by K. B. Draper
She paused a pen over her notepad. “Which ones can I get you?”
“All of the appetizers.”
“You want one of each of the appetizers?” I caught a splash of question in her voice.
“You’re right, better make that two of each. Then we’ll decide on dinner.”
Danny, Grand, and Mia walked in just as the first of the wing baskets hit the table. On another day, I would’ve taken a moment to decide on wing first or greet first. Today, I shook it up and took a wing with me to greet the other half of our posse. I also squeezed a little harder and a little longer when Grand took me in his embrace.
“My Hashi Ubi,” Grand whispered.
“My Obi-Wan.”
He chuckled at that, now. The first time I said it it totally went over his head. We had rectified that one evening with a Star Wars binge-fest. We had wings that night, too, speaking of …
“Eat now. We have much to catch up on.” And there he went Jedi mind tricking because I totally did as he suggested, leaving Danny to do the intros with Grand and our newest team members.
Once everyone was seated we made quick work of the pre-food foods and the ensuing mix of pizzas and burgers. Conversation was relatively light. What we did say about the looming war had to be in broken code since the pretty angels at our table were drawing a lot of eyeballs and earlobes.
At the end of it all, we grabbed two pizzas to go, one for Six and one for Michael and Apoc. Sammy offered to DoorDash them for us, and he was back before we all reconvened in the parking lot.
“So how are we looking?” I asked, not the first or the fifteenth time since the breadsticks basket.
Danny pulled out his small tablet, the one he used when he didn’t have room to throw out his laptop. “Still the same. It’s hanging out at the same numbers.”
“You sure your doohickey is working?”
Mia edged up to me and whispered, “I can say with great confidence that his doohickey is working smashingly.”
I leaned away from her. “Do you really, really want to break my brain right before an apocalypse?”
Mia wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in close. “This is how I’ve decided to punish you for, you know, ditching me all these years.”
“Super,” I replied, but held her even closer.
Danny went for his laptop, pulling it out of his bag and popping it up on Woody’s hood. “Yeah, same readings here too.”
A crater opened at the bottom of my stomach. What if this was a distraction? What if … “There aren’t any other hot spots anywhere else? He’s not just playing with us by drawing us here?”
“We thought of that,” Mia said, moving from my side to pick up Danny’s tablet. She punched around a bit, then turned the screen to me. “Nothing. Everything is here.”
I watched Earth slowly spin on its axis. When she said everything, she meant everything. There wasn’t so much as a blip of anything anywhere else. “Can you pull up that same image, but from maybe a week ago? Or month?”
“Sure. It will take me a minute,” Mia confirmed.
Ashlyn took up Mia’s spot next to me. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know. There weren’t any other … whatever they’re called, heat mappy things anywhere. I thought when Danny and Mia showed us these before, there were little spots here and there.”
“Here is a week ago,” Mia said, hitting a last button to set the Earth spinning again. We all leaned in to take a gander. As I’d thought, there’d been little blotches of color scattered all around the world, something very similar to what you’d see if you were watching a weather radar, from small green rain showers to flaming red storms.
Sammy looked over our shoulders. “There’s nothing out there.”
“He’s pulling everything in. Gathering the troops to hit us full force,” I said.
We all let the weight of that realization sink in. And then we gave it a few more minutes just for funsies.
“I’ve called everyone I know. I’m going to go up and talk to Michael. He needs to bring his army and help us,” Sammy said.
“I’ll go with you,” Ariel announced.
I nodded and then, presto blinko, with a flash of brilliant light they were gone.
“Convenient,” I said, checking the dimming night sky for any evidence of their flight path. Nada. “Okay.” I looked between Grand and Danny. “Please tell me you have some ideas?”
Danny dropped his head. “I thought I did, but I—”
“Let’s find a place to talk,” Grand interrupted.
I looked around the parking lot still about half filled with cars and trucks. “I guess we might as well head over to the spot; maybe you’ll see something we didn’t.”
