by Gary Jonas
The office was empty. The last person out must have forgotten to turn out the light.
“What are you doing?” Michael asked, stepping into the office. He leaned against the wall, which was covered with a big cork board with flyers and print-outs tacked to it.
“I need to rest,” I said.
“Here?”
“Dude, I’m not used to people shooting at me.”
“And I am?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve been shot at before,” Gideon said, standing in the doorway. “I won’t say you get used to it, but I can tell you most people who get shot don’t die. Well, they all die, but not from the gunshot wounds. Okay, some do, but most don’t.”
“I think we understand,” I said. “You guys might want to sit down because I feel a nap coming on.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Michael said, staring at his hand. It looked weird without a middle finger.
The view was fascinating, but my eyes were heavy, and closing.
“He worked a lot of magic,” Gideon said.
“And he had a bit of excitement,” Michael said. “At least he didn’t panic.”
“Would you guys shut up? I’m trying to nap here.”
Michael leaned over the desk and clapped his hands in front of my face.
My eyes snapped open. “Jesus!” I said.
“Rise and shine, Brett. We need to go.”
“Why?”
“How about because there are two bodies in the alley?”
“Shit,” I said. “The cops will check the registration on the van. It’s Chuck’s van and it’s definitely fubar.”
“They have no reason to suspect Chuck of anything. His van may be out there, but it’s so battered, they might just think it was parked in the alley when the building blew up.”
“Shattered is a better word,” Gideon said.
“Whatever. Same difference. Chuck has insurance.”
“Think it covers bricks raining from the sky?”
“They might call it an Act of God,” Michael said.
“Act of Brett,” Gideon said with a grin.
“Don’t give him delusions of grandeur,” Michael said.
I pushed myself to my feet. “If you assholes are going to keep yapping, I give up on the damn nap.”
“You’re mighty calm for having just faced a life-threatening ordeal.”
“Whatever,” I said. He was right, but I didn’t give it much thought.
“We’ll go out the front door,” Gideon said. “You can lock it with magic.”
“So I have to bite myself again?”
Michael laughed.
“What?”
“Sorry, that just struck me as funny. Biting yourself.” And he laughed again.
“Dude, it’s not funny.”
“What’s not funny is that I lost a finger.”
“Maybe it will grow back when you feed.”
“I doubt it. How will I play bass without my damn finger?”
“Rick Allen from Def Leppard plays drums with one arm. I’m willing to bet you can get by with nine fingers.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“At least you weren’t hit by a train.”
“You need to help me regenerate my damn finger.”
“I don’t know how to manipulate living flesh. I can blow shit up, throw shit around, block shit, maybe conjure some shit, but I can’t make living tissue.”
“Not sure I followed all that,” Michael said, grinning at me. “That was a lot of words.”
“Blow me.”
“Children,” Gideon said. “We should get out of here while we can. The front door is clear.”
We followed him outside. I magically locked the door, and we strolled down the crowded sidewalk like we belonged there.
We stopped at a red light.
Chuck’s battered white van pulled to a stop at the light and the passenger window rolled down. Sabrina leaned over. “You idiots need a ride?”
“How did you…?” I asked.
“Get in.”
We piled into the van.
Michael and I climbed in back, and Gideon rode shotgun. Sabrina looked at us like we were idiots.
“You could have followed me into the bar.”
“There wasn’t time,” I said.
“Yes there was.” She pointed at Gideon. “This one kept you outside.”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Gideon said.
“Or you were thinking clearly and wanted Brett to get shot and killed.” The light changed and she stepped on the accelerator, taking us through downtown Austin.
“It’s my job to protect him.”
“Right. You saw me go into the bar. There was plenty of time for everyone to get inside. And you chose not to. And Michael, you chose to stay outside, too.”
“It cost me a finger,” Michael said.
“Who put you up to it?”
“I beg your pardon?” Michael said.
“Not you,” Sabrina said to Michael. She pointed at Gideon. “You.”
“My job is to keep Brett alive.”
She turned a corner and weaved through traffic. “By putting him in the line of fire of multiple gunmen?”
“I thought they’d be in the car.”
“So you knew they were coming.”
“Of course I knew they were coming,” Gideon said.
“Wait,” I said. “What?” I was tired, but that caught my attention.
“I told you they were coming. I wanted to keep you safe. If we’d followed Sabrina into the bar, the gunmen still would have come for you, only they’d have been shooting civilians.”
“That was a lot of words,” I said, frowning. “But I’m a civilian.”
“You’re an idiot,” Sabrina said.
“Were you trying to get me killed, Gideon?”
“Of course not. But I had to let them attack.”
“Why?”
“To see if you’re worth protecting.”
