by J M Thomas
I eyed him suspiciously as I accepted my food, a steaming-hot breakfast wrap big enough for two people. “Why the who? What?”
He shook his head, wagging it wider than absolutely necessary. “Nice sass. You gotta admit, I win that one fair and square. I make a point that you’re a force to be reckoned with, then you go and underscore it for me. Thanks for that.”
I gave Don’s shoulder a playful punch, grinning as I sat with him. “Anytime you need a reminder, feel free to make an asinine assumption again.”
“Duly noted. Now, to the business of you being the spawn of Satan.” He stabbed an egg yolk with his fork, as if he was demonstrating the pitchfork action I was capable of should I sprout a pointy tail.
I pursed my lips. “I have it on good authority that neither of my parents are Satan.”
“I’m sure you do. Nah, it’s all kinda weird. I thought Aeron would’ve explained it already, but I’ll do my best.” Don sat slowly, his eyes unfocused. “Where to begin?”
I waited, silently munching on my wrap, careful to keep my gaze from being too stabby.
He waved the fork in commencement. “Nobody wants to wind up dead center of a necro prophecy. It’s never... “ He gave me a look, then groaned. “Look, I’m not into all the politics of it. This mess has been going on for centuries. The watchling prophecies are always the counter of the necro ones, but good luck getting eyes on it if you’re not a member of those factions in some official capacity.” He tilted his head, clearly searching for the best way to proceed.
“Because I’m a true blind?” I supplied.
Don nodded. “True blinds are immune to watchling summons, so that side fears and abhors them, er, you guys as aberrations, abominations, what have you. But true blinds have powerful blood for sacrificing, so necros and watchlings alike piss themselves whenever they find one.”
I was dumbfounded. “So, the necros want the evil antichrist to use for blood sacrifices, and the watchlings want to stop her… and all the while, that’s me?” I set the plate down on the table, unable to fathom how ridiculous this all sounded. “Have I been on the wrong side of this whole mess?”
“Calm your tits.” Don gestured with his fork, thankfully at the ceiling, not my chest. “It’s not quite that simple. And no, the watchlings run the blood farm. Necros would get rounded up and wholesale slaughtered if they pulled shit like that, so they source responsibly, for the most part.”
Don backtracked at my look of confusion, taking a deep breath. “Apparently, every year, there’s a ceremony in which the watchlings and necros have a truce for a day. They look through some kind of orb to see the future together.”
Sarcasm laced his voice. “It was designed to bring peace to the warring factions, to envision the same future to work toward. Except the morons looked in on a nasty battle between them, one that’s supposed to come true this year… in Wachenta.”
The morning sun had finally risen to the point where the beams glowed just beyond the blinds. “And there’s a true blind in the prophecy?” I prodded, crossing the room to let some light in.
In a flash, Don’s hand was slapping mine away, yanking the pull cord to lower the blinds again. He’d crossed the room in a single bound, faster than I’d thought possible. “If you want to check the weather, do it on your phone.” He cast me a glare, then sat back down and casually continued breakfast like he hadn’t just sent my heart rate through the roof.
Yeah. Truly blind, that’s me. I definitely didn’t see that coming. Frowning, I tucked my legs under myself on the futon again, willing myself to keep my breathing even after the mild startle.
Don’s jaw twitched as he handed me my plate back. “The true blind is the dead center of the prophecy.”
“Why don’t they just not show up? Nobody go there, wherever ‘there’ is, for the whole year, make sure no clash happens?” Don’s offer to deliver me to a safehouse in bubble wrap suddenly made a lot more sense. I used the un-nibbled portion of the wrap to make a burrito out of my bacon and eggs, hoping my appetite would come back from wherever it’d fled to.
From his near eye roll, Don seemed to think very little of either side’s ability to negotiate any semblance of peace. “That would require them to trust each other. They’ve tried a number of ways of preventing prophecies in the past, some more successfully than others. It’s literally Lyons’ job to ensure the best possible outcome for the necro faction in terms of prophetic visions.”
