I finished the last of my pancakes, savoring the last blueberry as it slid down my throat. “You think what you believe is real,” I said, scanning the restaurant. A man sat at a table across the room, eating alone. “See that guy?”
“The guy in the business suit?”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“Okay, I’ll play your game,” he said. “He’s a successful business man. Rich. Probably drove here in a Porsche.”
“Married or single?”
Augie cranked his head to see the man’s left hand. The stranger fiddled with his wedding ring, twirling it on his finger. “Married. Too bad for him.” As he finished the sentence, the waitress, Laura, was arguing with the man, but trying to keep her voice down. He grabbed her arm, but she pulled away. She ended her reprimand with I’m sorry your food was cold, sir. It’s on the house before stomping away. “Geez, guy,” Augie said. “If you don’t like your order, you don’t have to be a dick about it. Some people are just assbags.”
“What else can you tell me about him?”
“That he’s kind of a dick. It makes sense. He is a business man after all.”
“Of course,” I said, sipping my coffee. “What else?”
“He’s reading a newspaper. He came here to unwind from a hard day of making tons of money with his business. He’s impatient and is used to getting served by his staff, which is why he yelled at the waitress when his food was cold.”
“How would you describe him to someone?”
“He’s fortyish. Mega rich. Owns a large company. Gets what he wants.”
“How’s his marriage?”
“He’s a decent-looking guy. Probably has a hot young wife. She’s happy because they have money and go to Maui on vacation. It’s a good marriage.”
“When you’re right, you’re right,” I said, shaking my head.
“Booyah,” he said. “Nailed it, Holmes.”
“You think?”
“The power of observation, my friend,” he said. “I know what I see. And I see all.”
“The problem is you think you see with your eyes.”
He created circles with his fingers and held them up to his eyes, like he was looking through binoculars. “What else would I see with? My anus?”
“First of all, stop acting like an idiot.”
“Hey, I’m not acting—”
“Second, we don’t see with our eyes. We see with our mind.”
“Whatever. I was spot on. Admit it. I schooled you, son. At your own game. Bam.”
“I can’t admit that,” I said, setting my empty coffee cup down. “Because you’re completely wrong.”
He scowled and leaned back. “Tell me your wisdom, oh great swami,” he said, putting his palms together as if in prayer.
When his mother was around, the kid was overly polite and respectful. Now he was being his normal dickhead self. I knew Grace did the best job she could raising him, especially given her past, but this kid was on the fast track to nowhere.
“He’s not a businessman,” I said. “He’s a construction worker.”
“Dude. You are so far off, we’re not even on the same planet. Where the hell do you get that? Construction workers don’t wear suits.”
“He’s trying to grow a business on the side but doesn’t yet have the money to quit his construction job and go full time.”
“You’re totally making that up.”
“His hands are rough. And they’re still covered in a white substance. Cement. It’s hard to get that off in a hurry. He lays concrete full time.”
He turned around and looked at the hands. “Lucky guess,” he said.
“He drowned himself in cologne before he came in. I can smell him from here.”
“So? Business men have to smell nice for clients.”
“Well, he made sure he’s smelling nice for the waitress, that’s for sure.”
“For the waitress?”
“They’re having an affair.”
“No way. How do you know?”
“He took the ring off when she walked by.”
“Whoa.”
“Her emotional little blow up with him wasn’t about the food. It was about his wife. You don’t get that heated up over an upset customer. You get heated up like that when matters of the heart are involved. When it’s emotional. You get heated like that when you’re in love. Or think you are.”
“You’re lying—”
“She wants him to leave her, but he’s not making moves in that direction. I suspect he’ll never leave his wife.”
“Why not?”
“Men generally cheat on their wives to stay in a relationship. Women cheat to get out of one. The waitress probably makes him feel alive. Desired. He needed to feel like he was winning. She provided that for him. She gave him a win.”
“I think you’re making all that up.”
I grinned. “You have an unconscious bias that makes you favor something while hating others. Your confirmation bias peppers the facts. You thought he was a successful businessman because he wore a suit. You thought he had a happy marriage with a happy wife because you thought he was rich and successful. But he’s neither. Your perspective of him was filtered through that bias. And you made your opinion of him conform to that perspective, bending the facts to remain congruent.”
“Dude. Speak English.”
“You didn’t see what was right in front of you. You don’t see the truth. You saw what you wanted to see.”
“You have no proof I wasn’t right.” He piled the last of his scrambled eggs in his mouth.
I waved at the waitress. Laura came over, wiping a tear from her eye. “How’re y’all doing over here? Is there anything I can get you?”
I talked low so other customers couldn’t hear. “He’s never going to leave his wife,” I said.
She looked at me for a full five seconds before saying a word, then slid into the booth next to me. “He says he’s going to, but he’s been saying that for almost two years.”
“Why are you holding on?” I asked.
“He’s got this nutrition business he’s building. And he wants to be financially secure before he leaves his wife. You know, so he’s not on the street. And I get that, I do, but a girl can’t wait forever. My clock is ticking. And his wife is a real bitch.”
Augie jumped in, trying to prove me wrong. “What’s his full time job?”
