Morgan dropped an armful of snow-covered branches, and a board she’d pried from a doorway earlier as her offering near the closest barrel then moved through the space to see if she could locate Jake or anyone else she knew. The scent of old industrial oil and smoke from the burn barrels filled the room.
A couple of older guys nodded at her. Morgan only knew them through Jake. Like him, they were vets who hadn’t been able to adjust back to normal society and had fallen through the cracks.
Morgan dug in her pocket for another of the long butts she had collected, wishing she could just buy a pack. In the fall, she had found a tiny source of income by helping a pawnshop owner keep track of his six-year-old daughter for three hours in the afternoon, twice a week. He’d only paid her twenty dollars each week; it had practically been like winning the lottery for Morgan.
That was gone now, and had been since January when the pawnshop owner remarried.
Patsy stood next to one barrel near the back corner with her cart, full of whatever it was that Patsy deemed important, parked close by. Her cat Rigs, a raggedy, tabby tom cat curled close to the barrel. Morgan headed for them. Though Jake hated being around groups of people as much as she did, if the weather drove him here, the far corner is where he would go. The cat barely blinked at Lucy, they were used to each other.
“Evening, Patsy.” Morgan smiled as she approached the old woman bundled heavily in all sorts of strange clothing and coats.
“Bluebirds sing in the spring,” Patsy said.
Morgan ignored the nonsense answer. Patsy’s mind had a tendency to wander far and wide. Morgan tossed her backpack against the wall then bent and gave the cat a quick pet before straightening to warm her hands by the fire.
Patsy blinked at her in surprise and her eyes widened as if she’d just finally seen Morgan. “How nice to see you. How long have you been here?”
“Not long. Quite a few people here tonight.” Morgan glanced around at those gathered near the barrels. Where was Jake? Hopefully, he hadn’t been jumped or arrested again.
“Not surprising on a night like tonight.” Patsy stared at the fire for a bit then started in a sing-song voice, “Cats, cats, and bats. They fly, they cry, the cats and the bats.”
Jake’s voice filtered through the space, “…no. Don’t worry nothing’s going to happen to you, good grief, man. Come on.”
Morgan breathed a sigh of relief as Jake came through the door carrying several cardboard drink trays stacked one on top of the other. Behind him, a pizza delivery boy followed. In his arms he held a tall stack of what must have been fifteen or so pizzas. They trembled in his grip as he looked around with wide eyes. The delicious aroma of hot coffee and pizza wafted across the large space. Everyone stared, and even Patsy seemed aware.
Jake glanced around at them all. “Well don’t just stand there and stare. Help us.”
Morgan started toward them. Where the hell had Jake gotten the money for all of this? She relieved him of half the stack of coffee trays.
Jake smiled at her. “Help me hand them out would you?”
Morgan nodded and began handing the large coffees out to people. Sips were followed by grateful sighs. After she made sure everyone had one, Morgan set the three extras on a rotted workbench and took a sip of her own. The heat slid down her throat and she closed her eyes, savoring the moment.
After the pizzas were spread out on the rest of dusty workbench along one wall, Jake stuffed a couple of bills into the delivery boy’s hand. “You never saw this place.”
The boy looked at his hand and his eyes bugged. He glanced back at Jake and nodded before leaving quickly. People made a point of passing by Jake on the way to the bench, each one saying thank you. He didn’t acknowledge them.
As steam rose from the open pizza boxes, Morgan grabbed a slice of pepperoni and took a huge bite, relishing the taste. She loved pizza. It seemed like forever since she’d eaten it last. Well, there was that one that she’d found dumped in a parking lot like someone had placed it on top of their car in order to unlock the door and then the drove off with it still there. It had been stone cold, but she’d enjoyed sharing it with Lucy anyway.
With her other hand, she grabbed another piece. “Lucy, come on sweetie. You need yours, too.”
The dog bounded over to her, happily took the slice of pizza, then carried it away where she could lie down and eat it.
