by Danny Bell
I’d spent the first week at Olivia’s, and after that it was a small miracle that I could navigate the ladder to my loft space. I understood why Claire would worry about me going back to work as quickly as I had, but I’d done enough to mess up her life lately, I wasn’t going to add to that by making her work double shifts until I was back to a hundred percent.
“In that case, what do you say to a little dinner and company before I put you to bed?” Claire asked.
“I still need to finish up my close.”
Claire gave me a dismissive wave. “I’ll handle it, let’s eat.”
“No, I should finish, I’m not going to let you—”
“Elana—” my friend’s firm tone didn’t match her warm smile—“let’s eat.”
I resigned gracefully, raising my hands in surrender as Claire went about setting up our meal. “Whiskey?” she asked from the back room.
“If you break out the booze, I’ll need to choose between that and my pain meds,” I answered, and she stuck her head out quizzically to confirm my answer. “So yes, obviously, we just have to drink enough to make it worth it.”
It was a better night than I deserved. Claire nursed the one, but since I didn’t have to drive, I made my drink a triple. We ate, we laughed, and we chatted about work, and books, and fond memories, and embarrassing stories, and everything except what had just happened. I could still see telltale signs of the storm every time I looked outside, half the customers who came in the store tried to make small talk about how crazy it was. Claire knew something they didn’t.
Like I said, it was a better night than I deserved.
Nice as it was, I was exhausted and fading fast. The whiskey and burger grease hadn’t helped. Claire helped me up the ladder and tucked me into bed like I was a child, sitting with me a moment. I was tempted to ask her to read me a bedtime story.
“So, do you promise to stay off that leg tomorrow?” Claire asked. “I’ll bring you all the books you can read if you do. Maybe even another burger.”
I smiled at her then, feeling a warmth that may or may not have been assisted by alcohol. “Hey. You know what you mean to me, right?”
Claire chuckled as she stood. “And that’s how I know you’re buzzed. Need anything before I get out of here, kiddo?”
Part of me wanted to tell her how sorry I was and how much I appreciated her, but in that moment, I could tell she knew. Nothing more needed to be said on the subject. “I’m good. Maybe I’ll bug you tomorrow.”
Claire smiled as she turned off my lamp. “Sure thing. Whatever you want.”
The store lights went out as Claire went home, leaving the store a mess for tomorrow as she did. The ambient noise of gentle traffic and the pitch black of the store teamed up with the heavy burger and the alcohol to put me to sleep, but they were competing against three magic words.
Whatever. You. Want.
It was a phrase that sat in the room like a threat. Because now, for better or worse, I had to consider those words carefully, and they could make or break me. The truth was, I don’t always know what I want, and most people are more than happy to let me know what that might be. But now, I was getting a better picture of what those words meant. What I wanted wasn’t easy, but what is?
There’s always tomorrow to think about what I want out of life, what kind of wizard I want to be, what I want for my friends, and what I want for the people of my city. But at the moment—and for the rest of my life—what I really want is a good night’s sleep. Tonight might’ve been a freebie. Most days I’ll probably have to earn it.
* * *
“You fought maybe one of the top three snake monsters of all time, and you never said, ‘Snakes, why did it have to be snakes?’,” Jason mused. “Feels like a missed opportunity.”
“Top three?” I questioned, stopping to wipe my brow. “What’s bigger than the Orochi?”
“Well, the one that killed Thor. Or is supposed to kill Thor, not sure how that works anymore. Loki’s kid,” he began thoughtfully. “That’s got to be number one, and then after that, I’d say the Hydra? That had nine heads, Orochi had eight.”
I gave a thoughtful nod of my own. “Listen, this is going to be hard for me to say.”
Jason stopped working and looked at me with sudden concern. “Oh?”
I looked at him for a moment and said, “Quetzalcoatl.”
It took him a second to catch up, but when he did, he barked a laugh. “Don’t do that!”
“What?” I asked innocently. “I told you it would be hard for me to say.”
Jason had insisted on tagging along with me to one of my many volunteer projects since I’d fought the Orochi. All of my friends had at some point, but between the time I needed to physically recover and the time I spent trying to do some good, this was my first chance to hang out with him, and I’d been grateful. It had been almost two months since the incident, but people were still recovering. It was a good three weeks before I was walking again, probably would’ve been a lot longer if I didn’t have a magical constitution; even now, I wasn’t at a hundred percent. But the hard work was doing me good, though I could’ve done without the ninety-three-degree heat. At least for protection from the sun, I had an oversized floppy sun hat with a brim wide enough to double as an umbrella in a sudden downpour and about a gallon of sunscreen, though knowing my luck and pale complexion, I was likely already working on a second-degree burn.
Today’s project was the San Gabriel Humane Society and clearing out a mountain of debris. Behind the kennels was a sizable patch of land that belonged to the city but hadn’t been expanded upon and had anything built due to a lack of funding. One of the volunteers had explained to me their eventual plans to build more units to house more dogs, but with the mess from the storm and the fact that most of their volunteers were senior citizens, getting some community help was a godsend. They closed the kennel area to all but essential personnel on Mondays, which made it the ideal day for me and Jason to get out there and clean. Despite their only being one person at the front desk and one officer who was in and out, they still made us wear their goofy bright blue volunteer shirts.
