Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1)

by eden Hudson

  Welcome to Halo. I snorted. It hurt my chest and stomach and nose—a little bit of everything—but it brought back something. Me laughing in the alley outside Rowdy’s.

  “Tough?” Desty was sitting on the floor with her arms folded on the bed. She had sleep lines on her cheek from the back of her hand. She smiled when I looked into her eyes. “Hey.”

  She pushed up onto her knees and leaned over the bed far enough that I could see down her shirt. Her fingertips touched the split in my eyebrow, a spot on my cheek, and my jaw, like she was making sure they were all still there.

  “I was going to wake you up in a little while to make sure you weren’t seeing double or anything,” she said. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “How’re you feeling?”

  Horny. Pissed-off. Tired. Like someone kicked my ass. Thirsty.

  “Nauseous?” she asked.

  I shook my head, once, then stopped so my skull would quit stabbing my brain.

  “I’m going to go get you some ice for your—” Desty looked at my face and swallowed whatever she’d been about to say. “Lots of ice. Do you want some water or something?”

  I grabbed an empty beer can off the nightstand. My hands were kind of shaky.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.” She started to leave, then came back and kissed me, really softly on the lips.

  I closed my eyes and listened to Desty go downstairs.

  “Know when you’re beat, Baby Boy.”

  Colt had been trying to talk to me, maybe tell me it wasn’t him kicking my ass. I should’ve had the balls to kill him when I had the chance. Maybe that was why I thought I saw him for a couple seconds. Because through whatever Mikal was doing to him, he saw me and recognized I could save him.

  No human in town would have a gun I could borrow. When you signed the armistice, you swore on your life never to carry a weapon again. But I could talk to some of the crows. They always kept something good on hand in case the coyotes tried to move in on their territory. AR-15s like the one I’d heard earlier were bottom of the barrel to them. And the crow who owned the tattoo parlor, Lonely Pershing, was probably losing money with his best customer enthralled. If that fell through, I could drive out to the cabin and see whether anything was left of the arsenal.

  Thinking through my options eased up some of the pain in my chest. One way or another I’d get a gun. When Mikal brought Colt around for another ass-whooping, I’d set him free from her.

  Desty came back with a freezer bag full of carrots and one of Jax’s Red Hots.

  “There wasn’t any ice or beer,” she said. “But Jax said you could have this.”

  She held out the energy drink. I took it and sat up against the wall. Desty handed over the carrot bag, too, then she crawled up on the bed beside me. I winced when I put the carrots against my face—apparently those little bastards were all cut into jagged points. After a few seconds, though, they started softening up.

  “You’re all right, aren’t you, Tough?” Desty asked.

  Not if there’s really nothing to drink in this house. But I nodded.

  Desty’s computer was on the nightstand with a document open. I used the Red Hot can to point at it and change the subject.

  “Jax typed it up for me,” Desty said. “It’s something he memorized for the Witches’ Council.” She sighed. “I haven’t studied it very closely yet, but it’s got to do with Kathan wanting me and Tempie to be his joint-familiars so he can command legions of fallen angels in the final battle for Earth.”

  I’d like to say I thought something noble like I’ll stop him—I’m a Whitney, I was chosen to save the world, but all that came to mind was Kathan telling me Desty was his, she was just working her way back to him, so all I could think was, That fucker better keep his hands off you or I’ll kill him.

  You can’t kill a fallen angel, though, so what do you do?

  Sissy had thought deporting them back to Hell. Ryder had thought blowing up their compound and incapacitating them. Colt— I guess I’d never find out what Colt thought.

  If I could figure out a way to keep Desty away from Kathan for good, that would be something. But it was like Colt—short of killing him, I’d never get him away from Mikal. Just thinking that made me feel sick. I couldn’t even hurt a girl—not even when Mitzi and I were in the middle of sex and she wanted me to cut her, knowing she was a vamp and she’d heal right up—there was no way I could kill Desty.