“So it was another test?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That test could have gotten me killed.”
“That test cost me a finger,” Michael said.
“That test,” Sabrina said, “proves you’re all morons. When someone opens the door to safety, you go inside.”
“And risk more lives?” Gideon asked.
“If we knew they were coming, we could have magically blockaded the door.”
“And that wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know.”
“Brett?” Sabrina asked.
“What?”
“Do you want me to dump this asshole at the next light?”
“Before you make that determination,” Gideon said, “allow me to point out that we’re all alive, and you passed the test with flying colors.”
“I lost my favorite finger,” Michael said.
“Gideon, are you going to put me in harm’s way again?”
“Not tonight.”
“Ever?”
“Of course I will. You’ve got a battle coming up. The Council will keep taking shots at you until you or the other Brett passes the Matriarch’s test.”
“Are they trying to kill him too?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because they believe he’s the real McCoy. You’re the copy.”
“Again with that shit? I’m the real me.”
Sabrina shook her head. “I’m not even going to pretend I understand this.”
“There can be only one,” Gideon said.
I laughed without humor. “And now you’re throwing Highlander quotes at me?”
“I love the first movie.”
“Me, too.”
“The second was an abomination.”
“He can stay in the car,” I said.
“Why?” Sabrina asked.
“Because he has good taste in movies.”
Thirty minutes later, we were back at the hotel.
I bid everyone farewell, and went to my room. I didn’t even bother to turn on the lights or take off my clothes before falling onto the bed. I was so tired, I could have gone to sleep on my feet.
That said, I really should have turned on the light because I didn’t have a soft landing on a nice, comfy bed.
Nope. I landed on a body.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Ow!” a pleasant female voice said.
I rolled off of her and fell off the damn bed. The floor was farther away than I expected and I hit hard, knocking the wind out of myself.
“Oof!” I said.
“Where did he go?” another female asked.
Two women in my bed? Now I really wanted the light to be on.
I picked myself up off the floor, and waved my hands around in the darkness toward the nightstand. I found the lamp, clicked it on.
Melissa and Rhonda Ringo were both in my bed under the covers.
“Hey there, big boy,” Rhonda said.
Melissa sat up. She wore a black lace negligee. Rhonda wore a matching negligee, only hers was red. Good golly, Miss Molly, they looked hot as a pair of habanero peppers.
“Hey there yourself,” I said. “What brings you to my bed? Is it time for a Brett sandwich?”
“That depends,” Melissa said.
“On?”
“Whether or not you think you can handle us.”
“I’m willing to give it the old college try.”
“You didn’t go to college.”
“Why does everyone say that to me?”
“Because it’s true?”
“That’s beside the point.”
Melissa lowered the covers to her waist and ran a hand down through her hair, giving it a casual flip, then caressed her neck, chest, and slid her hand down her stomach.
“Want me to go further?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“I want to go further,” I said.
“We talked to the other Brett,” she said. “He insists he’s the real Brett Masters and you’re the doppelgänger.”
“Which one are you supposed to sleep with?” I asked.
“Neither.”
“Let me rephrase that. Which one are you willing to sleep with?”
“Neither.”
“What about you, Rhonda?” I asked.
“Same answer. We’re not here to sleep with you, Brett.”
“So you got into some lingerie and climbed into my bed to what, frustrate me?”
They both smiled. “We thought you might appreciate the view.”
“Oh, I do. But the whole ‘look but don’t touch’ thing doesn’t appeal to me.”
“We’d be happy to touch you, Brett.”
“If you mean giving me another Vulcan nerve pinch, I’ll pass. If you mean caress me and massage me, and kiss me, and give me a happy ending, I’m all about that.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“We’re the ones who want a happy ending.”
“Oh, I can give you a happy ending,” I said, and wriggled my eyebrows.
“Not that kind of happy ending, silly.”
“What other kind is there?”
“The kind where we destroy you and level up to a higher rank in the organization, of course.”
“We’ve been through this,” I said. “You can’t destroy me.”
“Oh, we’re just the distraction,” Rhonda said.
As she spoke, she and Melissa slid the straps of their negligees off their shoulders and let the material drop to reveal their beautiful, perfect breasts.
I bit my cheek, drawing blood, as I stared in wide wonder. As I gazed upon them, I erected a shield around myself. Sorry about the word choice, but they were very nice breasts and the girls moved from side to side to make them jiggle in a wonderful way, and, well, I’m a guy.
Something clanged on the shield I’d set around myself. I didn’t bother to check because those breasts still had my full attention.
“Take another swing, whoever you are. And ladies, keep those titties out. They’re amazing.”
They covered their breasts.
Dammit.
