by Joey Ruff
“I’m…on assignment.”
“For the church?” Her voice was like venom.
I shook my head. “No. Something else.”
She looked at me, curious. For a minute, I didn’t know why, but then I realized the way I was standing, the light from the window caught my scars. After a second, she looked away, but before she did, I could’ve sworn I saw her shudder.
I didn’t say anything.
We stood in silence while she stared out the door into the parking lot, trying not to stare at me. “Is that your motorcycle?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that the reason …umm…for what happened to your face?” Her eyes softened a little.
I had to fight the urge to touch the scars or even turn away. I just nodded. Even though my wounds weren’t the product of a bike accident, it was the official story I told. It’s what the Catholic church knew to be true. I figured it was as good an excuse as anything. Most wouldn’t believe me if I told them I was attacked by a dragon.
“So…What are you doing here?” I asked. “The middle of nowhere, Nebraska?”
“We prefer the term bum-fuck, Nebraska.” She paused, studied me. “But I guess priests don’t talk like that.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Dammit, Austin.”
“What?”
“What do you mean, what?” She motioned to me. “I had made peace a long time ago. I was content. I’d moved on. And now…”
“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know I’d find you in a town like this? Last time I saw you was twelve years ago. You said you’d never leave Wisconsin.”
“What do you want me to say? Things change.”
“Yeah, well…”
“I don’t think I want you in my bar.”
“I just came by to find the reporter.”
“What reporter?”
I took a deep breath and bit my lip. “The one from earlier. Glasses and blonde hair that was sitting at the bar.”
“Well, there’s nobody here, right now. Nobody likely to show up again until dinner. And you’re not hanging around until then.”
I shook my head and turned to the door. “Don’t worry about me. I was just leaving.”
I heard her say, “Good,” before I charged through the door and into the cold. I was halfway to my bike before the door pushed open behind me and Danielle was calling after. “How dare you come in here and then just walk away from me like I don’t even matter.”
I stopped, but didn’t turn to her.
“Like we weren’t something special. Like I wasn’t willing to give you the best of me before you turned around and walked away without so much as a fucking explanation. I’ve been waiting a long damn time, Austin, and you come waltzing in like we don’t have a history together. You spook the shit out of me and then disappear. I’m left thinking all day that I really did see a fucking ghost, and then you show back up and not so much as even a ‘good to see you’? You kidding me? I’ll be damned if I let you walk out of my life a second time without giving me a good-goddamn-explanation.”
I felt my hands begin to shake and turned around ready to yell…something at her, but when I saw her, the pain in her eyes, everything stopped. My heart stopped. Because the truth was, it was good to see her. She looked exactly like I remembered. Well, almost. There were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She’d gained a few pounds, mostly in her hips and breasts, but if anything, it made her look more appealing to me. More mature. And, of course, she was angrier, but that was my fault.
I took a step toward her and stopped. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and before I could react, I heard the pluck of a string and an arrow struck the side of the bar only millimeters from Danielle’s head.
She froze in place, her eyes growing as wide as saucers, and I tackled her to the ground as two more arrows struck the wood just behind and above us. As soon as we hit the ground, I had a hand on my Colt and drew it quickly, firing blind.
Just the other side of the highway was a line of trees that had not yet begun to blossom and their skeletal branches were just silhouettes against the sun. With the report of my pistol, something broke from the tree limbs – something small and winged, like a bird. No, larger than a bird.
I fired three more times and it zagged just as another arrow struck the ground less than a foot from my face.
Taking a knee, I fired three more times, and told Danielle to get inside.
“But…”
“Go!” I shouted.
The bird-shadow charged me, and as it neared, it grew bigger, which meant it became more of a target. I hit it.
Behind me, Danielle gasped, stopping at the door of the bar.
As it fell, I was on my feet. It landed in the dirt just inside the parking lot, maybe two feet from the shoulder of the highway. Just a little heap about the size of a large vulture, it twitched and kicked up dirt and feathers that rained around it like a snowglobe.
I was about five feet from it, close enough to see the dirty, matted wings, when one snapped back suddenly and an arrow sprang out and caught me in the arm. I swore and dropped my gun on impact. My I grabbed my arm.
When I’d turned back to it, it had gained its feet, and I got a decent look at the thing. I wouldn’t call it a baby, though it was about the size of one. Maybe two feet tall, with a wingspan at least twice that, it was baby-shaped and baby-formed with two chubby little legs and two pudgy little arms, and a little round, head, bald but for the thin, soft orangey fur that covered every inch of visible skin. It had human ears, human feet, and human hands that ended in sharp talons, but the face was more feline. The gold slits for eyes stared at me with malice, and as it hissed at me, I saw the sharp barbs where its teeth should have been. In one hand, it held a longbow that was as tall as it was.
“Austin,” Danielle called. “What…is that?”
I pulled my second Colt just as it notched an arrow, but as it drew back its string, I pulled my trigger and dropped it. It fell like a sack of rocks.