  I took a drink of Jax’s Red Hot. It tasted like candy and piss. What was the point of drinking that crap—besides staying up all night to beat level ten? I sat it on the window sill. Then on second thought, I gave it a push out. I heard the can smack off the porch roof and hit the ground.

  Beside me, Desty said, “I didn’t think it was your style, either.”

  Damn if it didn’t make my heart hurt, her trying to joke around. I let the carrots drop, turned my head, and caught her on the lips.

  She made this soft sound in her throat, then she pulled away.

  “Tough, there’s this prophecy—Tempie told me about it—or maybe Kathan, using Tempie like his freaking puppet.” Desty rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know. But the prophecy’s got to do with you and Colt—”

  It opened up my busted lip, but I kissed her again, hard. Desty must’ve tasted the blood, too, because I saw her lick her lips, but this time she didn’t make me stop. She put her arm around my neck. Her other hand slid under my shirt. Goose bumps again. I quit kissing her long enough to pull my shirt off, but when I started to lift hers up, she grabbed my wrist.

  “Wait,” she said. “Tough, listen. One of you has to kill the other before the last battle can begin. The prophecy—”

  I shook my head and put my hand over her mouth.

  Not right now. I can’t take any more. Even though it was through kissing and touching her, I knew I was begging. It didn’t bother me as much as it might have bothered somebody with some pride. Please, please, just make me feel better.

  Desty sighed—the good kind of sigh—and helped me get her shorts and underwear off. I grabbed the condom out of my jeans’ back pocket before I kicked them onto the floor.

  It’s the man’s job to protect the woman, right? I’m pretty sure Dad would turn around in Heaven if he knew I thought that right before I had sex with a girl so I could tune out for a while. If he didn’t already know I was a shitty man by now, anyway.

  After a couple of minutes, Desty pushed up on her elbows and stopped me getting her ready. “I don’t know if I can…come with someone.”

  I kissed her again. She let go of my hand and laid back down.

  “Sorry if I can’t,” she said.

  I wasn’t too worried. The Matchmaker had marked my bill “paid in full,” hadn’t she?

  Nice one, asshole, think about what a great trick you are.

  I tried to shut off my brain and make up for being such a sack of shit. Getting Desty ready felt good. And not the way people say “good” when they mean “better than nothing.” Good like I wouldn’t need a shower later. Good like…I don’t know if there’s a way to say “innocent” without sounding retarded, but like that. I didn’t want to ruin it. I wanted this to be really good for her, too.

  But Desty stopped me again before I could make her come.

  “Okay,” she said.

  She waited while I got the condom on, then helped me inside. She was so hot. Burning, compared to Mitzi. For a second, all I wanted to do was feel how hot she was.

  Then her fingernails dug into my back.

  “Ow, ouch—”

  I pushed her hair out of her eyes. What’s wrong?

  “The condom—does it have some kind of warming gel on it?”

  I nodded.

  She bit her lips and made a sound in her throat. I pulled out, but it didn’t seem to help.

  “Sorry.” Her eyes were tearing up. “It just burns really bad.”

  I got up. Found a towel on the floor and handed it to her, then checked the hall. Jax and Harper’s door
was shut and the lights were off downstairs. I took Desty’s hand, led her to the bathroom, and turned on the shower.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  I shook my head.

  It’s not your fault. I kissed her and rested my forehead against hers so she would know I meant it. Her skin felt so good.

  Desty smiled, then got in the shower. I threw away the condom before I climbed in, too. After she washed up, she said she felt better. We started making out again. Then she realized I was trying to make the hickey on her neck bigger and she got to laughing.

  “Hey!” Jax banged on the bathroom door. “You’re not finally getting laid, are you, Tough?”

  Desty put her hand over her mouth to try to stop giggling.

  “You’ll have to cut him some slack, Desty,” Jax yelled. “He was literally born in a barn. He doesn’t know civilized chicks prefer beds.”

  I threw the shampoo bottle at the door.

  “Payback,” Jax yelled.

