80 Proof Hex_Deckland Cain 2

by D Michael Bartsch

  “Oh. Well if I had known that I would have brought Luna.”

  “Luna?” I asked, not surprised that Jules lived with some hippie named Luna. They probably read their fortunes with tarot cards in their spare time.

  “My cat.”

  “Probably would have been better company,” Carl said, popping up from behind the bar.

  Jules snorted a little laugh and walked passed my table to start helping Carl. “Well, it’s nice to have some company, even if it’s not that great.” She said.

  “Yea, yea. Coming from the cat lady.”

  I leaned back in my chair and kept my focus on the door. There was a predawn glow starting to bloom in the darkness. I glanced at the clock and guessed that we had another forty minutes to an hour before the sun was actually up in earnest. It couldn’t come soon enough.

  Carl came out from behind the bar with a steaming mug. He set it in front of me. I looked at the midnight black liquid and knew that Carl had enough of his usual self about him to be a sadist still. My stomach groaned audibly. Carl looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged.

  He walked away and came back with a day old bear claw. I could almost forgive him for denying me liquid bliss. Bear claws are delicious at any age, and as I sat there, I realized I couldn’t think of the last time I’d eaten anything.

  I took a delicate sip of the black coffee, careful not to burn my tongue on the piping hot liquid. Jules must have seen something on my face when I tried it because she laughed and walked around dumping three sugar packets and a shot of half and half into my mug. She put a finger to her lips, apparently wanting to make sure that I didn’t rat her out to Carl. I motioned zipping my lips and throwing away the key. That seemed to go over well, and she smiled as she walked to take the bottle of half and half to the low table that held sugar and cream for customers to use. I used some of my bear claw to stir the coffee up a bit. The next sip was a glorious burst of sugary goodness. I closed my eyes and let out a little sound of fulfillment.

  Carl gave me a knowing look, but he didn’t seem to care enough to scold me or Jules. I knew his game though. He was just happy that I was talking to a girl. Bastard.

  The sun came up twenty minutes after the coffee shop opened. As the first rays of sunshine punched over the mountains and draped themselves across the sidewalk outside the coffee shop, I felt a tension that I’d forgotten was there release. My shoulders dropped, feeling as if I had been clenching them up next to my ears for days. My stomach puffed out as my abs relaxed. Everything felt sore.

  We were safe, for twelve or so hours anyway. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I needed to sleep. I was going to be up all night, I could just feel it, and that meant I needed to get some sleep during the day, not unlike a Vampire. Trust me; the irony was not lost on me.

  I stood up and walked up to the bar where Carl and Jules were diligently preparing morning drinks for the people who showed up right as the place had opened and continued to trickle in and out.

  “Alright. I’m outta here. I’ll see you at home.”

  Carl nodded. He looked happy, well as happy as he could with the circumstances.

  “I’ll be off around one.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “Bye Deckland!” Jules was bouncing around, her pleasant disposition at odds with her blue, spiderwebbed shaved head. I gave her a smile but walked away in silence. Couldn’t have her thinking that I cared or anything.

  A blonde walked into the door as I was headed to it. She held it open for me. It was Carl’s lady friend, the one allegedly working on her thesis. She had her bag slung over her shoulder. She moved to the side and held the door open for me as I walked by, smiling pleasantly. I nodded to her, and as she walked in, I looked back. I was trying to see if I could catch Carl’s eye. I didn’t, but what I did see looked suspiciously like a gun printing on her on the back of right hip.

  I hesitated for a moment and then decided that maybe I liked her more than I thought I did. Good for Carl. He may not be much in a fight, but his lady friend appeared to be ready to throw down at any moment. I can appreciate that in a woman. I had things to do, and couldn’t afford to worry about Carl.

  15

  Four hours later, I had everything I needed. I’d used Al’s down payment to buy up every ounce of silver nitrate and powdered silver I could get my hands on. I also went to a pawn shop and picked up a couple of silver forks and necklaces. The weather was overcast, and the sun was hidden behind a wall of bloated clouds that looked like they wanted to start pouring snow if someone sneezed too hard.