“Give me five,” Danny said. “I’ll go clear the restaurant. Then we can head over.” He started to pack up his equipment, but Mia shooed him off.
“I got this; you go.
Danny nodded, moving to the back of Woody to grab the tool kit we kept there. “I’ll do the toilet thing,” he said, before jogging off with the pipe wrench.
It took a bit over five minutes, as there were a significant number of elderly people with walkers and canes, probably because it was buy one, get one half off jalapeno popper night. The place was clearing out at a slow but steady pace. We decided to head on over to ground zero, as I figured their exits would become speedier once the mix of grease, hot pepper, and dairy hit their tum tums and they realized the bathrooms had been disabled.
Nothing had changed at the site besides the parking lot population. Before it had been about an 80/20 vehicle to motorcycle ratio; now it was more 5/95, with row after row of bikes parked alongside and behind the building. Not too surprising. I’d guessed that the clientele would change over as light turned to dark. Either way, they’d all be calling it an early night. Other than that, the only other notable change was that there were no boats on the water and the lights in the surrounding houses were off. I assumed that meant Sammy’s friends had done their thing.
“This used to be a creek with a mill and distillery,” Mia said, reading from her phone. “Hell Creek,” she added. “There are a number of stories why it ended up with that name, but nothing seemingly relevant to this situation or at least not at first glance.”
Grand wasn’t a chatty dude on a good day, but he was definitely next leveling the quiet as he stared out over the water where Lucifer was supposed to make his big debut. “Grand?”
He turned to me, tried for a smile, and almost made it. “AJ, let’s sit.” He waved a hand toward the picnic table, which I assumed had been put there for the workers at the bar so they could come out and take a smoke break, not that the overflowing ashtray was any indication.
“This about the whatever you didn’t find?” I asked, looking at Grand then Danny.
“I’m sorry, AJ. I really tried. I thought I had it, but … I failed you,” Danny said, ducking his head.
“Failed at what?”
“Let’s start a little further back,” Grand suggested. Danny nodded, and Grand continued, “It’s curious how a single day can bring you the deepest sadness and yet you can find genuine gratitude. This has happened a few times in my life. I lost my son, daughter-in-law and unknown grandchild in a single day, but I was so deeply grateful that my grandson had survived.” He reached for Danny’s hand. “I am so very proud of the man you have become. You have made me and your parents very proud.” He gave Danny a smile.
“Thank you, Grandfather.” Danny bowed his head, embarrassed by Grand’s praise.
Then Grand turned to me. “From the moment you came into our world I considered you part of my family. I did not need anything more than what I knew that I felt in here,” he tapped his chest. “However, Danny set about a path that has confirmed this fact.”
I gave the tall, dark, and bashful a curious look. He shrugged. “I had a suspicion and …” He pulled out a sheet of paper from his back pocket, unfolded it, and offered it to me. I gav
e it a quick glance, but had a feeling I already knew what all the charty things had concluded. “I submitted your DNA along with mine and this shows that—”
“We’re related,” I finished for him, folding the paper and handing it back to him. “When did you find out?”
“At your parents. I got the results when I was at the library,” Danny confessed.
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“I wanted to try to figure out how it was possible. I thought maybe you’d believe it or take the information a little better if I knew how.”
Valid. I was kind of a who, what, when, where, and how kind of girl. “And?”
“And we don’t know,” Grand stated. “When Danny called me, the elders and I searched our records and we simply don’t know. But that doesn’t change anything.”
I nodded, already having that little puzzle piece in my bag, if my grandmother’s stories are true. “How?”
Danny ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I already told you, I don’t—”
“No, how did you get my DNA? Steal my shot glass? Creepy midnight mouth swab?”
“Your toothbrush.”
I gasped and pointed at him. “The one you said that I must have left at the Whataburger in Waco?” Yes, I brush my teeth after each meal; one can’t underestimate good gum health.
