She was a strong woman. Confident. Capable. She was independent, so much so that she was willing to defy her father the king for what she thought was right.
I didn’t just respect that about her, I cherished that part of her.
In truth, if I were ever to marry again, that was what I’d want in a wife.
Not a woman who was loyal to me, who wouldn’t speak up if I was out of line, but a woman who would tell me like it is. A woman who would be honest with me from square one, not wait until we’d traveled to square three hundred and fifty-five to tell me I’d screwed up on the first one.
I believe love has to be honest, even when it hurts.
I laughed a little under my breath.
Yeah, my feelings for Layla were growing all the time. But there was also tension, anxiety tightening around my heart.
How could I even begin to entertain it if there was a prophecy that stated our love would mean the deaths of thousands?
Chapter Thirty
“What a day,” I said as I stepped out of the car. Layla walked around, hooked her hand into my arm, and kissed me on the cheek.
“Should we get a bite to eat?” she asked.
I nodded. “It’s Tuesday. Reuben night at O’Donnell’s.”
“What’s a Reuben?” Layla asked cocking her head.
“Ever have corned beef?”
Layla shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve had corn, and I’ve had beef. I don’t see why it would be appealing to mix those two things.”
I laughed. “Honestly, I don’t know why they call it that. But it’s not just corn and beef. O’Donnell’s has the leanest corned beef I’d ever had. Two toasted pieces of sourdough, a little sauerkraut, and something like Thousand Island dressing.”
Layla laughed. “You sound like a Reuben aficionado.”
I smirked. “I suppose I am. I get one almost every Tuesday. Tell you what, why don’t you head on in and get us a table? I’ll run up and feed Agnus. If he doesn’t eat right on time, we’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Sounds like a deal.” Layla kissed my cheek again and entered the door to the pub. The door to the apartments above was inconspicuous, a plain metal door about fifty feet down the sidewalk from the pub entrance.
The door was slightly cracked. Not the first time that had happened. A couple of college kids shared an apartment on one side of the hall. We didn’t talk much. They knew I was a minister. People got weird around me when they learned that.
I reached the top of the stairs and had to do a double-take.
I hadn’t left my apartment door open. I was sure of that. I always shut it and locked it. Even if I hadn’t, Agnus would have.
I stepped through my door and gasped. The place looked like it had been ransacked by the Tasmanian Devil.
“Agnus?” I yelled.
No response.
I looked over, and his bowl of water had been dumped out.
There was a little blood on the floor. Not much. I hoped it wasn’t his.
“Agnus!” I shouted again.
My books had all been pulled from their shelves. My refrigerator was open. Whoever had broken in was looking for something.
I didn’t have to wonder what it was.
Sure, break-ins weren’t particularly uncommon in the city. However, the timing of this, not to mention that my television was still in place and I didn’t notice anything of value missing, meant it was not an ordinary break-in.
Then I saw it—a piece of paper that looked like the title page of one of my books had been ripped out.
Something was scribbled on it, but I didn’t recognize the characters. It had to be elvish, and it just confirmed what I suspected.
Hector had broken into my apartment looking for the Blade of Echoes.
Did he take Agnus? The door was open. He could have fled.
But there was blood.
I’d have closed and locked my door, but it had been kicked open, and the frame was busted where the deadbolt locked into place.
I ran out the door and raced down the stairs.
I dashed into the pub and found Layla sitting in one of the booths. They had pictures of old Irish bare-knuckle fighters on the walls, and one of them hung in our booth.
That was what I wanted to do. Be one of those guys, tough guys, and kick Hector’s ass.
“What’s wrong?” Layla asked as I sat down and dropped the note Hector had left in front of her.
“I assume this is elvish?” I asked.
Layla sighed. “I should have known he’d try something like this.”
“What does it say?”
Layla sighed. “He has Agnus.”
I slammed my fist on the table. “That fucker! What exactly did he write?”
