirted an enormous amount of Heinz ketchup on the bun and closed it back up.
I couldn’t even imagine the strange flavors going on there. “I think I’ll survive. So when the hell will Octavius be back?”
“He should be back in the next few weeks,” he said and took a huge bite out of his burger. Ketchup spurted out the sides of the bun and painted the backs of his hirsute hands.
As he set down his burger and cleaned himself off, I said, “Should be back? No. That’s not good enough. He needs to be back within two weeks from today. That’s the limit on how long I can stall Jonathan. It’s more than fair.”
Caesar held a finger in the until he finished chewing. “Come on. After what you’ve done to him, he needs this. You owe him that much. You rattled him.”
I peered around the room. One could never be too careful. “What are you talking about?”
“Look. This stays right here.” Caesar leaned back and took a quick peek at our surroundings. With no one around, he still lowered his voice, “His head’s all fucked up since you busted in and stole the spear.”
That was interesting. “Yeah, but I could only do it because I had the enchanted knife. And that was a fake spear too.”
“I know that. You know that. For some reason, he doesn’t,” said Caesar, who jammed a handful of fries dripping in ketchup into his mouth.
“So what, he’s running away?” I asked.
He grabbed his burger with one hand and held up his index finger on the other. It felt like a stall tactic. He bit into his burger, chewed the food and swallowed. As he wiped his mouth, he spoke, “Sorry. Starving. He’s not running away. He’s just got to make a little trip.”
“Make a trip. I was under the assumption he was already in Florida.” What were these wolves trying to pull?
“He is,” he confirmed.
“All right. Let’s cut the shit. What kind of game are you playing here?” I asked, tired of the run around.
He sighed deeply, and I chugged some of my beer. He leaned forward and spoke in a bass-filled whisper, “You know about that company, the Lunar Express?”
I’d heard that name when I was staying in Hilton Head. “You mean the private company that makes trips to the moon?”
“Yeah,” he said and went silent.
He stared at his half-eaten burger. I asked, “And?”
“You figure it out,” said Caesar. He crammed some fries into his mouth and turned away.
I rolled my eyes. “When is Octavius going?”
Caesar gulped from his frosty mug and swiped a hairy finger across his upper lip to chase away the foam mustache. “That’s where the problem lies. He’s supposed to leave in ten days. But the whole thing’s dependent on the weather. Then it could take fourteen days for him to leave.”
“What does he think will happen? That the moon will supercharge him?” I asked, incredulous. How was I supposed to keep a maniacal vampire under control for three weeks?
“That’s what it sounds like. I know it seems ludicrous, but who knows? It’s his money and he can do what he wants with it,” Caesar explained.
I didn’t even want to ask about the astronomical cost. “I didn’t mean it like that. Why aren’t you going?”
He played with his French fries and said, “Shit. I hate flying across the state, let alone going up there. Besides there was only one spot left on this one. Opened up late and Octavius dropped top dollar to prepare for the duel.”
I told him, “The trip and travel will probably fatigue him more than recharge his battery.”
Caesar scraped a little ice off the outside of his mug and stared at it as it melted on his fingernail. “Think whatever you want. That’s what he’s doing. So stall the vampire until he gets back.”
I asked, “Have you ever thought about what would happen if Octavius loses?”
Caesar sat up straight and answered immediately, raising his voice, “No. He isn’t going to lose to some puny vampire. I can tell you that.”
I hated to say it, but he needed to hear it. “Okay. Just saying there’s a possibility.”
“And I’m telling you there isn’t. Now drop it,” he said and took another huge bite from his burger.
Chapter 5
I LOOKED IN THE MIRROR at a man with dark hair, a big nose and blue eyes staring back at me. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a Steelers hoodie, I saw a normal looking man. One that could go undetected. One that was ready to infiltrate the Red Cavern. Staring into the reflective glass, I studied every feature, so they were burned into my memory.
Mike Merlino had come through and found a demon cult in a rural area just outside Pittsburgh. I had a long road ahead. This wouldn’t be a quick two-day process and it was killing me. Specifically, leaving my dragons was killing me. Now that I had seen one egg beating like a heart, it took all my strength to take this mission.
The only option was me. Even with the Celtic Gods giving him end
less resources, he couldn’t handle the job. That was why the Dagda had asked me to retrieve his harp. Or was it? The best way to describe the trip would be a suicide mission...
