by Nazri Noor
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SOUL FIRE
First edition. September 6, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Nazri Noor.
All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
Sometimes the simplest thing in life is a good burger. Veggie, wagyu, angus, hey, you do you – as long as I had the Happy Cow, I was the happiest man on earth.
Two patties, please – bursting with savory juices in every bite, with just the faintest bitter edge of charred beef. Vegetables optional, though I wouldn’t say no to buttered mushrooms, maybe some grilled onions. Put it all on a toasted sesame bun. And melted cheese is compulsory, the salty, creamy finish to every precious mouthful. Cheddar, preferably, as American as a bald eagle. Fuck, throw the eagle on the burger, too, and I’ll eat the shit out of it.
Hi. My name is Dustin Graves, and I’m starving.
I’d brought some of the Boneyard boys out to quell the burger craving. I wanted to give Mason the full Valero welcome, which, in my book, meant shoving an entire Happy Cow hamburger down his throat. We took Asher along, too. I’m not sure if you know this, but necromancers need to be taken on walks every now and then, and with how protective Carver was, Asher was probably pretty damn close to going stir crazy. And Sterling was always nice to have around. He liked to pay for things, and I wasn’t ever going to complain about free burgers.
“Down that corner,” Sterling said, mainly for Asher and Mason’s benefit. Certainly not for mine. Blindfold me, drop me anywhere in Valero, and I’ll still find my way to the Happy Cow. No sweat.
The rotund, smiling face of a cartoon cow greeted us from the Happy Cow’s light box signage, a cheerful and somewhat grim symbol, I suppose, for a place that served some amazing burgers. Mason and Asher entered side by side, muttering to each other at high speed about some video game or another, followed closely by Sterling. A nephilim, a necromancer, and a vampire walk into a bar. A burger joint, more accurately.
I let the three of them walk ahead of me, watching my brothers in arms, taking the precious few seconds to appreciate what counted for normalcy in my life. Just some dudes going out to grab some food. The only way I’d really managed to stay sane all this time was to find the fun where I could, to see humor where others wouldn’t. Keep things light.
And yet – and yet I felt a little unnerved as I walked into the Happy Cow after the others. The people behind the counter were staring at me – one person at each register, three in total, a manager with a toothy smile, hell, even the fry cooks were peering over their shoulders, rubbernecking to look directly at me. Okay. Weird. But weird wasn’t going to get in the way of my regular order.
“A double cheeseburger,” I told the woman at the counter, “and large fries, large onion rings, and a diet cola.”
The diet soda’s a preference. Because it tastes good, okay? Not because I was trying to lose weight or anything.
Mason hemmed and hawed over whether to pick fries or onion rings. “Both,” I told him. “The right answer is always both.” Asher couldn’t decide between blue cheese or mushrooms. I was hungry enough to start impertinently tapping my foot. He got the message pretty quickly.
“Do you make them rare?” Sterling cooed, one elbow on the counter, speaking over his shoulder in a seductive trill.
The girl at the register covered her mouth and tittered. I stamped on his foot to get him to order faster. He growled, threw me a bladed glare, then ended up just ordering a plain old burger, small fries, and a small soda. Figures.
“It’s like you’re eating for two, Graves,” Sterling snarled, carrying his tray and leading the way to our table. “What’s the bloody hurry?”
“I’m so hungry,” I said.
Asher blinked at me. “You ate before we left the Boneyard.”
Mason cleared his throat. “I was there. You had a whole sandwich. I can’t believe how whiny you are.”
“I’m not whining,” I whined, slamming my tray on the table, sliding my butt right into my seat, and hurriedly unwrapping my burger. “I just love the Cow that much, okay? The two of you shut up and eat your damn burgers. You’ll see.”
Mason and Asher watched with mildly revulsed curiosity as I practically unhinged my jaw and shoved what might have been a fist full of fries into my mouth. Sterling tutted and shook his head.
