“I wanted to call it an Adamantine Coat,” T-Bone pointed out.
“We ain’t going comic on this shit,” I reminded him.
“But who wouldn’t want to buy an Adamantine Coat?”
“It makes you bulletproof?” Pocket asked, poking his finger into the fabric to see how thick it was.
“And knife proof!” T-Bone added excitedly. “Unless it’s plastic, then things get iffy.”
Pocket kept feeling the coat. “It just looks like a normal mancer coat.”
“Yup,” I said, man of many words.
“And it makes you bulletproof?”
“Yup.”
“You’re going to be rich.”
“If I can figure out the bugs in the system, sure.”
Pocket frowned at us. “What’s the bug?”
“Can’t move your arms when it’s active,” I supplied.
Pocket laughed and finally dropped the coat sleeve. “I can see the problem with that.”
“There’s also the whole getting shot in the face thing,” T-Bone added.
“Or the balls,” Pocket agreed.
We all winced at the thought.
“SEM-Jockstrap,” Pocket decided.
“Oh fuck off,” I growled.
“Can’t, Tyson would cry if I left you alone with him after the last week,” Pocket said, “and Miranda would find out . . . she’ll complain and you know how much she likes to complain, even if she’s not as bad as when we were in school.”
“You made up that bit about me asking her what she was wearing, right?” I asked, my eyes pleading with him to lie even if it was true.
“Sure,” he said, though I couldn’t tell one way or the other . . . which was just fine for my sanity.
“Show him the sword,” T-Bone prompted.
I glared. “We’re not showing him the sword. The sword doesn’t exist. I made the sword just to prove to you I could, so you’d stop hounding me about it and now it’s staying in a box for the rest of time.”
“But it’s awesome!” T-Bone countered.
Damn it . . . if only it wasn’t.
“I want to see your sword, dude,” Pocket said mock-serious.
“Why couldn’t Miranda call Raj?” I grumbled as I dug into a pile of misfit artifact boxes for the ‘sword.’ I recycled failed experiments . . . or ones I don’t want the world to know about. Not supposed to be making offensive weapons anyway. Guild finds out and without Ceinwyn’s backing they’ll have my ass.
“He’s busy with his mystery project. Some big breakthrough,” Pocket said.
“Oh really?”
“Why do I get the feeling you know what Raj is up to more than I do?”
Another lie I’m keeping, I thought, but deflected with, “What about Jesus?”
T-Bone frowned. “Why aren’t you saying it like a Hispanic—”
“He thinks it’s funnier to be sacrilegious, especially if the sentence in question involves Jesus and a barnyard animal,” Pocket explained.
“Where is the little, brown goatfucker?” I asked.
“He’s waiting for us where we’re heading.”
I got suspicious. “Some mysterious destination and an RV ride on a day’s notice?’
“It was already partly planned. My part at least. You kind of got added after it was okay to add you.”
“By add, you mean kidnap?”
“If you can’t find the sword, I can,” T-Bone pointed out over my lack of progress.
“I can find it,” I grumbled, returning to the boxes. “So you’re doing something awesome and you just added me to it. Does that mean my ex-girlfriend was being a . . . something or other about keeping me away from it?”
“Amazing, she’s the only woman on the planet he can’t call a bitch,” T-Bone noted.
“There are others,” Pocket supplied. “Wait until you see how he acts with Vicky Welf, it’s adorable.”
T-Bone laughed. Guy has a nerdy laugh like all the rest of him. Just barely fighting to keep it from being a Steve Urkel snort.
Pocket turned back to me, eyes accusing enough that I felt like I’d done wrong, even without saying the word. “And you know Boomworm isn’t like that.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m bleeding here; give me a band-aid or two.”
“Well, this thing we’re heading towards . . . there’s been some worry over how involved you might get if you found out about it. So—”
“The Committee for King Henry’s Safety had a meeting.”
