by Kit Hallows
I'd thought he'd bought my story about a long steadfast career in insurance. It had always worked on everyone else in the normal world.
Dale gave a dry bitter laugh. "Takes one to know one." He tapped the side of his nose. "You thought you were the only one in the whole of this county that knew anything about magic? Didn't you?"
"It felt that way."
"I was pretty accomplished once. Years ago. Neither of my parents had a clue of course, and I tried to keep it that way. Then one day they got sick of all the weird shit that was going on and threw me out. So I ended up in the city, just like you did."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was trying to protect you, keep you off the radar. That's what Tom asked me to do. And," he waved a hand towards the fields as the moon emerged from the clouds, washing silver light over the dark earthy furrows, "sometimes this town isn't exactly the most tolerant of places. Believe me, I've dedicated more than my share of time trying to fit in round here."
"How did you know Tom? And why did he leave me here? I don't remember much about that time," I said. "Except for occasional flashes."
"Course you don't. And before you ask, I've no idea where you two came from, and Tom made it quite clear he wasn't going to tell me neither." Dale took a sip of whiskey. "Or why he trusted me to take care of you. Although that was probably desperation. He was on the run, I could see that much. Needs must as the devil drives and I was the first non-blinkered person he'd run into in this world."
"Where was that?"
"An old roadhouse halfway between here and the city. I was limping home, tail between my legs."
"Limping?"
"I'd taken a beating. A bad one. You must be pretty familiar with the magical quarters in the city by now. You ever heard of a gang called The Sons of Hades?"
I nodded. Not only had I heard of them, I'd sent more than a few of them to Stardim. And several others off to meet their makers.
"Yeah, well I was an arrogant little prick back then. Thought I was clever. Thought I could pull the wool over anyone's eyes. I got into a bit of a scheme with The Sons, tried to scam them. It was coming along really well, then suddenly it wasn't. I made a run for it but they caught up with me and worked me over good." He pointed to the crescent shaped scar on the side of his head, the same one he'd always insisted he'd gotten from a drunken horseback ride. "That's just one of many lessons they decided to teach me that day. Thankfully I managed to scrabble up enough of a conjuring to evade them and it bought me enough time to get out the city."
"What the hell did you do? Rob them?"
"Yeah. And I got away with some pretty valuable artifacts too, but looking back, it wasn't worth the risks. Or the pain. They'd have killed me, given the chance. Anyway, I was resting up in a tavern and planning to hide out there for a few nights, in the adjoining motel. That's when I ran into you and Tom and it was crystal clear neither of you belonged in this world."
"I don't remember that."
"I'm not surprised, you were like the walking dead, totally out of it. Naturally I wondered what the hell was going on, but I could see Tom was a good man, and that he meant you no harm. He was like a soldier, I remember that. Strong, straight and focused. Not someone to mess with. I figured he'd make a good ally, if the Sons of Hades turned up looking for me."
"So you approached us."
"Yeah. I saw Tom watching the blinkereds around him. My face was all sorts of red, black and purple from all the bruises, but after a while I gathered up the nerve to walk over and give him my usual spiel. He saw right through all my BS but he knew I was the only person that could help him right there. So first up I called a cab and got us the hell away from there because the local barflies were starting to pay us the wrong kind of attention. We came here, to the house. I'd started renting the place out to tenants after my parents had passed away, and they were still living here. It didn't take much to persuade them to leave."
God only knows what Tom had done to scare them off. I didn't want to ask.
"We settled in and I spent the next few weeks teaching you guys how to blend in and get by in this world. The basics of how stuff works. The TV turned out to be pretty helpful; we watched quite a bit of it, do you remember?"
"No."
"Well, we did and we had a lot of fun. Literally everything was new to you. I can still remember the look on your face when I showed you your first cartoon." He laughed and took another sip of whiskey. "Tom was grateful for my help, so me being me, I took full advantage of his gratitude and told him about my run in with the Sons of Hades. He promised to resolve my problems and not long after that, he took off to the city."
"And did he resolve your problems?"
"Yup. I don't know exactly what transpired but Tom came back with bruised knuckles, a fire in his eyes, and a promise that they were square with me. He also had a proposition. That was when he asked me to look after you. And to keep you hidden."
Dale smiled. "As you can imagine I wasn't exactly the fatherly type, but the lump of gold he waved under my nose opened up my mind to the idea pretty fast. The dealer I'd shown it to went berserk, said he'd never seen anything like it. Probably because it wasn't of this earth. Yeah, I got a lot of cold hard cash for that rock."
"And I got to live here."
"It wasn't that bad was it?"
"No. It was good until Kathy. Not to mention some of those other crazy loons you hooked up with."
"I'm sorry, I'm not the best judge of anything much."
"So Tom just dumped me here?"
"Well...he came around now and then to check on you, but over the years his visits gradually became few and far between. I could see he had a lot going on."
I nodded. That must have been when he'd met back up with Hellwyn and the other knights in their order.