“I’m proud of you,” Jason said after a minute. “You’ve probably done more volunteer work this past month than I have, like, ever.”
He meant it as a compliment, but it took me off guard. This wasn’t volunteer work, it was atonement. As far as I was concerned, I was at least in part responsible for everything that had happened, and if this was really all mine to protect, I had to help where I could. At least with Freyja not checking in on me anymore, I had the time for it.
“Thanks,” I said, not wanting to get into the rest of it, and tried to change the subject. “You know, a nigh infinite being made me third person for a minute or two. I didn’t like it.”
Jason stopped abruptly and stared at me dumbly. “What?”
It was probably the closest I’d ever came to making him speechless.
“Yeah, so, you know how you’re just, you know, doing shit? And it’s your perspective?”
“I don’t typically narrate my actions. There’s not a voice in my head that says, ‘My arms ached from all the manual labor I didn’t expect when I heard we were volunteering at an animal shelter.’ Wait, no joke, do you have a narrator in your head? That somehow wouldn’t surprise me.”
“No, it wasn’t like that, it was like I was outside of my body.”
“So, like an out of body experience? Ooh! Can you astral project now?”
I shook my head in frustration. “No, not like that, it was more like, I don’t know.” As far as changing the subject went, this was not my finest hour, but also far from my worst.
“What do you think—?” Jason began before his voice shot up an octave in evident surprise. “Oh! Oh, hey, uh who are you?”
I turned around to see what spooked him, and my stomach immediately dropped. Two men, dressed plainly apart from their conspicuous hooded cloaks that obscured their faces, stood so close
to Jason that they could’ve breathed on him, and we hadn’t heard them approach. But the part that really freaked me out? Each of them held a Wizard staff.
I had called upon a minor wind spell on instinct to give the illusion that I was calling my own staff to my hands, but I was sure that those two had seen right through that trick. They remained stoic and unmoving, even as Jason panic scrambled back toward me.
“We will allow the civilian to leave,” one of them said flatly.
“But we will not be held accountable for what happens to him if he stays,” the other added. “We’re just here for you, Elana, no one else has to get hurt.”
Jason visibly gathered his courage and shot back, “That is a pretty strong implication that you, uh, two…guys, are going to hurt my friend, and I’m not—”
I put a hand on Jason’s arm, cutting him off, feeling the panic welling up in me and doing my best to keep it under control. “Obstrigillate,” I whispered.
Jason’s eyes went wide as he looked at me. “You’ve never said that on the first try,” he observed.
“You need to leave, please,” I quietly pleaded, my grip on the staff tightening on instinct. “I’ll see you later. Just…you have to trust me. Go home right now.”
Something in my voice must’ve sold him because Jason nodded, swallowed hard, and swiftly walked away just shy of a run. He was worried for me, probably going to call for help outside, but I was confident that no matter how concerned he was for me, I was doubly worried for his safety. Looking at the sigils on either staff, it was like my mind was translating a secret language, and I was getting insight into who these men were and what they were all about. And what I saw shook me to my core. They were attack dogs, pardon the expression, and they were indifferent to who they had to hurt in the line of duty. They had blood on their hands, enough to make an episode on any serial killer podcast, and they had just said they were here for me.
“What’s this all about?” I fished, trying to feel out the magical energies in the air. I dared not cast anything, these two were coiled springs, just waiting for an excuse to do something.
“You’re coming with us,” the first one said.
“With dignity, I hope,” his partner said, the unspoken words being that they’d make me otherwise, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like what that looked like.
“You win,” I spread my hands in surrender. “Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”
“Out front,” the first one answered. At least my potential executioners had a sense of humor.
They led the way through the main office, where I could see the receptionist had been put to sleep. She was breathing at least, but I hoped it was a spell and that she hadn’t been knocked out. I was parked just around the corner, and I wondered if I could maybe cast that misdirection spell in the staff, make a break for it, or if that would just lead to a world of hurt. I was playing it by ear, but I didn’t know how long I had to make a move before it would be before I had no say in the matter. Stepping outside, however, made things far more interesting.
“Let her go,” a voice boomed. He was almost comically broad like someone had put a white suit on a refrigerator. I didn’t recognize him, but I knew what he was by his all-white suit, and I recognized the two next to him. Florian and Yviene, the two baby Gardeners who tried to ambush me at my home a while back. This time, however, the three of them were carrying weapons. The man held a baseball bat the way I might hold a toothpick with an oven mitt. Florian and Yviene held bladed weapons, Florian with some longer than a dagger but shorter than a sword looking thing that I could never remember the name of, and Yviene was very considerately just holding a dagger. Somewhere in all of this I realized that Jason’s car was gone It was a small blessing, but I’ll take it.
“You know the rules,” one of the men sneered. “She made a staff, and that makes her a wizard. You have no claim to her.”