  I was a block away from the apartment when I felt it. Something prickled on the back of my neck. It wasn’t the feeling of my body pulling in ambient magic. It was the feeling of good old-fashioned paranoia. Someone was watching me. I could feel it. Discreetly looking left and right, I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The streets were damn near empty.

  I stopped as I came to a jeep parked on the side of the road. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and started to fiddle with it while I looked at the reflection in Jeep’s windshield. I scanned the street behind me. I didn’t see any Vampires, Venatori, or anyone for that matter. I slipped my phone back in my pocket and kept walking.

  I rounded the corner and came up to my building. There was a black SUV parked in front. It stood out because it was new, shiny, and parked with two wheels up on the curb. I thought about turning around, but I heard an engine turn over as a car started. I looked behind me and saw an identical black SUV pull out of a spot half a block down the way I’d come.

  I cursed under my breath. I’d been looking for Vampires and hadn’t even thought about the cars on the street. I was sleep deprived and making stupid mistakes. I didn’t have anything left to do but keep walking.

  The passenger side of the SUV opened, and a cheap black suit crawled out. He was built, with a high and tight haircut that screamed ex-military. Uncle Sam had issued him that haircut the first day of basic, and he’d kept it in pristine condition ever since. He had a massive bulge under his left arm, a Glock on his right hip, and I was pretty sure that I could see an ankle piece. It wasn’t normal for Feds to carry that kind of firepower. Least not that I was aware of. Still, I couldn’t help but admire that he was apparently a man after my own heart.

  The driver didn’t get out of the SUV, but the big guy opened up the back door. The guy who got out had a black suit that looked to be fitted a little better than the muscle that had gotten the door for him. His suit jacket was open, and I could see a revolver on his right hip and a shiny badge on his left. I thought about the 220 I had in my own shoulder rig and the SOG strapped to my ankle. I had the Halo V in my fanny pack, as well as an extra box of .45 for the 220.

  Nevada was pretty open-minded when it came to gun laws, but carrying a concealed weapon without a permit is frowned upon pretty much everywhere. I needed to play it cool on this one and avoid getting searched and detained.

  I walked up and put on a smarmy smile, the way I do. “Beautiful day in the neighborhood. Am I right?”

  The big guy didn’t laugh, but his boss cracked a smile. He had a salt and pepper goatee, and shaggy hair combed back and tucked behind his ears. If he ever got laid off, he could definitely get a job as a Lou Diamond Philips impersonator. The resemblance was uncanny.

  “Mr. Stearns?” He asked, but I could tell it wasn’t really a question.

  That told me a couple of things. One, he didn’t know who I was, so my guess on government was confirmed. Eliot Stearns was the name on the fake ID, passport, and bank account I’d used to rent the apartment. My prints weren’t in any system, so I didn’t have to worry about that if I was taken in. If they had any reason to haul in Carl, his fake ID wouldn’t last longer than it would take to run his prints. He was in the system from a time he had the bright idea to deface a university statue when he was in college.

  A door opened and closed behind me. I turned my head to see the second SUV parked on the curb, p
ointing the wrong way on the street. Two more stiffs in suits had gotten out. The first one was a barrel-chested rhino of a man that looked like he could bench press a house, but I doubted he could run more than a mile without dying, or take off his shirt for that matter. The second was a woman with a high ponytail and a grey pantsuit. She apparently didn’t get the memo about wearing black. They both had badges and guns on hips.

  I groaned to myself. You don’t bring that much muscle just to chat. Fighting was out of the question. I knew without a doubt that at least two of the four had the look of trigger pullers. Even the boss didn’t look like he spent much time riding a desk from the way his hand casually hovered around the .357 on his hip. I couldn’t run. Even if beefcake couldn’t catch me, they had cars, and the woman had long legs and was built like an Olympic sprinter. She also had shoulders like one of the Williams sisters. I admire that in a woman.