"Whenever he showed up he looked like hell. Like he had all the worries of the world weighing down on his shoulders. Clearly he was in no position to take you with him, and I liked having you around so I decided to get on with it. I just did the best I could and we slowly worked our way through the money the gold had brought in."
"I'm sure Kathy accelerated that process. She definitely had an eye for the finer things in life. Especially if she didn't have to work for them. Where is she?"
Dale shook his head. "I don't know. I came back to the house one shitty cold February day to find she'd cleaned me out. Left with nothing so much as a take care scrawled in lipstick on the bathroom mirror."
"Sorry."
Dale's laugh was short and bitter. "So am I actually. I know you hated her but she was good company...sometimes."
Somehow, over all the years, I'd failed to notice a single instance.
"Anyway," Dale said, burping loudly and covering his mouth after the fact. "Tell me what you've been up to. And let's have the truth this time."
I took a long swallow of whiskey and sighed. I was tired of bullshitting, so I told him pretty much everything that had happened since I'd last seen him. Which was a lot.
"The Organization." Dale shook his head. "Thankfully I never got on their radar. Hard bastards." He held a hand up. "Present company excepted."
"That's fair. But there's a lot of even harder bastards out there, and someone's got to deal with them."
"I know. I'm just surprised to hear you signed up with them." He threw a quick, cautious glance at me, and seemed about to add something further, when he stopped. "Are you married?"
"No. I...I was with someone...." I fished into my pocket for my cell phone and brought up a picture of Willow.
"She's beautiful. And slightly wild if I'm not mistaken." He smiled. "What happened?"
I knocked back another whiskey. "She's...gone."
I knew that was misleading, dishonest and a wave of grief and anger shot through me, overwhelming the booze and tiredness. "She was murdered...I was set up."
"God that's awful, Morgan, do you know who did it?"
"A witch. Elsbeth Wyght."
"
I've heard her name before. I'm still in touch with a few old friends that frequent those circles. She sounds dangerous, son."
"She is. But she won't be, once I get my hands on her."
Dale nodded. "It sounds like a noble quest. If you need any help, I'm here for you."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
We both stared into the fire until a rumbling sound came from Dale's coat pocket. He glanced at his phone and a mixture of fear and anger filled his eyes. "Go fuck yourself," he mumbled as he flung it into the yard. For a moment it seemed he'd forgotten I was there, then he raised his glass toward me. "Tonight's for family, right?"
I clinked my glass against his. "To family." Or at least the closest thing I'd ever had to one. We sat back and watched the flames curl and spit. Slowly the smile left his face and I saw the tiny, haunted man behind the mask. Something was really eating him up.
I just needed to find out what.
12
I sat, waiting for the inevitable, then Dale unleashed his favorite dad joke and announced he was taking a trip to the oval office. He turned as he reached the backdoor and asked if I wanted another drink, I nodded and stood, offering to grab more firewood.
As soon as he was out of sight I plucked his phone from the dusty weeds where he'd tossed it. I hadn't expected the screen to be locked, but it was, so a little magical assistance was in order.
I grabbed a crystal from my pocket and hoped Dale wouldn't notice my little conjuring. The magic brought a welcome warm buzz to my veins as I angled the phone's touch pad toward the firelight. "Show me," I whispered.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, then I saw the soft silvery light on the touchpad. The points of light were brightest where his fingers had keyed the same numbers over and over.
1489
I quickly punched in the code and the screen shook. I rolled my eyes. What was I doing? Of course it wouldn't be in numerical order! I tried to look for a pattern, considering as many combinations as my addled mind could come up with. And then it hit me.
1984
Big Brother and ubiquitous cell phones. Clearly Dale's distrust of technology and the government hadn't faltered. Not that I blamed him.
I keyed the numbers in and opened his messages as I heard the toilet flush upstairs and saw the light wink out in the bathroom window. I had less than a minute.
The first one read:
- Kendricks - You're really pissing me off now. Expect a visit
I flicked to the next and the next:
- Kendricks - Do I need to send someone?
- Kendricks - Where's the fucking money?
- Kendricks - You're late
"You in the habit of opening other people's mail as well?"
I jumped, nearly tossing the phone into the fire. It seemed the booze had really dulled my senses.
"Well?" he asked, his face bleary, angry.
"Anyone with eyes can see you're in trouble, Dad. I just wanted to find out what was eating you up. I couldn't just leave, not without trying to help."
"It's none of your business." Dale poured himself another whiskey and set the bottle down without offering it to me.
"Just tell me how much you owe."
He shook his head. I raised my voice and asked again. This time he glanced my way with a flicker of trepidation. "Five thousand. Or thereabouts."
"Who the fuck is Kendricks?"
Dale scowled as he tossed more wood onto the fire. "A little shit weasel who lives in a fancy new mansion on the other side of town. He got it by leeching off the desperate and the goddamned stupid. I tick both those boxes."
"Is he serious, or are those messages all talk?"
"Deadly serious. He'll send his henchman, a half demon that likes to collect fingers. Wears the bones on a necklace. Skeletal bling for the discerning savage."
