Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1)

by eden Hudson

  The condom wrapper from the night before was on the floor by my John Deere hat. I put my hat on and picked the wrapper up, thinking I should probably do some cleaning so Harper and Jax wouldn’t have to when they emptied out my room.

  BawdyHeat—the condom was a leftover from Mitzi. I’d made the mistake of buying human ones the first time with her, but she set me straight pretty damn quick. The good vamp condoms are supposed to double human body heat, so obviously they’re a lot stronger than the novelty stuff you’d get for your living girlfriend. No wonder it burned Desty.

  No wonder, I thought, flicking the wrapper. Mitzi wanted heat because she was cold. Cold, dead, and strong as hell. Mitzi was five-foot-two, one-oh-five soaking wet, but she had kicked my ass when I was rage-crazy and trying to stomp the hell out of Jason. She was at least twice as fast as me and who knows how many times as strong. I wouldn’t put my money on Mitzi to win a fight with Mikal, but I’d damn sure give her better odds of surviving one than I would give me.

  The only way to get a familiar away from a fallen angel is to kill him, I thought. Fallen angels can only enthrall living things. Vamps are dead.

  Desty

  “‘The last chosen soldier of God must visit death upon his brother before a holy champion can rise and the final battle for Earth can begin,’” Jax read.

  “That’s it?” I asked.

  Bailey nodded and used the earpiece of her reading glasses to scratch the back of her head. “Prophecies—accurate ones anyhow—are usually pretty short and to the point.”

  “You don’t have any notes or alternate translations?” Jax asked. He held up the water-stained notebook paper and tapped the single line of blue writing. “What about historical context, idioms, anything? This is pretty clean as far as straight-from-the-oven translations go.”

  Bailey shrugged. “This copy was recovered near the old Baumeyer cabin—”

  Jax interpreted for me, “Where Colt was living, before the whole thing with Mikal.”

  “Right,” Bailey said. “Which I guess is at least one type of irony, considering Brandt and Raelyn nicknamed it the Whitney Death Prophecy. Anyway, Rian brought it in because Mayor Dark wanted it authenticated. We have the original on file in the server here, and since it’s obviously Sancati—”

  “Obviously,” Jax said.

  Bailey pointed at the paper with her glasses.

  “Don’t get smart with me, Ajax, look at the text,” she said. “They’re one of the few ancient divining sects that used the more earthly ‘soldier’ instead of ‘warrior.’ The Sancati wrote in a coarse language so there wouldn’t be any confusion to future generations.”

  “Fucking accommodating,” Jax said, which is pretty much what I was thinking.

  “I always did like their practicality and foresight,” Bailey said. Then she smiled at us like she couldn’t understand why we weren’t laughing. “Foresight? No one?” She shrugged. “I thought it was good.”

  I looked at Jax.

  “Can you cross-reference stuff?” I asked. “Like use words in this prophecy to bring up other stuff you’ve memorized?”

  “Let’s do it,” he said. He closed his eyes and the lids started flickering like someone lost in a dream. “Hit on the Hell Windows. They ‘recount the story of the angel who led the rebellion in Heaven. He was cast to Earth where he will bring forth the legions, then rise up against the chosen armies of God in the final battle for Earth. Kathan is represented as a king of earth in these accounts (reference: Whitney papers) and Mikal as his second in command, keeper of the Sword of Judgment.’ That’s it.”

  “Sword of Judgment?” I said. “That sounds pretty serious.”

  “Yeah, if you think a fiery sword that can send any being, human or NP, to its final destination—i.e. Heaven or Hell—is serious,” Jax said. “It’s kind of what makes Mikal such a badass.”

  I didn’t laugh.

  “Come on,” he said, bumping my arm. “I’m just trying to make it go down a little easier.”

  “Sorry. I guess I don’t research well with others,” I said. “I like to lock on, you know?”

  “Then you’re in luck,” Jax said. “There’s nothing more locked-on than the Whitney papers. Tough’s dad wrote them back when he first started that whole thing with Kathan. The guy was pretty longwinded—even for a preacher.”