  “Mr. Stearns.” He said again. This time it definitely wasn’t a question.

  I got on my best smile again, the one I used to scam the elderly and small children. “How can I help you gentleman?” I turned and looked at the woman behind. “And lady, of course.”

  “We’d like to ask you some questions. If you could kindly come with us.”

  The ‘or else’ was implied with the wolfish grin he gave me. The most off-putting thing was that smile seemed to reach his eyes. He was either a hell of an actor, or he genuinely wanted to see me try something so he could get an excuse to shoot me. I took back my earlier assessment. They were all trigger pullers, and they looked like no one had given them an excuse in a while.

  “Mind if I put my groceries inside?” I said, gesturing to the bags in my hands.

  “We’ll make sure you get everything back once we finish up.”

  “I don’t want anything to spoil,” I said, taking half a step.

  “We have fridges where we’re going.” He said. “I promise it’ll be fine.”

  I gave one more thought to running but knew it was futile. I wasn’t in the mood to get shot in the back or get my ass kicked by a girl. “Well then, let’s go,” I said.

  He nodded. “Mr. Wallace will take your groceries.”

  High And Tight moved up to me. He looked calm and relaxed, but he was on the balls of his feet, and I could almost sense the tension in his muscles. He was coiled and ready to attack. I did what I always do when trained killers come into my personal space. I ignored him. Trust me; nothing gets their goat more than someone acting like they're nothing to worry about. It’s like a hot poker to the balls of their pride.

  He took the bags from me as I kept my focus on the leader. “Do I have the right to remain silent?” I asked.

  “You aren’t under arrest. We just have some questions for you and appreciate your cooperation.”

  That’s me. The very model of a modern Major gentleman.

  There was a clacking on the sidewalk as the female agent came up behind me. “Arms out.” She said, somewhat gruffly.

  I raised my arms to the side and spread my legs a bit.

  “I warn you,” I said. “I’m pretty ticklish.”

  She didn’t seem to think that was as amusing as I did. She pulled back my bomber and reached in, pulling the Sig out of the holster. She dumped the mag, racked the slide and handed it to Wallace as she caught the round that had been in the chamber with her off hand. If she hadn’t been frisking me, this might have been a lovely type of role play. She got the spare mag and the SOG as she patted me down. She stopped as she came to the fanny pack.

  The boss man looked at me.

  “What?” I said. “Man can’t wear a fanny pack?”

  He smiled, saying nothing. The woman took it off my waist and peaked inside. Once she was sure that I was out of weapons, she looked back to the boss man and nodded.

  “I’m sure you have a permit for all of that.” He said.

  “It would be illegal if I didn’t,” I said, not skipping a beat.

  “Indeed it would.”

  He stepped back and opened the door to the SUV. He gestured. I ignored the agents in my bubble and walked past them, ducking into the SUV. He closed the door behind me and walked around the back.

  Once we were all snug and buckled, we were off. My mind was racing, and I could feel beads of sweat rolling down my sides. I couldn’t shake the vision of black sites and underground prisons that are so secret that you get forgotten about. I kept my face as neutral as I could. No need to let them see me sweat, any more than I already was anyway.

  “So, you got a name?” I asked.

  He didn’t turn, but he gave me a wolfish grin, all teeth, and little actual happiness.

  “You can call me Mr. White.”

  “Mister? Not agent?” I asked.

  “No need to get hung up on formalities. Mr. White will do just fine.”

  That didn’t sit right. I’d never met an officer, agent, or specialist that didn’t have a passion around the use of their title. In most cases, they’d earned it someway or another and would be damned if they didn’t get that credit. I didn’t know what to think of someone so nonchalantly dismissing it. Other than the fact that I may have misjudged the situation. Maybe they weren’t government after all. They dressed the part, but anyone can buy a cheap black suit. Who had I just gotten into a car with?

