by Joshua Roots
“They still have those?” Dad asked.
“Apparently.”
“Why not let Devon reach out to the Canadian ambassador to speed your entry into the States?”
“I’d prefer to fly under the radar. Steve doesn’t think Makha will waste resources hunting us down, but something about the swiftness of this whole thing smells bad. I’d rather be overly cautious. Best to use the back door while his attention is elsewhere.”
“Back door meaning the Underground.”
“Yes.”
“Ah.” He sounded like he hated the idea, but at least he didn’t question it. Instead, his voice was muffled as he spoke to someone on his end. “Okay, your mother will send you funds.”
“Ask him if he’s eaten,” Mom shouted in the background.
“Please tell her I’m fine,” I said before Dad repeated it.
He laughed softly. “So how long till you get home?”
“If all goes well, a couple days at most.”
“Devon wants to meet when you arrive.”
I swore under my breath. “So this is how it ends, huh? Years of trying to overcome my childhood mistakes, only to get drummed out because of something none of us saw coming.”
“You don’t know that yet,” he replied. “The Elders will meet soon and I have no doubt your future will be one of the many, many topics of conversation.”
“I won’t hold my breath.”
“How about having some faith before assuming the worst.”
I kneaded my temple, willing the building headache to go away. Dealing with yet another betrayal from within, this time by Makha, was becoming exhausting. “Sorry. I guess my faith in the world is a little shaken at the moment.”
“I know.” He sounded weary. Frustrated. “Just remember that, no matter what, you’re not alone anymore.”
I wanted desperately to apologize once again. Not just for the complete collapse of the Minotaurs, but for everything I’d put him through over the years. I wanted to thank him for all the support he and Mom had given me, even when I shunned it. That I’d been working my ass off every day since my return to the Skilled world to prove myself once again worthy to carry the Shifter name. But mostly, to show him that his unflinching faith in me, especially during my darkest moments, hadn’t been misplaced.
Instead, all I could muster was, “Yes, sir.” Then, “Oh, before I forget, congrats on your promotion. I’m sorry I didn’t say that earlier. I wish I could have been there for the ceremony.”
“It was long with lots of pompous speeches about tradition. You would have hated it. But thank you.”
“Elder Shifter sounds good on you.”
He chuckled. “It’ll take some getting used to.” He spoke to someone in the background. Then to me, “Devon just arrived, so I need to go. Be safe and call me if you have any problems.”
“I will. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, son.”
I hung up, then dialed Quinn, hungry for her voice. If anyone could talk me out of this well of sadness, it was her.
The call went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know that Steve and I are fine and that we’re heading back to DC. Probably to get fired and live in a box under the 14th Street Bridge or something. By the way, my phone’s gone, so don’t bother calling it. I’ll buzz you again when I get to the town house. I...uh...really miss you, babe.” I ended the call, too emotionally exhausted to waste energy on how stupid that message sounded.
Exiting the corner booth, I walked back to the one filled with Steve’s massive form. “Mom is sending us some cash, so we won’t have to worry about that on our way back home.”
“Okay.”
The truck driver, a scrawny guy named Ray, reentered the diner. Gone was the smell of sweat and body odor. In its place was soap and strawberries.
He sidled up to the table. “Hey, boys.”
“How was the shower?”
He sniffed himself. “Needed. You get in touch with your folks?”
I handed him back his phone. “I did, thanks. Money should be here soon. We’ll pay for the gas and your meal.”
Ray shook his head. “You most certainly will not. It was the least I could do. You two looked like you’d gone through hell and back.”
“We did.”
His eyebrows pinched together.
Not wanting to get into details, I switched topics. “You still willing to take us to the border?”
“Yup, though I can’t risk sneaking you into the States. You’ll need a passport.”
“As long as we can get within a few miles of the crossing, we should be good to go.”
He eyed me skeptically. “Pretty stupid to sneak across.”
“We have ways to get where we’re going without having to deal with administrative inconveniences like a missing passport.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said.
With nothing to do but wait, I ordered a huge stack of pancakes, betting that the cash would arrive long before the diner closed. Thankfully, the odds were in my favor. As I was finishing the heavy meal, a beanpole of a girl, who was maybe fifteen at best, poked her head into the room.
“Marcus Shifter?” she asked, scanning the occupants.
I raised my hand. She smiled big and waved me over. I walked past the counter where bacon sizzled loudly on the griddle and into the small room filled with toiletries, food and an assortment of Canadian knickknacks.
The girl slipped behind the tiny counter. “Got a transfer for ya. ID, please.”
I swallowed. “Uh, will a smile work?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I lost it,” I admitted.
“But you’re Marcus, right?”
“Every inch.”
She placed a piece of paper in front of me. “It’s okay, Ray vouched for you. Sign here, please.”
Without questioning, I scratched my name on the line. She took the paper, then pulled a huge stack of currency from underneath the counter. She counted off a decent portion and slid it toward me. I pocketed the colorful Canadian bills. Paper money wouldn’t do a lick of good in the Underground, but at least it would ensure we’d get there.
