Helmut Goes Abroad

by Matt Sheehan

  “Phoebe, what’s wrong? Is Shamus okay?” Then my mind started working. “You’re not going to shoot him, are you?”

  I think the look she gave me would best be described as incredulous.

  “Of course not, you idiot. He’s in there with someone. Shamus says he’s a friend, but he was terrified. He couldn’t even remember how many scoops of coffee to put in the machine.”

  I was off at a run. If Shamus was so scared he couldn’t make coffee, something was terribly wrong. Phoebe was behind me, but way behind. Ever since fighting with Alek’s crew and then with Dantalion, my speed and reflexes were supercharged. I was in the door and down the hall in a heartbeat. And there, sitting in the meeting room with Shamus and a pot of weak-smelling coffee, was my old friend and master, Ramón De Arca.

  All I could do for the first few moments was stand and stare. I’m pretty sure my mouth was hanging open. He wasn’t quite as big as I remembered, but then I had just been a kid in Eireland the last time I saw him and I wasn’t looking up at him anymore. He was light-skinned, with a clean-shaven head and a handlebar mustache. A few more lines around the eyes and some gray in the facial hair, but he still looked like a badass.

  “Hey, my brother, good to see you. You grew into quite the young man. You were so skinny back in Limerick.”

  I was never skinny. I was lean and muscular. There is a difference. People misremember things all the time.

  By this time Phoebe had rounded the corner and bumped into me.

  “Have you been staying in shape?” He was walking toward me as he said it. He had a strange look in his eye, and then he lunged at me with a straight openhanded strike at my Adam’s apple. A spear hand for the uninitiated. I tucked my chin and pulled my head back as his fingers whizzed by my throat. I was back on my heels a bit but recovered quickly, and as I cocked my right back and began to move forward, I noticed he has smiling ear to ear. I held back and he put up his hands in mock surrender.

  “Easy, Helmut. I just wanted to see if you still had it. Hell, I’ve been told by a good authority that you had it, but seeing is believing.”

  At this point I noticed that Phoebe had her gun out and pointed at Ramón. I also noticed that her hair was standing up. When I looked at Shamus, he had his hands at his side, but there were small blue arcs of electricity playing across his fingers and the corners of his eyes. I spoke up before things got out of hand.

  “Easy everyone. False alarm. Everything’s cool.” I put my hands up above my head in the universal sign of stand-down, just to make sure my point was clear.

  Phoebe lowered the gun a bit but still had it pointed vaguely in Ramón’s direction. Shamus flipped like a switch, from angry Druid to abashed pupil.

  “I’m terribly sorry, sir. I promise I wouldn’t have electrocuted you. Not on purpose anyway.”

  “Shamus, my man, you were defending your friend. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He put his hand on Sha’s shoulder and gave him a friendly shake. Shamus beamed with pride. Phoebe still didn’t look so sure about the situation, but she grudgingly holstered her weapon.

  Once the crisis was averted, I had time to get angry, and for a second I forgot whom I was talking to.

  “So it’s been what, ten years? You barge in here and scare my friends and take a swing at me as a little test? Really?”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I assumed I was a dead man. I was surprised by his response. There was regret on his face rather than anger.

  “Hey, brother, I’m sorry. It seemed like a good idea in my head.” He sat down in one of the chairs, took a sip of coffee, made a face and put the cup down. “Shamus, I could go for something a little stronger than coffee, if you know what I mean.”

  “Absolutely, sir. I’ll be right back.”

  I sat down next to Ramón, poured myself a cup, sniffed it and pushed it aside as well. Shamus really had been rattled. The coffee smelled terrible. Phoebe however remained standing. She no longer had her hand on her piece, but she had her thumb looped over her belt in a good position to draw, and she was staring daggers. Ramón noticed and turned on the charm a bit.

  “So, lass, I couldn’t help but notice you carrying a very large firearm on your hip. And you appear to know how to use it. Where did you get your training?”