“Last I checked, you’re not even supposed to be in town,” his partner added.
“True enough,” the man in white agreed. “But you’ve forced our—”
“Sneak attack!” I shouted, whipping my hat into the eyes of one of the murder wizards, drawing a shout of surprise that made me guess I might’ve lucked out and scratched a retina. All hell immediately broke loose, but that was preferable to having a bunch of assholes negotiate for me for the next half hour. The second murder wizard made a move, but the man-mountain was on him, swinging his bat like it was the bottom of the ninth. The second I tried to run, the one I’d hit made a move for me as well, but Yviene was there to try and poke a hole in him. That left Florian and me, and about a split second between us to make our decisions.
Florian didn’t look as flat-footed as I expected, but I had started to run before he did, waving my staff wildly in his direction which forced him to play defense for an extra precious split second. He was faster than I was, no question, but I didn’t have far to go. I just had to make it to my car around the corner. My feet stomped into pavement for all I was worth, and for once, I was grateful to not be wearing a heavy coat. I rounded the corner and saw my car not ten feet away, but that’s when I was yanked back hard, almost to the ground. Florian kept me upright and spun me around, pointed metal mere inches from my face. “You…” he said, catching his breath as well from the sudden sprint, “have no idea what shit you’ve stirred up, have you? What you’re—”
“Hey, you,” a nervous voice interrupted, getting Florian’s attention. “Get your damn hands off—ohmygod, ahh!”
In what looked like a fit of anxious energy, this tall, gangly kid leveled Florian with a haymaker hard enough across the jaw to spin him around before he finished his request. The mystery kid looked like he might cry. Florian’s legs forgot how to work and collapsed in a heap, and the new guy was clutching his hand like it was on fire.
“Thanks?” I tried in shock.
“Why does anyone punch anyone?” he cried. I got a better look at him now, tall and skinny with thick black hair and thicker black reading glasses, wearing an Eternity Pilgrim shirt that appeared to be actual vintage, as in mildly falling apart because it was thirty years old kind of vintage.
“If it helps, I think that was one of the best-timed punches I’ve ever seen,” I offered.
He caught my eye then and, almost miraculously, he stopped fidgeting with his hand and stared at me for a second before dumbly stating, “Hi.”
“Yes, hi,” I agreed impatiently. “Sorry, but I have to go.”
“Right, sorry, Elana,” he said hurriedly, walking away, only to trip over Florian. On instinct, I moved to catch him, only he was heavier than I was expecting, and we tumbled into a car parked in a driveway, his back arched awkwardly as I fell onto his chest.
Our eyes met again for a moment before mine narrowed. “I didn’t tell you my name.”
A look of panic and dread crossed his already pained expression as he slid away from me and backed off. “Yes, no, I know, I wasn’t here,” the mystery man stammered before turning to run down the street and shouting, “I never met you, forget my face!”
I wanted to go after him and get answers, but Florian was stirring and I had no idea how much longer I’d have before someone else caught up to me. I fished for my keys, threw my staff in the back seat, and sped away as fast as an ancient station wagon was able, intent on heading for the safety of home.
Look, I know the start of adventure when I see one, and this was a whole big thing in the making. A secret order of wizards at odds with a clandestine, shadowy organization. A mysterious, and oddly handsome stranger comes to my rescue and flees, expecting me to give chase. Then there’s me, escaping by the skin of my teeth. I promise, I get it. Twenty-one-year-old me would’ve been thrilled, but for now, at least, I was done. I was so fucking done. There’s such a thing as too soon, and the universe needs to be aware of it. Goddamn, I was just trying to help some shelter dogs, I don’t need any of this right now.
I was supposed to collect my thoughts,
get curious, and investigate. Chase down this mysterious stranger, figure out why the Gardeners were back in town, and learn just what those wizards wanted with me. I was probably supposed to do a lot of things, but that’s the trap, isn’t it? There’s always going to be one more showdown, one more conspiracy, one more nefarious villain that only I can defeat. But that’s not who I am, it’s just what I do. I’m pretty sure, though, I’m not supposed to throw myself into the middle of a pissing contest between two groups of power-hungry maniacs.
Besides, whether or not I was supposed to, I was kind of over chasing in general. At least for today.
About the Author
Danny Bell is the USA Today and Amazon #1 bestselling author of The Black Pages, and he is writing this bio at the absolute last minute. Not even joking, he’s way, way late. This should have been done months ago. Virtually everything else is finished except this little bit right here. Right now he’s thinking, “Oh god, do I even try to make this entertaining or is anyone even going to care? Can I think of something interesting?” He has to say something, right? How about this: Danny Bell is married with two lovely kids and a dog in his New England lakeside home. No, that’s every other novelist. Danny Bell lives in Los Angeles with no dating prospects in an apartment that doesn’t allow pets. None of his friends are brave enough to say something about his troubling and enormous t-shirt collection. He listens to the Mountain Goats, his book covers are literally on the moon, and he just hit his word count for this bio and can stop writing it now.
https://www.facebook.com/ElanaRuthBlack/
