Bare Bones

by Debra Dunbar

  I swear this expedition was going to take us five years at the rate we were going. Either that or two months from now we’d be informed that our rivals, the Evil Shadow Guys or something or other, had arrived before we had and were waving the Heaven’s Shard in the air and dancing around in triumph. Meanwhile we would still be slogging through the marshes looking for this pointy-hat dude’s stupid scroll.

  “We don’t have time for this,” I told the group. “The mage can hire some other adventurers, we’ve got a quest to finish and a tight timeline here.”

  “He’s got an amulet he’ll give us to help in retrieving the Heaven’s Shard,” Truman chimed in. “And he’ll outfit us and provide us with a group teleportation spell when we return. That means we don’t have to deal with the mountain passes, the orcs or the ogres. Win-win. And we won’t lose any time at all.”

  If the mage came through, that is. I had a bad feeling we’d return to find him dead, or suddenly impoverished and unable to provide us with all he promised. After all, an amulet, a group teleportation spell, and food and supplies for a group of six seemed far more than this stolen scroll was worth.

  I lifted my hands in frustration. “Did nobody learn from the fourth Crusade?”

  They all stared at me. “Don’t hire Flemish mercenaries?” Truman guessed.

  The fourth Crusade had been doomed from the start. Venice had promised to provide transport ships with the understanding that the participating rulers would provide a certain recompense. When faced with a papal invoice, suddenly the enthusiasm for the mission dried up and scads of highborn found they had to wash their hair that particular year and couldn’t attend. Or send money.

  That left Venice high and dry with a ton of ships and a buyer with empty pockets. The Doge bargained and the Crusaders found themselves with a side quest in lieu of immediate and full payment—reconquer the city of Zara for Venice from the King of Hungary. I didn’t really blame them for that detour since their empty pockets left them with few options. It was the following second side quest that had historians pulling their hair out.

  Flush with victory at Zara, the crusaders jumped at the chance to overthrow the Emperor of Constantinople and place the rightful heir back on the throne. Said rightful heir did have a sad tale of cruel uncles, blinding, and imprisonment right out of a fairy tale, but a good chunk of the crusaders were reluctant to march against a Christian foe—even if they were Eastern Orthodox and technically fair game. The party split in two, with half heading to Jerusalem via Syria, and the other half taking over a year to beat their way into Constantinople and restore Alexius to the throne.

  The new emperor promptly stiffed them and locked them out of the city. The crusaders found themselves having to winter in a hostile Mediterranean port with dwindling supplies.

  The other half of the crusading party had arrived in a timely fashion at Syria. They were soundly beaten on the way to Jerusalem, wondering the whole time where there backup had gotten to. The whole thing fell apart. Both groups splintered, some taking cities here and there, others returning home.

  It was an abysmal failure, and one I wasn’t about to repeat in this Anderon game.

  “Basically half the Crusaders went on a side quest, which turned into several side quests. Fast forward several years and they’re all broke. Nobody made it to Jerusalem. Don’t be the forth Crusade. Don’t be distracted by side quests.”

  Everyone stared at me as if I had walked in off the street and stole their puppy. Zac smothered a grin. “The mage is waiting for your response. Are you going to take him up on his offer, or head to the mountains?”

  “We’re not going to be able to retrieve the Heaven’s Shard without that amulet,” Truman comment. “I’m voting for the side quest.”

  “Me too,” Brandi chimed in. “With the teleportation spell we don’t have to deal with the orcs and ogres in the mountain pass.”

  I put my head in my hands in disbelief. “When it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. We can take any orcs or ogres we encounter. And we don’t need the amulet.”

  “That’s two for and one against,” Zac commented. “The mage is getting impatient. He’s looking at his time piece, tapping his foot.”

  “I’m in,” Chris chimed in.

  “Me too,” Leon added.

  Michelle shot me a guilty look. She was always my staunchest supporter, but it seemed peer pressure had gotten to my only ally in this game. “I’m for the side quest.”