  “I’m afraid that you’ll need to wear this.”

  He held out a black hood. I looked at him.

  “Standard procedure.”

  I quickly changed my mind. They were government, and I was getting black bagged.

  And people say my paranoia is unwarranted.

  We drove for thirty minutes, ending at some warehouse by the airport. Despite the hood, I could hear the jets taking off and landing, so I knew we were close. By the time White told me I could take off the hood, we were parked inside of a building. I went to open my door, but the child lock had been turned on. The handle flopped around uselessly as I pulled on it. Apparently, they’d been worried that I’d bail on the way. Smart.

  Mr. White got out just fine, opening and slamming the door behind him, subtly flipping the child lock on his door as he closed it so I couldn’t cross the seat and get out on that side. Not that I needed to. Wallace got out of the front and opened the door for me. He stayed behind it, keeping the metal between us and in a position to chop me in half with the door if he felt the need too.

  The other agents were close but keeping their distance. None of them had their hands on their guns, but they might as well have. They were all standing at high alert, muscles tense and ready to be set into motion. Something about me had put them on the defensive, to the point that they were openly agitated. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said they were afraid of me. Little old me?

  That was comforting. I was a wildcard. The downside was that it put them on edge. The good news was that it gave me the advantage of being unpredictable. I didn’t know how yet, but I had time to think about how to use that.

  The warehouse had been hastily converted into some sort of mobile barrack and command center. The SUVs had parked in the middle of the ample open space. There were a third matching SUV and an armored Humvee, complete with fifty cal on top. That itched the far reaches of my brain.

  “Who the hell are you people?” I asked.

  No one said anything, not even to object to my use of the phrase ‘you people.’

  There were tables laden with weapons, lockers, and crates filled with more. Geeks of the male and female variety sat huddled around computer screens off to one side of the building. There was a massive generator, and mobile floodlights had been set up at every door and covered up window.

  I was led up a metal staircase and into a section of offices. One of the doors was open. I could see that there had been a couple of cheap bunk beds assembled inside of it. This was a staging area, set up on the fly, and from the hardware, they were packing, they were ready for anything.

  They moved me to a nearly empty room at the end of the h
all. There were two metal folding chairs set up on opposite sides of a cheap card table. It would appear that this is where they’d chosen to spare some expense. Wallace gestured for me to sit on the far side of the table. He posted up in the corner. The three other agents came in and took the other corners. Having them behind me was nerve-wracking, but I didn’t let it show. I was a caged animal to them. Might as well keep up the mystique of being a second away from lashing out at any given time.

  Mr. White came in a few minutes later and sat down across from me. He had a stainless steel french press with him. The plunger was up, and he set a mug down on the table next to it. He then pulled out rather large looking file and slid it to the side. I looked at the french press and then back up at him. He hadn’t had time to boil water. He had to have messaged ahead for someone to get it started for him. Definitely the guy in charge around here.

  “Want some?” He asked. “Sustainably grown, organic, and ethically traded. I roast the beans myself.”

  “Yea, but how’s the taste?” I asked.

  He smiled again, this time it looked like he enjoyed my comment. That’s not good. Everyone finds me annoying. It’s why Carl is my only friend.

  “It’s a wonderful light roast. The aroma has hints of blackberry and an undertone of almonds. The taste is delicate with a slightly acidic ending.”

  “We are talking about coffee here right?” I asked, wondering if I had been kidnaped by the world’s most heavily armed coffee snobs, militant hipsters with a mission to educate the masses on importance of drinking coffee black.

  “Would you like to try it?” He asked.

  I shrugged. “What the hell. I’m here aren’t I?”

  Mr. White nodded, and one of the agents behind me left the room, coming back a moment later with a paper cup. He set it in front of me, cautiously, like I was a rabid dog. I raised my eyebrows. I knew I could handle myself in a fight, but they had me outnumbered, outgunned, and each of the agents had at least twenty pounds of muscle on me, including the lady.