“He’s always like this,” he drawled, mainly addressing Mason. I glared balefully at him out of one eye, crunching down on three onion rings, their grease, breading, and buttery sweetness mingling in my mouth. “Eats like a man possessed, like someone who’s never met a sandwich.” He daintily ripped open a packet of ketchup, squirting it onto his fries, then leaned in to whisper. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself, Dust. Calm the fuck down.”
“Make me,” I grumbled, picking up my burger and getting ready to consume it whole, python-like.
Sterling wasn’t wrong, I suppose. I guess I was drawing a little attention, but again, mainly from the Happy Cow staff. I narrowed my eyes at the manager. Surely they’d seen hungry people before. Their food was so damn good, and they’d seen me eat there enough times not to care.
I shrugged, turning my attention back to my burger. Whatever, right? Maybe my hair was looking especially cute. Maybe they respected a man who could put away a double cheeseburger like it was nothing. I sank my teeth into the edge of my burger, just barely nipping at a corner for a ripe, juicy mouthful of lightly toasted bread, singed beef, and melted cheese. It was like being transported to a different dimension. Better than that, because being transported to a different dimension in my terms came with the very real possibility of getting slaughtered by angry gods.
My tastebuds and my stomach sang with joy. My heart was probably in there somewhere, too, screaming in terror over the impending threat of cholesterol. I could see the headlines in the Comstock News. “Local man chokes on delicious cheeseburger, dead at twenty-five.” But I took a second bite, swallowed, and almost wept from the sheer perfection of it. Death by Happy Cow was one I would happily welcome.
“Mmph,” I moaned, trying and failing to get out a sentence.
“Is this,” Mason whispered. “Is this like a sexual experience for him? The sounds he’s making.”
“Just let it go,” Asher said. “Pretend you don’t know him, it’ll all be fine.”
“Oh God,” I muttered, going in for my third bite. “I love you. I love you so much.”
Sterling sipped noisily from his cup. “I don’t think he even talks to Igarashi that way. I should record this. See if Herald gets jealous.”
“He’d understand,” I slobbered through my fourth mouthful. “You’re all freaks. You just don’t get the Cow, man. Best burgers in Valero.”
I watched as Mason chewed the first bit of his burger – Swiss and mushrooms, if I heard correctly – and studied his expression. He knew I was looking, and I could tell he was controlling his reaction, trying to tone it down.
“I – I mean, it’s okay,” he said, thoroughly unconvincingly. I thought I saw his lip quivering as he stared at the bitten portion of his burger. I knew that look. Burger lust.
“You’re a liar and you know it,” I said. “Look me in the eye and tell me that isn’t the most delicious burger you’ve ever tasted.”
Mason’s mouth twitched some more, his bottom lip wet with – I don’t know, burger grease? Maybe drool? “It’s – it’s the best burger I’ve ever tasted.”
“Fucking knew it.”
“We get it,” Asher grumbled. “You’re obsessed with the Happy Cow. I mean, surely it can’t be that – ”
Hah, that was right. This was going to be Asher’s first taste of the Cow himself. Whatever else he was going to say never left h
is lips. Asher went in for another bite, the vaguely sexual moan leaving his mouth only muffled by his face full of burger.
“I knew it,” I huffed, triumphant. “You’re all converts. Nothing beats the Happy Cow. Everyone bows to its might. Kneel at the altar.” I gave my burger a quick, loving peck. “Now they understand, baby. Now they get it.”
Sterling groaned. “You’re all insane.”
“You just don’t get it, man. I know it’s not a cigarette, but as soon as you get a taste of your burger, you’ll understand. It’s like magic.” My eyes closed involuntarily as I took my hugest bite yet, chomping off half of what was left in my hands. “Even with your undead tastebuds I’m sure you’ll – ack.”
Sterling cocked an eyebrow. “You’re sure I’ll – what, exactly?”
“Gurk,” I said.
“You’ll have to speak up, Dust. Or swallow first. It’s disgusting how you talk with your mouth full.”
“He’s choking,” Mason said.
“Gack,” I replied.