Layla bit her lip. “The cat put up quite the fight, I must say. I can assure you, he is well. If you want him back, bring me the Blade of Echoes. Meet me at the elven gate one hour before sunset on the next full moon.”
I sighed. “That’s it?”
“There’s another note for me. He said my father is quite disappointed that he’ll have to indict his daughter for treason if we do not deliver the Blade of Echoes as Hector demanded.”
I stood up from the booth.
“Caspar, where are you going?”
“We have to get Agnus back.”
“Caspar, sit back down.”
“That asshole kidnapped my cat. Or catnapped him, or whatever.”
“You heard what he wrote,” Layla said. “We’ll get Agnus back when we deliver the Blade of Echoes.”
“You can’t seriously think that’s an option. I mean, Agnus is Agnus. But to risk our entire world to save my cat? Why would he think we’d agree to that?”
“Just sit down, Caspar. We can’t get him back tonight. And we need to eat.”
I took a deep breath and reluctantly sat back in my seat. “Your ex is a dick, by the way.”
Layla laughed. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how you can remain so calm.”
Layla shrugged. “I suspected something like this would happen. I mean, not that he’d take Agnus. But he and I, we were trained together. I know him well enough to anticipate his moves.”
“You still haven’t told me what you sorted out with King Nothing at the fair today.”
Layla had just opened her mouth to speak when a voice interrupted us.
“Welcome to O’Donnells. Reverend Cruciger, I presume you’ll take the usual?”
“Make that two,” Layla said. “I’m trusting him on this one.”
The waitress’ name was Donna. I always liked Donna. She was a rough-around-the-edges sort of woman with dark red hair, fair skin, and broad shoulders. She looked like she could hold her own against any of the Irish fist-fighters depicted in the pictures that hung around the pub. But she had a kind heart. She was there when I sat in this very pub, drinking myself into oblivion after my wife left. She never judged, always listened. Donna was good people.
Donna smiled at Layla. She knew the significance of me having a meal in public with a woman. Sure, I’d had meals with church members, but never just one female. “You’ll love the Reuben, trust me. He wouldn’t be down here every Tuesday if it wasn’t the best in town.”
“Could I get a side salad with that, too?” Layla asked.
“Sure, anything to drink?”
“Just water, please.”
“Iced tea with lemon,” I added.
“It’s on the way, Reverend.”
“Just Caspar,” I said. “Not ‘reverend’ anymore.”
Donna cocked her head. “What happened?”
I chuckled. “The powers that be decided I wasn’t enough of a prick to be one of them.”
“I’m sorry,” Donna said. “But who needs those dicks anyway?”
I smiled. “Right.”
“Well, if you need something to do, we just had a bartender quit.”
I chuckled. “I’m five years
sober, Donna.”
She shrugged. “So am I.”
I grinned. Donna was the one who’d told me about the AA meetings. She didn’t attend quite as frequently as I did, and she had a few more years than five under her belt, but who was counting? I suppose we all do. That’s why they give us little coins every year with a Roman numeral on them to signify our years of sobriety. At the end of a year, I usually turned my coin in to the group when I got my new one. You didn’t have to do that. But I figured the coin would do better in someone else’s hands in the future than collecting lint in my underwear drawer.
Donna had joked that since my coin had a V on it corresponding to the Roman numeral five, I’d have to cash in my “v-chip” with her by the end of the year.
A subtle joke about losing my virginity to her. Wasn’t going to happen, and she wasn’t at all serious about it.
Hell, I wasn’t a virgin anyway, but that was the sort of humor that Donna had.
It was also something I appreciated about her. She wasn’t shy about speaking her mind, being herself, even if it meant being a little crass at times. She didn’t change who she was because she knew I’d been a minister. Donna was Donna. Love her for who she is, or don’t love her. It was, I thought, an admirable quality.
“I’ll keep the job offer in mind,” I said.