My heart sank, my plate dropping to my lap. “Is that why he’s been so interested in protecting me? If this went any other way…”
Don held up both hands to stop me right there, one of them still holding his dripping egg burrito. “No, no, no, I’m not commenting on that. That’s between you and him. I’ve heard both your inner thoughts, remember? You guys have to share that shit with each other.”
“What about you, then? What would you do?” I took a bite out of my wrap. The yolk burst and ran over the egg and bacon.
“Me?” Don shook his head, finally lowering the food to the plate in his lap. “I’d stay clear of the whole mess, if I wasn’t getting paid. Lyons represents London, and he hired me, so London’s say is what I do. At this point, you’re a damned inconvenient liability, and the less you leave this room, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”
“And if the watchlings hired you first?” I took another chomp, catching the bright yellow drips with my plate.
“You’d be dead, or maybe hooked up to a harvester for life.” He took a bite a third of the size of his breakfast all at once, then tried to talk around the bite. “Don’t get me wrong; it’d be a shame.”
He had to pause to finish chewing and swallowing, leaving an uncomfortably long time for that statement to sink in.
“But take the one center piece out of the whole thing, and suddenly there’s no object to fear or adore. Everybody shows up, and nothing happens. We, well… I discussed the possibility of extracting you, getting you out of the country, but Lyons wouldn’t have you out of sight for a second.” He rolled his eyes, then shrugged.
“Is he that controlling?” I forced my bite down my throat. Concern weighed heavy on my stomach. “Should I be worried?”
Don waved his hand dismissively, still holding his fork. “Nah, he just knows what’ll happen to you if they get ahold of you, and thinks he’s the one to keep that from happening.” He gave me a gentle punch to the shoulder. “Seriously, stop worrying, at least on that front. Lyons cares, maybe too much. This isn’t just a job to him—he thinks he’s everybody’s goddamned big brother or something.”
“Sounds about right.” I tried and failed to stifle a grin.
“Dude’s a brooding-ass mother hen,” Don grumbled. “But, if he wants you under his wings, it’s not anything nefarious. It just means there’s snakes in the chicken coop. On that, at least, he and I agree.”
I thought about Don’s words while he polished off another third of his wrap in a single chomp. When he stopped long enough to take a bite, he ate like it was still basic training. In fact, his casually-efficient self did a lot of things like he was still in basic training.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the metal stairs, then three gentle taps pattered on the door before the key turned in the lock.
“Speak of the devil.” Don grinned, hopping up off Aeron’s chair to unlock the door with one hand, still balancing his plate in the other. “Changing of the guard. I’m gonna get some shut-eye. Can you work from here today?” Don asked, then stuffed the rest of his food in his mouth.
“Yeah. I need to get a shower, but I have layouts I can browse and compile from here.” I gave my bag with my notebook and laptop a little pat, then scooted it from its place on the floor to a more out-of-the-way spot.
Don nodded as Aeron slid through the doorway, slumping like he’d been worn to nothing. “Lyons!” Don called through his mouthful of tortilla. “Food.” He pointed toward the kitchen.
“Fanks.” Aeron’s feet slid on the linoleum
rather than rising off it with each exhausted step. He fixed me with an inscrutable look and shook a finger.
I vacated the futon in time for him to crash on it. “Sorry for interrupting your work last night. I didn’t realize you meant what you said about being a bouncer.”
“Jus’ weekends. It’s legitimacy without takin’ too much time.” Aeron sagged as he bit into his breakfast.
“If you need me, call. I’ll be close.” Don headed for the door with a little wave, already humming a little tune under his breath. He didn’t suffer from the same complete collapse as Aeron, but he, too, sported deep, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.
“I’ll grab some things from my car while we’re at it, then.” The sunlight at the door made me squint. My sunglasses were going to be the first thing I swiped to bring in.
As we headed down the stairs, Don gestured at an empty parking spot near a couple bushes, several yards closer to the door than where either he or Aeron had left it under the awning last night when they’d brought it over from the bar. “Mind moving your car over there? The cameras have a nice gap on that edge of the parking lot. Best to not have eyes on it, just in case they find where Aeron’s been holing up.”