“—So we decided to put off telling you about it until we were right up to the day itself and then part of the Committee quit and I needed to save Fresno from you being stupid, so . . . here we are! Surprised?”
“I’m over the heavy drinking, so my stupidity should go back to my normal levels,” I said, box with the ‘sword’ in one hand, coffee in the other. I tossed the box to T-Bone and took a gulp. “Try not to cut yourself this time.”
“That’s a small box for a sword,” Pocket said, curious.
“It starts small, but when it gets angry it gets really big,” I made the expected joke.
“Cock jokes, always cock jokes,” T-Bone complained.
“You can never have too many cock jokes.”
[CLICK]
“Employee,” I told Prunella, “I’m being forced to take a vacation.”
“Wasn’t a vacation what created this problem in the first place, Boss?” she innocently pointed out some flawless logic. She had a bad habit of doing that.
“Yeah, well . . . she can’t break up with me twice in one month. Got another few years until she strikes again if she keeps up the pattern.”
“So . . . am I getting a vacation too this time?”
“No, of course not. You need to man the fort, or woman the fort, or base race the fort or whatever it is you and T-Bone say when you’re talking behind my back.”
“He doesn’t like—”
“Yeah, yeah, Employee, I know. But he’s not here talking with us, is he? No, he’s with Pocket gassing up that damn RV, so I get to call him ‘T-Bone’ when he’s not around. Do it in my head too, makes me feel like a rebel.”
Prunella nodded at me like I was a crazy person, but she didn’t want me to realize she was aware of this fact. She had mostly Chinese features and body type, but light brown Anglo-Saxon eyes, both in color and shape. Her hair also had a bit of a curl to it and was a lighter shade of black. She kept it cut short, never more than six inches in length, but had refrained from bleaching or dying it blue or pink or whatever it is gamer girls do to stand out. Wear low cut shirts that show off their fake tits, all so lonely geeks will give them donations from the way T-Bone talks.
Which I think makes him sexist.
How the tides have turned!
Foul Mouth: One.
Socially Correct T-Bone: Ten-thousand, five-hundred, and twenty-two.
I feel a comeback starting!
Prunella usually wore blacks and grays that covered her up. Could’ve been just her winter wear, don’t know, only known her for three months. She was fond of cheap jewelry, rings, bracelets, earrings, and had a single nose stud, but again, nothing like a cliché hacker girl vibe with tats and studs galore.
I’d been leery of her at first, wondered if she wasn’t a spy. Paine, Guild, Asylum, Vega, Vamps . . . list of people who want to spy on me is endless anymore. Strings to the left of me, strings to the right of me. But T-Bone said she checked out and so far she hadn’t even shown a bit of interest in the artifact side of the business—though she had begged T-Bone into installing a gaming computer at the check-out counter.
“Whatever you say, Boss,” she decided. “Bit of an overused nickname though.”
“What?”
“Well, there’s T-Bone Mendez in GTA: San Andreas, T-Bone the hacker in Watch Dogs, like four or five musicians, a captain in One Piece, and wasn’t one of the SWAT Kats called T-Bone too?”
“Are you saying I’m not original, Employee?”
“You’re named King Henry . . . so there’s that. Although—”
“If you start listing King Henrys I will be forced to fire you, Employee.”
She thought about this for a bit, mouth shut. “Then who would woman down the fort?”
I studied her for a while, trying to decide if she was serious or mocking me. Like the majority of sciomancers, Prunella had an impressive poker face. I eventually gave up. “The trapdoor will be locked and booby trapped. Don’t open it. T-Bone’s room and the office and the backdoor will also be locked up. I’ll leave you a key to the front door, any packages or supplies need to come in through there until I’m back.”
“When will that be?”
“No clue.”
“Why don’t we just close it all up and—”
“If I did give you a vacation, what would you do?”
“Stay inside my apartment and play—”
“And if you have to stay here to watch over the shop what would you do?”
