The Trinity Sisters

by Kristin Coley

  “Milo.” Her little voice was scared, and I stopped, ashamed of myself. Her eyes were huge as she stared at me, and I didn’t know who I hated more in that second, Dad or myself.

  “I’m sorry, Porche.” I reached over and hugged her, and she wrapped her arms around me tight. Her jacket was too thin for the cold, and I closed my eyes against my own rage. We all missed Mom and her bedtime stories. Even Dad. I looked down at him, almost envying his oblivion. Portia’s words erased my envy almost instantly, though.

  “I love you, Milo.” Her face was buried in my neck, and my eyes burned at her simple words. “Right back at you, Porche.”

  Neither of us was willing to leave him laying here in the cold by himself, so we curled up next to him, sharing what little body warmth we had.

  I must have fallen asleep, because a hand on my shoulder awakened me. I jerked up and, seeing the giant that woke me up, crawfished backwards on my butt.

  “Hey, hey, hey, easy kid. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re gonna freeze to death out here.” He jabbed a thumb at my dad, and I could see Portia was awake, but she held still. “Your old man passed out?” His eyes were understanding, but I wasn’t used to trusting anybody. Dad taught us that anyone could be the enemy.

  I nodded slowly when he kept staring at me. The man sighed, his lips thinned as he crouched down there beside us. He looked around, and seeing the car, he nodded at it.

  “You have somewhere to go?” He seemed to anticipate the slow shake of my head. Usually, we slept in the car, or Dad got a motel room somewhere. We hadn’t really stayed anywhere longer than a week. “Okay.” He held his hand out to me. “You can’t stay out here. It’s dangerous. I don’t mean you any harm, okay?” He held my gaze, wanting me to understand him. I nodded, and he nodded with me.

  “There’s a diner down the block. It’s open twenty-four hours. I know the owner. You can stay in there, get something to eat.” He winced slightly when he saw my eagerness at the thought of food. “When your dad sobers up, you can walk back over here. Sound like a plan?”

  I nodded, unable to come up with anything better on my own and relieved an adult was there. We were cold, and I was afraid of what would happen if we stayed out here any longer.

  “I can’t move him,” I finally whispered, ashamed at my weakness.

  “You shouldn’t have to,” the giant told me with a sympathetic smile. “But I can and will.” He looked at Portia curled up, still pretending to be asleep. “You get your sister, and I’ll get him.” I tugged on Portia, pulling her close to me as the giant jerked Dad up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

  “Whoa,” I whispered, his strength impressing me. He looked back over at me with a grin.

  “You’ll be able to do it one day. I have no doubt.”

  We walked the block, and the bright lights of the diner beckoned us. We hurried, the idea of warmth and food making us eager. I held the door open for our giant, and he was careful as he came in, making sure Dad didn’t bump into the door.

  “Paul,” the man called out walking to the corner booth. He dropped Dad onto the padded booth, shifting him so he leaned against the back of the seat. A guy strolled from the back, his size equal to the guy in front of me.

  “What have we here?” he asked, taking us in with a glance. “Hungry?” Portia and I nodded, my pride taking a backseat to our hunger. "Well we can fix that.” He turned to go back to the kitchen, but I stopped him, honesty compelling me.

  “We don’t have any money,” I admitted, swallowing hard. “But I can sweep or clean or anything you need.”

  He turned back to look at me, giving me a slow nod. “We can work something out. Don’t worry. Let’s get you fed and warm first, alright kid?”

  I nodded, feeling better about it. Portia clung to me, taking everything in, but unwilling to say anything.

  The giant gestured for us to sit at the next booth, sliding in across from us. He ran a hand over his head, and I noticed he looked tired.

  “Guess I should introduce myself. I’m Lionel.” He held a hand out for me to shake, and I reached over. He shook my hand firmly before offering it to Portia. She reached out too and shook his hand. Her tiny hand completely disappeared inside of his.

  “I’m Milo, and this is my sister Portia.” I nodded my head over at the booth behind me. “And that’s our dad, Patrick.”

  He nodded and asked, “Where are you from?”

  Dad warned us about telling people too much information. He said the man that killed Mom and Grandma would hunt for us, because we knew what his plan was. I didn’t really understand it all, but his warnings were impossible to ignore. I dropped my eyes, unable to look our giant friend in the eyes as I refused to answer his question.

  “It’s okay, Milo.” My eyes shot up to his, and he gave me a smile. “You’re not the first man I’ve met up with that has a past he doesn’t want to talk about. You might be the youngest though.”

  We were interrupted as the guy named Paul came back out with plates of food. They were piled high with eggs, bacon, sausage, and even waffles. Our stomachs growled loudly, and the men chuckled.

  “Sounds like you’re ready to eat. Dig in.” We didn’t need to be told twice, and devoured the food in front of us. They kept us company, talking about themselves as we ate. When the plates were empty in front of us, Paul gathered them up. I offered to wash them, but my drooping eyes gave me away.

