The old Demon Hunter had hid it well, but I knew better.
So he found himself a safer and generally better all-around person, then lost her. Oh, Ed…
“I don’t get it.” Kaylee tore a sugar packet and dumped it’s contents into her coffee before leaving the paper carcass with the rest of its fallen comrades in a growing pile on the table.
“What don’t you get? Think vampire-like. Basically Dracula, but since vampires aren’t real, not Dracula. How can I make this any more clear?”
“No, I mean, what’s the point of fighting getting old?”
It was my turn to be confused. “Huh?”
The Swamp Witch sipped at her coffee-tinted slurry. “Well I mean, what’s the damn point? We all get old, we all die. Why get so hung up on how you look or who likes you? It’s kind of a pointless game isn’t it? I mean, let’s take that waitress. She’s got to be, what… eighteen? Sure, she looks great today, but what about five or ten, or even twenty years from now? While we can’t say for sure, we know for sure she won’t look eighteen.”
“Right…”
“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it. Who the hell cares? If she’s found what she’s meant to do with her life, if she’s found her passion.”
“Slinging motor-oil?” I said, gesturing to my half-empty cup.
“If that’s what brings her joy, yes.”
“I don’t think that—”
Kaylee brushed me off. “See that’s just it, Gene. She shouldn’t need to know what you think, or I think, or frankly what any of us think about her. She should be her own person and do what brings her joy.”
“And pays the bills.”
Kaylee frowned and turned her attention back to me. “Yes, and pay the bills, but maybe she’ll be smart. Maybe she’ll find a nice quiet place in the Green Swamp that no one pays any attention to, and homestead it.”
“Ah… So, go be a squatter? That’s a passion to aspire to.”
The subject of our debate returned with a beautiful platter of scrambled eggs, bacon, grits, and a short stack of golden pancakes. I couldn’t be sure, but part of me wanted to believe this was what they were serving in Valhalla.
“Can I get ya anything else, honey?” our waitress asked.
“Nope, just find your joy.”
“Huh?” she said, kicking her hip out to one side.
“He’s fine.” Kaylee slammed a boot tip into my shin. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I reached for the silverware and hadn’t sliced into the first glorious pancake before the old cowbell tied to the front door clanged and Little Ed pushed his way in.
“Hey, you told him to come to TJ’s right?”
Sigh… so close.
I placed the fork down. “Yes, you saw me write the message. Remember?”
“Yeah…”
“What is it, Eddie?” I asked, keeping one eye on the slowly dissipating steam of my hot breakfast.
“A car circled a few times, but they haven’t stopped.”
“They?”
“Yeah, it’s two people.”
“What kind of car is it?” Kaylee asked.
“It’s some sort of sedan,” Little Ed scrunched up his face in thought, “I don’t know cars. It’s got four doors, it’s silver, and it’s got one of those little metal thingies on the hood.”
“Cadillac,” Kaylee and I said in unison.
“Uh, sure. That.”
“You know anyone who drives a caddy, Gene?” the Swamp Witch asked, pushing back from the table.
“No, but it could be anything. I mean, this is a town and all—”
Kaylee was on her feet in seconds and motioning for the door. “Throw your cash on the table and come on. I knew this was a bad idea from the moment you told me.”
The steam was fading fast on my glorious repast and I had to fight to tear myself away from it. “Wait, you said ‘they,’ Eddie. Who was in the car?”
“I couldn’t really see the driver from where I was. There was an old woman in the passenger seat, all done up with make-up and stuff.”
“Could it be the vampire?” an already clearly concerned Kaylee asked, her body giving all indications it was only seconds away from grabbing her son and running out the door.
“There’s no such thing.”
“But I thought you just—”
“Long story. Listen, it’s not Delia. There’s just no way. Now, everybody sit back down and we can eat.”
Crisp bacon called to me from the platter.
Don’t let our sacrifice be in vain, Gene. Eat us, the bacon compels you!
“Well, I’m not hanging around long enough to find out. Come on, Gene. Eddie, you start the car.”
Little Ed turned back to the door and froze. “Too late, Mom. They’re out front.”
Kaylee tightened her hand down on her staff and pulled her son away from the glass door. “Get behind me.”
The Swamp Witch yanked her young son and focused all her attention on the door. I still didn’t know what that damn staff did, but the Magick rolling off of it had me more than a little concerned.
“Come on, you two. It could be anything—”
The cowbell over the door clanged and a matronly woman in a velour running suit pushed her way into the diner. Long navy sleeves with thin white lines adorned her arms and the same pattern traced the fabric-covered curves of her ample thighs. Little Ed was right, she was all done up—her makeup had its own makeup.
She clutched a monster purse under her arm and fanned at the sweat on her face.
“Adam, is this where your old boss is now?”
Adam?
“He said to meet him here, Mom.”
Mom?!
The equally large but far more bearded Adam Grayson followed his mother into the diner. His eyes panned the restaurant until they fell on me and the swamp people.
“Gene?”