  “Five for and one against.” Zac rolled the dice. “The mage claps his hands together and says ‘splendid.’ He hands each of you a small bag of coin and gives Bartholomew a map.”

  “I check the map,” Leon, better known as Bartholomew the Druid, said.

  “I count the coin.” Brandi’s Halfling thief always counted the coin. Or appraised any object we encountered. We could be right in the middle of a deadly battle and our thief would sit down in the dirt to examine a piece of pottery for value.

  Well, I was hardly going to take on the orcs and ogres of the mountain pass solo, so I guess I was going on a side quest. I grumbled under my breath about the Forth Crusade then got down to business, listening as the mage told us the details about who had this scroll and where it was hidden. I foresaw many weeks of unexpected attacks, chests with poisoned locks and probably some undead. We might never get to Gauden to retrieve the Heaven’s Shard, but at least we’d have a fun adventure not getting there.

  Zac shot me a quick glance, one eyebrow raised. “Are you going?”

  I pouted, just for show. “Might as well go kill stuff. It’s got to be better than hanging out in this tavern waiting for any surviving members of my party to return.”

  He grinned. “Then go spend your coin, half dragon. We don’t have all night here.”

  We didn’t. Even though I didn’t need to meet Dario, I was watching the clock carefully. Thankfully the game was due to wrap at about nine, because I had a few things on my agenda tonight—beginning with a long overdue talk with Zac.

  We wrapped for the evening, everyone chatting excitedly about plans to retrieve this scroll then roll in the piles of money we were going to earn. I helped Zac clean up the plates and beer bottles, lingering until everyone had left.

  He eyed me hopefully. Crap.

  “I’m meeting Janice and Sean for a cup of coffee but wanted to talk to you first.” I had no idea how to do this, so I just jumped in with both feet. “I’ve been really unfair to you in this whole ‘us’ thing. You’ve been patient, but I know you want us to be a romantic couple and I’m the one putting on the brakes.”

  “It’s the cop, isn’t it?” Zac interrupted. “I knew it.”

  Oh Lord. “No, it’s not Tremelay. But there is someone else. It can’t be. He and I are never going to work out, but I can’t seem to put aside my feelings for him and move on with someone else. It’s not fair for you to be hanging out on the sidelines waiting for something that may never come.”

  “An old boyfriend?” Zac pressed. “Someone at the coffee shop?”

  This was getting uncomfortable, and I needed it to be okay. I wanted to continue playing in the Anderon game and being friends with these people. Somehow I needed to make this right.

  “No, but I do need to see him every evening in a business-related capacity. I acted as a supernatural consultant for the police in the death mage killings last month, and as the city’s resident Templar, it’s my duty to protect the humans from supernatural elements that would cause them harm.”

  Zac’s eyes widened in wary understanding. “Your family used to be Templars during the crusades, but that’s history, right? Like how my family fought in the Spanish American War?”

  “We were Templars during the crusades and we still are. We still fight the paranormal, guard the Temple, protect Pilgrims on the Path. The others do that under the direction of the Council of Elders. I do it on my own.”

  He thought I was crazy, some delusional vigilante Templar, only with a real sword and
armor. It was one thing to indulge in fantasy every Wednesday night in role-playing games or participate in the occasional LARP, it was another to put on a spandex jumpsuit and run around Baltimore ridding the city of evil. It all flashed across his face—shock, disbelief, and relief that he’d found out what a nutjob I was before our romance had gone too far.

  “And the guy you’ve got feelings for…?” he asked, waiting for confirmation of my psychotic state.

  “He’s a vampire. That’s why we can only meet at night and why our relationship will never work.”

  “I see.” He nodded. “Thanks for letting me know this. I totally understand. I mean, how could I ever compete with a vampire?”

  “We good?” I hoped I hadn’t gone too far and would find myself uninvited to all the activities I’d grown to love.

