Second String Savior

by Rick Gualtieri

  “I could ask you the same question, Mr. Dalton. Aren’t you supposed to be on an assignment for James?” Colin replied, wiping his hands on one of our towels. I gasped at the streaks of red left behind.

  “What did you do?” I snapped, facing him.

  “I have a mission of my own to follow—recruitment,” Colin said with a sigh. My heart plummeted. This couldn’t be happening. “It’s simple really. We have a war coming, and wars need soldiers.”

  “What the hell have you done?” Wyatt growled. I stepped next to him, hoping I didn’t fry him in my terror and anger.

  “I don’t answer to you, boy.” Colin glanced my way. “So, care to tell me what exactly you are?”

  “She’s an adept like me!” Sensei McAdams cried. “Leave her alone. You know we’re neutral in this—”

  “Oh please. I recognize that look in your eye. Fear. Besides, I know what you Magi smell like, and I can assure you the stench wafting off this child is quite different. Unique, even.”

  I didn’t have time for this. “Where is my dad?” I cried.

  Colin grinned, looking smugger than ever, if that was even possible. “I do suppose I owe you my thanks.”

  “Your thanks? Where is my—”

  “That night in Boston. I was ready to dismiss it as a waste of my time, but then I met you. I was intrigued and it made me look a bit closer into your family. Quite the history. All of them large, burly types, some with advanced combat training. Excellent cannon fodder, all in all.”

  He stepped to the side and snapped his fingers. I then watched in mute horror as Diego and my Uncle Rico stepped from the kitchen, dragging my father between them. A thin trickle of blood dropped from the side of my father’s neck.

  “No!”

  “Oh, yes, and I might never have looked twice at them if not for you, child.”

  As I took a step forward, both my cousin and uncle hissed at me, their eyes black and soulless. I hesitated for the barest of minutes, but then took another step at which point Diego took a swipe at me.

  “Diego, stop, it’s me. It’s—”

  He lunged and I just barely ducked his swing, my hair whipping up from the motion and striking him. He fell back with a cry, a nasty burn etched into his arm.

  “Oh, now I am intrigued,” Colin said.

  “She’s a weapon,” Wyatt said, stepping in front of me. “The kind James tasked me with looking for. Well, I found one. She’s a . . . a. . .”

  I lifted my arm. “I’m a false Icon. It says so right here.”

  “A false Icon, you say?” Colin replied raising an eyebrow. “I don’t believe I’ve seen mention of that in our archives.”

  “I don’t care. Just let my dad. . .” Words failed me as Dad collapsed to the floor. He didn’t appear to be breathing “Dad!”

  “Yeah, she’s a false Icon,” Wyatt said quickly. “Just like the Wanderer sent me to find.”

  “What?” Both Colin and I replied.

  “Do you expect me to believe such a preposterous story?” Colin said, ignoring the fact that my father might at this very moment be dying.

  “Not my place to say what you believe,” Wyatt shot back. “But, you’re more than free to call up my sire if’n you want. Although, considering his recent promotion, I reckon he might not appreciate the interruption.”

  For the first time since he’d stepped out of my kitchen, I saw indecision flash across Colin’s face. Whoever this Wyatt’s sire was, Colin seemed to be afraid of him.

  “So rather than go and ruffle the First’s feathers and potentially bring the hurtin’ down on both our doorsteps,” Wyatt continued, “how about we make a deal?”

  “What?” I cried. “No—”

  “Go on,” Colin said ignoring me.

  “You go on your mission and I’ll continue with mine. Better yet, I’ll sweeten the pot. Turn your back, pretend this never happened, and I’ll step down as head of Worcester coven. I’ll be out of your oily hair for good.”

  “Wyatt, no—”

  Wyatt turned to me and lowered his voice to a bare whisper. “Listen to me, Jessie, and listen good. You can’t win this. They’re turned and compelled, all of them. You can’t help your dad, not without going through your family first, and even then. . .” He trailed off, the meaning clear. It was already too late.