  “I think you should sleep. We get a big crowd in the mornings, and I could use a hand in the kitchen then, okay?” I nodded, grateful for the chance to sleep. I turned to Lionel, glad he’d brought us here, and attempted to thank him. He waved me off, a big smile on his face.

  “You’ll see me in the morning, kid. I’m a regular here.”

  The next morning, Paul allowed us to help him in the kitchen, and he was right, it was busy. Around nine, Lionel swooped into the kitchen to get us.

  “They got to eat, Paul.” He winked at me and Portia. “What a slave driver.” We giggled at the sight of Paul rolling his eyes, but he waved us out of the kitchen.

  “The slave driver will bring out your breakfast shortly,” he drawled, flipping eggs and pancakes with equal ease. When we stepped into the dining area, I looked to the corner booth where we’d left our dad still sleeping earlier. I stopped short when I realized he wasn’t there. Lionel caught my gaze and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

  “No worries, Milo. He went to get your car and some camping supplies, at my advice. He’s also talking to a guy I know who could use a hand.” He pulled me over to a booth just being vacated, scooting the dirty plates to the end. “He’ll join us later on, but let’s get some breakfast for now.” I nodded, determined to be strong, even as I felt Portia squeezing my hand tightly. A few minutes later, Paul came out with our plates as promised, and eating consumed us. We spent the rest of the morning in the kitchen helping Paul, but as soon as lunchtime rolled around, he declared us done.

  “That was some excellent work this morning,” he said, smiling. “I’m impressed.” He pulled out his wallet and handed us each two twenties. I shook my head, not wanting to take his money.

  “You fed us and gave us a place to sleep,” I protested weakly, my mind already thinking of what the money could buy. Bread and peanut butter were at the top of my list.

  “You earned it. You worked hard, and this is your pay. Keep it. You don’t know when you might need it.” His eyes were knowing, and pride was something I couldn’t afford, so I took the money. “Now, this is important.” He crouched down, looking us both in the eye. “A man and woman,” he said, with a nod to Portia, “have the right to their privacy, and I don’t know what has you on the run, and I won’t ask. But hear me. If you ever need anything, you call me. My number is 555-555-7865. Repeat it.”

  He made us repeat the number several times, until he was positive we would remember it.

  “Doesn’t matter where you are, what time of the day or night. You need help, call. Me or Lionel
will be there. Got it?”

  We nodded somberly. I hoped we’d never need it, but I repeated those numbers to myself over and over. I wouldn’t allow anything to happen to Portia, and if that meant calling our diner friends, I would.

  We went out to the dining room after that to see our dad sitting at a booth with Lionel. We ran over, happy to see our dad looking sober and clean. We hugged him, and he hugged us back tightly, rocking us.

  “I’m sorry.” I heard him swallow, as I tucked my head in tighter. “You deserve better than me, but I’ll do better. I swear.”

  We ate lunch together before Lionel took us over to a campground. We spent a couple weeks in the town as our dad did random jobs. It didn’t last though. It never did.

  He heard about a girl matching the description of one of the Davis sisters, and we were gone again. I wasn’t sure what Paul and Lionel told our dad, but he never left us alone again, nor did he get so drunk he couldn’t walk. I was forever grateful for that.

  ***

  “Good thing I’ve got these ripped muscles then,” I told her as I flexed my bicep. She choked on a laugh at my words, her reaction exactly what I intended. “You got a car close?”

  I reached down grabbing the douche bag boyfriend by his fancy dress shirt and yanking him up.

  “Oh, wow. You weren’t kidding about the muscles.” There was no mistaking the admiring glance, and I couldn’t help flexing a little further. She smirked, catching me at it as she shook her head.

  “We grabbed an Uber over. Figured we’d grab one back, but he decided he wanted to lie down instead.” If looks could kill, this guy should have been dead. I didn’t envy him the hell she would give him when he sobered up.

  “I can give you a ride if you like.” My offer might have been a tad eager. I wanted to spend time with her. Watch her eyes sparkle and the minute changes in her expression, things I’d never been able to witness as I watched over her from afar. It was a strange thing, spending my life hunting her, my father teaching me her death would be the thing that would save us all, but when I’d finally found her, I’d known her death was the one thing that would destroy me.

  She looked at me suspiciously, and I was afraid my eagerness had blown it. Her gaze was intent as she studied me, almost as if she was attempting to see inside of me and figure out what my intentions were. I wondered vaguely if she’d seen me coming, if the events happening now were nothing more than a vision come to life.

  She frowned, a hint of frustration evident, and I assumed she hadn’t found what she wanted and geared myself for her refusal. Instead, she nodded, and a small smile appeared on her lips.

  “Hopefully, he doesn’t throw up in your car.” A grin formed as I hitched his drunken ass up, and I didn’t tell her it would be a small price to pay if he did. A few minutes later, I had him sprawled in the backseat of my beater car, and she was settled next to me, looking far too elegant for my ripped seats.

  I started the car, the whine of a slipping belt loud, and looked over at her.

  “I’m Milo, by the way. Milo Winchester.” She smiled faintly, mischief in her eyes.