  “I’m on the local police force, but it was my mom taught me how to shoot.”

  “Was she on the force too?”

  Phoebe just shook her head.

  I added, “Phoebe isn’t originally from here. She grew up in Themiscyra.”

  A smile touched his lips. “Yeah, I can see it now.” He leaned back in his chair. “You know, I once fought alongside Queen Myrene in Lycia. She was a magnificent warrior. I actually have an open invitation from her to visit the capital. She mentioned how beautiful it was there in the fall.”

  Phoebe seemed very impressed. “Did you? Visit I mean? In the fall?”

  He shook his head. “No. The job always kept me moving. I’ve never seen her since.”

  Phoebe was smiling. “You really missed out.”

  “I’m sure it’s lovely that time of year, but I can see cherry blossoms or yellow leaves or whatnot just about anywhere.”

  Phoebe had a coy smile on her face for some reason, but she didn’t add anything else. Shamus came in moments later, carrying a tray with a large pitcher of very black liquid and four frosty mugs.

  “This—” he held up the pitcher, “—is my masterpiece. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. It’s been aging in an oak barrel in the attic for almost a year. When I brewed it, I literally forced as much barley and hops into it as the wort could hold.”

  He poured a full mug for himself and the guests and just a taste for me. We all took a sip—followed moments later with a cacophony of unprintable swear words, but in a good way. I don’t really like beer and generally abstain altogether, but this was liquid ambrosia. I actually finished my mug and asked for seconds. He filled it up about halfway this time, which was about twice as much as I should have drunk.

  Ramón said, “Shamus, my man. This stuff is incredible. I could drink the whole pitcher by myself.”

  Shamus smiled at the compliment but added a warning that I should have followed. “I wouldn’t, sir. It’s probably closer to wine than beer in the alcohol content. There is just so much flavor that it’s hard to tell.”

  The rummy feeling hit me like a wave. Like I’ve said in the past, I don’t drink. In my line of work, I like to keep my wits about me at all times. I’ll make an exception on special occasions, but I usually go real easy. I certainly wasn’t prepared for the potency of Sha’s little cup of barley wine. It ended up throwing me for a loop. I remember hearing Ramón and Phoebe singing a bawdy Eirish ballad with Shamus as I laid my head down on the couch to rest my eyes. After that, I was out.

  Chapter Three

  Naps seem like a great idea at the time, but they always mess me up the rest of the day. It takes more coffee to wake up again, and then I can’t fall asleep that night. I woke up on the couch with a stiff neck and a dry mouth. The lights were all off, and the place was quiet.

  I must have taken my shoes off before I went to sleep, because I woke up without them on. That’s not something I would ever do sober. I know from experience not to leave my shoes lying around the office. It was a bad omen that I could only find one shoe, made worse when I discovered a half-eaten dog treat in the one I found.

  It was midday, and I was groggy and dehydrated and missing one shoe. I took my lone, sad shoe with me, just in case I stumbled across the other, and went looking to see who was still here. I found Ramón in the entry room looking through a notebook. He closed it and stood as I entered.

  “Enjoy your catnap?”

  “Yeah, I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “Really? I never would h
ave guessed it.”

  I rolled my eyes. My sarcasm is funny—others’ not so much. “Where are the kids?”

  “After we finished off Shamus’s wonderful brew, they said they were tired and were going upstairs to take a nap.” He elbowed me in the ribs conspiratorially. “They didn’t look tired to me.”

  “That’s more than I ever wanted to know.” I held up my lonely footwear. “Have you seen another shoe like this one?”

  “I saw a yellow dog with a black shoe in his mouth not a half hour ago. I tried calling him, but he just growled at me and kept walking.”

  “That’s Willie.” I held up the lone shoe. “If I can’t find its mate, I may need to do some shoe shopping this afternoon.

  “I hear you have enough money to buy a shoe factory now.”

  “Maybe a small one. Who have you been talking to?”

