Garfunkel sneered from his seated position on the floor. I was still trying to figure out why his hands had green paint on them. “Right. It’s an ‘appointment.’ Theo, you’re hopeless.”
“Am not.”
“You’re a spinster.”
“I have adventure.”
“Not in your pants.”
“Garfunkel, not everything is about sex. I … prefer my adventures out in the jungle. Uncovering the ruins of some ancient civilization. Or in a cave, digging for treasure.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Garfunkel sneered again and crossed his arms. “Don’t look at me like that,” he mimed. He fake-coughed and lowered his voice to that of a whisper. “Crazy cat lady—Aaah-chew.”
I took my eyes off the clock. “What was that?”
“I think I’m getting a cold.”
“No. Before that fake sneeze.”
Garfunkel looked at me like I’d just accused him of lying. “I said, Lazy hat toupee.”
“What?”
“I bet he’s bringing a bouquet.”
There was knocking at the door. I got up and opened it.
Orion stood looking back at me in his trademark leather jacket, faded jeans, and supple boots. He’d trimmed his beard and his hair was … perfect, as always. Damn Orion and his stupid perfect hair. And aftershave. He was wearing aftershave … (And what did I have going for me? A pair of sweats and a ponytail …)
In his hand wasn’t a bouquet but a pair of women’s jeans with the price tag still attached. They looked identical to my ruined jeans.
“Whoa …” I met his eyes. “Was this one of the ‘errands’ you were speaking of earlier?”
He grinned. “You’re welcome. It was a blessing your old pair caught fire today. They were starting to stink …”
Way to ruin the mood, Orion …
He shifted the weight of the tactical pack slung over his back. He held a duffel bag in his other hand.
I drew in another whiff of his aftershave.
“Earth to Theo!”
Garfunkel.
“Oh hey, Orion. Glad you could make it. I mean, thanks for stopping by. I mean, come in.”
Stupid!
Orion glanced at his watch as if he might be late. “I admit I’m still getting used to the concept of time again, but … we had an appointment. Now. Right?”
“Yeah sorry I’m weird.” I relieved Orion of his duffel bag and stepped aside, dropping it close enough to where Garfunkel was sitting to let him know that I was serious about him not being a little shit tonight.
“Yeah yeah,” Garfunkel said and skipped away to the closet where he kept his special projects without me finding out what was up with the green spray paint on his hands.
My stomach grumbled and I motioned for Orion to sit at the table while I opened a bottle of red wine. “I mean, after the day we had, amiright?” I laughed awkwardly and poured two wine glasses.
Orion took off his backpack and then drew out some printer paper from inside his jacket. Set them on top of the backpack.
“The blueprints?” I asked as I set the glasses down.
“Ayuh.”
“Think we’ll be alright tomorrow? Assuming we get our hands on some tickets?”
He didn’t immediately speak. And then, “I like your sweater.”
“Huh?” I glanced down at my sweater. “Oh thanks. Simon picked it out.” I scratched my head. “What was I saying?”
My stomach grumbled and Orion chuckled. “I think you were about to tell me how hungry you were. Or rather, your body was.”
“Yeah, well, stupid body. What’re ya gonna do?” Stupid body? I need to work on my damn small talk. Why the hell am I so nervous? This isn’t a date—it’s just an appointment.
I took the lid off the stainless-steel pan, picked up a gyro and handed it to Orion who turned it in his hands, observing it from all angles as if it was the Holy Grail.
“What is this delicious-smelling food?”
I frowned. “You don’t know?”
“I confess I do not. Should I?”
“You are Greek, right?”
He chuckled. “The Greece I come from was very different from the Greece you were born in.”
I shrugged. He had a point. Back then people performed plays in amphitheaters and had syphilis-ridden orgies. I’ll take my Netflix and Tinder over that any day.
I watched as Orion took a bite out of his gyro. His eyes widened in primal enjoyment.
“Theo. Did you make this yourself?”
“Hah hah!” Garfunkel shouted from inside his closet.