“Oh, he lays foundation for commercial properties,” she said. “Concrete? But he hates that. His boss is a real A-hole.”
I set my hand on her shoulder. “I think you need to move on, honey. He’s not going to leave her.”
Her eyes got wide. “Did he tell you that?”
“I know people,” I said.
“Is it because of the kids?” she asked, pouting. “He’s got three little ones that are just precious. It’s the kids, isn’t it? He’s so loyal to them, he doesn’t want to hurt them.” Her face went flush. “He’s so noble.” She touched my hand. “Thank you for talking with me. Sorry to vent this on you.” She got up. “Let me refill your coffee.” She grabbed my empty cup and left.
Augie gave me the death stare. Arms crossed. “You were right about her?”
“You should get used to me being right about things,” I said with a smirk. “You’ll live longer.”
“I don’t get it,” he said, glancing at her across the restaurant. “The guy has kids and is cheating on his wife. And she thinks he’s noble? That’s messed in the head.”
“I told you. People see what they believe. They see with their bias.”
“What point are you trying to make? You’re saying I don’t see things straight?”
“I’m saying you’re a biased asshole and don’t even realize it.” I smelled the sweet aroma of apple pie in the booth next me. A large man with a bushy beard smiled as the waitress set it on his table.
Augie narrowed his eyes. “I get it. I see with my brain and not my eyes. But what does any of this
have to do with the supernatural?”
“The supernatural is everywhere,” I said. “Monsters are hiding in plain sight. The reason you don’t see them, the reason you wouldn’t believe it even if you did, and the reason you don’t have irrefutable evidence, is because your bias prevents you from doing so. To find the monsters, you have to forget what you think you know.”
“You’re saying monsters are real?”
“Rule number one, kid. Don’t believe everything you think.” Laura returned with my coffee. “Thank you,” I said.
Augie waited for her to leave. “You’ve actually seen monsters? Like, in person? For real?”
“If you knew what I knew, you’d never close your eyes again.”
He shook his head with a cocky disbelief. “Tell me about the monsters.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Are vampires real?”
“Nine times out of ten, vamps are teenage punks with a fetish for blood and fantasy role playing. Goth kids with daddy issues.”
“What about the other one out of ten? The other ten percent?”
“The other ten percent will suck you dry before you turn around real good. But they’re hideous creatures of the night. It’s not like Twilight. And it sure as hell ain’t a sexy soap opera.”
He scoffed. “Are ghosts real?”
“The human soul leaves an imprint. Sometimes, ghosts are just phantoms; echoes of emotional energy left behind. Other times, spirits return from the afterlife to visit their loved ones and are mistaken as ghosts. And other times, they’re not ghosts at all. They’re demons, poltergeists, or wraiths. But most people don’t know the difference, so they call it a ghost.”
“In one of your books, you talk about beings called Forever People. You say—” He looked on his phone and read. “You say Forever People are an anomaly. A paradox. A disease in the body of God that destroys healthy cells: namely humanity. Forevers are a cancer. There’s only one way to deal with this life-threating illness: the complete eradication of their species. The way you deal with them is the same way you deal with cancer: you cut it out.”
“My first book,” I said. “Very old. But still true. Nothing has changed. Except there seems to be even more of them now.”
“What are they?”
Before I could answer, Augie’s friend, Blake, barged through the front door of the restaurant. He walked right up to us. “Hey, man, fancy meeting you here.”
Augie stood and they slapped hands like morons. “What’s up, bro?”
Blake glared at me. “What’re you guys talking about?”
I turned off Augie’s recorder. “I was just about to take Augie to my truck to show him some cool monster-killing weapons.”
“Really?” Blake said. “Rad. Can I come?”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said, throwing down enough cash for both Augie and myself. I didn’t know who this Blake kid was or why he was here or why he was friends with Augie. But I knew one thing:
I was going to kill him.
Chapter 8
Gotcha
Augie and Blake followed me to the back parking lot down the street. My truck was backed into the alley. Out of sight. That wasn’t by accident.
I opened up the back door of the camper. There’s something you have to understand about this camper. I live in it. Eat in it. Do my killing in it. But I’m always prepared when someone wants to stick their nose in my business. Like if a cop pulls me over and wants to peek inside.
I opened it up. It looked like nothing but cabinets and a dog cage. Looked like a homeless person’s ride.
“I call this the Peacemaker,” I said, pulling out an antique handgun that looked like it was from the civil war. “It’s called a Howdah Pistol. The etchings on it charm the weapon, giving it power to kill the undead.” I handed it to Augie.
He marveled at it. “It kills zombies?”
Blake eyed it. “Zombies are real?”
“In more ways than you know,” I said. I opened a drawer and pulled out a multi-colored jewel the size of a baseball. It was black, but reflected every color imaginable inside it.
I grabbed a small flashlight and shined on it, lighting it up like a disco ball. I gave it to Blake. “This is a called a Thrall Crystal.”
Blake held it close to his eyes, examining it. “What does it do?”