  I remembered. I’d read some of Daniel Whitney’s work when Tempie started getting interested in fallen angels. He was convincing, methodical, and thorough. But then, if you were trying to get everyone you knew to follow you into war against creatures you couldn’t kill, you would have to be.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s lock on.”

  Tough

  There were only a few cars parked outside Tiffani’s when I got there, but it being the tail end of lunch, the bakery was full of tourists and people who worked on the square. Addison Kelley and a couple other girls from our class waved at me from their table by the door.

  “Oh my gosh, Tough, what happened?” Addison asked. “Did you get in a fight?”

  I snorted. Nodded, but didn’t stick around to answer more stupid questions. You can’t even be sarcastic with people like Addison because they won’t get it.

  I got in line behind a fat, Gothed-out tourist who was watching Tiffani’s boobs while she got his order. Tiffani saw me before she finished ringing him up and smirked.

  “Looks like someone finally gave you that beating you had coming,” she said.

  I pretended to laugh, then rolled my eyes and handed her the note.

  I need you to make me.

  She barely looked at it before she handed it back.

  “Piss off, kid,” Tiffani said and gave the Goth his change.

  It was against the law in Halo to make vamps. Not that vampires were real serious about following the law—otherwise Finn would never have gotten made—but they had a pretty sweet setup in Halo with the protection laws and all the vamp-groupie tourists they could suck off of. So, I’d seen Tiffani’s rejection coming. I flipped the paper over.

  Name your price, but it’s got to be today.

  Tiffani raised her eyebrows at me. “Anything I want?”

  I nodded.

  “Even sex?” she asked.

  I took a deep breath to spike that rib-pain, then nodded again.

  Tiffani shook her head.

  “Mitzi turned you into such a slut. You ought to be glad your mom didn’t live to see you this way.” Tiffani handed me the note and pointed at the door. “Piss off before I call the big, bad boss man on you.”

  I could feel my teeth grinding and metal music screaming in my head, just like when I found out Jason stole my voice, only louder. Mom didn’t live to see this because Mikal stomped her fucking skull open. For once, I was trying to fix something instead of screw it up—save my brother, protect my girlfriend. Noble shit that probably would’ve made Mom proud of me or at least a little less disgusted by who I was now. If Tiffani was a man, I would’ve smashed her head through her display counter, but she wasn’t and I couldn’t, so I made the cross at her.

  Before I could move, Tiffani jumped over the counter, grabbed my ear, and dragged me to the door. She shoved me outside and I tripped onto the sidewalk.

  I was so pissed I could barely see. Somehow I got in the truck and fired it up. I smacked the steering wheel with both hands and then they turned into fists and then I was dripping blood on Ryder’s stupid hand-me-down jeans.

  I hit the wheel again, harder because I could feel my eyes getting wet. Maybe Colt felt like this when I told him I was done with the Soldier of Heaven bullshit, but he didn’t start bawling like a pussy. He knew he was all alone and he took it like a man. Even being a familiar—as far as he knew, the only way out was dying and he still fought Mikal enough that he could let me know she hadn’t broke him yet.

  I wiped my face on my shirt and shut off the truck.

  Right after Sissy died, I started wondering if I was the only person who couldn’t figu
re out what the point of saving this shitty world was. For a while I had tried praying about it, but no divine guidance came down like Colt and Ryder were always claiming came down on Dad. Either God didn’t want to talk to a fuckup like me or He didn’t think there was any point to saving this world, either.

  Screw the world. If I could save Desty and Colt, that would be enough.

  I blew my nose out the window and checked the side mirror to make sure I didn’t look like I’d been bawling or have any snot on my face. Then I found a pen in the console and the receipt from when I bought my mud tires.

  When I came back into the bakery, Addison and the girls from school—plus most of the other customers who’d been in there earlier—tried not to look like they were staring. Tiffani didn’t look my way, either, but her whole body went taut like she might have to kick my ass this time.

  My new note was wadded up in my fist. I smoothed it out and waited for her to finish getting a tourist a refill on coffee.

