My bookstore – The Attic – had been open for a little over a year now, and it was doing pretty well. It encouraged me – and made me happier than I could say – that people still seemed to love the written word. Books were my life. Always had been. Within the pages of a good book, I could lose myself for hours, traveling to faraway worlds, meeting brave and dashing strangers, and having grand adventures.
Basically, within the pages of a book, I found lives that were everything my own life was not.
But that was okay. I was fine with it, actually. I preferred my quiet little life. I had my bookstore, an apartment I loved, and a small circle of good friends. That was all I really needed to be happy. Some found me cold or aloof, but the truth of the matter was that I just didn't care to be around people all that much. I never had, really.
“Hey, Astrid,” Pete called as I stepped into the shop.
“Hey yourself,” I said, giving him a smile.
Pete's shop was part of my regular routine. On Friday nights, I always popped into Pete's deli to grab a sandwich and some supplies before I hunkered down at home for the night with a movie or a good book – oftentimes both, as I read late into the night.
Pete made the most amazing subs I'd ever had and I always look forward to Friday nights.
“The usual Friday night special?” Pete asked.
“You know it.”
“Comin' right up.”
Pete was a tall, gregarious Italian man with salt and pepper colored hair and a midsection as big as his heart. He was a good man who routinely fed the homeless when they stopped in and made all his customers feel welcome, more like family than customers. It was no wonder he'd been in business in this neighborhood for more than twenty-five years.
My Friday night special was Pete's special toasted meatball sub. The bread he used was perfect – a little crusty on the outside, yet soft in the middle. His sauce – oh, the sauce on his meatballs was magical – a near orgasmic experience, truth be told. Besides he topped it off with some wonderfully ooey-gooey, mozzarella cheese.
I could feel my mouth watering while I waited for him to finish up with my sandwich. I could hardly wait to get home so I could tear into it.
While he worked on my dinner, I grabbed a bag of Cheeto Puffs – because I was apparently, still a child who enjoyed such things – and a few bottles of soda to get me through the night. Yeah, not the healthiest of meals, but what did I care? I wasn't trying to impress anybody.
Pete finished assembling the sandwich and popped it into the oven to be toasted. After that, he came over and leaned on the counter in front of me, smiling broadly.
“Can I ask you something, Astrid?”
“Fire away.”
“Don't take this the wrong way or nothin', but why don't you have a boyfriend?” he asked. “You're young, successful, beautiful. You should be out on the town on a Friday night instead of sittin' here lookin' at my old, ugly mug.”
I leaned over the counter and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “Your mug is just fine,” I said. “And you're not that old.”
“Old enough to be your old man.”
I shrugged. “Fifty is the new thirty, they say.”
Pete laughed. “They say a lot,” he said. “But stop changing the subject. You deserve to be happy, Astrid.”
“I am happy,” I replied. “You have no idea just how crazy happy your meatball sub makes me.”
“Woman cannot live by meatball sub alone, you know.”
“That's very true,” I said. “Which is why I only get one on Friday nights.”
Pete laughed and shook his head. In truth, he was something of a father figure to me. The trouble with that was, he sometimes acted like a father. Over the last year, I'd gotten to know him pretty well and liked him enormously. With having my own parents long dead and no other family that I knew of, I had pretty much been on my own for quite a while.
Which could help explain my avoidance of people, relationships and general social awkwardness.
Pete continued to look at me, his question still hanging in the air between us. I knew he wasn't going to give me a pass and would probably withhold my sub until I answered him.
I sighed. “I don't know why I don't have a boyfriend,” I said. “I guess guys just aren't that into me.”
“I see you every day, Astrid,” he said. “You come to work, stay there all day, then go home. You never go out. How is a boy supposed to meet you when you never put yourself out there?”
He had a point – not that I was going to give him the satisfaction of telling him so.
“I've just had a lot going on, I guess,” I said. “I mean, I'm still trying to get my bookstore off the ground and –”
Pete chuckled. “You do a good business over there,” he said. “Try again.”
I giggled. “Why is it so important to you that I have a boyfriend?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Because you're like a daughter to me, Astrid,” he said, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically solemn tone. “You really are. And sometimes, I can see that you're sad or lonely – I can see it in your eyes. It's not often, and never for long, but sometimes, I see it all the same.”
I sighed and looked away. Pete was a kind, friendly man who was quick with a joke and a smile. I'd seen him play armchair psychiatrist with any number of his regulars. He was a keen observer of human nature, and though he was a gregarious man, quick with a joke and a smile, he was also a shoulder to cry on and somebody who dispensed good advice.
Pete just cared about people and never liked to see anybody hurting.
Still, it was uncomfortable to have him put his powers of observation on me. To have him carve up my emotional defenses and tear down walls I'd spent so long building was as unexpected as it was discomforting. I knew it was because he cared for me and wanted the best for me, but it was still unnerving for me to be on his proverbial therapy couch – especially since I'd never asked to be there to begin with.
“I've just never really been very good with people, Pete.”
“Because you never give 'em a chance.”
“Probably because I'm not very good and don't know how,” I said and grinned. “It's a vicious cycle.”