  “Are you related to Sam and Dean?” she asked nonchalantly, and my eyes narrowed before I caught the reference. I put the car in gear and with a low chuckle replied, “Not that I know of.”

  I gave her a curious look, wondering if she was going to tell me her name. She had a conflicted expression, which puzzled me. I wasn’t sure if she didn’t want to give me her name or what.

  “I’m Kincaid.” The words spilled out in a rush, almost as if she said it quickly, so she couldn’t take it back. I nodded, knowing what it cost her to give me her given name. She’d been going by Guinea for a long time.

  “Nice to meet you, Kincaid.” Her name on my lips sent a shiver down her spine, and I smiled, glad I wasn’t the only one affected.

  “So where’re we headed?” I glanced over at her in my passenger seat, her blonde curls escaping from the twist thing she had them pulled up in. She didn’t seem concerned, rolling the window down to feel the wind. She named an apartment complex a couple blocks away. I knew where she lived of course, but telling her that wouldn’t be a smart move. A snore from the back had her rolling her head toward me. She glanced in the back seat and then back at me.

  “The long way?” Her eyes were hopeful, and there was no way I would tell her no. I roared past the turnoff that would get us there quickly, already knowing where I wanted to take her. A few miles later, I turned off onto a side road in an admittedly sketchy area of town.

  “Should I be worried that you’re going to rob and kill us?” A quick glance over reassured me she was joking, but it did bring up the question of why she was so comfortable with me.

  “I won’t hurt you.” The words came out a little more seriously than I intended, almost echoing as if I’d taken a vow when I said them.

  “I know.” She looked back out the window, seeming to enjoy the wind tangling her hair. She chuckled and turned back to me. She was completely relaxed in the seat next to me, and I had to ask, “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking; I won’t hurt you either.” There was something so serious in her words, and I knew if she wanted to, she could hurt me, break me completely beyond repair. She was my Achilles’ heel, and the only comfort I had was that I was hers too.

  I pulled off onto a gravel parking lot and she looked at me curiously.

  “Up for a short hike?” She shrugged, unbuckling her seatbelt. She hopped out of the car without a backward glance at the boyfriend, and I wondered why she was with him. I walked along next to her, following a small dirt path, our arms swinging precariously close. I fought the desire to reach out and grab her hand, clenching my own hand into a tight fist. Instinctively, I knew we weren’t ready for that.

  Touching her would be the end of everything we’d been, and the start of forever.

  “Oh,” she breathed out, seeing it for the first time. The path led to a small overlook, but the view was incredible. The valley opened up underneath us. The glow of the city lights looked tiny as the river cut alongside it. The moon was almost full and hanging low, casting dark shadows along the ridge.

  I leaned forward, propping my forearms on the old wooden fence. She looked out over the valley, her hands on the post next to mine. Her hands were small and delicate, soft looking compared to my scarred knuckles. I opened my fist, seeing callouses, the ever-present grease staining the skin, and my nails clipped short. My hands were hard, the palms rough, nothing like the delicate hands resting next to mine. I cleared my throat at the same time she spoke.

  “I need to bring Kai here.”

  “Kai?” I questioned, pretending to be unfamiliar with the name.

  “My …” she hesitated, and I glanced at her. “Well, he’s technically a wolf,” she told me with a self-conscious nod.

  “You have a wolf?” It seemed an appropriate question, even though I already knew what her familiar was. It wasn’t unusual for a witch to have a familiar, but it had become less common over the past few decades, as magic seemed to pull away from those who could wield it. A wolf was more than a simple familiar, though. They were guardians and protectors. Rumors existed they could communicate with their companion, and allow them the use of their senses, such as sight. I’d never witnessed it, but my father had told us stories over the years.

  “Yeah, he’s my best friend.” She played with the diamond resting on her finger, pulling it off before sliding it back down her finger. At one point, I was afraid she was going to lose it down the mountain, but she grabbed it at the last second.

  “Why are you with him?” I asked, not bothering to say who. She knew what I meant and gave me a quick look.

  “Timing.” She gave me an ironic smile at my look of surprise. “Not the answer you were anticipating?”

  I shook my head. “Not generally. Love, friendship, blackmail. Any of those I would have expected.”

  She laughed at my response, “Blackmail? That w
ould have been a more legitimate answer?”

  “Well, yeah. I can see why he’s with you, but I’ve yet to see a reason for you to be with him.”

  “Maybe this is an unusual circumstance,” she said, waving her arm back toward the car. “Maybe he’s a great guy, and I’m lucky to have him.” I leaned toward her, too close, but she didn’t move back. Our faces were an inch apart, and I could feel her breath stutter against my face.

  “Then why are you here with me?”

  “Because you brought me here?” I closed my eyes against the sight of her perfect lips curling into a grin. She had me there. My smile matched hers as I pulled back slowly, our bodies acting like magnets resisting separation. She swayed before catching herself, and I determined it was time to go. Our nearness to one another was dangerous. She had a ring on her finger that didn’t belong to me, and my ability to resist her was wearing thin.