  When Tiffani sat the pot down and looked at me, I handed her the new note. She scoped out the blood on my jeans and cuts on my knuckles before she read it.

  Please. It’s for Colt and my girlfriend. I can save them.

  Desty

  Three hours later Bailey kicked us out so she could close up shop. Jax and I had to go outside and climb into his oven on wheels and, like a genius, the first thing I did was burn my leg on the seatbelt buckle.

  “Ouch,” I yelled. “Dang it!”

  “Hey, it’ll be okay,” Jax said, shutting his door.

  “You don’t believe that either.” I wanted him to admit that he felt helpless, too, or at least frustrated that we hadn’t learned anything useful, but Jax just shrugged. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat. “We wasted all freaking day.”

  “Come on,” Jax said, starting the car. “Let’s head back to HQ and regroup. We’ll think this over for a while.”

  I wiped my bangs off my forehead and nodded even though there wasn’t anything to think over. We hadn’t found anything—no loopholes in the prophecy, no magical solution, nothing. At least when Tempie ran away, I’d been able to go after her.

  In the passenger side mirror, I could see Halo’s town park at the center of the square. Carnies, human and NP, were setting up rides, games, and food stands for the Armistice Celebration. A shirtless lizard unhooked a hose from a corndog stand, sprayed his scaly face and chest, took a drink, then went back to work. A guy whose race literally ate babies and all he had to worry about was dehydration. Sometimes life was so freaking unfair it made me sick. Maybe Kathan should take over the world—the current management sucked.

  “Ugh, this heat,” Jax said, backing out of the space in front of the Witches’ Council building. Down the Square the bank clock was flashing ninety-nine degrees.

  I didn’t want to stop being mad, so I glared out the window and stewed in all the done-me-wrongs and why-can’t-everything-justs I could think of.

  We turned off the square.

  “Soon as I get it worked out,” Jax said, “Harper and I are getting the hell out of this town to one of those sexy tropical isles—anyplace where heat is accompanied by colorful alcohols and nude beaches.” From the corner of my eye, I could see him watching me. “I figure I can go to a game design school down in Hawaii or the Caribbean and make at least a couple billion dollars on my awesomeness.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” I said.

  “Obviously not or you would’ve quit scowling by now,” Jax said. He pointed at me. “Don’t make me turn this car around and get us some tiramisu from the bakery, young lady. Because I’ll do it, by God.”

  I couldn’t help it. I snorted.

  “Fine,” I said, giving him an exaggerated smile. “Happy now?”

  “No, now I want tiramisu,” Jax said.

  I stuck my arm out the window. The smile didn’t go away.

  When we arrived at the Carpenter-Ives-Whitney house, the hot box blues were drifting down from upstairs just like the day before. Unfortunately for me, though, both Ives were waiting in the front room. My fragile good mood evaporated.

  “Howdy, girls,” Jax said, plopping down on the couch between Harper and Scout. “Come to watch me solve some vamp crimes in Blood City III? The graphics are so good you can smell the stench of death.”

  Harper kissed his cheek and stood up.

  “That game is offensive and inaccurate,” she said. Then she looked at me. “We need to talk to Desty.”

  “Rain check,” I said. I headed for the stairs, imagining what I’d walked in on yesterday—Tough shirtless, playing guitar, and looking like a hillbilly rock star—versus a catfight I would undoubtedly lose to Redneck Revenge Barbie and Sex Kitten Skipper.

  “No,” Harper said. “This is important.”

  Inside, I threw a tantrum. I just wanted to go hang out with Tough! Why couldn’t the universe or God or whatever let me do one thing I wanted? Even if we laid around and listened to music again, even if we didn’t make out, being with Tough would make me feel better.

  “In the kitchen,” Harper said.

  “Fine,” I said, hoping I sounded more bitchy than spineless.

  I followed them into the kitchen and took the chair by the wall. Scout leaned against the sink, the better to glare chainsaws at me. Harper didn’t sit down.