  “Alek and I have kept in contact over the years. He mentioned what you guys did for him last year. What did you think of him? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “He seemed like a good enough bloke. Why?”

  “No reason, really. Never did like the guy. Don’t get me wrong—he’s good at his job and all. Except for the fact that a rogue angel was operating right under his nose. But otherwise top-notch.”

  “So all this time you’ve been AWOL, but in touch with a guy that you served in the military with?”

  “I wasn’t really AWOL. It was just a cover story. I was on special assignment.”

  “So you didn’t throw your commanding officer out a window?”

  He shrugged. “No, I did that. But honestly, he deserved it. And anyway he was fine...eventually. No real lasting problems.”

  “A special assignment doing what? Finding the guy who got away? Was that the same guy who escaped? And why are you here after all this time?”

  “That’s a lot of questions, and I’m mighty thirsty. Do you think you can scrounge up any more of that stuff Shamus served earlier?”

  “I don’t know where Shamus stores that devil’s brew, but if you like stout, he has a pony keg of it in the fridge.”

  “I could live with that. In a tall, frosted glass please.”

  “Want some snacks too? Maybe a nice Gaulish cheese?”

  “You know, Helmut, I am feeling a bit peckish.”

  I brought him a frosty mug of stout and some of Sha’s cheesy doodles. I’m not running a damn gourmet market. He sniffed the snacks and pushed the bag away with contempt but seemed happy with the beer.

  “I’ll buy you dinner at O’Kelly’s later. Shamus is part-owner of the joint, so the beer is good and they have plenty of fried stuff on the menu.”

  Ramón nodded and took a healthy swig from his beer. “Sounds good. So that’s where Shamus sunk the money Alek gave you?”

  “His share. Alek filled you in on our little adventure?”

  “He did, and I have to say you made a good showing of yourself. You and Shamus both. Toe-to-toe with Dantalion himself. No one’s fought an Angel, as far as I know, for almost a thousand years. And you not only lived to tell about it, but you won.”

  By this point the beer was gone and he set the empty mug on the table next to him. He motioned me closer and lowered his voice a bit, even though we were sitting alone in the room.

  “How did Alek fare in the fight with Dantalion?”

  “Honestly, we all got our asses handed to us. Shamus just went berserk at the right time and blasted him out the window. But Alek was brave and helped buy us some time. Why?”

  “Like I said, no one has fought one except you guys. I’ve fought Battle Mages, and let me tell you that’s no walk in the park, but I’ve never even seen an Angel. Did I tell you Alek was one of my students at the Academy?”

  I shook my head. “No, but Alek did.”

  He picked up his empty mug, gave it a disapproving glance and put it back down. I took the hint and got him a refill. After he had tasted it and approved of its contents, he continued.

  “He graduated top of his class, with the highest score of any cadet in history. He bested the record I had held since I graduated a decade prior. Overall, I ate his lunch in combat, but he was a little better at some of the subtler skills.”

  “Like shape-shifting?”

  “That’s sort of a misnomer. There is no actual body contortion going on. It’s more of a glamour. You just make the people around you see what you want them to see. And yes, he was very good at it. That’s why it’s so amusing that Dantalion was able to pull the same trick on him.” Ramón leaned forward in his chair. “Any chance that he fell to his death out that window?”

  “Nope. He approached me outside O’Kelly’s later that night none the worse for wear.”

  “Really? Looking for round two?”

  I shook my head. “He just warned me to stay out of his business in the future.”

  “Sounds like good advice, lad. The problem is, if he’s playing dress-up, how do you know what his business is? And then there is the fact that he was never really part of the Watchers’ Council. He was always more of a free agent. Who knows exactly what his motivation is?”

  “He just seemed to want to keep up the status quo.”

  “You’ve met the man. I only know him as a historical figure.” He stroked his mustache and stared off a moment. “I have to admit, I’m glad he’s still alive. I wouldn’t mind a shot at him.”

