Blown Away

by L. J. Vickery

  “Where to?” He fastened his helmet while she did the same and relayed directions.

  Enlil gave the gas a punch and got a pleasant surprise. He was rewarded with a peppy ride that, after a few miles and a couple of tight corners, made him give up his attitude and grin. He was such a sap. You could probably put him on a scooter, and as long as Candy hugged his back like a second skin, he’d be happy.

  Enlil could tell when they approached the festival by the increase in foot traffic. Candy indicated he should pull over and park. After securing their helmets and locking the bike, Candy didn’t fight when Enlil tugged her hand into his and drew her close to his body. Good. It had to be her energy being fed by the carnival atmosphere. Perhaps nothing he could do would spoil her day. He’d have to keep that in mind.

  Candy led Enlil right into the thick of things.

  They hadn’t gone far when they were drawn in by the sound of an all-girl mariachi band. While the music played, he ogled the talented flamenco dancers. Then when they strolled away, teenagers surrounded them, marching and beating on tarolas.

  Eventually they stood in a very long line for Enlil to buy corn and poblano empanadas with a side of black beans and yucca, which he attacked with vigor. He didn’t mind that Candy scarfed down a chorizo and goat cheese flatbread. He was used to people eating meat around him.

  They had just finished their meal when a great exodus began toward the far end of the park. Enlil, curious, cajoled Candy into joining the throng to see what the next form of entertainment would be.

  They found seats on wooden benches―along with the rest of the crowd―set up arena style. Everyone anxiously waited for the show to start. Perhaps it would be the fire-eating act that Candy had told him about. Enlil was curious to see that. His old friend, Gerra―the god of fire in ancient times―performed that trick, but he hadn’t seen it in several thousand years, and never before by a human.

  Enlil’s first inkling that something wasn’t quite right came when two young heifers ran out into the viewing circle, their eyes rolling back in their heads. They were chased by three clowns wielding firecrackers. The crowd laughed at the clown’s antics. Enlil sat stoically and stared.

  ****

  The tension grew exponentially in Enlil’s thigh that butted up against hers.

  “You’re not enjoying this,” she stated. “I totally understand. Let’s get out of here.” She put her hand on his arm but Enlil didn’t budge. Intent on the curtain that led to the backstage area, almost to the point of obsession, he had Candy settling back down uneasily to see what would happen next.

  The second act generated a bareback rider on a skinny black mare. The performer dipped and looped up and around the horse’s belly and eventually stood on its back while circling the ring. The act seemed well performed, but Candy could count the ribs on the horse, and even a city girl like she could tell that wasn’t right. Enlil’s breathing had gone shallow.

  The announcer, who up until this point had been quietly engaging in a low-key delivery, suddenly stepped up his game. He let the crowd know the main event would soon unfold.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he cajoled loudly. “You are about to be entertained by the spectacle of the day. Be prepared to witness nature and danger at its finest.”

  While he spoke, a crew of clowns unfolded and set up a collapsible cage wall around the perimeter of the arena between the audience and the dirt ring. Enlil’s knuckles became white on his knees and Candy had a bad feeling about what would come next.

  The curtain parted, and prodded with sticks, a large but emaciated bull was forced to center ring. Its head high, the beast looked rough but angry. He snorted in the direction of his tormentors who eased out of the ring, leaving the bull alone but confined. Candy didn’t even want to look at Enlil. She could feel pain radiating from his body.

  When the curtain drew back for the second time, a large man with a long, drooping mustachio dressed in matador regalia came through and took a low, sweeping bow. The bull turned slowly in his direction and pawed at the ground.

  Set up behind the matador stood a rack holding a red cape, brightly colored sticks, and lit torches. Candy groaned. What the fuck?

  The first few passes by the bull were uneventful. The matador swung his cape and tempted the beast in his direction. He spun masterfully and dodged the bull easily. The fight could not be considered fair. The creature’s large horns had been filed down to a dull bluntness that would bruise―but not puncture―if the matador made a mistake. Apparently, the man wanted no opportunity for error.

  As the bull grew more agitated, the man finally dropped his cape, then turned with a flourish to extract a stick and a torch.

  The bull ceased its charges. Head down. Wary. It stood dead still in the center of the ring and watched as the matador stalked toward him. A bellow of displeasure escaped its mouth and the large animal actually backed up a few steps. The matador smiled and taunted, thrusting the burning torch nearer and nearer to the bull’s face, eventually scorching its hair and whiskers.

  When the bull finally became enraged enough to charge, the man stood poised. He leaped agilely out of the way and thrust one of the sticks into the bull’s flanks upon passing. A small sizzle occurred upon contact. Shit. It wasn’t merely a stick, it was a Taser in disguise. The bull’s back legs crumpled and collapsed underneath him.

  The gasp of the crowd paled under the loud command that rang out next to Candy.

