Her Royal Runner (The Courier Chronicles Book 0)

by Joey Anderle

  “Hungry?” Booker offered as he situated himself in the vehicle.

  She buckled in and watched Booker slid into his own seat before questioning him, “Who are you?”

  Sterling feigned being hurt, “Alphonse must have said my name around a hundred times,” he answered.

  “How do you say my name?” She countered.

  Booker responded proudly, “Auralee.”

  “Auralee,” she corrected.

  Booker looked back at her, “That’s what I said, Auralee.”

  “No, you said Auralee, it's pronounced Auralee.” The princess was firm in her words.

  “What?” Booker became both frustrated and confused.

  “Exactly, so who are you?” she asked one more time.

  Booker's sense of confusion messed with him, resulting in his foot slipping off the clutch, causing it to pop back. The thud startled the princess, and her eyes scanned through the windows.

  “What was that?” she hissed.

  “The clutch,” Booker answered with little worry, “If that scared you, then you might want to cover your ears, Princess,” Sterling warned as he pushed the pedal back in.

  Booker cranked the key to the right, and the engine roared to life. Booker grinned, and his passenger looked around for the source of the noise, as the car crept forward out of the garage.

  The driver rolled his head and his demeanor changed to something dancing on the edge of cocky as he finally answered her question, his eyes seeing everything around him.

  “Well my name’s Booker, and I may just be a kid, but don’t you make a bet, you’ll soon regret, cause I’m the best there’s ever been…”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Booker looked into his rearview mirror congratulating himself. “Well, great going Sterling, applause all around.”

  Blue and red lights continued to flash behind the Mustang as a flurry of questions came from Auralee.

  “Why are we slowing down? Who is that? Are they here for me? Why are we stopping?”

  “Calm down, calm down,” Booker tried to reassure her, “He’s here for me, not sure why. I thought I slowed down enough when I passed the billboard he was hiding behind.”

  He pulled the car to a stop and turned on the interior lights and rolled down the windows. Booker put a smile on his face as he recited his lines in preparation for the officer as the cruiser’s car door closed. Then, the officer’s shoes hit the gravel and started walking towards the Mustang.

  “Sit there, look pretty, and please don’t talk unless spoken too,” Sterling said to Auralee.

  “Did you just tell a princ-,“ Auralee started.

  He turned to her, “Yes and you can kick my ass for it later for it. However, if Alphonse finds out the first thing I did after driving away from his house was get a ticket?” Booker shook his head, leaving the rest unsaid and left to the imagination as he turned back to his window.

  “Evening Officer.” Booker greeted the policeman.

  “Do you know why I pulled you over son?” The gray-mustachioed officer questioned.

  “Afraid not sir, I was observing the speed limit,” Sterling did indeed observe that the speed limit read fifty miles per hour as he drove seventy-five miles per hour past it, “Do we have an issue, sir?”

  “If you can just tell what you're doing roaring down the street this late at night, It’ll be good.” He answered, his head dipped to see Auralee who waved to the officer and offered a small smile.

  Booker hiked a thumb to the passenger, “Bringing a friend to the town for the weekend.” Booker watched as the officer reached for his pen and pad, then proceeded to adjust himself in the seat in order to catch a glimpse of what was on his belt, “… and figuring it's late I- hey, is that a custom made Model 1911?”

  The officer was nodding along to the story he had probably heard a dozen times before, tripped up by the unexpected question, “Huh, oh,” He looked down at his sidearm. “Why yes, she is.”

  Auralee frowned and waited in boredom as Booker then struck up a conversation with the other man about whatever a ‘Model 1911' is, looking around the inside of the vehicle. She tried to figure why she thought the officer looked eerily familiar.

  After what seemed like forever, the Officer was interrupted by the radio on his shoulder, after answering it, he waved back to Booker, “Well, it was fun talking to you, just make sure to keep that needle under the fifty, and you have yourself a nice night.”

  “Will do Sir, have a good one.” Booker gave him a nod and smile, starting the car up again and rolled the window back up.

  “Alright, I’ll be cooking us dinner when we get to the apartment.” Sterling declared.

  “Why is that?” Auralee asked.

  “Because that used up the rest of my luck for the day.” Booker touched a cross on his chest before he turned his ride back onto the road and drove into the night.

  Booker quietly crept up to the gate at his complex, greeting the man reading a book in the box, “Good Morrow, Jenkins," he called out.

  “Evening, how do you do Mister Wells?” The aging man responded.

  “Doing all right,” Booker answered. “I believe there's a set of keys for me, should be for the apartment next to mine, twenty-one seventeen.”

  “And right you are, let me just find it here.” He set his book aside.

  “Is your book any good?” Sterling questioned the guard after reading the title on the spine.