“I got you a new one,” Danny said.
“A firm bristle one, when you know I do medium.”
“No, you like firm. I have always bought you firm, even after I showed you studies where medium to light firm is better,” he countered.
I opened my mouth to continue the stupidness, but Ashlyn laid a hand on my shoulder. “Not really the important part of this conversation.”
“Fine. Then why? Why did you think you needed to go behind my back and do this? What were you trying to prove? You already knew Norm should be yours.”
We were apparently done with the head-down shame game because fire lit Danny’s eyes when he met mine. “Actually, I thought it might finally fucking convince you once and for all that YOU are the rightful heir to the hunter’s spirit!”
Okay. And damn the fact that he knew me so well. I believed him, of course, because, well, he was Danny and double bonus points because he’d thrown in a big boy curse, which he didn’t normally do unless he was mad or super-dupery annoyed. But here’s a kicker, I knew him too. “And?”
He deflated. “And because,” he said after a prolonged pause, “when I was looking for a way to help deal with,” he waved a hand at our surroundings, “all this, I found a legend that said a lost warrior will come to wield a weapon capable of capturing good and dispelling evil.”
“And you think I’m that lost warrior?”
“Yes. Without a doubt.” Another dramatic sigh. “But I can’t find it. I can’t find the weapon. I’ve searched everywhere. Every legend. Every story. Every book. I just … I’m sorry.”
Any anger or frustration I might have built up shattered under the weight of the grief in Danny’s voice. I stood and silently walked to Woody and retrieved what I guessed was the center of Danny’s defeat. I returned, setting my hand-me-down chest in the middle of the table.
“What is this?” Grand asked.
“Might be answers. Might be more questions.” I gave Danny a “go ahead” nod, and he pulled the box toward him. As I had, he took in the carved top.
“It’s for you. Where did you …?”
“My great-grandmother on my father’s side. It was in her things. There’s a letter, which I think might have some answers to the how part of things.”
Danny carefully slid the lid back and stared at its contents. I’ll spare ya the details of the repeat read and the oohing and ahhing over the knife and its crystal blade. Needless to say, a significant amount of that was coming from the part of the crew that hadn’t seen it until now.
Grand had picked my hands up, pressing them both to his heart. “I didn’t need blood or a story to know you were mine. I will do all in my power to assist you in your fight, my Hashi Ubi.” And damn shazam, I’d been hoping to stay off the waterworks, but that was a no go.
Danny was next to round the table, auto reaching for a hug, but quickly recoiling, and I guess we were still doing the guilt thing. “No more secrets,” I warned.
“Says the girl with the secret box holding a magical knife,” he countered.
“Fair.” I gave him a bring-it-in motion with my hands. When he was good and nestled in, I whispered. “So glad we never swapped juices because that would be super awkward.” That broke him or maybe just broke the moment. Not sure which I was really going for, but he was grinning so we’ll call it a win. “Okay, so now how do we use this thing?” I asked, picking up the knife and flipping it around in my grip.
Chapter 18
We talked for a good while, long enough for the sun to fall below the trees. Unfortunately, there weren’t any big aha moments. Danny, armed with new details, went digging into our shared past. Grand made a call to the elders who were going off to see if they could find anything as well—most importantly, whether some other long-lost relative might have the instructions to the super knife, which I was now calling Crystal Gayle, BTW. I know, I know, but she really kind of named herself.
“How about now?” I asked Mia.
She groaned. “The same as the last six hundred times you’ve asked. There’s nothing new.”
“Most boring apocalypse ever. I swiped Crystal off the table, sleeved her, and slid her inside my boot. I’m going to go ahead and clear the bar.”
Ashlyn was sitting beside Mia, having joined in on the mystery-solving part of the plan. “Play nice. We need you in one piece,” she warned.
“Whatever.”