  “Mr. Dalton seems to understand the situation rather well,” Colin said, straightening his tie. “Of course, I could simply compel him to turn you over, too, but I have a feeling that could get unnecessarily messy.” He turned to address Wyatt again. “Very well. I shall accept your compromise under one condition.”

  “What?” both of us asked.

  “You will leave the state of Massachusetts by sunrise and never come back. Should I ever see you again, our deal is off. Also, be warned, if I find myself in the Wanderer’s esteemed presence again and the question of your mission comes up—”

  “I get it,” Wyatt deadpanned. “We’ll be gone and stay gone.”

  At almost exactly the same moment, my father’s eyes opened. They were solid black, just like the rest of my former family.

  No.

  Tears streamed down my face as Wyatt moved to block my view of him. “Come on, Jessie. You can’t win this. We need to get a move on.”

  “Yes, child, heed his words. Oh, and Wyatt, the clock is ticking.”

  I couldn’t stop staring at Dad. He didn’t seem to recognize me. He didn’t even seem to see me. All the fire drained from my body. A terrible numbness took over.

  I became vaguely aware of Wyatt dragging me outside, but all I could see in my mind’s eye was my father’s face.

  We were halfway to his car when a German sedan screeched to a halt in front of it and a white-haired streak came racing out of it toward us. “Hold on, Jess! I’m here.”

  Gary tackled Wyatt, or tried to. Instead he ended up suspended in midair, held aloft by one arm grasping the front of his shirt as he flailed impotently.

  “Link up with me, Jess!” he cried. “And then we have to get out of here.”

  “Friend of yours?” Wyatt asked.

  I nodded, still numb. “He’s . . . yes . . . a friend.”

  Wyatt seemed to consider this before lowering Gary to the ground. “You got one thing right, Shave-Tail. We gotta get outta here and pronto. Let’s go. You’re driving.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I don’t know how long I lay in the backseat, crying until I had nothing left in me. Once more I’d failed. Once more I’d made everything worse.

  Eventually Wyatt directed Gary to pull over at a diner in Worcester. What the heck were we doing here?

  “Just give me a moment. We’re gonna need supplies,” Wyatt said, getting out. “Keep the motor running and don’t do anything stupid. The poor girl has been through enough.”

  Gary looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Should we. . .?”

  “No,” I said. “Wait for him.”

  “I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you before you left, but you were so fast.”

  “Warn me . . . about . . . what?”

  “Aunt Phil didn’t want me to. But then, after everything that happened in Canada, I didn’t think there was any reason to. But now. . .”

  “What?”

  “The Blessing of Uranus comes with a companion curse, the Curse of Gaia. Whomever accepts the blessing is cursed to wander the earth until she proves her worth to the old gods. Until you can complete their trials, you cannot go home again, or else great tragedy will befall you,” Gary said, his voice breaking with each word. “Damn it, leave it to the Greek gods to be total assholes. I’m so sorry, Jessie.”

  Wyatt returned after a few minutes and got back in. “Glad to see you waited for me.”

  “Only ’cause she said so,” Gary spat. “If it were up to me, I’d have left you in the dust.”

  “And gone where? You got money? Passports? Weapons of any kind? You may not realize it, but I have an inkling we need each other.”

  I
glared at them both. “The only thing I need is a way to save my father.”

  “There isn’t any—” Gary started.

  “Who’s to say there isn’t?” Wyatt countered. “Look, this world is strange and it’s getting stranger every damn day.” He turned to me. “I wasn’t lying back there. I am on a mission for my sire. I’m a collector of rare things and, occasionally, people, and I’ve seen enough weird in my day to know you don’t never call something impossible.”

  “But—”

  “Hear me out, now. You may not believe this, but your dad is safe for now. Colin may look stupid, but he ain’t. He’s the type to play his enemies like a fiddle. He’ll keep your family close, as insurance in case we break our word—which, believe me, he’ll be expecting. Now, because of that, you can be sure they’ll be well cared for until you can help them.”