  A few seconds later the board at the top of the steps creaked. He was headed downstairs.

  I rubbed my face against Desty’s shoulder and kissed the hickey on her neck. How could you not love someone who made you feel better no matter how bad crap got?

  “Quit messing with that,” she said, elbowing me in the stomach.

  I laughed and tried to make Desty think she’d got me in the broken rib so she would feel bad, but she wasn’t having it. She pushed me until my back was against the tile, then she got down on her knees and things turned serious pretty fast.

  I don’t think Desty had ever given anyone a blowjob before. She kept stopping like she was afraid of hurting me. I tried to show her she wouldn’t. Shit, she was so cute and sweet and so fucking good—innocent-good. I wanted it to last forever, but then she looked me in the eyes like she was asking me if she was doing it right and I lost it.

  Afterward, we got out and dried off, then headed back to the bedroom. I wanted to do something for Desty, but she stopped me.

  “Tomorrow, okay?” she said. “I think you need to sleep.”

  She must’ve been right because I just barely remember knocking the carrots off the bed so we could lay down.

  Desty

  “All I’m saying is I changed my mind… Don’t even try to pretend like you don’t owe me. If not for me—” Jax stopped talking on his cell phone when he saw me coming down the stairs. He nodded at me, then told whoever he was on the phone with, “Just call me back when you get a chance.”

  Jax threw the phone on the table and grinned. “Hey. You give him one for me?”

  “Um…”

  Then he laughed, a little too hard.

  “I just now realized how that sounded,” he said. “But it’s what I would’ve asked Tough if I was talking to him instead. So, why’re you up?”

  Because I was too turned on to sleep and I didn’t feel like masturbating. Because I was scared Mikal was going to use Colt to kill Tough. Because Kathan was using Tempie like bait to get me to become joint-familiar—which, according to Jax’s typed-up translation, would make us Kathan’s Destroyers and possibly bring about the end of the world. And then there was the whole mess with Mom. Pretty much any reason would do.

  I sat on the couch and pulled my feet up under me. “Was that somebody from the Witches’ Council?”

  Jax looked down at the cell phone on the table.

  “I left Bailey a message,” he said. “She’ll get back to me in the morning, probably.”

  “Kathan could’ve been lying,” I said. “But fallen angels—”

  “Use the truth to lie. Yeah, I know.” Jax took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Tough’s going to be okay. That guy’s like a cockroach. You can’t kill him.”

  I looked down at the wood grain on the coffee table’s top, thinking about how dead on his feet Tough had been when we got back to the bedroom. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he wanted to make sure I was satisfied. And the way he kept touching me and kissing me, it was like he was trying to tell me he loved me.

  Now there was an intelligent, not-stupid-girl-at-all thought—he must love me if he was all affectionate after I blew him. No wonder Tempie thought I was a naïve moron. Three days with the guy and I was already imagining we were, like, soul mates.

  “I just want him to be okay,” I said.

  “He will be,” Jax said.

  “You think there’s any way to use my Destroyer-y powers to do something? Or do they only work when Tempie and I are ‘as one?’”

  “I guess that depends on whether you’ve ever ‘wrought upon the Earth ultimate destruction without discrimination’ before,” Jax said. “Without your sister’s help.”

  I sighed. “I probably would’ve noticed something like that.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Jax said. “We’ll find out what’s up with this chosen-soldier-kills-his-brother prophecy thing. I’m sure Bailey’ll holler back at me tomorrow.”

  I nodded. We would read the original and Bailey would explain what she knew about the subtleties of the translation. Jax could probably even cross-reference it with stuff he’d already memorized. We would figure out a way to keep Tough safe. That’s what friends and hopelessly enamored, stupid-in-love girls are for, right?

  “Want to play?” Jax asked, holding out his video game controller.

  “I’m not very hand-eye-coordinated,” I said.

  “Come on,” he said. He got up and messed with the cords on the back of the television. “I’ve got a really old Nintendo. It doesn’t matter if you’re bad at that.”