Something was lodged in my throat. Oh God. Oh God, this wasn’t how I was supposed to die. I took back everything I thought about the headline in the papers. No way in hell. Dustin Graves couldn’t die by hamburger. I’d bested gods and demons. I was the guy who beat up the Eldest. And we still had more bad guys to kill. Bad gals, that is. I was supposed to go out in a blaze of glory.
“Does anyone know the Heimlich?” Mason cried out.
“I can punch him in the gut,” Sterling said. “Very hard. Will that help?”
“Oh my God,” Asher said. “Mouth to mouth? CPR? What do people do in this situation?”
I gestured at my throat, choking, gasping, the edges of my vision going blurry. Whatever the hell someone was going to do, that was going to have to be done real soon. Asher could close bloody gashes with his necromantic healing, even mend bones – but all the magic in the world wasn’t going to save me.
“Sir, please remain calm,” the manager said, her face anything but. “Charlie here is going to assist you, okay?”
I nodded, desperate, at the gangly young fry cook who vaulted over the counter and rushed straight at me.
Carver would be so disappointed to learn that this, not the combined might of the Eldest, was what finally caused handsome old Dustin Graves to kick the bucket. I wondered if he knew any spells that could get half a patty out of my throat.
“That’s it, Charlie!”
I looked down at my stomach, at where Charlie’s deceptively skinny arms locked fists, then shoved straight up into me. A horrible noise gurgled from my throat. Something landed in a splat on the table in front of me.
Oh, not half a patty. Two half patties. And a puddle of drool. And something else besides. There was something gleaming in between the burgers. Something shiny and gold.
Charlie clapped me on the back, then reached for the golden thing, patting it with a paper napkin, then lifting it with one gloved hand.
“He won,” Charlie cried out. “The Lucky Patty. He found the Lucky Patty.”
The fucking what?
Chapter 2
“Sixty dollars,” Sterling chortled, shaking his head, slapping his thigh. “Sixty whole dollars. That’s what your life is worth. Amazing.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, gratefully accepting the cup of water Charlie handed me. “Just please, shut up.”
“Again, please think of the three twenty-dollar gift cards as compensation for your – inconvenience,” the Happy Cow’s manager said through rows of perfect teeth. “And how exciting for you to have won the Lucky Patty.”
“Dude,” Mason whispered right in my ear, nudging me in the ribs. “You should sue and get way more than sixty bucks. Can you even breathe properly?”
“Yeah,” Asher said. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“I was choking,” I growled. “How is that supposed to help?”
Asher shrugged. “What if it cut off some oxygen from your brain? I’m just trying to be helpful.”
“If you’re talking brain damage, too late for that,” Sterling said. “Can’t get any dumber than Dust.”
“I did not come here on this day to be choked out by a hamburger,” I said, clapping my hands for emphasis. “I’ve got enough problems staying alive.” Agatha Black, for example. I downed the last of my water angrily, then crushed the paper cup in my hand. “There was an entire cardboard disc inside the damn burger. Or have you forgotten? What the hell was that thing even doing in there?”
The manager beamed at me. “What I think you’re really asking is what you’ve won because you found the Lucky Patty.” She pushed her hands into her hips, her chest thrusting out with corporate pride. “At Happy, Inc., we live to serve our customers, whether it’s through the delicious grilled burgers from the Happy Cow, or the creamy, tasty milk tea you can get at the Happy Boba.”
I grumbled, shaking my head. “I know all that. I’ve been supporting your restaurants for years. Get to the point.”
“Oh, sure.” The manager’s grin never faltered, but I was sure I spotted a twitch in the corner of her eye. “The Lucky Patty represents the millionth burger that we’ve served in the Valero chain of the Happy Cow. Congratulations, sir. You’ve won a full-day tour of Happy, Inc.”
My jaw hit the table. Suddenly, almost choking half to death didn’t sound like such a bad deal. “I – what? You mean it? I get to go to Happy, Inc. headquarters?”