  “Sure. You’re our ace-in-the-hand when it comes to LARP, and everyone enjoys your Anderon character. Michelle talks with fairies, so it’s not like you’re all that different.”

  Great. I forced a smile, deciding a parting hug would probably be out of the question. “Next Wednesday?”

  Zac nodded. “Next Wednesday. See you then.”

  For all his fantasy game fixation, Zac was a regular guy with a good job and a nice row house. He didn’t need a girlfriend who had dead, skinned bodies topple out of closets on her, or who tracked down demons and killer mages.

  I left, knowing there was one more unpleasant task before me this evening before I could crawl into bed. I had somewhere to be. Coffee with Janice and Sean. Yes, I’d rather have my teeth extracted than sit across the table from two lovebirds, especially given the uncertainty of my own love life right now, but Janice wanted me to meet him. She wanted my opinion on her new man before she got too invested in the relationship, and I did want to help. She’d had a dry spell nearly as long as mine, and with the self-esteem crusher of a divorce in her past, Janice needed reassurance that Sean was worthy of pursuit. I only hoped I could give her the thumbs-up.

  Chapter 11

  IT WAS UNBELIEVABLY awkward walking into a café solo and joining a couple. Janice and Sean sat on the same side of the table, their heads close as they spoke. Part of me wished I had invited a friend so I wasn’t so obviously a third wheel. Part of me was glad I hadn’t. The romantic overtones were thick enough to cut with my sword and anyone I brought along would have felt just as awkward as I did.

  “Hi.” I plastered a smile on my face and sat across from them. Janice turned to me, eyes shining. Her hand was intertwined with Sean’s like they’d been Crazy Glued together.

  “Oh, hi! Sean, this is my friend Aria. She was at the museum with me, but went off before I could introduce you.”

  Sean extended his hand across the table—the hand that wasn’t attached to Janice’s. “Nice to meet you. So you work at a coffee shop? And you’re a history buff?”

  I shook his hand, noticing how his eyes snagged on my Templar tattoo. Janice had said he’d mentioned it at the museum.

  “History. Folklore and mythology. That sort of thing. I work at Holy Grounds off Pratt.”

  We all nodded, smiled, and scrambled for something to say.

  “So you’re divorced?” I asked. Might as well go for the jugular.

  Sean nodded, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Two years. It wasn’t anything either of us did. I just woke up one day and realized I was a different person, you know? It wasn’t fair for either Heather or me to keep going through the motions, so we split.”

  Seemed reasonable. Seemed very responsible, actually. “And you’re a developer? Harford County?”

  Sheesh, I sounded like Janice’s mom. He appeared to be a nice enough guy, but there were real jerks out there. I might not be able to dissuade Janice from dating him if I got bad vibes from Sean, but I sure as heck would try to make sure he didn’t crush her heart.

  “Mostly commercial development. Office buildings, warehousing. I’m looking into a few opportunities for residential development in the north part of the city, though.”

  “Which is why you’re going to mayoral fundraisers.” Made sense. He’d be the new guy in town when it came to revitalization projects, and less likely to succeed unless he got on the radar of the folks at the top.

  “I figured it wouldn’t hurt to start making connections. Even if the proposed zoning changes on our property fall through, we can sit on it for a few terms and try again.” Sean raised his coffee cup in a toast. “That’s the nature of development. Eventually the right political climate comes along for what you want to do. You’ve just got to wait it out, and make sure you’re in the right place at the right time.”

  I sipped my coffee. Normal guy. Divorced. Good job. Savvy businessman. Goodlooking. What was the catch?

  He smiled warmly. “So Janice tells me you’re from Middleburg? Horse country, huh? Do you ride?”

  “Since before I could walk.” I didn’t tell him that I usually rode in plate mail while carrying a lance.

  “And you’re from a family of Templars? You trace your family back to the Crusades?”

  Oh sheesh. Did she tell him about the vampires and mages too? About demons and angels?

  “Yes. We were around before the Crusades, but that’s when we received our call to serve. My family has carried the cross ever since.”