“Play—”
“Right, so what’s the point of you begging for a vacation?”
“I could have a boyfriend or something!”
“You had a pledge to not date anyone for the next year—for some reason I don’t understand—”
“Financial stability?”
“—horrible reasoning for not having sex, but regardless of that you couldn’t have a boyfriend unless you’re full of shit and you, Employee, are not full of shit.”
“I could just be using it to keep your animal mag—”
“Flattery won’t get you a vacation.”
She sighed, finally admitting, “I just wanted to win.”
“While I’m gone, you can use the cash register as your personal take-out food bank, happy?”
“Cool!”
“First Pocket brings ‘dude’ back into my life and now you’re ‘cool’ing me, Employee,” I grumbled to no one in particular.
“Speaking of Pocket . . .”
“He’s in a relationship,” I said.
“Lucky girl . . . those shoulders and arms are sick! I bet his abs are—”
“I’m going to go grab some of my toys for the road,” I cut her off. “Try not to spray any fluids during the little daydream you’re about to have.”
“Boss! Gross!”
[CLICK]
All alone in my underground lair, I considered my immediate future so I didn’t have to consider what was firmly in the past, all while ignoring the fact that I still hadn’t come to terms with letting loose the bottle of secrets in my head.
Fucking friends, why I have to have them? Why they got to be concerned for me? Why they make it seem so easy to make all them connections?
I went fourteen years without making real friends.
Now I couldn’t stop them from accumulating. Even Prunella . . . yet another string tied to my life, ready to be yanked and pull me down a different path. Pocket and T-Bone were both yanking the same way now.
Come with us, King Henry.
Stop thinking about Valentine.
About how she’s in London.
London . . . where Ceinwyn betrayed you.
London, where all them secrets got stuck in your throat.
Going to open up?
Going to make our strings tighter?
Can you trust anyone, King Henry?
I can trust Val.
But she left me.
Anything could be happening to her and there was nothing I could do about it.
It’s weird. I never feared for her when we were together. Always knew she could take care of herself. Never felt the urge to protect her in that macho way guys like to. She’s Boomworm, man, of course she’ll be fine.
But now . . .
All alone in the darkness.
Not even stars in the sky.
“I’m a morose motherfucker, Mini.”
The metal table in front of me formed a question mark on its surface.
“Guess you’re another one of my friends, ain’t you?”
I am best friend of Dirt King.
“Well . . . I mean . . . you’re kind of spying on me.”
Would never!
“It’s okay . . . T-Bone is too.”
Do not spy! The table proclaimed with very sharp words.
“Fine, fine, calm down and stop with the donuts, you’ll tire yourself out.”
The words disappeared, leaving me to my thoughts.
You think Pocket is spying? Besides the Committee for King Henry’s Safety. Pocket, Raj, Miranda, Jesus, and Val. Pocket says Val left, but I kind of wonder about that one. Hope she hadn’t. Meant she still cared about me. Even if she cared about Ceinwyn and the Recruiters more.
And the kids she’ll save.
I’d been thinking about that since we broke up. How many kids had Val found over the last year? I didn’t know. She might not either. But I could still imagine Val building her own little scrapbook of pictures, similar to that wall Ceinwyn keeps in her big, lonely house. Important work. Should help, right? That’s consolation, right? All those kids she’s saving in London?
Didn’t help.
Ceinwyn didn’t choose to be alone. Paine did that for her. Amis Valet, he was the love of Ceinwyn’s life. Faunamancer. Not for the first time I thought about making a trip to the Asylum and raiding the Library. Amis Valet. Obadiah Paine. Llywelyn Dale and the legacy of the Last True Dale. Anything I could find on the Divine Court or the specific Divines.
Couldn’t imagine it would be much for the Divines, even in the teacher subsection.
Would need to break into the part that only the Learning Council has access to.
Create a big fucking problem.
Get arrested.
