Thrilled to Death

by James Byron Huggins

  “You built it...The Blind Judge. That was you?”

  My animated zeal drew Grove’s attention. I waved off his furrowed brow and confused expression, gesturing at Gale so that he kept his focus on her.

  “Well, not just me. I am an heir of Unet; albeit disgraced and disavowed, but one of the Royals nonetheless. When my House exiled me they took my knowledge of the golem before casting me out of the In-Between, which was my home, into this place. I was the architect, though, yes.” Donovan looked past Grove to Gale. Despite being bloodied and bandaged, she seemed peaceful. Gale was an uncompromising pillar of strength and pride, but the one theme I’d been picking up on lately was her affinity for those who’d been cast out. Everyone in her circle was a kind of stray. Take Xander for instance, his pack had actually run him out, and he’d basically become persona non grata before falling into the bar matron’s lap. All of her people swore an oath of fealty to her out of adulation and appreciation instead of fear. And while there was a profound reverence for the woman, their obedience was a product of love.

  “Why?” I asked. When I saw the confusion on Donovan’s face, I clarified: “Why did they throw you out?”

  “It’s a long story. In short, I did something unbecoming of royalty. I fell in love with someone beneath my station and my heritage. Her name was Ja’sune. She was a goblin.”

  I was too warped myself to be judgmental about any kind of love story, but I was surprised that Donovan, usually so reserved, shared all of this so openly. Love had a way of dispensing with one’s usual reservations, I suppose.

  “Ja’sune? Beautiful name.” I wasn’t so absent of empathy that I couldn’t extend a bit of kindness. Donovan had really furthered my education in our craft, and with no real gain to speak of for himself. “So,” I continued carefully. I was already familiar with Donovan’s pensive mask, so I strove to remain both patient and soft spoken as I tried to walk him out of his thoughts. “We have to figure out the procedure for this whole judge, jury, executioner thing and see if there isn’t a way to slow it down, or, I don’t know, get a retrial.”

  I rubbed my recently-shaved head. Focusing on the prickly-soft sensation was a nice way to get my mind working. “This place will do for a spell,” I said, wincing as I caught my own accidental pun. “But with Gale’s power signature it’s going to be hard to keep her concealed.”

  Donovan raised a finger, then untucked a necklace from beneath his tattered shirt. The circular pendant contained an old emblem, one I wasn’t able to recall from any of my studies. Before I could open my mouth, he answered the question written on my face: “It’s a talisman, her power is in this. Its signature is masked, although if they’re close enough they will still be able to pick up on it. It’s a dampener, not a solution.”

  Knowing I’d regret it, I held my hand out expectantly. Donovan looked from the opened palm to me, so I explained, “This is one of the first places they’ll snoop around, best to keep them off the scent. Give it to me.”

  “No!” he cried, betraying a shocking amount of passion for a man who always kept his cool. “This is my responsibility.” We locked eyes in a confrontation that felt almost physical. That was the very line I used when dragging Maria’s lifeless body out of Lake Erie, barely managing with my one good arm but determined to be the one who completed the task.

  I gave him a terse but unenthusiastic nod and stood up. Donovan moved again, but this time with his free hand—the one not clutching the pendant. If it was anyone else I’d have ripped it out of their hand, but I realized the master Tinkerer’s solution was likely Gale’s best bet to stay hidden, especially within the bunker’s warren of misdirection wards.

  “If you help us—” he began to say.

  “I’m picking a side, I know.” I stood, which got Grove’s attention. I signed that we were heading out. In our ever-evolving process to find amicable middle ground, I had taken the time to learn some American Sign Language, while Grove had made it a point to be more expressive so I could pick up on his cues. For all the headache this kind of silent communication could create, it had its benefits, and as more time passed we started to fall more and more in step with one another.

  “Anything else you need to tell me about this?” I asked.

  “It has something to do with the lake,” he answered.

  Where we lost Maria. The person who prompted us to start this crackpot company in the hope that we could help someone else should they ever find themselves in over their head. Of course, it was more aimed at maybe keeping some girl off the menu for a vampire or some guy from being cursed by an ex. Stepping into a vendetta set against a borderline demigod like Gale was above my pay grade, a fact that was now occurring to me for the second time, establishing a potentially troublesome trend.

  “There’s plenty of food and water. The bathroom doesn’t have any water, but you can go up and get some. Everything is completely off the grid, and you should keep it that way.”

  The gnome, apparently surprised by my willingness to help more than I already had, struggled to his feet, but every time the opportunity to thank me came up I made sure to interrupt him.

  “Don’t talk to anyone,” I said as Grove started heading upstairs. “Make sure she’s resting. If you need to get hold of me you can’t, but I’ll check in on you with that—” I pointed to the wall, where there was a metal box next to the medical kit.

  “What is it, a portal? Some kind of security camera?”

  “Not exactly.” My sheepish response stoked his suspicion. Donovan went to the box, unclasped the metal latch and pried it open. Inside was a styrofoam cup with a string pierced through the bottom and knotted off inside of it. The look I got was perfectly contemptuous, which just spurred my smile.

  “Really?” he demanded.

  “Yep. No magic residue, no electronic signal, nothing to hack; that’s what you never get, sensei.” That was a title he hated, and one I employed as often as appropriate comedic timing allowed. “The higher up a problem is,” I said, illustrating my point with one hand stretching skyward, “the easier it is to crawl under it. You beat a big power with better technology by lowballing it. Scoff all you want, nobody is going to detect that thing or find it except us.”

  It was a rare win; he seemed less stupefied and more begrudgingly impressed. I took the victory in stride, saving my shit-eating smile for when I turned to follow Grove out. It was important to appreciate something like that, since it seemed I was about to join the losing team in a one-sided beatdown against an undefeated adversary.

  You know...just another day at the office.

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