“Nah,” I said. “Food cart, two blocks down.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never introduced this great food to me sooner.” He took another hungry chomp, groaning with appreciation.
I shrugged and took a bite out of my own. “I just assumed you knew.”
“Never assume anything, Theo. Remember that.”
“I know. I know.”
If Orion thought anything out of the ordinary in seeing a plate of warm syrupy pancakes disappearing on their own next to us, he didn’t show it. Instead, he said, “Looks like Simon’s hungry, tonight.”
I almost snorted red wine, which probably would have burned. Orion said the stupidest things at times. Nowhere near as stupid as me but you get the idea. I would probably never meet another person, human or Other who would understand me, let alone put up with an invisible being that ate pancakes. I was lucky my path happened to cross Orion’s.
Orion licked his fingers clean. “What is this sauce?”
“Tzatziki. Yogurt, garlic and cucumbers. You’ve got some in your beard.”
He drew a cloth napkin from his lap and dabbed at it, missing it completely.
“Here, let me,” I said, grabbing the napkin and mopping it up. “Who carries cloth napkins around with them?”
Orion took a sip of wine. “I do. They’re quaint.”
“You’re quaint.”
“Thanks.”
I caught his eye and damnit I might have blushed again. Luckily Garfunkel wasn’t around to make fun of me. Where was he anyways …? I wiped my own lips. “Can I ask you a question?”
Orion selected his next gyro. “Sure. Anything.”
“Anything?”
“Within reason.”
“Was it boring being a constellation for thousands of years?”
Orion chuckled.
“What? You going to tell me that you and the other constellations played organized sports? Reflected giant mirrors at each other? Threw comets at each other?”
“Actually yes,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, I wasn’t a constellation for thousands of years straight. We got breaks.”
I leaned forward over the tabletop on my elbows. “Breaks?”
“Every centennial, Nyx, the goddess of night would allow us an evening of merriment and frivolity on the Greek island of Lesbos.”
“Lesbos?” For some reason, I found that name funny. I looked at Orion. “Wait, Nyx? Who the hell was Nyx?”
Orion shrugged. “The overseer of the constellations—a rather bitter woman. Can’t say I blame her though. She lost both of her sons and wasn’t granted the permission to memorialize them in the night sky.”
I frowned. “If she was the almighty overseer of the stars, why couldn’t she just make her sons into constellations?”
“Rules,” Orion said and took a sip of his wine. “There was this whole formal application process to be made into a constellation, and Athena was in charge of it. You had to have some major clout with her, or at least spur her pity to bypass all the fuss. And the Greek gods—Athena and Zeus in particular—weren’t too forgiving or friendly, acting all high and mighty up in their palace on Mount Olympus. Come to think of it, Athena probably denied Nyx’s request out of spite.”
“Sounds like a real dysfunctional family,” I said.
Orion waved his hand. “You should have seen the redneck
Gemini twins trying to ‘wrassle’ drunk Sagittarius on Lesbos once every hundred years.”
I laughed. “You’re funny.”
There was a tug at my elbow. “Theo, are you drunk?”
“What? No.”
“I think you’ve had enough.” Simon pushed both his hands against the bottom of the wine glass’s bell and lifted it above his head to carry it away from me like an ant at a picnic. To Orion, it must have looked like a novice magician’s trick.
“Put that down, Simon.”
“Don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Virtue, Theo! Virtue!” Simon inclined his forehead in Orion’s direction.
“I’m not drunk,” I said and turned to Orion. “I’m not drunk.”
Orion wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I uh never said you were. You feeling OK?”
I felt myself angling closer to Orion but it wasn’t my fault. It was those damn milk chocolate eyes of his. I love chocolate … My lips were just inches from Orion’s when Simon tried one last time. “Virtues!”
Crack!
Like a whip, Garfunkel’s closet door flew open against the wall and a green and striped cat burst forth with a piercing yooowwwlll!
A cat? I thought. I don’t have a cat …
A red saddle and helm was strapped to the spray-painted cat’s back, and riding her like some miniature rodeo cowboy, dressed in a thong and two leather straps crossed over his pale, bare chest was … He-Man.