I may or may not have walked into the bar, like so many before me, with one big FU chip on my shoulder. If you’re a betting person, I’d double down on “may.” I also might have left my normally nice, pretty, persuasive words in my other pants pockets. I hit the front door, not the swinging back and forth kind, FYI, which should be required of any bar calling itself a saloon. Seriously, I need to let the saloon thing go. Eh, maybe later. I entered all attitude and a good amount of boot. My entrance didn’t get me so much as a lifted eyebrow. #Disappointing. And I’ll be honest, it took some wind out of my sails. Plan B then. I popped my ass up on a bar stool and waved a finger at the bartender when she turned an eye on me. Yes, that was an eye. As in single. The other one was covered with an eye patch. A sequined patch. A Hello Kitty design for those of you who need more detail.
Now, I would assume some of you might have conjured up the image of a glammed-up pirate with the details I’ve provided so far. And hey, you might be right, as the woman behind the bar might have actually been around in the late 1600s when pirates were at their peak. Her hair was gray and wiry, as were the caterpillars that were chillin’ where her eyebrows should have been. I guessed her denture cream had given up and gone home at some point as she didn’t have a single tooth, real or remade, showing when she spoke to me.
“What you havin’, sweet thing?”
I have answered this question a zillion times. So much so that the answer auto-populates itself without any thought. Kind of like the “How are you doing?” “Good. You?” track, but this go around my brain glitched and instead decided to mutter, “Please don’t Mason jar my innards and save them for stew for the long cold winter ahead.”
She solo-blinked at me. I dual-blinked back. “You’re goin’ to have to speak up. My battery went out in my hearing aid and I can’t hear a darned thing.”
“Thank the lord,” I muttered.
Solo blink. Dual blink. And we went at it again. “You’re pretty, but you don’t got a lick of sense, do ya?” she rasped.
“Honestly, it’s a crap shoot. I’ll have a beer. Whatever you have cold.”
She nodded and shuffled off. I took the time between order and order fulfillment, which was a sec (see previous “shuffled” comment), to take a
gander around the room to check out what I was up against when I went to clear the place out. Two, I’m going to go with regulars, held up the other end of the bar. They were doing their own eval of me. Ultimately, they turned away, deciding the only action either one would be getting tonight was from the football game playing before them on the 1993 television set. Seriously, the thing had rabbit ears. Well, technically, it had the whole rabbit. The tv was adorned with one of those taxidermy rabbits with miniature deer antlers, sitting atop a fake-moss wood block.
There were two more guys playing Darth Vader versus Han Solo as they danced around the pool table slapping pool sticks. No problem there. But it was the last group of patrons that had me grabbing and downing my newly arrived beer in one long drag. On the far side of the bar, and I was just taking a wild yet totally stereotyping guess here, were the owners of the plethora of Harleys that lined the parking lot. The men outweighed the women five to one. Figuratively and literally. The men wore matching black leather vests or jackets depending on their sleeve preference. The women stayed in theme: black T-shirts, covered by the same style jackets decorated with differing patches, but all with the same large embroidered logo on the back.
I zoomed in on the details. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered.
“That’ll be three fifty unless you want another. Can I start ya a tab?”
I turned around and placed a twenty on the bar. “I’m going to need a shot this go around.”
“What’s your poison?”
“Whatever you got; just make it burn.”
“I got just the thing.” She reached under the bar and grabbed a short glass. “It’s called Heaven and Hell. First, a little Hell,” she poured a finger’s worth of Fireball. “Next, we add a little Heaven.” She unscrewed the top of an unmarked bottle and poured in three fingers of a clear liquid. I watched the clear invade and mix with the darker liquid, dulling its color to that of watered-down tea. Then she lit it on fire and slid it to me. “This’ll get rid of any demons chasin’ you around.”
“If only,” I muttered, picking up the shot, blowing out the fire, and downing the contents. I would’ve gasped. Would’ve coughed. Would’ve rasped out a good “holy fuck” or seven, but I was pretty sure my larynx was gone.