“Why don't you do what kids your age these days do and meet somebody online?”
I laughed. “With my luck, I'd meet the lovechild of Charles Manson and Ted Bundy.”
He shrugged. “My oldest girl, Carla, met somebody online and they worked out,” he said. “They been married a few years now.”
Honestly, the only thing that scared me more than meeting somebody in person was meeting them online. You just never knew for sure, who was on the other side of that computer screen. But it seemed important to Pete that I try, so I nodded my agreement.
“Maybe I'll give it a shot,” I said.
He looked at me and arched his eyebrow. “You mean that? Or are you telling me that just to get me off your back?”
I laughed – mostly because he was right about me agreeing just to get him of my back. But at the same time, I didn't want to lie to him.
“I'll try, Pete,” I said. “I can't promise anything other than that. But I'll try.”
“That's all I can ask,” he said, smiling broadly.
He turned and pulled my sub out of the oven, wrapping it up tight to preserve the warmth. Throwing all of my things into a bag, he pushed it across the counter to me. I pulled out some money, waiting for him to ring me up, but he looked at me and shook his head.
“It's on the house tonight, Astrid.”
I smiled back. “That's sweet, but I can't do that, Pete. I can't accept that.”
“You're gonna have to,” he said and shrugged. “I'll take you signing up for one of those computer dating sites as payment for your sub tonight.”
“You really don't have to –”
“No, but I want to,” he said. “So, take your food and get on outta here.”
I looked at him for a long moment before giving him a
grateful smile. “Thank you, Pete,” I said. “You're the best.”
“Yeah, don't I know it,” he laughed.
I laughed as I slipped a twenty out of my wallet and threw it into his tip jar. Quickly grabbing my bag, I moved quickly to the door before he could stop me and make me take it back.
“Thanks, Pete,” I called over my shoulder. “I'll see you soon!”
Chapter Three
I'd just gotten into my pajamas and settled in on the couch. The TV was on in the background and I had my laptop sitting across my lap. Because I'd promised him, I had my browser open to one of the more popular dating sites. I perused some of the online profiles, wanting to at least get the lay of the land before I took the plunge – if I took the plunge. I was still a little undecided. If nothing else, I figured I could just tell Pete that I hadn't had any bites if he asked – which he probably would.
There were thousands of people out there looking for love. Millions, maybe. But I didn't really think I'd have anything in common with any of them. I'd always felt different from other people. Like an outsider. I'd never felt like I belonged anywhere. It had been that way since I was a kid.
So yeah, how was I supposed to suddenly make it in the dating scene feeling like that?
Feeling self-conscious, I closed my laptop and giggled to myself as I set my laptop on the coffee table. I'd deal with it later. Right then, all I wanted was to dig into my sub and indulge in some mindless television. I pulled up Netflix, called up the show I was currently binging on and set it to play.
The aroma of the sub was saturating the air around me and made me realize how hungry I was. I threw a blanket over my feet, set my plate in my lap, popped a cheese puff into my mouth and crunched away happily as my show started.
Then my phone rang.
I looked at the phone, resisting the urge to throw it across the room – or you know, just turn it off for the night. Nonetheless when I looked at the caller ID, I saw that it was Piper, my best friend. I loved Piper, but the last thing I wanted in that moment was some long drawn out conversation about her love life – she and her boyfriend had been on-again/off-again for a couple of years now. It seemed like every other week, Brad had done some terrible thing – which, to be fair, he usually had.
Why Piper didn't just dump him and move on to somebody who would treat her right was beyond me. Though, she certainly wasn't in a place where she could hear advice like that. No, she loved him – or the sex was really just that mind-blowingly good like she said – so she let him hang around, mistreating and generally, being a sexist ass to her.
I hated the guy. Thought he was all wrong for her in every conceivable way. But, I had to remind myself that it wasn't my life, my relationship, and Piper was my friend. All I could do was be there for her.
Even if that meant putting off that mind-blowingly good sub I'd been so looking forward to.
With a sigh, I set my plate down and picked up my phone, connecting the call and holding it to my ear.
“Hey, Piper,” I said.
“Did you make sure to wipe the Cheeto dust off your hand before answering your phone?”
I giggled. “Shut up.”
I looked at my hand and saw that in fact, I had not. Greasy cheese stuff was smeared all over the phone. I just shook my head. I'd clean it up later.
“Oh please,” she teased. “Tell me you're not sitting there watching Game of Thrones, eating Pete's meatball sub and cheese puffs. Tell me. I dare ya.”
“What if I told you that wasn't true?” I asked. “Maybe I have a guy over.”
“Right, honey, I know you,” Piper said. “It's Friday night and I know the only meat you've got in your mouth is in that sandwich Pete made.”
I giggled in spite of myself. Piper could be crude at times, but she was the funniest person I knew. The trouble with having friends was that they knew you too well sometimes. They knew your habits, your quirks, and yeah, your usual routines.
“So, did you call just to harass me?” I asked.
“Actually, no. That's just a nifty benefit,” she said. “I called to tell you to put down the sub and get dressed – we're going out.”