By which I mean Garfunkel.
And then it hit me that I did, in fact, have a cat. As of this afternoon actually.
“Luna!” I shouted with eyes gone wide.
“Battle Cat!” Garfunkel whooped in delight.
I drew back from Orion and slapped a palm to my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me …” I muttered as I took in the scene, trying to figure out just how this had all come to pass. Green pawprints lined up all the way back to Garfunkel’s closet.
“Wait,” I said. “The package that came for you yesterday. It was a He-Man and Battle Cat figurine set?”
“And you had green food coloring in your pantry!” Garfunkel hooted.
At least it wasn’t another damn knife … “Always think on the bright side of life …” I hummed to myself. Sometimes it was hard.
“You can’t just do things like this! This time you’ve gone too far. No more Pop-Tarts. You’ve scarred Luna for life! I mean, GoneGodDamn … you dyed her green! You don’t dye living creatures …”
Garfunkel unabashedly stood up in the saddle while he held Battle Cat’s—I mean Luna’s—reins in one hand and a plastic Power Sword in the other. “By the Power of Grayskull—”
I turned to Orion as I stood. “This must look … like animal cruelty. I’m so sorry. I understand if you want to leave …”
Orion’s confused face melted into a slow grin as he crouched and beckoned to Luna. Of course he didn’t see Garfunkel, so it looked like I was the one who did that to poor Luna.
He glanced up at me. “You mean the green cat with the red saddle? I’m not sure about it being cruel. I think she likes it.”
I blinked, my vision growing blurry and not from the alcohol. “What do you mean—” And then I realized he was right. Luna was meowing pleasantly and twisting her head back so that she could lick Garfunkel’s leg. “It does appear that she doesn’t mind …”
“Take it back!” Garfunkel said. “About the Pop-Tarts. Take it back! This is a free country and I have a right to Pop-Tarts!”
“OK, first off, Pop-Tarts are a privilege—”
“Theo, don’t you try to repress me!”
I sighed. Ran my hand through my hair as my eyes took in Luna’s green fur again. “That is one chill cat …” I laughed. “Seriously, Orion. If you want to leave, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”
Orion stood back up. “If you’re telling me to leave …”
“Of course not,” I said. “I’m going to be up all night cleaning this up and making sure Luna didn’t lick off any of the dye—”
“It’s non-toxic!” Garfunkel shouted.
“You’re still grounded!” I shouted back. Kids. Sometimes you have to stoop to their level to be heard.
“Maybe I can give you a hand, then, Partner?” Orion looked into my eyes and I swallowed hard.
I nodded. “Sure. Partner. I’ll fix the couch up for you first. And how about we lay off the wine for the rest of the night?”
Orion laughed. It was a gentle, carefree laugh like sea foam on a beachfront. Then he placed a warm, callused hand on my shoulder. “Sounds like a plan.”
I turned back to Garfunkel, finding it oddly suspicious that Simon was nowhere in sight. Which meant that the little shit had known all along what Garfunkel had planned and hadn’t told me a thing. I had a feeling me and my familiars were going to be having a conversation real soon involving pancake and Pop-Tart privileges.
“We must defeat Skeletor!” Garfunkel shouted as he pulled the reins and charged at me.
Oh brother …
I crouched and held out my hands to stop them, and Luna gently bunted my knees. And instead of taking a vicious swipe at me—like most cats—she gave my fingertips a few small licks. It was unexpected, and I smiled, running my hands over her soft (and sticky) coat.
Off to the side, I saw Simon peek out from behind the couch, smiling weakly.
I chuckled and sighed. “Come here, you punk. Both of you.”
As I shared that moment with my two familiars and my newly adopted cat, I realized I hadn’t been that happy in a long, long time—before I met Simon and Garfunkel, in fact.
I stayed crouched like that for a long while, grinning and laughing with them, all of us pausing at intervals to stroke Luna’s fur and scratch her behind the ears (she seemed to really like that), not caring about how late it might be getting.