  “I take it you think you would do better than Alek.”

  He just smiled a confident—and a little bit scary—smile. I asked for more, but he clammed up. He promised to spill it all over dinner, but he wanted Shamus there as well. Neither one of us was keen on waking Sha and Phoebe up, especially if they weren’t actually sleeping. Besides, I didn’t have the right number of shoes required to get into most eating establishments.

  After a bit of searching, I found the remains of my shoe in a freshly dug hole in the back of the property. They were black leather bluchers with comfortable rubber soles and a specially made cap that covered a solid steel toe. My version of a concealed weapon. I can easily kick someone half a foot taller than me in the head. A kick from my left foot will send you to the hospital; a kick from my right, to the graveyard.

  I was tempted to kick the dog, but he was nowhere to be seen. The shoe was no longer pretty, but it was still functional. Willie had probably planned on returning later to finish it off. After a quick trip to the kitchen for supplies, I poured an entire jar of black pepper down the hole and filled it back in with soil.

  When I was satisfied with my work, I put the slightly soggy shoe on and went back inside. I could smell Shamus’s strong coffee brewing as I came in the back door. Shamus was in the kitchen setting up a tray with cups, cream and sugar.

  “You remember how to brew it this time?”

  He chose to ignore me. I chose to needle him some more.

  “Why are you so nervous and deferential around Ramón?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for one, you forgot how to make coffee earlier today. For another I’ve never heard you call anyone sir since you were a kid.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. It was a look I had grown accustomed to over the years.

  “I didn’t call him sir.”

  “You did, multiple times. And serving the special beer. I thought that was just for festivals and playoff games?”

  “I just poured the first beer I came across.”

  “So the stuff you keep hidden in the attic was beer you came across first.”

  “Yes.” Perfectly deadpan. I was impressed. “I will admit that he makes me a little nervous, but that’s Ramón De Arca sitting out there. He’s a bad man.”

  “Shamus, I’m a bad man, and you train your mutt to pee on my tires.”

  “Willie pees on y
our tires of his own accord, Helmut. If Ramón had a car, Willie certainly wouldn’t pee on his tires.”

  I watched him closely. Not a twitch. If he was lying, I couldn’t tell.

  He continued. “Did I ever tell you I saw him face down Arch Druid Brannon?

  “Nope. Is that when the hero worship started.”?

  “No,” he said with annoyance as he rolled his eyes. “Well, sort of. If you remember, Brannon’s son Brandon was the oldest in our training class in Druid School.”

  I just shrugged. I honestly didn’t. All those skinny guys in robes looked alike to me.

  “Well, anyway, he was. And Brandon was a real jerk. He liked to act like a tough guy with the town kids `cause he knew they were all terrified of him. All of us probably, but especially him. Brandon would read their minds and taunt them with whatever little secrets they kept.”

  “That’s pretty hard to do, isn’t it?”

  “His technique was actually fairly clever. The trick is, if you tell someone you know their darkest secrets, they will panic and whatever they are ashamed of will pop into their heads. Then you just skim it off the top. So one day he was giving some little farm boy a hard time about wetting his bed. The poor kid was bawling and Brandon was just cackling at him. Ramón must have been watching us from close by, but we didn’t see him until he was standing right next to the boy.”

  “Did he smack Brandon upside the head?”

  “No, he never touched him. He just said ‘Read my mind.’ Brandon must have, and the next moment his knees buckled, he staggered backward and fell to the ground. He looked up at Ramón with a look of absolute horror, and then he got up to his feet and ran back toward the school.”

  “Do you know what he saw?”

  “Nope. He never told us, but he told his father something, and the Arch Druid wasn’t happy. Later that evening Brannon confronted Ramón in the town square, and he brought clouds and thunder along for show. It was a pretty impressive display. He couldn’t cast lightning like I can—no one there could—but he was known to call lightning down from storm clouds on occasion.”