Danielle came up behind me, and I turned when I felt her just behind my shoulder. “What is that?” she asked, looking at me. None of the anger was there anymore. Confusion, I suppose, maybe even curiosity, replaced it.
“It’s…complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it.”
When I turned back to the thing, it was gone.
“I need a drink.”
She looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t, just nodded. Then, “Yeah. I could use one myself.”
***
I followed her back inside and sat on one of the barstools. My arm was throbbing. There was an arrow sticking from it, and blood ran freely, dripping onto the floor.
“Oh, my god,” she said, looking at me.
I snapped the shaft in half.
“What are you doing?”
“Get some towels. And some alcohol.”
“Austin…”
“Now…please!”
She produced two hand towels and a bottle of house whiskey and set them on the counter. I put the arrow shaft on the counter next to them and said, “I’ll need your help here.”
“Okay.” She looked terrified and pale, but she came around to my side. “What do you need me to do?”
“I’m going to pull the arrow out. It would be great if you could be ready with a towel to stop any blood. I’d hate to make any bigger of a mess on your floors.”
“Umm…maybe I should get one of the cooks? No. Damn, they’re on break. I…”
“Danielle,” I said, gripping the arrowhead. “Towel. Please.”
I began to pull, keeping it as straight as I could. It burned and throbbed and I stopped after an inch. I picked up the whiskey bottle and poured a little onto the top of the wound. Then I took a long swig myself. I set the bottle down, steeled my nerves, and pulled it the rest of the way out.
Danielle was ready with the towel, and I dropped the rest of the arrow onto the bar and tried not to pass o
ut. I was hot and cold at the same time. “I need out of the jacket,” I said. “You’ll need to dress the wound.”
“Okay,” she said.
I shrugged out of the left sleeve with little effort, and she removed the right, tossing the coat over the back of a chair. I was wearing a t-shirt and rolled the hem up just a little. Danielle swore when she looked at my arm, at all the blood.
“It was a clean shot,” I said. “Missed the bone. That’s good.”
I poured more whiskey into the wound, feeling the burn. I took another swig. Danielle held the towel to the bottom of the arm and said, “I’ve got a medical kit in the office.”
“Can you stitch it?”
“Seriously?”
I just looked at her.
“Okay. Sure. I can sew.”
She disappeared into the kitchen for a minute, and I spent the time alternating between my wound and my mouth with the whiskey bottle. When she came back, she looked more composed. She had fresh towels and antiseptic cream. Almost immediately, she went to work on me.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t be so freaked. I worked on a ranch for a number of years. I saw John lose a toe, for crying out loud.”
“John?” I said.
“My husband.” She stuck the needle in and began to sew. The needle wasn’t the only prick I felt. “Was. He died. Accident a few years ago.”
“Guess he lost more than a toe.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry.”
“This has been a day from the craziest side of hell. First, you show up, then this…thing shoots arrows at us. What the fuck was that, Austin? And don’t you dare tell me that it’s complicated. You’re not in a position to run this time. So talk.”
I took a deep breath.
“It’s why I’m here,” I said. “It’s what’s been killing people around town.”
“Seriously?!”
“It’s called an Erote. It’s…well, how do I even say this without sounding remotely crazy. It’s Cupid.”
“That wasn’t the way.” She stopped sewing for a minute and dabbed at the wound with the towel. “God, this is messy.”
“I know it sounds stupid,” I said. “I know how it must seem…”
“Do you? My ex-fiance shows up after twelve years and all of a sudden Cupid is shooting arrows at me in the town of Valentine? Yeah, stupid doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
I sighed. “You’re angry,” I said. “I get it.”
“No, you don’t. I’d put you behind me. This isn’t fair.”
“I…”
“I’d known you my entire life. We dated all through high school. I thought I knew you better than anyone. Christ, we were getting married.” She stopped. “I’m sorry, does that offend you?”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“What?”
“Join the priesthood. Call off the wedding. Why did you throw away an entire life we had spent together, an entire life we were getting ready to build together…? You were never a religious person, Austin. You never went to church. Then out of the blue you quit your life and become a priest.”
I didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at her.
“I’ve waited twelve years to ask you that.” She tucked her hair back behind her ear. “What was it? Fear? Guilt? What happened to Luis and the others…it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. I know you blamed yourself, but…”
“There’s a story there,” I said slowly.
“Obviously.”
She finished sewing the wound on the back side of my arm and dabbed the blood with a clean towel, rubbed it clean with antiseptic, then moved on to the other side. She sewed in silence, cleaned the wound, and wrapped my arm. The entire time she worked, I held the silence, realizing full well how awkward every second was, and mulling over in my head how I would begin to tell her about the Midnight. About the Hand.
“You’ll want to have that looked at by a doctor,” she said, “but at least you won’t bleed out.”