“It’s me.”
Adam’s cherubic face lit up like a Christmas tree. He bounded across the diner and threw his thick arms around me. “Holy crap, Gene. I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”
“Yeah,” I said, a couple of rogue tears stinging at the corner of my eyes. “I missed you too, buddy.”
Adam let go and looked down at my platter.
“Oh man, you even got me breakfast. Best. Boss. Ever.”
21
Breakfast Beatdown
Adam didn’t wait for me to respond. He took a seat at my place and immediately cut into the short stack of pancakes. “Wow, these are really good. You should get some.”
“I did… never mind.”
“Adam.” His track-suited mother placed her saddle bag on the open seat next to him. “Is this your boss?”
“Uh, huh.”
“Oh, it’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Law. Adam has told me all about you.”
“He has?” I said, extending a hand.
The prosperous woman brushed it aside and threw her own thick arms around me. “Oh, I just can’t tell you how happy I am to see someone take a chance on my Adam. He’s such a smart boy, even if he can be a tad bit unmotivated from time to time.”
“Uh, sure thing, Mrs. Grayson.”
“Please, call me Angela.”
“Um, Gene?” Kaylee said, her head tilted so far sideways I thought she might fall over. “And this is?”
“Oh, and this has to be your wife. Mrs. Law, I’m Angela. Adam’s mother.”
“No! I’m not his… we aren’t… no ma’am.”
Little Ed and his mother returned to the table just as our waitress replaced the silver coffee pot. “Will this all be on one check?”
“No!” Kaylee and I said in unison.
“Oh, I’ll cover it, dear,” Angela said, removing her purse and sitting down next to her son. “What’s the sense of having a nice cash settlement if you aren’t going to use it. Am I right?”
The young waitress didn’t appear to know what to make of our motley crew
, but her apparent desire for tips outweighed any tangential concerns.
“Works for me. What can I get ya?”
Angela surveyed the table and then the counter. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Excuse me?”
Angela nudged Adam with her elbow as he vigorously consumed what had been my breakfast. “My son’s single, and he’s quite a catch. Senior Vice President of Information Technology.”
The waitress appeared more than a little confused. I jumped in to get us back on track. “She’ll have what I was having, in fact we’ll get two—”
“Three, actually,” Little Ed said, jumping onto the free food train with gusto.
The waitress scribbled down our orders and beat a path to the counter before Angela could potentially ask about her family lineage or comment on the childbearing potential of her hips.
“Adam,” I said, scooping a hand under my apprentice’s arm. “If I could have a word with you at the counter.”
“Uh, yeah sure. I just need to—” Adam didn’t get the bacon slice to his mouth before I had him up and moving to the largely empty bar.
“I don’t even know where to begin. Your mom? You brought your mom to… to… Lacoochee?”
“You said it was dangerous, and you told me to get the”—Adam glanced over his shoulders to check the few patrons loitering about—“big box from storage.”
“But your mom?”
My apprentice shrugged. “You said it wasn’t safe. I’m not leaving my mom in Tampa if it’s not safe.”
You’d do the same thing. His family doesn’t have a protection guarantee from the House.
“Right, okay. Let’s put a pin in that for a moment,” I said stealing a glance at the table. Angela was already talking the ears off of Kaylee and Little Ed. “Did you get it?”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, it was in the back. We really need to clean that place up.”
“Do you think you were followed?”
“What am I, a secret agent? I don’t know.”
“Right, I’ll deal with that later. First, I need to know if you checked on my family.”
“You do know they have this thing called the internet, right? I mean, you did go so far as to send me an email. Why didn’t you just look on their social media pages?”
Damn you, Mailstation.
I brushed him aside. “It’s a long story.”
“Well, they aren’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Porter isn’t much for posting, and Cathy isn’t either. She appears to be doing good in school.”
“Is she still doing jiujitsu?”
“No. She plays the violin now.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, surprised me too, but there are a few videos out there with her in them at some recital. Your daughter’s got some talent.”
You’ve got to tell him.
“It’s not Cathy.”
Adam nodded. “Yeah, it’s not the Cathy I knew, but kids grow up, man. Their interests change. I remember when I was younger I had a real soft spot for the Xbox, but now I’m more into vintage gaming. You know, like the old Nintendo.”
“Adam,” I said, grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie. “Stewart came to visit me.”
My wide-bodied apprentice froze mid-sentence. “What do you mean he came to visit you? I thought he was in, you know…” Adam again checked over his shoulder. “Hell?”
“Damn it, Grayson, he is. That’s what I’m telling you. He’s in Hell and Cathy’s there with him.”
Adam pulled out his phone and scrolled through the screen. “No, she’s not. Look here’s a video of her.”
Catherine.
Even with the Imp’s words echoing in my ears, and the fingerprinted haze of Adam’s phone screen, it was all but impossible to deny.
It’s not her.
I could tell myself that again and again, but it just didn’t want to stick. There she was, my Cathy, coaxing soul-shattering notes from a violin.