  “You know human outsiders can’t move into Halo,” Harper said. “Eventually you’re going to have to leave.”

  “I didn’t plan on staying,” I said. “I just wanted to get my sister back, but that’s turning out to be more complicated than I thought it would. You saw her with Kathan last night.”

  “So you’re just going to hang around here until her brain rots?”

  Thanks for not hitting below the belt, Harper.

  “There’s a way to keep her brain from corroding,” I said. “But I’d have to be Kathan’s familiar, too, and I’m pretty sure that would bring about the end of the world or something. And anyway, I don’t want to leave yet.”

  “Because of Tough,” Scout said.

  It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t bother answering.

  “Trust me, I know it’s hard not to love that guy,” Harper said. “But you can’t have him. For one, you’re not good enough, and for two, you and your sister belong to Kathan.”

  “The warden sent his rent-a-cop around to make sure Harper and I know not to mess with you,” Scout said. “Otherwise, I would’ve shivved you when you walked in, you bitch-ass punk.”

  “Stop with the prison act, Scout,” Harper said. “I’m being serious.”

  “I am, too. She is a punk,” Scout said, pushing away from the sink. “Tough would never go for her. I bet he was just looking for someone to blow off steam with.” She cut her grey eyes to me. “Did you guys screw yet?”

  The sunburn on my cheeks glowed. I might not be a militant bitch-doll like Scout and Harper, but Tough wasn’t just some user, not the way Tempie thought human men were. If Tough didn’t like me—if he’d just wanted sex—we would’ve done it yesterday instead of just making out, right?

  Right?

  “Okay, we’re fine then,” Scout said. “He’ll kick her out soon.”

  I stood up so hard my chair smacked into the wall.

  “You obviously don’t think much of Tough,” I said. Nice one, self, just lacking in meanness, wit, and the dismount. I tried to regroup. “He’s not the kind of guy who’d have sex with someone he didn’t care about.”

  Scout thought that was hilarious.

  “All you’re doing is proving you don’t know him, honey.” The way Scout said “honey” was the way Tempie would have if she was trying to make someone feel stupid. It was really effective.

  “Shut your mouth, Scout,” Harper said.

  “Why?” Scout asked, looking me in the eyes while she twisted the knife. “It’s true. Tough was screwing a vamp he hated for the last five years. Hard and hot and often.”

  Then it was like watch
ing a replay of yesterday when Harper cornered me against the sink, except Scout didn’t flinch or try to get away like I had. She stood her ground, even when Harper was in her face, snarling, “You think it’s so fucking funny Tough had to do that? If there had been any other NP in Halo who would’ve given him protection—”

  Scout shoved Harper out of her way.

  “Whatever. I just thought Desty should know. But if you don’t think we should tell her…” Scout turned around and left the kitchen, waving her middle finger over her shoulder.

  I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip while I listened to Jax tell Scout goodbye, then the screen door slam. Harper was glaring down at the table. I pushed my bangs out of my face and set my chair up.

  “She likes Tough,” Harper finally said. “She has since she was little. She’s just jealous.”

  “Oh,” I said because it seemed like Harper was waiting for me to acknowledge that I’d heard her and because I couldn’t get any other words out.

  “I just wanted to tell you to leave him alone,” she said. “When Tough gets it in his head that he likes a girl, he goes crazy for her. I don’t want to see him hurt again. With Mitzi—with the vamp Scout was talking about—” Harper shook her head. “Tough’s not some huge man-whore or anything. Some people talk shit about him, but… He didn’t start off hating Mitzi. He liked her at first, but Mitzi was a bitch and he was himself. He doesn’t know any other way to be, you know?”

  After a few seconds, I was able to nod.

  “Rian really did come by to tell us you belonged to Kathan,” Harper said. “He said it’d be safer for Tough if you just went to the Dark Mansion with your sister.”

  I tried to care that Kathan had moved to the Threatening People You Love phase, but I was stuck on Tough going crazy for the girls he liked.

  “There was a song we listened to on his mp3 player yesterday—”

  “‘Harper’s Song,’” she guessed.