“Piper, hon,” I said. “I just got home, it's been a long day –”
“Yeah, and you're looking forward to getting yourself off watching Jon Snow,” she said. “I get it. But you can do that tomorrow. Tonight, we're celebrating.”
“Oh yeah? And what are we celebrating?”
“We are celebrating the rumor I heard that I am going to make junior partner in my firm,” she almost squealed. “Can you believe it?”
“Wow, Piper – congratulations,” I said. “That's really amazing and awesome. I'm so proud of you.”
“Thanks, hon,” she said. “So, let's go out, get tanked, and find us some men to help us commemorate this night the right way.”
“Uh oh, you and Brad having trouble again?” I asked.
She sighed. “Let's not talk about him tonight,” she said. “Tonight's all about fun and indulging our hedonistic tendencies.”
“Yeah, I'm not really sure I have any of those.”
She giggled. “Oh, they're in there,” she said. “We just need to find a way to let 'em out.”
“I don't know, Pip,” I said, using my nickname for her. “I just –”
“Oh, come on, Astrid,” she said, a pouting tone in her voice. “I rarely bug you to come out with me. I know you prefer being a hermit. But this is an important day for me. And there is nobody I'd rather celebrate it with than my very best friend in the whole, wide world.”
Oh, she knew how to shoot straight for the heart. As a lawyer, Piper was tasked with playing on the emotions of the jury members to achieve the best result for her client. And she was very, very good at her job.
I sighed. “Okay. I just don't want to be out all night.”
“You're such a shut in,” she said. “I worry about you, hon. We're going to have fun tonight. I'll be by in an hour to dress you.”
“Dress me?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “You're so not wearing jeans and a frumpy old sweater tonight.”
“Hey, my sweaters aren't frumpy.”
“Don't eat that sub. We're going to a place for dinner. See you soon,” she said and disconnected the call before I could say anything else.
I sighed and looked at my sub longingly. All I wanted was to curl up on my couch, stuff my face with that amazing delicacy, and spend the rest of the night watching – well – Jon Snow. Yeah, she'd been right about that. She knew me too well.
Well, if she wasn't going to be there for an hour, I had a little time yet. So, I made a compromise with myself. I would eat half the sub – and all the cheese puffs, of course – and watched my forty-five-minute program. That would still leave me enough time to grab a quick shower before Piper even got there – especially since she was usually running ten to fifteen minutes late anyway.
I wasn't looking forward to the evening, but I had to support my friend. So, I figured I'd suck it up and deal with going out for just one night.
Chapter Four
Quint
The night was dark and the cloud cover overhead obscured the moonlight, making it even darker. I knew they were out there, but they were doing a good job of hiding themselves. The Shongtal were nothing, if not clever.
I was a Warden for the area and was responsible for protecting the humans in my district. It was an honor and my sacred duty. Something I took very seriously. It helped that I had a deep, vested hatred for the Shongtal and took the utmost pleasure in killing them. They were responsible for the deaths not just of my people, but of my family.
That was why I'd trained so hard to become a Warden. I wanted to be where they were. The Shongtal rarely came into Chondelai anymore. I could count but a handful of times. Yet, every time they did venture in, death, destruction, and chaos followed soon after. Which was how I lost my entire family. I was young, but I remember it like it was yesterday.
So
, I'd worked hard to become a Warden in order to spend my days hunting and killing them. That was my purpose and that was my life – more or less.
Despite how it sounded, I wasn't without my fun, lively side. Being in the world of man meant that I could also enjoy life a bit. I could enjoy the world around me. And I did just that. Every chance I got, I tasted the sweet nectar of this world. The lives of Wardens were notoriously short and I intended to make every day I had count for something. I intended to enjoy the hell out of the time I had.
But tonight was all about work. The Shongtal were up to something. Something big, judging by the whispers and the rumors I'd heard on the wind. I had no idea what it was, but I needed to find out. If there was something big going down in my territory, I wanted to know about it. I wanted to stop it and to slaughter everybody involved.
I crouched down on the roof of the warehouse, staring through the darkness at the building across the street. I didn't see anybody moving about, but I knew they were there all the same. Letting my wings unfurl, I silently lifted off the rooftop I was on and glided over to the other building. I needed to get a closer look.
I landed silently and quickly tucked my wings away. Looking around, I found a skylight that had busted out windows, overlooking the interior of the warehouse. I moved over to it and peered over the edge. The light inside was dim, but there was enough for me to see by.
Down in the center of the warehouse were four Shongtal demons. They'd taken on human bodies – two men and two women – which made them easier for me to see. But it also meant that to destroy the demons, I'd need to kill the human host. Not that there really was all that much left of the person once they'd been inhabited by a Shongtal. The demon ate away at their life force when they took over their bodies, leaving nothing more than a walking, talking, empty husk. When it got to that point, the Shongtal would vacate the body, leaving a shattered victim behind, moving on to claim another host.
That was how they fed on the humans – they ate away at their life force, draining everything inside that made people live and function. That made them human. I had to tell myself that there was no other way when I was forced to kill one of the hosts. That the person I was killing wasn't really a person any longer anyway.
Fawks (Dragons of Kratak Book 4) Page 111