The manager nodded so quickly that her head could have snapped right off. “That’s right. Happy, Inc. HQ, right here in the heart of Valero. In Central Square, in fact.” She placed her fingers lightly on my forearm. “This isn’t some visit around a stinky factory. You’ll be toured around corporate HQ, where you’ll be plied with the best treats and merchandise that good old Happy, Inc. has to offer.”
Hope bloomed like a flower in my chest. I looked up at Miss Manager with the open eagerness of a toddler. “Can – can I bring a friend?”
The Happy Cow could have exploded from the brilliance of her smile. “Sir, you can bring three. And that’s not the best part.” She clasped her hands together, the gesture so deliberate, almost prayerful. “You’ll also get to meet our CEO.”
“That’s,” I started to say, grinding my nails into the table to stop myself from gushing. “That’s nice.”
I swear, I could have exploded right there and then. I was going to meet the person behind all of my favorite fast food restaurants. The big cheese. The biggest of kahunas. I know, it sounds juvenile and ridiculous, but consider for a moment that my life is a constant cycle of nearly being killed and just barely saving the world. I deserved comfort. No, comfort food. And visiting Happy, Inc. meant stepping into the court of the actual king – or queen – of Californian comfort food.
“We’ll take your details in a moment,” Miss Manager said. “For now, please enjoy the rest of your meal – and the complimentary gift cards. When you’re done, I’ll make arrangements for your visit to HQ and your meeting with Mr. Thorpe.”
Mr. Thorpe. King it was, then.
Less than half an hour later we were back on the street, my handsome life and ability to breathe intact, but Mason and Asher steadily getting on my nerves with their whining. Sterling and I were really only stopping for dinner en route to an actual meeting with the friendlier bits of the Lorica. Bastion and the others had settled on a bar, and with both nephilim and necromancer being technically underage, the only answer was to kick them both into a cab and send them home sulking to the Boneyard.
“We’ve talked about this before, Asher,” Sterling snarled. “I realize it bothers you that your powers have matured enough to raise the dead, but you still aren’t quite old enough to step into a bar.”
“We’ll find like a coffee shop nearby,” Asher whined. “Please? We won’t wander off or anything.”
“This sucks,” Mason said, sulking. He was a little more mature than Asher on a general level, but he clearly didn’t like the idea of being left out, either.
“You guys keep warning us about forces that want to kidnap us to abuse our powers and shit, but you know we can handle that.” He folded his arms across his chest and raised his nose. “You both know that we’re tough enough to beat the hell out of anything that tries.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, ushering them to the sidewalk as the rideshare’s location shifted on the little map on my phone. “You talk a big game, but if an angel or an entity comes knocking – hell, if a demon prince does? You’re both screwed. That’s not something I’m going to allow.”
Mason scoffed. “So weak.”
“Super weak,” Asher mumbled.
Sterling lit a cigarette as he nudged me in the ribs. “Parenting, am I right?”
I glared at him and hissed. “I thought we were past that.” I cleared my throat. “If the two of you behave and head straight home, you’re top of the list for the friends I can take with me to Happy, Inc.”
Asher’s mouth opened wide. Mason’s lip stayed upturned, but I caught the faintest glimmer of excitement in the back of his eyes. Aha. See? They were just kids, after all. I mean, sure, I understood exactly why they were so stir crazy, but better to have them locked up and supervised back at the Boneyard than totally vulnerable out in Valero. As for the fourth guest I was taking to Happy HQ? Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?
“I suppose I’m not going with you then,” Sterling said as we watched Asher and Mason’s rideshare turn the corner.
“Don’t act so maudlin, I know you’re not that interested. Plus the tour happens during the day.”
“Also, you’ve clearly reserved the last spot for your lovely little boyfriend.”
I thrust my chest out. “Of course I have. Food is one of the building blocks of our relationship. Even if it is trashy fast food.”
“Right, right,” Sterling said, gesturing for me to walk faster as we headed to the bar. “So it’ll be Asher Mayhew, his new best friend Mason, and Mason’s two daddies.”
I glowered at him. “I thought I said we were over this daddy thing.” Then I grinned. “You aren’t jealous, are you? Of this whole Mason thing?”