“It enthralls the holder. Distracts them.” I pulled out a dagger and plunged it into Blake’s stomach. “The blade you feel in your gut, the one that’s pinching your spine? That’s a demon blade. Forged in Hell. It can cut almost anything. Even Forever People.”
I wrenched Blake closer, twisting the blade. His eyes grew wide. I sliced to the top of his rib cage as I dropped a small tracker in his front pocket. As I pulled him into me, I jammed another one into his open gut.
Always have a backup.
The crystal dropped from his hand.
Augie gripped the pistol. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Blake isn’t your friend, Augie. He’s Forever,” I said. “He’s here to kill me.”
Augie backed away. “You’re insane!”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Rule number two? Don’t get attached.” I shoved Blake away. He stumbled backwards and fell in the alley. I glared sideways at Augie. “He’s not human.”
“You killed my friend. You’re a maniac.” He backed into the brick wall and pointed the pistol at me. “Get away from me.”
“Your friend isn’t dead.”
He turned around to see Blake’s body. He was lying in a pool of blood. “He’s dead because you killed him. Don’t you come near me, man. You’re a psycho!”
He shook the pistol at me. I always keep my guns loaded. I’ve fought thousands of monsters and survived. But one nervous, trigger happy ginger could get me killed. I held up the dagger for Augie to see. “Look at the blade, August.”
“The murder weapon? What about it? You gonna kill me too?”
“August,” I said. “Look closely at the blood.”
“I’m not getting near you, bro.”
“Look.”
He didn’t come closer, but stared at the blood on the knife. The blood was shifting. Moving. Slithering. It pulled away from the blade, as if alive. It extended in the air, reaching for Blake like a long lost lover.
Augie took a step closer. “What is that?”
“It’s Forever blood. It’s trying to return to its owner.”
“But blood doesn’t do that, man.” He moved closer to the blood. “It’s not possible.”
“Not if you’re human,” I said.
Laughter filled the alleyway. Blake laughed hysterically. August slowly turned around. The corpse rose to his feet, standing in a pool of his own blood.
Blake stuck two of his blood-soaked fingers in his mouth and slurped off the blood. “Yummy.”
August was shaking. “H-how are you alive? He stabbed you.”
Blake licked his fingers clean. “Little Augie McKenzie. You’re so fucking clueless, brah. It’s pathetic.”
I stepped in front of August. “Tell Poe I have his broker.”
“You got Alan Dill? You’re gonna regret that. Poe is gonna be pissed.”
Augie shook his head. “Blake, what’s going on?”
Blake chuckled. More of a cackle, really. “You just sealed your death warrant, hunter. For both of you.”
I moved toward Blake. His scarlet eyes shimmered bright.
“Your friends, your mother,” he said. “All dead, rotting meat. Everyone you ever loved will die.”
With the blade in my hand, I charged him. In an array of red and orange liquid light, he was gone.
Teleported.
Unless you’ve been through a teleport, you can’t see the light. But after you’ve been through it a couple times, your brain adjusts to the spectrum of invisible light. Like your eyes adjusting to the dark. To the normal human eye, they just vanish in a blink.
Augie was on the ground,
trying to get the pills he dropped. His hands shook as he crawled on the dirt for his anxiety meds.
He popped several pills in his mouth in a mad attempt to self-medicate. I picked up the Howdah pistol he dropped on the ground.
He held his face in his hands. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, what was that, what just happened, holy shit.”
“August, you just met your first monster.”
He was sweating. “He disappeared into thin air.”
“Teleported.”
“Teleported? But-but what were all those lights?”
Chapter 9
Remains of the Day
I held my foot to the floor as I raced ninety miles per hour on McHenry Road, weaving in and out of traffic. Nine times out of ten, when a monster says he’s going to murder your family, it’s because he’s already done it. So I tend to take the threat seriously.
Augie held on to his seatbelt. “Do you think he really wants to hurt my mom?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” I said.
Augie dialed her number. “She’s not picking up.”
I placed a call of my own. To my own mother. The attendant at the retirement home answered.
“Everwood Senior Living,” she said. “How may I direct your call?”
“To Evelyn Ivy’s room, please,” I said a little too forcefully.
“Hi, Solomon. I think they just finished giving your mom her meds. But she may still be awake. Let me patch you through.”
After several rings, the nurse picked up. “Hello?”
“It’s Solomon Ivy.”
“Oh, Hi, Sol,” she said.
“How’s my mother? Is she okay?” I swerved past a semitruck, almost crashing a Hyundai off the road.
“Oh, yes. She took her medication and she’s already falling asleep for the night. I’d put her on but she’s a little groggy.”
“That’s okay. How does she look? Healthy?”
“Healthy as a peacock,” she said, giggling.
“You haven’t seen anyone lurking around her room, have you? Or people you don’t know walking through the community asking about her?”
“Not that I know of. It’s been pretty peaceful. Mr. Jensen has been making a ruckus, shouting that he doesn’t know any of us. He pushes his wheelchair through the halls, swearing we’re keeping him prisoner and his kids just want his money. But nothing out of the ordinary. Is everything okay?”
Memoirs of a Monster Killer: Killing Forever Book 1 Page 5