  “It's alright, vampires, aliens, lots of cussing, not sure what I think about that,” Jenkins answered as his hand rummaged through a drawer. “Here it is,” The guard produced a small manila envelope, handing it over.

  The guard pointed to him, “Hey, Mr. Higdon wanted me to ask you to watch over his place across the hall, said he stepped out of town with his kiddo,” Jenkins asked.

  “Naturally,” Booker accepted the job.

  “It’s least I can do since he taught me how not to cut myself with a knife.” Booker joked while taking the new key and handing it to Auralee.

  Mr. Jenkins waved, “Alright, thank you now, make sure to keep that engine down. Had one myself when I was a young man, probably put more money into speeding tickets than gas for it.” The old man gave a genuine smile as he recollected his memories and gave a small laugh, “Stay safe, Mister Wells.”

  Booker returned a similar smile, “Have a nice night, Leeroy.” He wished as Booker moved slowly past the gate and into his complex.

  Booker pulled up and soon led the Princess into the building and up the elevator. After punching in his floor number, he turned back to her, “Elevators don’t mystify you, but you don’t know what a ninja is?”

  “This isn’t my first time out in your world, racist," she replied.

  “Now, how is that racist?” Booker's arm naturally held the door allowing Aura to step out. Booker looked and realized something was missing, “And you didn’t bring a bag or even a change of clothes.”

  “I’m sure Alphonse took care of it.” She replied noncommittally.

  Booker shook his head, “Please, I’m pretty sure he’s siphoned gas out of some of the cars he’s given me out of spite.” Booker took the key out the envelope and opened the apartment door, revealing an interior that apparently had to have been decorated by a Tolkien fan, “Alright, so I know he has a favorite now," Booker muttered.

  “Well, maybe when you become a princess you can have a chance.” Aura teased.

  “You’re right, where do I sign up?” Sterling agreed, “Go get yourself situated, I’ll start making food, and come back in like an hour.”

  “How long is an hour?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” He pulled out his phone, unlocking it with his thumb, telling it to set a timer for an hour and tossed it onto the new apartment's living room couch. “When that thing makes noise, come over, and only when it starts to make noise.” Booker pulled his key out and handed it to her, “I might have my hands full, so let yourself in.”

 
She nodded and turned around, getting a look at her new place as Booker turned around and went across the hall to fulfill his promise to Mr. Jenkins.

  Sterling opened his neighbor Brian’s door, making sure his neighbor didn’t leave any lights on and such, Booker made small sweeps in each room before finding an open window in the living room, “Well unless you want to return to the Arctic,” Booker remarked as he shut it and closed the drapes. “All good.” He judged and made his way out absentmindedly, closing the door to a small hall closet as he walked past.

  “I have one hour until the princess comes in, so I’m thinking chicken parm.” He told the front door on his way out. When he made his way back across the hall to his door, he remembered he had just given his key to Auralee, and had too much pride to ask for it back. Snapping his fingers in a moment of ‘Aha’ he glided his fingers across the door frame for his apartment.

  “Where did I put it?” He squinted trying to remember, “Right, here?” Pulling at a loose splinter to reveal a small lock picking set. Pulling them out, he proceeded to use them with efficiency.

  “Is it sad that I’ve used this almost as often as I’ve used my keys?” He questioned aloud as he pushed the door open. Shrugging his coat onto a passing chair, picking up the chefs jacket that rested folded on the kitchen counter, throwing it on while turning on a speaker to play music while he cooked.

  Almost an hour later, Booker heard the door open while his playlist transitioned between songs, “Hey Auralee, I'm going to need another few minutes to-” turning off the flame Booker stepped out with a towel in his hands, glancing at the clock to see an hour hadn’t passed, “…finish up.” He stepped into the entrance hallway to see a shadowed figure standing with a weapon drawn, “Well, that's not fair," he told the intruder.

  The figure lunged at Sterling as he sidestepped the attack, using the towel in his hands to wrap the dagger wielding arm, “Drop it!” Booker commanded, which to his surprise, the assailant did.

  Into his other hand.

  “Ah, sh-,” Booker leaned away from the next slash, dropping his hands from the towel and grabbing the dangerous arm with one hand, using his other to disarm the fighter sending the knife clattering to the floor.

  Both of their heads looked from his hand, to where the dagger now laid.

  “No you don’t” Sterling informed as he retrieved his towel, quickly lassoing it around the man's neck as he had attempted a reach for his weapon.

  "Grrhft!" The assassin made a gesture of lifting the teen off the ground and then slamming him into the wall.

  Several times.

  Booker let go after the nth time of being used as a percussion instrument so he could make the room stop shaking. The assassin stumbled forward gasping for air. Recovering, Booker got a look at the man in the light, and he realized the man looked an awful lot like the officer from earlier, just younger and with sharper features like an, “Elf!” Sterling shouted as he pointed at the intruder.