  “What’s the catch?” Gary asked.

  “I help y’all and in turn you help me, simple as that.”

  “How?” Gary asked before I could.

  Wyatt looked at me as he answered. “Because if there is a remedy for this . . . condition then I want it, too.”

  “You want to be human again?” I asked. “Why?”

  “That’s my business and mine alone, and speaking of business, I think those supplies I mentioned are here.” He rolled down the window. “Come on over, friend.”

  At this point I was too numb to even react to seeing my classmate walk out of the diner and head our way carrying a guitar case. Linebacker Larry’s jaw dropped as he saw me, though.

  “Is everyone at school connected to vampires?” I asked.

  “It’s just the way things are, darlin’.” Wyatt handed some bills over to my classmate and then shooed him away. “Take the shiny veneer off the world and you start to see there’s all sorts of connections you never noticed before.”

  Just before Larry walked away, he picked up something off the ground. “Did one of you guys drop this?” he asked with glazed over eyes. I cocked my head as I saw the familiar outline of a red panda with goggles. Wyatt grabbed it, but I snatched it from him even faster.

  I ripped it open to see a card with the name and address: “Dee’s Biscuits—Marshville, NC.”

  I flipped over the card to see a name and address, and a note. “It’s dangerous to go alone, Sugah. Take this.”

  Under the card was my sweater and my necklace . . . and that damn clam.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  An hour later we found ourselves camped at a rest stop just inside of Connecticut. Gary and I had recounted most of what happened to pass the time, at least the parts we understood. Wyatt leaned against the car and scratched his whiskers, surprisingly unfazed at hearing about dryads. We did omit the death otters, because there was only so much weird even we could take at once.

  “So, let me get this straight,” he said. “You’ve met with the Alma, and you think they’re the good guys? Sorry, Sasquatches. Now that’s right interesting.”

  “You sure you want to help someone who’s friends with your ancient enemies?” I might as well get the obvious question out of the way early.

  He shrugged. “What’s that saying about war making strange bedfellows? Besides, like I said before, I got my reasons.” He glanced over to Gary. “And what’s your reason for wanting to be a juvenile delinquent?”

  “As far as I’m aware,” Gary said, “I’m the only one here who knows Ancient Greek.”

  “That all?”

  “That’s all you’re getting.”

  “Fair enough, Shave-Tail.”

  “What the fuck does that even mean?” Gary snapped.

  Wyatt grinned. “It means you, albino.”

  “Whatever,” Gary said with a sigh. “I’m still working through those notes Mr. Keyne stole.”

  “Yeah?” I replied, wondering what other bombshells there were left to drop.

  “Seems we have to wander the earth until we find the trials the gods left for us. Either you’ll become a hero of legend . . . or die terribly.”

  “Ain’t that called life?” Wyatt offered with a chuckle.

  I walked away from the car and stared up at the stars. How could I have been so dumb? Mr. Keyne had even mentioned the sky father . . . Sky, his freaking name. Yet it never dawned on me.

  Then again, who would ever guess they’d be cursed by a box of knock-off toaster pastries? So maybe I shouldn’t beat myself up too hard about that one.

  No, I had enough on my plate to beat myself up over.

  I shook my head. How could I save the world when my world was already destroyed? I took a deep breath and considered Gary’s words. Trials lay ahead of us—trials that would either make or break me.

  . . .And that right there, I realized as visions of my father floated before my eyes, was the answer. I was a Flores. We were fighters. No matter what the world threw at us, we fought back. Would my father lie down and die? My grandfather, my uncle, any of my cousins? No . . . and neither would I.

  This wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning, and now it was up to me to take all those lessons to heart and make something of it, make something of myself. I looked up at the sky again, but this time focusing on my loved ones.

  Tomorrow we start, and don’t worry, Dad, I’m going to win. I’m gonna save you, no matter what.