  He leaned across the table, the friendly smile countered by the wary expression in his eyes. “So what does that mean in today’s world? The Temple was razed to the ground. It’s nothing more than ruins anymore.”

  There had been far more to the Temple than what had been visible to the naked eye. Stone might be long gone, but the Temple was still there for those with the authority to access it. Not that we made that fact generally known.

  “The Temple lives on.” I smiled and placed a hand over my heart, as though I were discussing metaphysical concepts. “And there are always Pilgrims to protect.”

  This time even the smile wavered. “Christians?”

  “Pilgrims,” I corrected. “Whoever strives to walk a righteous path regardless of what religion, or lack of religion, they follow.”

  Sean raised a skeptical eyebrow. “So who decides what a righteous path is? Sounds like something that syndicated radio host would say—the one who labels everyone who disagrees with him as sinful.”

  “Templars no longer judge right or wrong,” I told him.

  Templars didn’t, but I did. I wasn’t really sure where I was drawing the boundaries yet, but clearly I’d made a firm line in the sand when I’d judged Dark Iron and delivered my own, deadly form of justice.

  “Aria’s not one of those people who shoves her religion down other people’s throats,” Janice interjected with a nervous laugh. “Heck, I didn’t even really know she was Christian. I mean, you are Christian, aren’t you?”

  “Episcopalian.” This topic needed to go into the red zone along with immigration policy and universal healthcare. What to talk about instead, though? The weather? Sunday’s Ravens game? “Do you LARP?” I asked instead. “I’m a half dragon in a weekly Anderon game.”

  Sean blinked. “A what?”

  “So how are the police doing with that murder at the museum?” Janice chimed in, obviously realizing role-playing games were not a good conversation segue. I wasn’t sure how acceptable this topic was going to be either since the police hadn’t released the details on the murder, and I didn’t want to be the one to break it to Sean over coffee that a killer in the city was skinning his victims.

  “They haven’t been able to identify the body yet. The M.E. found a knee implant, but when they traced the serial number it came up with some guy who is very much alive.”

  “Typo in the record.” Janice wrinkled her nose. “It happens more often than you’d think. So no leads or anything?”

  “Someone was killed in the museum?” Sean interjected. “Like a gang shooting in the parking lot or something?”

  “No. Dead guy in the broom closet.” Janice seemed rather cheerful about the whole thing
. “Aria opened the door and the body fell right out on top of her.”

  I was glad she’d kept the gruesome details to herself, although Sean was wide-eyed at the mention of a corpse landing on top of me.

  “What were you doing in the broom closet?” he asked.

  Ugh. My face heated up, but before I could come up with something more plausible than the lame excuse I’d given Dario, Janice blurted it out.

  “She was sneaking in there with her boyfriend to make out. Can you imagine opening the door to a closet and having a body fall on you?”

  Sean seemed more disgusted by my attempted nookie in the broom closet than the idea of a dead body falling out of one.

  “Anyway,” I waved a hand, frantic to change the topic again. “No leads on that one, but remember that sister who called the priest to exorcise a demon from her brother? She’s dead. Boyfriend said he saw the brother fleeing the scene, and the cops think the two cases are connected.”

  Janice’s eyebrows shot up. “Amanda Lewis? Was she killed…killed in the same way as the museum guy?”

  I got where she was going with this. “No, but there were similarities and apparently the brother is friends with a person of interest from the museum case.”

  “Wow. Just wow,” Janice mused.

  “Wait. There was an exorcism? And a woman died? And that’s somehow connected to a dead body in the broom closet of the Walters Art Museum?” Sean was equally fascinated, although confused. He also appeared more worried about the idea of demonic possession than a woman murdered in her home.

  “She didn’t die at the exorcism,” I explained. “She thought her brother was possessed because he’d been acting strangely the last few days. The exorcism was a bust, and twenty-four hours later she was dead on the floor with her brother as the prime suspect.”