  “Fine.” It would be something to do, and there wasn’t any way I was going to sleep tonight. While Jax unwound the old controllers, I looked at the wireless one sitting next to his cell phone. “Do you have some kind of spell to make—”

  Jax dropped the Nintendo controller in his hand, then grabbed it back up and laughed.

  “Raelyn—from the Council—she fixed the phone for me so all the NP-energies in town wouldn’t screw it up. It’s kind of an emergency thing. Sometimes they need me to come over and recall something in the middle of the night or on a day I’m not scheduled to work.”

  “I was actually wondering about your wireless controller,” I said.

  “Oh, that.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Perk of working for the Council.”

  He started the Nintendo, handed me a controller, and sat down. The old, beepy music made us both laugh.

  “I haven’t played anything like this in forever,” I said. “My mom had a Super Nintendo before she got married. She said she used to play it so she could clear her mind.”

  “Yeah, that’s the good thing about these games,” Jax said. “You can just play and not think for a while.”

  Tough

  I wish the last dream I ever had of Sissy was something cooler or more memorable—like we talked forever and she told me Heaven was great and Mom and Dad loved me and Ryder was there, too, because you can’t get Lost once you’re Saved, even if you are an asshole—but all we did was sit on the back porch at the farmhouse and watch the sun go down.

  “That’s it?” I asked her.

  Sissy nodded and squeezed my hand.

  Then I woke up. The sun was screaming through my window and I felt exactly like a guy who’d had his bigger, faster, stronger brother beat the ever-loving hell out of him. Go figure.

  I pushed up and looked around. There was a note on my nightstand from Desty.

  Tough,

  I went with Jax to talk to Bailey at the Witches’ Council. I’ll be back.

  -Desty

  P.S. You look great naked.

  There was a spot in front of her name where Desty had started to write something or maybe make a heart, but she’d drawn over it with a line. She was even awkward on paper.

  That made me smile for a second, but it couldn’t take my mind off having to ask around for a gun to kill Colt with. Maybe I could shoot Mikal a couple times, too, just to piss her off.

 
; No, it’d probably be smarter not to dick around. One for Colt and one for me.

  I checked my alarm clock—almost one. The ass-end of noon, Ryder used to call it, right before he would kick my ass-end for sleeping in and missing school because I’d snuck out the night before to sit in with Rowdy’s band. Apparently it was okay for him and Colt to be hung over dropouts, but not for me.

  The good old days, I thought.

  That got me laughing. I must’ve been losing it because I was going to kill my brother and myself later on. All the crap I’d done to survive in this town and I was going to shoot myself in the head—assuming I was fast enough to do it after I shot Colt and before Mikal did one of her super-speed jumps and took the gun away. But if she saw the gun before I shot Colt, she could probably just appear in front of me and grab it. Then what?

  And what about Desty? Kathan wanted her for some take-over-the-world bullshit. If I did kill myself, I couldn’t protect her or figure out a way to keep her away from him.

  Kind of makes you wish you’d woke up a little earlier, huh?

  Hell, if I’m going to wish, why not just wish for the answers? And some morning sex.

  Maybe I had bleeding in the brain. There wasn’t any other time in my life that I really talked to myself.

  I got up, got dressed, and shut off the fan. I used to just leave it running, but Harper got all pissy and chewed me out because it would run up our utility bill.

  One empty room in the house after tonight, Harper. You can finally get that tanning bed you always wanted.

  Then I thought I ought to write a will or letter or something so she’d know she could sell my stuff. My Gibson had to be worth a little and Mom’s acoustic would bring some serious money. And I should write a note to Dodge about not moving Willow. She was a killer drummer and a terrible guitar player. There had to be one other person in Halo who played guitar—Rowdy could fill in until they found somebody.

  And a separate letter for Desty.

  But how was I supposed to protect her from Kathan if I was dead?

  I rubbed my face with both hands and winced at the cuts and bruises that flared up. All this last-day-alive stuff was going to make me crazy.