After taking another huge bite, Morgan turned to Jake and mumbled around her full mouth. “Ought oo er obbed. Where id oo get da oney or dis? Did oo obb ummone es?”
Jake grabbed three slices for himself, handed her two more and tossed two more at Lucy before answering. “A couple of guys gave it to me at the soup kitchen.”
Morgan finished chewing her mouthful then swallowed and chuckled. “Yeah, because there are so many people with money to give away there. No, really. Where’d you get it? It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone. Did you steal it?”
Jake shook his head. “I’m serious. These two guys came in there asking about someone who fit your description. Sister Becky told them she couldn’t help them. Then they asked me. I told them I’d never seen anyone that looked like you. Then one of the guys tosses a wad of money on the table and tells me to find someplace warm to sleep.”
“You…you didn’t tell them anything after that did you?”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Hell no. Give me some damn credit, Morgan. Do you know who might be looking for you?”
Morgan shook her head, confusion chasing her thoughts around in her head. She didn’t have any family. Even Isobel and Damien had stopped searching for her months ago. She didn’t have any other friends besides Jake and Patsy.
Damn it, that left only one option; her new dark angel was looking for her. Well, he could just keep looking. She knew how not to be found and she knew these streets better than him. Okay, so maybe that was unreasonable. He would find her eventually, of that she had no doubt. She planned to keep that meeting as far in the future as possible.
A memory of Arabrim, lying in a thin sheet of snow with his head rolling away and blood pooling around the stump of his neck in a crimson puddle, danced sickeningly through her head. There were too many damn demons in Denver. She wasn’t going to have another dead dark angel on her hands. She would just avoid him for as long as possible.
She took another huge bite, chewed hastily and gulped it down, then chased it with some coffee. Stuffing more pizza into her mouth, she decided to just live in the moment. And this moment was wonderful with its hot coffee, fresh food, and friends.
“I’ve seen about ten different emotions or so pass across your face,” Jake said and sipped his coffee. “Do you have any idea who it would be?”
Morgan frowned. “I do and if I have things my way, they won’t find me anytime soon.
“Well, I won’t tell them where you are. Hell, I don’t even know where that is most of the time. I’m surprised you’re here tonight.”
“I’m only here for the same reason you are. Too damn cold to spend the night out.” Morgan shrugged and finished her slices of pizza in large bites. She and Jake were a lot alike. Neither liked feeling crowded or trapped and both preferred to be alone. “It’s not like you spend a lot of time here.”
She moved back to the barrel in the corner and untied her sleeping bag from the bottom of her backpack. After shaking it out, she stepped into and worked it up her body. Moving carefully, she sat on the floor next to her backpack and rolled the top of the sleeping bag down to her waist.
Leaning against the wall, she soaked up the warmth that radiated off the metal barrel and nursed her coffee with Lucy curled next to her. Patsy wandered back over and hovered around the barrel, occasionally poking a stick into the fire rather than sit. Jake stopped to talk to a couple of other homeless vets he was friends with.
Listening to their conversation it always amazed Morgan how quickly Jake’s language changed. Though he didn’t swear often around her, or at least nothing too hard
core, once he started talking to the other vets the f-bomb was dropped about every other word. It wasn’t as if Morgan cared about swearing, hell she did it often herself. Jake still seemed to try and clean up his language when he was around her. It was kind of nice in a way that he cared enough to offer that bit of respect even if she didn’t ask for it.
After a while, Jake walked over to where Morgan sat next to the barrel, dropped his duffle on the floor and pulled his own sleeping bag out. Once he had it pulled up in the same way she did, he settled down with his back to the wall. His eyes roamed the room with a sort of nervous tension she wasn’t sure he was even aware of. After a bit, he dug in the duffle.
“Want a smoke?” Jake offered, holding out a pack of cigarettes to her.
“Thanks.” Morgan took one and used the nearly empty lighter in her pocket to light it.
Taking a large drag, she exhaled and closed her eyes as the rush of nicotine moved through her system. It wasn’t the best habit, but when she could get them, they were a stress reliever in a world with very little that offered relief. And a better option than most of the things that could be found on the streets.