“They know my car, too.” I shuddered at the thought. “Maybe I should just set it on fire.”
“Nah, there’s no need. It’s a lease; if it comes to it, we’ll just trade it in.” Don waved his hand as I climbed in my vehicle, then set off across the street. I guessed he was renting a room in the seedy little motel over there—one wing of the rooms faced Aeron’s apartment. There were never any blinds open on that side, so however he was doing it, he was good at concealing his precise location.
For once, I found it mostly comforting.
My soft, purple, off-shoulder shirt might have been clean-ish, but I had grass stains on the butt of my shorts where Aeron’s jacket hadn’t quite covered my roll. I barely even remember rolling, but I recall the smell inside his helmet perfectly. He said something about remembering… and I’ve already forgotten what it was he said, and why.
My legs and scalp itched for a shower. My curls had poofed out to make an impressive mane. Thank you, humidity. I parked and got out. After a little fishing around, I grabbed some clean clothes from my trunk suitcase, then headed back across the parking lot to Aeron’s.
A shout cut across the morning, Don’s voice. I glanced up to see what was wrong. He was running toward me, reaching behind himself, pulling out a pistol, waving at me to get down…
The roar of an accelerating car filled my ears. Glass shattered as I whirled toward the noise.
The car swerved, hugging the corner of the parking lot before making a U-turn to head back toward me. My feet felt like lead. Dance. Dance that stupid waltz. Get out of here. My mind screamed at my body, but my body ignored me... until the word waltz.
An image flashed through my mind: that bar, a metal song, a waltz beat...
My feet kicked in, all on their own. I shuffled hip-first, forcing myself to move to the count. One, two, three... Nearest cover. One, two, three... quickly scan my surroundings. A dumpster, across the parking lot. I pictured myself behind it, dancing my way over, one foot in front of the other.
I didn’t dare look at the car, but I couldn’t keep from hearing it. One, two, three… Closer. Closer.
I’d never make it in time.
At the last second, I turned my head. It was right up on me. I jumped near out of my own skin.
My back impacted on the hood, the car’s momentum scooping me up like a shovel. The world spun as I tumbled over the top and rolled. The ground came up to meet me.
The next thing to hit me was Don. “Let’s go, let’s go! Move, move, move!” He grabbed me by one arm and the back of my belt, propelling me forward before I could even think about getting up off the ground.
I scrambled to aid his rocketing toward cover, wondering why I wasn’t dead. Craning my neck, I tried to glance behind me. The car was making its way around again, but one tire flapped uselessly on the pavement, rim sending sparks arcing through the air as it scraped asphalt. The windshield had a bullet-sized hole and spider cracks running over it.
“Keep moving!” Don shouted. “We need to draw them off, circle back to your car! Get your keys ready!”
I pulled them from my pocket as he drag-propelled me from cover to cover in some pattern I couldn’t quite make out. Of the two, I’d far rather have been dragged around by Aeron. He led, signaling what movements I should make, but allowing me to make them of my own volition.
Don’s method involved me being half-flung around corners and bushes. On the plus side, if I had no choice in the matter, there was no room for the paralysis of indecision. I landed; he spied the next leg of the trip, calculated the timing, then launched us again.
“Keys.” He held out his palm.
I selected the car key on my ring, then handed them to him. What he’d said earlier, me being dead if it was his call to make, picked that second to loop in my mind. If he flung me under the wheels of that oncoming car trying to run us down… It’d probably be a mercy to everyone if he used his powers to get the true blind out of the picture.
The delayed pain of impact on the car’s hood finally registered, surfacing through the shock. My breath escaped in a whoosh, and drawing the next lungful hurt like heck. “Aah.”
“There it is.” Don tightened his grip on my belt. “Alright… go!”