“Thank you so much.”
She beamed. “My pleasure.”
Flush with cash, I returned to the booth.
“You vouched for us?” I asked the driver. “You hardly know us.”
He laughed. “I’ve spent most of my life on the road and have learned how to tell the difference between a vagrant and someone down on their luck. You two just need a helping hand is all.”
Man, I love Canada.
“Well, thank you.”
He gripped the brim of his hat, tipping it slightly. “So, you boys ready to hit the road?”
Steve just shrugged.
“Seems we are.” I left a huge tip for the waitress, then followed our savior out to his ride.
* * *
An hour later we were bouncing along the highway, grooving to classic rock. I rode shotgun while Steve stretched out in the sleeping compartment of the big rig. I’d never been inside a cab like it before and was blown away by all the goodies inside. Ray had everything a man on the go could want, from a mobile Wi-Fi spot to state-of-the-art glass displays to a wicked speaker system. Led Zeppelin wailed in hi-def surround sound, making me feel like I was in the front row of their concert.
Ray opted to sing along with the band instead of chat. At first his off-key warbling was grating, but the longer we rode, the more I appreciated the lack of conversation. Not that I didn’t like the guy. Heck, I was willing to marry him and have little trucker babies for all he’d done for us. But the quiet time allowed me to finally process the events of the
past couple of days. The violence, the death, and most important, the damage done to Steve. His world had just been turned upside down by someone he’d once admired. A friend had stabbed him in the back and his mother in the heart. Those were wounds that would bleed for a long time.
Yeah, my own worries were pretty miniscule in comparison. After all, the Council wasn’t my only family. I had my folks, I had Quinn, and I had a Minotaur best friend who’d just been stripped bare emotionally. My future might be in question, but I had a support base to fall back on. And so did Steve. No matter where the chips fell, I’d make absolutely sure that he knew we, his other family, had his back.
I’m not sure when I dozed off, but I was jerked awake when the air brakes hissed. I blinked, wiping the sleep from my eyes. My head pounded with the might of a hundred jackhammers.
Stupid Skill hangover.
Not that I was surprised. I’d been running on fumes since the night before, so it was only a matter of time before I paid the price. The fact that it had taken this long to finally hit me was almost gratifying.
Almost.
“Wazzup?” I asked, my mouth dry and sticky.
“Traffic,” Ray grumbled, gazing at the taillights ahead of us.
“You get it a lot up here?”
“In the cities, sure. Not on this stretch of the road. It’s pretty remote.”
“I’m from DC. Every road has traffic.”
He looked at me. “I’d go nuts living in a place like that. Give me an open highway and some tunes on the radio and I’m a happy, happy man.”
I closed my eyes, wishing away the pain in my head. “I’d be happy with some Advil.”
“Center console. Blue bottle.”
Saints be praised.
“You’d have made a heck of a Boy Scout, Ray.” I opened the bottle and popped two pills.
We inched along, the rig hurking and jerking as Ray released, then reapplied the brakes. Twenty minutes passed. Then forty.
“This is ridiculous,” he said.
I began to agree, but the words died in my throat. Instead, I stared at the scene on the side of the road. “Pull over.”
He raised his eyebrows, but eased the truck onto the shoulder.
“Steve, you’ll want to see this.” I opened the door and hopped down. Steve emerged from the back of the cab, frowning when he followed my gaze.
Dozens of Minotaurs were walking down the shoulder of the highway. Cars slowed to stare at them. Some honked and waved, others just watched them in wonder.
Steve brushed by me, calling to the nearest group. They dropped immediately to their knees when they saw him. He barked again and they rose, albeit slowly.
“Stay here,” I said to Ray, then jogged over. Steve was deep in conversation with a female holding a hideously ugly baby.
“They’re refugees,” Steve translated as the lady continued to talk. Minotaurs gathered around us, each staring wide-eyed at him. “Apparently there’s a contingent still loyal to the Al—my mother. They fled when they realized what was happening.”
“How many?” I asked. He relayed the question.
“She doesn’t know exact numbers, but a small fraction of our population. Most will follow the command of the Alpha, no matter who bears the title. Still, this is amazing.” He glanced at me. “Minotaurs are loyal. We don’t abandon our people, especially in times of crisis.”
“So?”
He waved a hand at the refugees. “Look how many there are, Marcus.”
“A few dozen.”
“Exactly. A few dozen willing to sacrifice everything for what they believe in.”
I mulled over his words, then it dawned on me. “Changing times.”
He smiled for the first time since we’d left his homeland. “I think so.”
“A handful of Minotaurs won’t make much of an impact if Makha is wielding thousands of troops.”
“No, but it’s a start.”
“Heir!” someone shouted. Steve and I turned as Enneticia and Lythos pushed through the crowd. “By the gods, Heir, I am glad you are alive,” the latter said.