“You know, Casp, the Big Book says that if you’re in a fit spiritual condition, you should be able to be around alcohol, even go to parties or bars, without so much as a desire to drink.”
“I know, I know. It says.”
“Sorry,” Donna said, turning to Layla. “We don’t normally talk program in front of other people. It’s a part of the anonymity of it all. But he mentioned his five years.”
“It’s okay,” Layla said. “I understand.”
Donna nodded. “Well, if you decide to take the job, let me know. I can’t hold it for you if a good hire comes in.”
I laughed. “I’ll give you an answer soon. I promise.”
Layla looked at me blankly as Donna walked away.
“Take the damn job, Caspar.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Don’t we have bigger issues in play right now aside from my employment?”
“We have nothing we can do about it for a few weeks yet,” Layla said. “And don’t you have bills to pay?”
I sighed. “I suppose so. But don’t we need to work on our plan with whatever time we have?”
Layla reached in her pocket and threw the Blade of Echoes onto the table. It looked like she’d polished it. Most of the dark-green patina had been rubbed off. “I’ve got it handled.”
“How, Layla?”
“Touch the Blade,” Layla said.
I cocked my head. “All right.”
I reached out and touched it. It felt cool to the touch. “Am I supposed to sense something?”
“Not at all,” Layla said. Then she reached out and threw another identical knife on the table. “Touch this one.”
“You had a duplicate made? That’s why you wanted to go see the blacksmith at the fair?”
“That’s why it took so long. Just touch it.”
I reached out and touched the second Blade. It felt warm, tingling a little at my touch.
Layla smiled wide. “This is the real one.”
“So you plan to give Hector the fake? Layla, that’s not going to work. He’s adept with magic like you are.”
“Touch the real Blade again.”
I touched it. Layla reached out and put her hands on the second Blade. She looked over her shoulder, and her hands glowed for a moment.
“Now touch the fake.”
I touched it. It felt warm now, too. I felt the same tingle. “It feels the same as the real one.”
Layla nodded. “The Blade of Echoes, the real one, contains more magic than you could wield, enough to possibly power a whole world. But all you can sense is what is on the surface, what’s accessible at the moment. You can feel what you are capable of drawing from it this instant. All we need to convince Hector to make the swap is to invest the fake Blade with enough magic that he’ll think it’s real but not enough that he could use it to create a gateway for the elven legions.”
“That’s not a bad plan,” I said.
“Of course it isn’t,” Layla said. “But here’s the trick. Touch the fake Blade again.”
I did. Now it was cool. “The magic is gone.”
“You absorbed it. We need to charge the fake enough so that no matter what Hector does with it before returning to New Albion, he won’t drain it of its power.”
“So, we have to go back to Meramec Springs.”
Layla nodded. “But we have to be sneaky about it. Hector will be watching us.”
Donna set two glasses on the table, Layla’s water and my tea.
“No ice?” Layla asked.
“I can get you ice,” Donna said.
“Sorry.” I laughed. “This is an authentic Irish pub. Not one of those chains.”
“Ice is sort of an American thing,” Donna said.
“You don’t have an accent,” Layla said.
“I grew up here. My parents own this place. They insist on doing everything authentically. They still don’t understand why Americans insist on drinking ice-cold water.”
“It’s okay,” Layla said. “I prefer it a little warmer. I was curious.”
“See?” Donna said, looking at me. My tea had ice in it. She was used to my request to have my drinks served cold. “There’s a good reason for drinking water warm. It’s easier on the stomach.”
I shrugged. “Maybe so, but I’ll never get used to it.”
Donna smiled, “No harm, no foul, Caspar.”
“By the way,” I added. “When could I start working?”
Donna shrugged. “I don’t suspect you have any bartending experience?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. I mean, I know how to pour a glass of beer with minimal froth.”
“An important skill,” Donna said. “There’s a lot to learn. But if we can do late afternoons when it’s a bit slower before the dinner and late-night crowds, we could get you started tomorrow.”