  THE END

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  Bonus Chapter

  Wannabe Wizard (False Icons – 2)

  “Hey! I’ve got a beef to pick with you.”

  Maybe that wasn’t the best quip in the universe, but what else could you say when face to face with a minotaur in a labyrinthine home goods emporium? Apparently, the cow man wasn’t impressed either, as he merely snorted and carried about his business. . .

  Eww, he apparently wasn’t finished goring some of the staff. I guess that answered the mystery of Craig from Dining.

  “Oh, that is not right.” It was saying something when my vampire companion seemed grossed out by the carnage. “Folks should be eating steers, not vice versa.”

  I cast a sidelong glance. The minotaur wasn’t the only monster in the house with red dripping from his lips. “Wyatt, did you just stop for a snack while I’ve been chasing down—?”

  I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence as the minotaur let out a bellow and raised its double-headed axe out of the ruins of a dinette set. It turned and glared at both of us. Even though Wyatt leveled a shotgun at the beast, it seemed intent on staring at me, the girl with only glowing fists on her side . . . glowing red fists.

  “Can you maybe change the color on that glow, darlin’? I don’t think it’s wise to be flashing red in front of a bull.”

  “Actually, they disproved that on Mythbusters.” Gary also decided to join the party, albeit from a safe vantage point behind a kitchen island.

  The monster lowered his horns and pointed his axe toward me.

  “When did they have a minotaur on Myth—?” Crap, time to dodge. I rolled left while Wyatt dove right. The cow-man-beast wheeled and took off after me. I whipped around to deck him, but with our height difference, I ended up not only hitting him squarely in the solar plexus, but finding myself face to giant, hairy balls. “Jeez, can’t any myth monsters wear pants?” Why didn’t I nail him in the nuts?

  The minotaur snorted at me and returned my punch with enough force to send me flying into a pile of boxes. Ow.

  Wyatt had the good sense to fire both barrels rather than make stupid comments. However, as I was getting up, the minotaur brushed the buckshot off his fur and laughed. “Tiny man.” I guess that answered the question if minotaurs could talk.

  “How about a fireball, dickhead?” Gary wheeled around and leveled his hands at the monster. Time seemed to slow, and I felt him knocking around in the back of my brain. Come on in, sear the beef, please.

  Unfort
unately, the resulting spell ended up far from Pyro and more like Jubilee on a bad day. The shower of sparks barely singed the minotaur’s nose hair.

  “Really?” So far, my backup had done jack squat to help me get through trial number one. How the hell was I going to survive this one, let alone twelve more?

  “Tinier man!” Cow-head bellowed before chucking his axe at Gary. The blade cleaved through the countertop like a hot knife through butter.

  “No!” Gary’s magic might be wimpy, but he was still my friend. This time I aimed lower as I plowed into the mountain of beef . . . and all I did was bounce off him like a Day-Glo superball.

  “Jessie!” Another round of sparks shot past my shoulder. Thank goodness Gary didn’t get cleaved. A streak bolted from the right and Wyatt managed to slash the beast’s arm. I should probably make my move before the big guy got to his weapon, right?

  Crap, the air around the minotaur’s arm shimmered and the axe came flying, Mjolnir style. “That’s just not fair.”

  Time for round two.

  WANNABE WIZARD

  COMING SOON!

  About the Author

  Rick Gualtieri

  Rick Gualtieri lives alone in central New Jersey with only his wife, three kids, and countless pets to both keep him company and constantly plot against him. When he’s not busy monkey-clicking words, he can typically be found jealously guarding his collection of vintage Transformers from all who would seek to defile them.

  Defilers beware!

  Rick Gualtieri is the author of several books, including:

  THE TOME OF BILL SERIES

  Bill the Vampire

  Scary Dead Things

  The Mourning Woods

  Holier Than Thou

  Sunset Strip

  Goddamned Freaky Monsters