She moved around to stand behind the bar and put away the whiskey bottle, took the bloody towels and threw them into an empty bus tub. She grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shot glasses, filled them both to overflowing. She pushed one to me and knocked hers back before I could bat an eyelash.
I was already spinning with cheap whiskey, and the pain in my arm had gone numb. I tipped mine back and noticed her staring at me.
“Listen,” I said. “I never told you. Hell, I never told anyone. I didn’t want to come off as bat-shit crazy. I…” I fidgeted with the empty shot glass in my fingers, twirled it back and forth. I sat it down in front of her, and she filled it again. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I’d ever done.”
“Then why did you do it?”
I took the shot, and set the empty glass on the bar. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I really am. Something happened back then. Something that changed me. I can’t talk about it. At least, not right now. But I swear, one day…I’ll tell you everything.”
“Austin…What am I supposed to do with that?”
I didn’t’ know what to say. “I never expected to see you again.”
“Makes two of us.”
She poured another shot, and I slid mine to her. She filled it and passed it back. We drank together.
“How’d you end up here?” I asked her.
“You left, and I didn’t want to stick around any more. Everything was a ghost of you. Every person, every place: the diner where we used to eat after your basketball games, the old street where we grew up…the parking lot at the movie theater. The church…God, don’t even get me fucking started on the church, Austin – the place where we were supposed to begin our life together. Instead, the place that stole you out of my life.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I went away to school. I met a guy. We got married. He was from here. I wanted away. After John died, I couldn’t handle the ranch on my own, so I sold it and bought this place.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Not everything has a complicated story.”
“Danielle… Jordan, is it?”
She nodded.
“Nice place,” I said.
“Thanks.” She put the shot glasses in the sink and replaced the bottle of Jack. “You hungry? Obviously, you’re not in the condition to drive.”
I thought about it. “I can eat.”
“Okay. I’ll see what’s back here. Maybe I’ll fire up the grill. Burger sound good?”
“Perfect.”
She moved around from behind the bar, and I spun on my stool to watch her. The room kept spinning even after I stopped. Maybe a combination of pain, bloodloss, and alcohol.
“I think I’m gonna lie down for a bit.”
“Pick a booth,” she said.
I picked the nearest and hobbled over to it after she disappeared from sight. I remember climbing into it, remember how good it felt to lie down. I don’t know if I fell asleep or blacked out.
***
Twelve years ago, right after I was released from the hospital, I only stuck around for three days – just enough time to put some affairs in order – then I was gone. It killed me to do it, to leave Danielle. But what could I tell her? I couldn’t stand to be in the same city with the families of the friends I’d…
I mean, it was the kind of thing you didn’t just bounce back from. Surprise, monsters are real, now go to bed and pretend it didn’t happen. I knew the way it changed me, the way I couldn’t sleep anymore, the way I watched people with a new-found paranoia, to see if they really were people at all or just pretended to be. The way the spider had. I wasn’t the same person, and, even though I tried to ignore it, there was suddenly a huge fucking gap between Danielle and me. There was all this stuff I couldn’t say, couldn’t not say. I loved her too much to let her change,
too.
I did a lot of counseling with the church many years after, spoke with a lot of women who were victims of rape: the way their innocence was suddenly and forcefully stripped from them, the way they felt powerless and scared, violated in ways nobody truly understood. In many ways, back then, that’s what I felt like.
They all knew about the accident: Danielle, my family, all the other people around town. Some of them were angry with me. They had lost friends and children – their loved ones were dead, and I survived. What made me so special? It was a lot to deal with. Wherever I went, I would walk into a room and the entire mood would change.
In one night, my entire life was ripped from me, and while one could argue that it wasn’t necessarily my fault, I certainly wasn’t blameless, either. I beat the hell out of myself for it.
I’d talked to Caleb Roden a couple more times, and eventually agreed to go with the priest to Chicago. There I was trained by the Hand of Shanai. Officially, the story was that I ran off to Seminary, trying to deal with my grief. Some stories even said that I’d had a vision or near-death experience. It wasn’t true, but I certainly didn’t do anything to dissuade the rumors.
Danielle wept when I told her. She didn’t understand, and I couldn’t spare the energy to try to make her. It wrecked us both when I left. But I couldn’t live like nothing had happened, and I didn’t let myself look back.
After years of working along side Caleb, I decided to become a priest myself. That’s when the healing began.
***
I woke to the sound of distant laughter and the smell of good food.
I don’t know how long I’d been out, but it looked like someone had made me a pallet on the floor of the back stock room. Large metal shelves bearing to-go boxes, condiment bottles, and drums of nacho cheese lined all four walls.
My head was still spinning as I sat up, and my arm thrummed dully. I inspected the wounded area to find someone had replaced the bandages with something cleaner, something almost professional.
Water was running into a large industrial sink as I walked into the next room, and a man with a mullet and striped chef pants regarded me. “The dead rises,” he said. “Nice to see you moving again. I think Danielle was worried. She asked me to keep an eye on you.”
“Where is she?” I asked.