Orion stood somewhere off behind me, observing with a grin on his own face. It must have been odd for him to watch me interacting with two invisible 5-inch-tall creatures and a dyed cat.
But he was cool with it all. And he gave me my space, which I appreciated at the time.
Had I known what fate had in store for him less than twenty-four hours from now, perhaps I’d have invited him over to share in the precious moment.
“The Meaning of SHTF”
I guess I got some sleep during the night. Most of it was comprised of carpet cleaning and washing Luna in the tub. One more odd thing about Luna—she doesn’t mind baths. Who knew? Was this the world’s perfect cat? Was she actually an alien posing as a cat?
I definitely had a lot to think about on my morning run. When I finished, I fixed, you guessed it, pancakes and Pop-Tarts for Simon and Garfunkel. Orion had already stepped out for some fresh air, which was fine by me. He really was the least intrusive house guest, and partner, a person could ask for. He’d left a note.
Theo,
Tying up some loose ends. Be back later.
-Orion
I smiled. Orion and Garfunkel stepped up to me with roses in their tiny hands. Yeah. definitely no more watching The Bachelor for them …
“Cut it out, guys. We’re just partners. You ready to go to Joe’s?”
“That schizo prepper dude?” Garfunkel asked. “Of course!”
So far the morning had started well enough. But all the same, I felt that I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop …
I didn’t have any problems on the way to Joe’s Tactical Advantage. My problems began when I got there. The closed sign was showing through the glass door, but the door was unlocked and slightly ajar. And Joe wasn’t the kind of guy to leave his door unlocked. He was a prepper, and had vertical iron bars on the door, for crying out loud.
“Maybe we should call the police?” Simon offered.
I stepped inside.
“It’s cold in here,” Simon said.
“Not any colder than …” I shivered. Yeah, it was cold in here. Just how long had the door been cracked open? “Joe? Joe, you in here
?”
This wasn’t good, and part of me considered calling Orion for backup. But what if Joe was hurt and needed my help? He was a rather scrawny, former accountant who didn’t have the elite military training I had. He was the kind of guy who wouldn’t last long in prison.
I walked cautiously through the small store peering past metal shelving, plastic tubs, ammunition cannisters, thermal goggles, machetes, water purification tablets and too many other items to name. Nothing looked disturbed, and I still saw no sign of Joe.
What was this? A robbery? The cash register on the glass countertop looked untouched, so that was a no.
I raised my eyes to the posters tacked to the wall behind the counter: “Do you have 2 ways to start a fire?” “Question: How many multitools are too much? Answer: No such thing.” “Where will you be when SHTF?”
“Theo, what’s SHTF?” Simon asked.
Garfunkel snickered.
“Poo hits the fan,” I said.
Simon scratched his chin. “Then what’s the ‘S’ stand for—oh.”
Good ol’ Joe. He really knew his target audience.
A groan escaped from behind the counter and I stepped forward to peer over it, noting a bundle of gear set aside on top—probably the gear I’d ordered.
“Theo, look out!” Garfunkel said.
I spun, raising an arm as the karate chop descended.
I blocked it and spun to the side as another fingerless gloved fist lashed out at me; I deflected it with the palm of my hand. Taking a step backward, my lower back connected with the counter, and I tensed my abdominals, sent my sneaker up and into the gut of the four-armed blonde beauty that was my former partner.
“Nice kicks,” Lucy said, eyeing my expensive running shoes. She herself was wearing a pricy (four-sleeved) North Face jacket over her ninja attire.
“What the hell do you want?” I asked as I assumed a defensive stance beside the counter, sneaking a glance at my new gear to see if there was anything I might use in self-defense.
Lucy grinned and punched both sets of her fists into her palms. “Can’t we just fight?” she said and lurched forward. I kicked out again and she caught my ankle; I twisted and kicked backward out of her grasp, vaulting over the counter and landing deftly on my feet next to a bound and gagged Joe.
Axes and Angels: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Novel (Better Demons Series Book 1) Page 11