The warrior woman, her arm still heavily bandaged, just glowered at me. “Human.”
“Good to see you both,” Steve replied. “What are you doing here? I thought you were flanking the enemy.”
Lythos deflated. “I was, but as our forces gathered, I realized many of our people were fleeing. Enneticia and I agreed that someone needed to help them find safe passage. I gave my second-in-command a brevet promotion, then we led as many clansmen as we could away from the fight.” He swallowed. “I am...sorry if I betrayed her trust. Or yours.”
“As am I,” the other said, head low.
Steve put his hands on both their shoulders. “It was a losing battle. Most of my mother’s forces were decimated by the time she deployed you. Had you two not gotten our people out, they may very well have fallen to Makha’s blade. You absolutely did the right thing.”
Lythos offered a small grin. “Thank you, Heir.”
Enneticia placed her good fist on her massive chest. “We are yours to command to the death. What are your orders?”
Steve surveyed the refugees once more. “Ray,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Can you fit these guys in the cargo container?”
The trucker shook his head. “Nope, but gimme a sec.”
He disappeared into the cab, reemerging a moment later and coming over to us. “Okay, I made a few calls. We should be good to go in a little bit.”
Steve nodded, then bellowed loudly at the group. The Minotaurs bowed. It took a great deal of effort to convince them to quit genuflecting.
“Your pal famous or something?” Ray asked as the ring of Minotaurs continued to grow.
I smiled, glad to see some life back in my friend’s eyes. “You could say that.”
“Marcwa!” a small voice shouted, and a brown blur slammed into my waist. I whimpered as a tiny head clipped my Danger Area, but grinned when Clack looked up at me. His father pushed through the crowd, while Click waved violently from within his dad’s arms.
“Pretty famous yourself, apparently,” Ray said.
“I’m a rock star to about twelve people.”
He laughed.
On the other side of the highway, where traffic was almost nonexistent, loud horns blared. I shifted to follow the noise, hauling Clack with me since he refused to let go. A pair of eighteen-wheelers pulled onto the far shoulder. I raised my eyebrows at Ray, who grinned.
“I called in a couple favors.”
“You realize you’re only reinforcing the stereotype that all Canadians are nice.”
He shrugged. “There are worse reputations. Now then, let’s load up your folks.”
* * *
A few hours later, the rig hissed to a stop. Leaning around Clack, who still hadn’t released his grip on me, I popped open the door and eased to the ground. Ray jogged around to the back of the trailer and flung open the double doors. Steve’s people blinked and descended cautiously. The stench of sweaty Minotaur assaulted my nose.
Ray moved to my side as the other two trucks pulled up behind us. “This is the middle of nowhere, Marcus.”
I peered into the thick woods. “Precisely.”
He frowned. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Not usually, but this time? Yes.”
Steve emerged from the second truck and began corralling his people. He spoke with Lythos and Enneticia who took a head count. When they finished, he gave me a thumbs-up.
I held my hand out to Ray. “Thank you for everything.”
He gripped it. “My pleasure. Not every day you get to brag about picking up a Warlock and a troop of Minotaurs. This is definitely going into my memoirs.”
“I’d buy that book.”
He laughed.
“Listen, if you ever find yourself in DC, look me up.” I handed him a napkin that I’d written my contact information upon. “I want to repay your kindness.”
He folded the napkin and tucked it into his pocket. “I get to the States from time to time, so I may just give you a ring. Good luck out there.”
We shook hands one last time, then I waved the crowd of mythological beasts closer. They shuffled forward while Steve walked to my side. Lythos and Enneticia remained on the perimeter, watching for any signs of danger.
“Okay, for those I haven’t formally met yet, I’m Marcus Shifter and I work for the Delwinn Council.”
I paused while Steve translated.
“First, allow me to apologize for what happened. Bloodshed is never easy, especially when it happens on your doorstep. But I’m sure that the Heir here appreciates your loyalty to his mother and to him.”
Steve gave me a sideways glance, but repeated my words. Or so I assumed.
“The next couple of days will be difficult, however, if we stick together, we’ll be fine. I doubt Makha’s forces will concern themselves with us just yet, so with any luck, we can reach the Delwinn Council and get you under their protection before you’re in danger.
“That said, we have to travel through the Underground to reach our destination. For those unfamiliar with it, the Underground is a seedy hotbed of filth and crime. It’s also a crazy melting pot for the paranormal world. You’re going to meet species you’ve only heard of before and many of them will be curious about you and your clan. Others may fear you. I ask that you please do your best to avoid conflict and remember to travel with the group. Do not, under any circumstance, go off on your own. The Heir and I can only do so much, so if you break off from the pack, we might not be able to come find you. Also, at every stop along the way, let me or the Heir do the talking. If you have any issues, any at all, please come to us. Are there any questions?”
Steve finished speaking and I scanned the crowd. Large eyes stared back. A single hand lifted from somewhere in the middle of the pack.
“Yes, uh, Mister Click’s Dad.”