My daughter would never have had the patience for an instrument…
“Adam!” Angela shouted from the table. “Your food is getting cold.”
My apprentice shoved the phone in my hand before joining the others. “I’m coming.”
The video looped as I scrolled through the comments.
“Impressive.” The waitress looked over my shoulder at the graceful moves of someone that may or may not have been my daughter. “See how much better she is without you in her life, Gene?”
“That’s not my daughter and you know it.”
The waitress-shaped House adjusted her apron. “We really seem to be doing the servant look a lot here. What is it you aren’t telling me?”
The young woman ran a soft hand down the side of my face. Her fingers sent waves of pleasure through my body. “Feels good, right?”
I tried to look away and turn my attention back to the phone, but the House was too strong.
“Listen, Gene, I get it. I do. It’s hard to believe your daughter is alive and well, let alone thriving without you, yet as you can clearly see from that video, she’s doing exactly that. I’d love to say the same for you, but I’m not sensing you’ve gotten your Magick back. Nor am I sensing you have a plan for doing as much.”
My hands shook in frustration, tightening down on the phone and turning off the screen.
“I’m working on that.”
“Right, right, ‘working’ on it while you swim with Alligator Men and slum it up with Swampwater Sally?”
I tried to get some distance between us, but the waitress closed the gap quickly, pressing her thigh against mine and catching me off-guard.
“It’s a process,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “It’s going to take time. Adam is here, and he brought what I need and—”
“This sounds like a lot of talk,” the waitress said, holding her hand up like a puppet. “You’re doing a lot of this, when you should be doing this.” She clamped her fingers shut—hard.
“I’ve got a plan, and a backup option—”
The waitress shook her head. “Think again, Gene. Check your reconciliation wheel.”
I pulled the paper disc out of my pocket, two memories had vanished, replaced with opaque black squares. “What the hell?”
“You’re losing yourself to this obsession.” The waitress held up her open palm. “I’m starting to think you aren’t properly motivated.”
“No. It’s not that. It’s—”
She snatched Adam’s phone out of my hand and clicked the screen on, then returned it to me. “You might want to check your daughter’s feed now.”
The black screen flashed to life and a whirlwind of messages scrolled by.
She’s been in an accident.
Is it serious?
The doctors don’t know.
Oh my God, Cathy. I’m so sorry about your mom.
“What have you done?” I said, my stomach curling in on itself.
“I don’t know, Gene. You tell me. What have I done? Are you going to get back on track, or is Porter’s accident permanent?” The waitress pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, the anticipation.”
“I’ll do it,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the tiny phone screen.
“You’ll do what?”
“I’ll get my Magick back.”
“First, it stopped being yours when I gave it to you, and second, I’m just not feeling it. Sounds to me like Porter might not pull through.”
The waitress picked up the tray and headed toward our table.
“Stop, wait! I’ll do whatever you want.”
She paused, turning to look back at me over her shoulder. “Say it again.”
My shoulders fell, and with them went my will to fight the House. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Adam’s phone chimed in my hand.
Okay everybody, I just talked to the doctor, he says she’s going to be fine, it’s a miracle!
“You okay, honey?” the waitress sai
d, her voice once again her own. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
22
Made up Matrimony
I sat in relative silence at the table, my appetite gone. Thankfully, with Angela there, my silence was the least of our worries. Within a few minutes of my return, she’d counseled Kaylee on her look and recommended no less than half a dozen different shampoos and body washes. The Swamp Witch was clearly fuming but held her tongue—the real question was how long that would last.
Little Ed was only halfway through his eggs when Angela began asking him very detailed questions about his love life. Those questions culminated in a brief yet very awkward exchange between Adam and his mother regarding his gender preferences. This family squabble only ended when Angela elected to discuss it at a later date.
I kept a firm grip on my coffee cup and let the rest of the breakfast action play out in the silver pot’s reflection. That convex mirror gave me a way to keep tabs on the waitress, who continued to be herself and not my least favorite piece of real estate in all the world.
Angela had found a new bone of contention to pick with her son, but was interrupted when the door’s cowbell clanged again. Thanks to that reflective pot I got a look at who was arriving for a mid-morning breakfast, and it sent the hairs on my arm straight up.
Short, red-haired, and wearing a thin linen white shirt, the Leprechaun I’d worked a deal with last year waltzed into TJ’s like he owned the place.
“Kelly! How are you today, sweetheart?”
“Morning, Mr. Tally! I didn’t know you were going to be in town this week. Usual table?”
The Leprechaun caught my eyes in the pot’s reflection. “No. I’m going to sit at the counter today.”
“You got it,” the young waitress said before scooting off to another table.
“Adam,” I whispered, trying to get my young apprentice’s attention. “I’ve got to get out of here—now.”
“Huh? We just got here.”
The Leprechaun’s reflection eyed our table, and I tilted my head at his distorted form in the silver pot. “That’s the fairy I made the deal with for the spike.”
Beaten Path Page 12