  “Figured it how, have you?” The elf questioned, rubbing his neck.

  “I think we have a conflict of interests here,” Sterling pointed out, the room finally steadying.

  “If you make this easier, I’ll be merciful," he hissed back.

  “We definitely have a conflict of interest,” Booker confirmed.

  The elf growled and then grabbing a handful of the breadcrumbs that were on the counter and flung them at Sterling's eyes.

  “That is so unfair,” Sterling cried out, closing his eyes and looking away for a moment as he stepped around his kitchen, “Now where’d you go?”.

  “Let me help, I'm behind you,” The assassin reintroduced himself, punching him in his side.

  Booker gave a cry of pain, “My kidney!” to be rewarded with another punch on his opposite side, “My other kidney!” he pleaded, “Please stop, I need those.”

  The elf’s counter-offer was a choke hold quite similar to the one Booker just had him in.

  ‘Karma, you are a bitch,’ Booker thought to himself as his hand searched the nearby table for his loose change, picking up a quarter as he tried to shake off the assailant.

  Attempting to beat on the side of the elves’ head, Booker slipped the coin between his middle finger and thumb and overdrawing his daily allotment of luck, successfully snapped his fingers, launching the coin into his opponent's eye.

  “How did you?” the startled elf jerked back from the pain, loosening his hold.

  Booker took the opportunity to crush his heel into the toes of the fake officer and slam his head back into where his temple would be.

  The assassin let go of his grip with a guttural, ‘Argh’ and released a retching Sterling.

  Booker pivoted to grapple with his opponent, their bodies banging around and hitting the light switch. Booker flung the elf into the center of his now pitch black apartment. “Where did you-“ The elf started to curse as his eyes attempted to adjust to the dark, on his knees and scrambling around for his knife.

  Booker answered by punching him, giving the elf the necessary room to make a knife slash that caught the back of the human’s punching fist. Sterling kicked at the figure and heard the knife go clattering away, and the two began to scramble in the dark, objects clattering over left and right.

  The door jiggled then opened as the princess's voice announced herself, “Hello?” Taking a few steps forward at the sound of fighting, her hand gliding along the wall, she accidentally tripped the switch back on to reveal a bruised Booker and half-beaten Assassin looking back at her like a deer in headlights.

  The elf turned, then head butted Sterling and proceeded to make his way out the window, threatening something in Elvish.

  Booker struggled up, then ran to the window and watched the agile man dart from past his car and into the night.

  “Booker, are you ok?” Auralee asked as she made her way over the tilted chairs and bread crumbs.

  “No, why would I be ok?” He groaned, “How did you not hear the beating I was receiving against the wall?” He asked as he stood up and limped over the cabinet that held his medical supplies.

  “Oh, I did,” she answered.

  He turned to her, shook his head then went back to looking for medicine. “Then why didn’t you come and help me!?” The exasperated Booker questioned.

  “You said to come over only when the thing made noise,” Aura produced the phone still vibrating from the alarm.

  Booker rolled his eyes, then winced in pain at the effort.. “Next time, if you hear me getting my ass beat, you can make an exception.” He told her as he opened a Band-Aid box and took one out for his bleeding hand.

  “How did he get in?” Aura questioned as she looked around at Booker's minimalist apartment.

  “I don’t know; I doubt Jenkins…” He then remembered his neighbor's open window and put two and two together, “The elf snuck in through Brian's window, then the open closet door, and lastly hid inside the closet so he could wait until about when you would show up." He paused a moment before turning to look at Auralee, "My question is how did he know you would be here?” Booker gestured to the apartment around them.

  “Cosmetic magic, disguised himself as that blue man in the car from earlier, tracked you back here,” She replied, piecing the evidence from her encounter with the road officer.

  He rummaged around in his medicine cabinet, “Hold on. Magic, like Harry Potter style?” Sterling uncapped a bottle of Ibuprofen, snagging four of the little brown pills and popping them into this mouth and swallowed.

  “I’ll explain over dinner…” She looked at his kitchen to see it was a mess and then back to the frazzled Sterling.

  He closed his medicine cabinet, looked around his apartment and shrugged his shoulders before asking, “Have you ever tried pizza?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Booker took a look at what was once his clean outfit after doing his best to clean the mess in his apartment. He and the intruder had damaged most of his furniture in their fight. He tried to organi
ze something to eat on while waiting for the pizza man to arrive.

  “Jackson Pollock eat your heart out,” He murmured, “By the way, thank you for helping me clean up, I know it sullies your delicate hands.” Looking back up toward the princess who sat on his barstool the entire time playing on his iPhone.