“You’re supposed to fall down,” Melissa said.
“Yeah, you cheated,” Rhonda said.
Now that their breasts were covered, I turned and saw a thug with an aluminum baseball bat. He looked like a teenager hired off the street.
“Howdy, Slugger,” I said. “Is it my turn?” I motioned with my hands and the bat twisted itself around his wrists.
“What the hell?” he said.
“Sit down, Junior.” I pushed him toward the chair by the desk.
He sat.
I turned back to the twins.
They were pouting.
Damn, they were cute. But Michael was right. They brought nothing else to the table. Well, they brought a thug to the table, but they had shown me their tits, so that kinda made up for it.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“The other you told us where you were. He didn’t even let us get close to him. We think he might be gay.”
“All right, ladies, it’s time we had a bit more of a chat. You said you were on a mission from the Council.”
“Yeah,” Rhonda said.
“Tell me about it.”
“We told you. We’re supposed to kill you, reanimate your body, and take you back to the Council.”
“Why?”
“They didn’t tell us why, they just told us what to do.”
“What good would it do them to have either me or my double?”
They both shrugged.
“Can I get out of here?” the thug asked.
“Sure, dude, the window’s right there. Feel free to jump.”
“We’re on the twenty-first floor.”
“Yeah, so?”
“The fall would kill me.”
“In that case, shut the fuck up or I’ll throw you out the window.”
“Don’t worry,” Melissa said. “He won’t do that.”
I still had blood in my mouth, so I waved my hand toward the window. The curtains swished open, and the glass disappeared. I pointed at the chair and it lifted off the ground. I floated it toward the window.
“Holy shit,” the guy said and jumped out of the chair.
“Did I say you could get up?” I asked.
“I’m not just gonna let you toss me out the window.”
“Sure you are,” I said, and gave him a wave.
He flew backward out the window.
I let him drop out of sight, then focused my energy to mold the bat into the building. I didn’t want to kill the guy, but I didn’t mind scaring him because he’d tried to bash my brains in. He could hang out for a bit while I chatted with the Ringo Twins. This was my wizard version of Scared Straight.
“Where were we?” I asked as I turned back to them.
They stared out the window and pulled the covers up. The fear in their eyes gave me a sense of power. I wasn’t sure I liked that feeling because it could get addictive.
“Please don’t kill us,” Melissa said in a small voice. The girls shrank away from me as I moved toward the bed. If they were acting, they were destined to win Oscars.
“I don’t want to kill you,” I said. “Really, I don’t. But you’re not telling me anything useful.”
“We don’t know anything.”
“You have to know something. You’ve managed to get this far in life.” As I said it, I wanted to take the words back. Pretty girls with nice bodies don’t have to know much to get through life. They learn early on how to manipulate men because we are total suckers.
I shook my head.
“I can’t believe you just killed that guy,” Rhonda said. “He was just a kid.”
“He tried to crack my skull open.”
“We paid him to do that. You’re not a real person, so what difference does it make?”
“What makes you think I’
m not a real person?”
“Because you’re a copy of the other Brett.”
“How do you know he’s not a copy of me?”
“Because he told us.”
“Well, I’m telling you he is the copy. What do you say to that?”
“He told us first.”
“And that makes him right?”
“I don’t know. I’m so confused.”
“Who on the Council sent you to take me out?”
“The real you’s father.”
I should have known.
I shook my head. It always came back to my old man. The bastard hated my guts, and now he created a replacement, so I needed to go bye-bye.
“Hold on,” I said.
“What?” Rhonda asked.
“You two were watching out for me in Galveston before I came back from Fiji.”
“Yeah, so?”
“When did you get there?”
“About a year ago, I guess. Why?”
“You’ve been watching me for a year?”
“Off and on.”
“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
They both shrugged.
“When did you first see that there were two of me?”
“Your father called us when you left Fiji.”
“And he told you to kill me.”
“He told us to kidnap you, and make you feel special before we killed you. Then we were supposed to reanimate you and take you to the Council.”
“But why would he have you watch me for a year? That’s about when I first arrived in Galveston.”
“He didn’t tell us.”
“You didn’t need to know,” I said, nodding. “Do you have a number to call him?”
“Of course.”
“Give it to me.”
“It’s in my phone,” Melissa said.
“Mine, too,” Rhonda said. “Don’t you have your father’s number?”
“He changed it.”
“Not for us.”
“He changed the number I had. He probably has other numbers. He’s that kind of asshole. Now get me the number.”
Melissa got out of bed. She looked phenomenal in that negligee. Nice long, shapely legs that went all the way to heaven. She went into the bathroom.
I followed her.
She reached into her purse, and pulled out a gun.