"Why did you take his money?" I asked, even though the state of him and the house made it quite clear.
"The bills started piling up, so I used credit cards to cover them...just until..." he tailed off, poured a glass of whiskey and handed it to me."You know how the story goes."
I had about three thousand in savings, and the money Erland had given me when he'd asked me to check out Copperwood Falls. It would pretty much clean me out, but what else could I do? "I'll take care of it."
"No. This is my mess and-"
"Doesn't matter, I'll take care of it." It was the least I could do. He'd given me a home, kept a roof over my head and I'd never gone hungry, not once.
Dale's protests grew weaker and I could hear the relief in his voice. "Thank you, son. I'll pay you back. Every penny."
I knew that was never going to happen, but he wasn't lying to me, he'd meant what he said. We finished the whiskey as the fire crackled and the clouds stole the last of the moonlight. I was tired and I wanted to sleep, but more than anything I wanted to get away from this place and its grim desperation and hopelessness. Part of me was determined to leave immediately, but I'd drunk too much and exhaustion was setting in hard.
"Hey," Dale said, as he stood, his mood visibly lighter than it had been all night. "We can go to the store tomorrow. I'll pick up some beef and pepper jack, make you one of my famous burgers!"
"I have to go tomorrow, dad."
"Really?" He looked crestfallen and for a moment I almost offered to stay an extra day or two. But I couldn't face it. Thankfully Underwood had given me an assignment, even if it hadn't actually been an official one. "I'll swing by on my way back through. And maybe you can come and visit me in the city." I gave him my number, which felt very strange, all things considered. He keyed it straight into his contacts. I watched as my details appeared on the screen. My name was number five on the list, right under his loan shark.
"So where are you headed?" he asked.
"Copperwood Falls."
"Never been there but I've heard of it. Some weird shit goes on around there. Underground stuff. Bad things. People go there and never come back. It's the kind of place I'd try to avoid, son."
"Can't. I've got business there."
"Organization business?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and playfulness in his voice, and something else. Pride.
"Maybe." I stood and helped him gather up the empty bottles. We walked toward the house and as I watched him sway and stagger, I realized he'd never really been a bad father.
Just an immensely weak one.
I took the pillow Dale gave me and climbed into the old bed that waited among the sea of clutter. It felt strange lying under that pockmarked ceiling, each scuff and chip smiling sadly down at me like a familiar friend.
The wind whistled past the window and bare branches scratched the glass. I glanced at a patch of cloudless sky and the stars that glittered like diamonds among the black abyss. Where were the ones I'd been born under? What had that home been like? Could it have been like this place? Or had it been something completely different?
I had a feeling it was the latter, but I was no closer to discovering the answers. Dale had told me all he knew, Tom and Hellwyn were gone, and along with them, the truth of my past.
Jumbled thoughts chased their tails around and around in my head until the booze and exhaustion finally swept me away, into a deep dreamless sleep.
13
It was early when I woke, and the sky through the window was dark and gloomy. A few blue fingers of dawn spread across the horizon as if reaching down to seize the house. The fire had died away but a few embers punctuated the darkness in the yard below. I glanced at the worn empty lawn chairs and a sense of melancholy tugged at the frayed ends of my hangover. I had to get out of here.
As I stepped out into the hall, a loud snore erupted from Dale's room. His door was ajar and as I passed I saw him wrapped in his sheets, one arm hanging over the side of the bed. I crept by, just like I had as a kid, and took the stairs slowly, one by one.
The kitchen looked like the aftermath of a party, bottles and chip bags everywhere, but my homecoming hadn't really be
en much of a celebration. I grabbed a pen and an old envelope, flipped it over and wondered what to write. There were so many things to say, and yet nothing came to mind. So I just wrote:
'Thanks for the drinks. Take care and speak soon.
M
Lame, but it would have to do. I left a hundred bucks, more than enough to cover the cost of the beer and whiskey. "Get it together, Dale," I whispered. I filled a glass with water, gulped it down and slipped out the front door.
The rental car was like an ice-box, but I was glad to see the tattered house shrinking away in the rear view mirror. I took the road that bisected the fields and the dawning sky spread out overhead like a soft blue canvas. I wondered if the old cafe was still open. It had been a mainstay of my youth, the place my friends and I would go on a Friday or Saturday night after partying and setting off fireworks in the woods.
I was happy to see it was still there in all its drab greasy magnificence, its sign as weathered and worn as ever. I ordered a mushroom omelet and sat back as bacon sizzled and the coffee machine hissed and dribbled. My phone barely had a signal, so the Internet was super-slow, but there was no rush. My target was no doubt asleep at this hour. I searched for any details I could find on Kendricks, but found nothing worthwhile. Hardly a surprise. It seemed unlikely a successful loan shark would actively maintain an online presence. Time to ask around then.
The cafe was busy, full of travelers, farmhands, truckers and a few of the obligatory lost souls that drifted into such places in the early morning hours. Myself included. A short, rattled tired-looking man sat on a stool by the window, leafing through the classifieds with a sharp, jerky pull of his fingers.