Taking another drag, she glanced at Jake. “This isn’t going to run you short is it?”
“Naw, I bought a whole carton of them.” Jake offered a cigarette to Patsy, who accepted it, then dug two packs out of the worn duffle he carried. “Here,” he handed one to Patsy and the other to her, “enjoy.”
“Thanks man. I’ll find a way to repay you,” Morgan said, stuffing the pack into her coat pocket.
“You already did.” He pointed to the stocking cap on his head.
Morgan blew out a lungful of smoke and laughed. “If you insist.”
“I do insist.” He pulled a bottle whiskey from his coat pocket and took a deep pull off it.
Morgan didn’t comment. She knew he drank to smother the nightmares. If it wasn’t for the fact she needed to always be alert for demons, Morgan wouldn’t have minded a drunken sleep herself. A sleep free of memories. Instead, when he offered the bottle, she took a single, deep swig and then handed it back.
She only smoked half the cigarette before putting it out and tucking the long butt into her front jean pocket for later. Leaning her head back against the cement wall, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of a full stomach and the warmth of the whiskey running through her veins.
Able to relax a bit, she dozed lightly. The night wore on but real sleep eluded her, as it often did, especially when she slept in a group. She’d spent far too many nights here this winter; it would be nice when the weather finally warmed up for good.
Through the half-sleep she listened to the murmurs of the other’s in the tower and the crackling of flames. Occasionally, something off would be thrown into one of the barrels and the rank smoke from it burning would wake her fully or the breeze outside would shift and come through the doorway in an icy rush that reeked of frozen urine from the alley.
At one point, a flash of heat flowed through Morgan’s face and her eyes flew open. Nothing was out of place. Lucy lay with her chin on Morgan’s knee, Jake snored lightly, Patsy lay curled up on her side against the wall. Maybe the breeze had carried a little more of the barrel’s heat her way. Closing her eyes, she dozed off again.
Only briefly did sleep pull her under long enough to dream. It was a nightmare, like her dreams often were. She listened to the loud voice of her foster father as he yelled and stormed through the house. Her bedroom door shuddered and flew open, pieces of wood and trim flying into the room. Like every other time this nightmare visited, her sister’s face floated across her vision and then Morgan jerked awake with her heart racing.
With shaking hands, she lit a cigarette and took a deep pull on it. As her pulse slowly resumed its normal pace, she was again thankful that nightmare never ran its full course. The other nightmare, the one that sometimes visited, where she was in a tight space being suffocated by the oppressive dark, that one was harder to wake up from.
She quietly finished her cigarette, not wanting to disturb Jake who looked like he was actually sleeping for once. Maybe the whiskey had given him enough of a reprieve to find rest without his own nightmares invading. After Morgan ground out the butt, she leaned her head against the wall and allowed herself a shallow doze.
The sun was already up when Jake began to toss and turn, mumbling incoherently in a distressed tone. Even though she knew better, she had to try and wake him up. As a person who suffered from nightmares, she knew only too well how terrifying it could be to feel trapped in them.
Morgan got up, climbed out of the sleeping bag, and knelt to shake his shoulder. The moment she touched him, Jake bolted awake, kind of. His cold hands clamped around her neck as he threw her to the floor. Morgan tried to break his hold. That wasn’t going to happen. Though Jake never spoke of it, whatever he’d been in the military he’d been well trained.
Jake, his face twisted with the memories from another time, spit curses at her. Little black spots swirled across her vision as her lungs burned for air and her heart hammered in her chest.
Bringing her fist up, she slammed it into his jaw. Patsy stood at the edge of her dimming vision, ringing her hands and chanting about cats and bats. Lucy barked warnings and whined. Morgan was losing strength fast. In the limited space between them, she raised her foot and smashed it against his knee. He only tightened his grip.
Lucy charged, hitting Jake with one hundred ten pounds of Rottweiler. Latching on to his arm with a snarl, she dragged him away from Morgan. Jake kicked and cursed at the dog. Using her powerful muscles, Lucy yanked him off his feet. Jake’s head hit the concrete floor and his eyes rolled back as he blacked out.