Answers; still didn’t have any answers. Just secrets.
No answers. Just secrets.
Just hypocrisy. No girlfriend.
Put them all together and you got six or seven days of blackout.
Blackout drunk in a world with Inanina and Paine . . . just a little stupid.
Love makes you do stupid things.
Probably why it’s so overrated.
And why I’ve always run away from it.
“Don’t suppose fairies fall in love?”
Intellect gain based on anima accumulation, my table told me. No need for procreation.
“You ever have friends?”
I am your friend! You are my friend!
I smiled despite my mood. “Among other fairies, not just mancers like me or the Toymaker.”
Only those much older than me. Much, much older! Anima much too important to share!
Mini wasn’t so mini anymore. He took up a good chunk of my metal table. I didn’t have a holder for him, not like those Plutarch kept. Maybe I should steal one of those too. No, Mini ate off of the anima that collected around the Shaky Stick.
The Jinshin Ken of Hiroto Arashi.
Earthquake Sword.
World-Breaker.
Pez dispenser as far as Mini is concerned.
That artifact . . . taking nature anima, distilling it, making it fit for a mancer or an anima concentration to both use . . .
Fuck! It scared the shit out of me!
I just stood there some nights, staring at that metal table where it was hidden, thinking over and over: What does it mean? What does it all mean?
But I never took it up as a tool, other than to leech its anima to safe levels.
Not since Paine.
Not since Meteyos.
Meteyos could answer my questions. Better than Ceinwyn even. Better than the Lady even. The dragon knew the truth. All I had to do to have them was to take up the World-Breaker and enter the Geo Realm.
Except . . . the idea scared me shitless.
Eight months away from the place and the geo-anima I’d been saturated with was only now beginning to dissipate and only grudgingly. I could still pool a five-minute-pool at four minutes, under that if I was stressed. The idea of going back and facing Meteyos wasn’t one
I would pick up unless I was desperate.
More desperate than I was now.
Leave dealing with the dragon for a time when I got no friends. Or when I have to save one of them.
“I’m leaving for a few days.”
My table made no comment. I had a feeling it was sulking.
“If I take it, I’ll use it. If I use it then bad things could happen. You need to stay and watch it . . . watch out for the Employee too.”
My table was definitely sulking. Mini had even hidden his anima from my senses in a childish huff.
Wish I knew how he did that.
“Gonna take some toys and leave then. See you when I get back.”
Nothing.
Great, now inanimate objects are making me feel like an asshole.
Session 147
T-Bone had pre-packed clothes for the both of us.
Including my underwear . . . which might cross a line in our relationship, but I’ll let it slide this once.
My only packing was the artifacts I brought with me for my continued protection from the forces of evil. Oh . . . and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
Pretty sure the bottle was the more important of the two.
Though Pocket had stocked the RV with beer.
But really . . . beer won’t get me through a Valentine Ward breakup.
I’m going to die alone with a wilted, crooked, genital wart-ridden cock!
“Stop thinking about her,” Pocket ordered me as he pushed my ass up the steps into the RV. Which was wide and big and a very cumbersome object. The RV . . . not my ass. Although . . . kind of had to step sideways through the entrance. Geo-anima gonna make me wider than I am taller if this keeps up.
Whole situation of anima fucking with my body and my mind just made me even grumpier about life. “It would help if I actually had something else to think about. You know, beside ‘secret destination, you’ll find out when we get there.’”
T-Bone got on the RV last and shut the door behind him. He struggled with it too, ducking and turning sideways. One hand was filled with a laptop pack and the other a traditional suitcase—big one at that, kind that could fit days worth of clothes in it and dozens of them shampoo bottles you steal from hotels. The size didn’t necessarily mean anything, could just be T-Bone over-preparing like always. Or it could mean we were heading for the East Coast and would be on the road for awhile.
The Foul Mouth and the Mancy Martial Artist (The King Henry Tapes Book 5) Page 6