“How much is the pay?” I asked.
Donna shrugged. “Well, it isn’t great, but you’ll get tips. Plus, since we own the building, we might be able to sweeten the pot and waive your rent as long as you’re working here.”
My jaw dropped. “You’d waive my rent payment?”
“Sure. You’ll still be on the hook for utilities, though.”
“It’s a deal. Anytime tomorrow afternoon?”
“After the lunch rush. Say, two o’clock.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Don’t be late. The traffic from your apartment can be hell.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, those stairs. Speaking of which, someone broke into my apartment today.”
Donna cocked her head. “Really? Did you lose much?”
“My cat is missing,” I said.
“Oh, no!”
I sighed. “Other than that, not much. But the doorframe is busted.”
Donna reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Not supposed to use this while waiting tables, but I’ll get my Uncle Seamus on it straight away.”
I nodded. Seamus was part of the O’Donnell family, but he didn’t live here and didn’t work at the pub. I’d met him a handful of times. He took care of the maintenance issues. “Thanks, Donna.”
“He’ll have it fixed before you finish your Reubens.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“He’s pretty handy. Your Reubens should be ready in another ten minutes or so.”
“I can’t wait,” Layla said. “I’m starving.”
Chapter Thirty-One
My stomach churned even as I enjoyed my Reuben. Not just from my over-indulgence in fried Twinkies earlier, but from worrying about Agnus.
“We’ll get him back,” Layla said, wiping a glob of Thousand Island dressing from her cheek with a na
pkin.
“I trust you,” I said. “And I know we have a decent plan. It isn’t like he’s never spent any nights without me. He’s done that several times. But I can’t imagine Hector is treating him well. What if Agnus runs his mouth like he’s prone to do?”
“Hector won’t hurt him,” Layla said. “And I suspect he’ll treat your cat well. One thing about elves, even those as pretentious and dick-headed as Hector, is that honoring and respecting all creatures, even the trees, is at the heart of our dogma and beliefs.”
I cocked my head. “And creating tornadoes, hurricanes, and truck-sized hail isn’t going to screw with our planet and kill animals? And don’t humans count as animals?”
“A fair point,” Layla said. “That’s the thing. If the elves followed their dogma correctly, they’d have to honor and embrace humans and even orcs, but as you’ve noted, when it comes to war, all other principles seem to go out the window.”
I scoffed. “Sounds familiar. I mean, in the church, we always preached that God loved the world. But so many people think the world only includes people who meet certain expectations, who look a certain way, who believe the right stuff. Sorry, not trying to get preachy or anything.”
“No,” Layla said. “I can relate.”
“Well, I suppose it’s good to know that humans don’t have a monopoly on hypocrisy.”
“We all have our spirituality,” Layla said. “I mean, on a certain level. Everyone has something, some core principle that motivates them. But some beliefs are nonsensical.”
“Like what?” I asked.
Layla shrugged. “You have your god. We have our beliefs. But some things aren’t worth worshipping. Like a doorknob. You might decide to make a doorknob your god, but that’s a pretty pitiful one unless opening and closing doors is the meaning of the universe.”
I laughed. “That makes sense. If we believe in any kind of god, the bigger, the better. But if we worship something bigger than ourselves, we have to also be able to admit that things won’t always make perfect sense.”
Layla took another bite of her Reuben. “Because any divinity worth worshipping is by definition, bigger than our definitions. Big enough, perhaps, to encompass many definitions.”
I nodded and smirked. “Provided that those definitions are encompassed by love. Maybe not a love we all understand or one that fits our expectations. Even when things in this world don’t make sense and it seems like there is no god, if we trust that a benevolent and loving but also infinite and transcendent deity who is bigger than the moment is at work in our lives, then we can trust that we’ll make it through whatever we’re going through.”
Who Let the Dogma Out (The Elven Prophecy Book 1) Page 17