Rubbing her throat, Morgan said, “Enough!”
Lucy immediately released Jake’s arm. Morgan patted her leg and the dog came to her. She put her arm around Lucy and sighed, thankful yet again for her friend. Coughing to clear her throat, she scooted around and pulled the long butt from her pocket. It was broken in three little pieces.
“Shit.” She crawled past Jake’s sprawled form and pulled his pack of cigarettes from the duffle. “You owe me this for trying to kill me, buddy.”
It wasn’t really his fault. She knew better than to touch Jake while he slept, and he hadn’t found reality when he woke. It didn’t excuse his behavior. She still didn’t hold it against him. She couldn’t fault him for his demons, not when she carried so many of her own both figuratively and literally.
Patsy had taken her cart and her cat and left, as had most of the others. Stuffing the pack in her coat pocket, she walked out to the alley. Looking both ways to make sure she was alone, she made use of the relative privacy. Lucy walked a short way away and did the same.
Afterward, they returned to the building. Poking around, Morgan found a few things that could still be burned and lowered them into the barrel, careful not to let any of them slam into the metal side. Last thing she needed was Jake waking up to a loud bang. Sighing she sat back down and took a sip of the little bit of icy coffee still in her cup. Lighting a cigarette, she sucked in the first drag and leaned back against the wall to wait for Jake to wake.
After about thirty minutes, he began to stir. Morgan lit another cigarette and watched him. Lucy sat up, her ears forward, brown eyes intent as she stared at the potential threat to her person.
Jake rubbed the back of his head and groaned. Frowning, he held his arm up, examining the tears and small blood stains in the sleeve of his coat. Shoving the sleeve up to expose a forearm covered in tattoos, he wiped away the small amount of blood. His several layers of shirts under the coat had likely saved him from too much damage from Lucy’s teeth.
“What the hell?” He looked around.
Morgan smiled when his eyes met hers. “Good morning. Sorry about your coat and arm. Well, and your head I suppose. Lucy didn’t have a choice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, not much. You tried to choke me to death
earlier and Lucy had to get you off me…again. If your jaw and your knee hurt, that was me.”
“Shit! Morgan, I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember it.”
He looked so remorseful she gave him a reassuring smile. “Forget it. I’ve been through worse and it’s not like you knew what you were doing.”
He threw an arm over his face and groaned, “Damn it. I would never knowingly hurt you, Morgan.”
“Don’t worry, I paid you back. Since you broke my long butt by forcing to me try and get you off, I stole your pack of cigarettes from your bag.” She blew a lungful of smoke at him.
He sat up slowly and pulled his duffle over to him. “I already gave you one.”
“Yeah, I know. I figured you owed me another for choking me and making Lucy attack you. She normally considers you a friend you know. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her.”
Jake chuckled darkly as he examined his arm. “She did a good job regardless. No less than I deserve I suppose.”
Extracting a cigarette from a new pack, he lit it and took a long drag and frowned. “I know you’re a fast healer, but damn. Your bruises are almost completely gone.”
Morgan worked her mouth, noticing the lack of pain for the first time. Even her teeth felt solid again. Strange. It had happened several times over the winter. Not that she could really complain. Nor could she explain to Jake why she healed fast at all. Time to change the subject.
“What were you dreaming?” Morgan studied his face when she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jake laughed bitterly. “Answer your country’s call to duty and perform it well so you can come home with your mind screwed up with all of the damn shit you’ve seen. What a damn joke.”
“Sucks,” Morgan agreed as she finished her cigarette and got to her feet. Rolling up her sleeping bag and tying it to the bottom of her backpack again, she wished there was something she could say to ease Jake’s pain. If there was one thing she’d learned, if someone was struggling with something, silence could be more supportive than shallow platitudes. “I gotta get going. I need to keep on the move.”
Bound by Legend: A Bound Novel Page 3