I couldn’t fathom moving through this much pain. I couldn’t imagine letting my feet hit the hard ground at this rate. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t inhale. All I could do was churn my legs and hope I was helping as Don’s slinging threw me at the passenger’s side of my car.
He wrenched the door open, shoved me in, then slammed it behind me.
I worked my way around in my seat, moving gingerly though the pain exploding through my back, ribs, elbows, knees. Taking stock of my injuries would have to wait.
Don put the car in reverse and peeled out of the parking space, swearing under his breath. “Next time, you park it facing out.” He nearly stripped the gear throwing it in drive so fast.
I glanced behind us again as he took a route I wasn’t familiar with behind the complex. The car had made it up to us, but we accelerated on four wheels, and it only had three. Sparks flew as it scraped. We ramped over a speed bump, and I nearly went through the roof.
“Sorry!” Don did not sound repentant at all. He took the next one at equal speed, prompting a hiss of pain from me. He didn’t bother apologizing for that one.
As soon as we were on the main road, he dug in his cargo pants pocket and produced his phone. “Call Lyons.” He unlocked it, then tossed it in my lap.
“Calling Lyons,” the phone said back.
“Speakerphone on.”
“Now on speakerphone.” The phone got twice as loud. The steady prrp prrp of the ringing filled the silence between us.
I hurt everywhere. My body started to rock and shake. “Don… Is it cold?” I looked down at my hands and arms as my teeth chattered.
Don unbuckled my seatbelt. “Get in the back.” There was something funny in his voice as he reached across me to lower my seat back. “Climb in the back and let it come. I’ve got us. You’re safe.”
When he said the words, “you’re safe,” all hell broke loose. I was colliding with the hood again and again in a loop. My mind spun, casting me adrift. The pain radiated over and over across my torso as my body flopped uselessly on the back seat. I rolled over, shook, cried, and hurt.
When the images slowed to a stop, we had, too. I had no idea how long we’d been parked, but Don seemed to be waiting for me to calm down.
“Ready to go?” He laid his hand on the passenger-side headrest as he turned to make eye contact with me.
I searched in vain for a comfortable way to lay, exhausted and in considerable pain. “Go where?” My teeth were still chattering. I wanted a blanket. I wanted to sleep, then die.
“
Inside.” He flicked a finger, and I sat up slowly.
We were at Betwixt. Don must’ve noticed my frown of pain and attributed it to distaste, because he added, “You’ll be safe here. Even if they know where you are, they can’t touch you here. It’s a neutral zone.”
Shoving down my questions, I slowly made my way to the car door. Don met me there, helping me to my feet. Despite his promises that I was safe now, I couldn’t help but notice he kept me body-shielded.
“What about Aeron?” I asked as we made our way through the shop door.
“He wasn’t answering. Either too conked to hear his phone, or the battery ran dead. Either way, sloppy.”
Or too hurt… what if they got to him, too?
“He’s fine.”
Then it hit me. “You’re listening in again, aren’t you?” I threw him a hard glare.
“Guilty as charged.” Don opened up the long pocket on his cargo pants, sliding the scope out so I could see it. He dropped it back in. “Which is why I need you to go all the way over to that corner while I talk to Hugo. I can’t hear anything else but your thoughts right now.”
I really wanted to be mad at him for listening to my inner thoughts without my knowledge or permission, though I got the feeling he’d rather not and wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for my protection. Every irritated step sent lancing agony through my back and drove the wind from my lungs. I was only in the corner nursing my midsection with thoughts of the dark, painless bliss of oblivion a few moments before Hugo glided up in a fluster.
“Oh dear. Oh, my dear!”
“Nice to see you again,” I managed.
“Of course it is, but you’ve had a fright!” He wrung his hands, gesturing for us to follow. “Come on, I’ll clear out a place.”
“With a lock on it, and on watch.” Don strode up behind him, leaving me to bring up the rear of the brief procession. “I think we found the hand.”
“From the looks of things, the hand found you. Have you been able to reach your employer?” Hugo asked, unlocking the wood-paneled door behind his cash register.
“No word.” Don shook his head grimly.