  “Cease.” Enlil jumped to his feet. His voice boomed over the ambient noise of the crowd. Every eye turned in his direction. He ignored them and strode down the stands, advancing ruthlessly toward the ring, uncaring of the people who scrambled out of his way.

  The large matador regarded him furiously. He continued to hold his Taser at the ready, keeping one eye on the bull and the other on the large, approaching spectator. Candy, now on her feet, held her breath. Enlil ripped through the erected barrier as if it was paper

  “Don’t come any closer,” the mustachioed man yelled. “This is a dangerous animal.”

  Candy gaped. Was the matador talking about the bull or Enlil?

  “The only animal in this ring is you,” Enlil roared. “Drop the prod.”

  The bull rose to its feet and staggered in Enlil’s direction.

  “How dare you interfere with my act?” the matador hissed, and stalked toward Enlil, Taser extended.

  Candy, scrambling toward the action, heard the god growl in response.

  Shit. This could turn ugly, fast. She needed to get Enlil out of the ring without creating more of a fuss, but if she went high profile, Jake would have a shit-fit. They’d end up on the nightly news. Not something recommended for undercover agents.

  “Enlil, let me handle this,” she yelled at the god’s back. When he didn’t stand down, she hollered again, Taser-man still warily and angrily approaching the wind god.

  “Goddammit, Enlil. Stop. This isn’t our jurisdiction.”

  Enlil snarled, then raised his head, sniffing toward the bull. “It is now.” He inhaled deeply. “There are illegal drugs here, Candy. Call Jake.”

  Candy drew in a sharp breath, stunned. Illegal drugs? Here? Would Enlil say that just to enlist her aid? A split second was all it took. Hell, no. She trusted Enlil, and dammit, she’d have his back.

  The matador crouched to spring forward, holding the electrically charged device toward Enlil. Candy didn’t know how it would affect an immortal, but she saw red. Nobody messed with her man. She drew her gun, barely processing what she’d just called Enlil. She’d fucking think about that later.

  “Hold it right there, asshole,” she ordered. “DEA. Drop the stick, now.”

  The matador looked at Enlil, then quickly over his shoulder to evaluate his chances of escape.

  “Make my day, prick. I’ll have a bullet through your shoulder before you move another six inches.”

  Smart. The guy dropped the Taser.

  “But I’m not safe in here,” his voice wavere
d. “The bull will kill both of us.” The animal had struggled and come back to its feet.

  “Only if I let him.” Enlil snarled and walked with confidence, hand out to the tormented animal. The bull blinked. Enlil rested a palm on its head, then gazed down into its eyes and emitted a few grunting snorts. The bull snorted back, but didn’t move.

  Enlil huffed, dipped his head, and hunched his shoulders. The bovine quivered. Neither he nor Enlil moved for a full minute.

  The crowd, or what was left of it, had eyes glued to the pair. Everyone, including Candy, held a collective breath. When the bull shook its head to nudge Enlil’s hand, then butted its shoulder up against the male, a collective sigh traveled through the audience.

  Candy grunted. Half the situation successfully diffused.

  Enlil comforted the bull, working his hand slowly around the animal’s upper torso. They stood, face to face, with less than six inches between foreheads. Enlil blew breath out his nostrils into the bull’s nose and the animal huffed out a contented noise. Candy let her shoulders drop.

  “Drugs, Enlil?” Candy questioned, while keeping her gun trained on the now-stunned animal abuser. “What kind and are you sure?”

  “Ketamine, large quantities.” He spat disgustedly. “I can smell it all over these animals and wafting from backstage too. It was prevalent on the streets of Chicago when I spent time there,” Enlil assured her. “I’ll guarantee they don’t have prescriptions.”

  Candy didn’t doubt Enlil for a minute. “Hidden talent eh, Enlil? Who needs drug sniffing dogs when we’ve got you?” Her gun remained trained on the matador, while she hit speed dial on her phone. “Jake,” she barked. “Get the guys. We have a situation at the street festival. Enlil says they have large quantities of K, and I’ve got a matador who isn’t going anywhere. You need to pick up anyone you see fleeing that’s dressed like a clown. Yeah. A clown. See you soon.” Candy hung up.

  She gestured to the matador with her head. “We’ll have a warrant in minutes, asshole. Get comfortable while you wait for your handcuffs.” She read him his rights.

  When Candy finished, and was sure the matador couldn’t go anywhere, she looked to where Enlil fully absorbed himself with the bull. Fucking amazing. The two actually communicated. She also caught the conversation he initiated with Lahar, the god of cattle, back in the Blue Hills.

  Get me the number of that farm animal rescue association in New Hampshire, will you? I have some friends here who are in sore need of sanctuary. He blew out a snort that got answered by the bull.

  I hear the pain, Enlil. What the fuck have you stumbled across? Candy could feel Lahar wince at the transmission.

  Some sorely abused animals and a bunch of assholes who think cattle can be treated like shit.

  Lahar must be flipping through his phone listings.

  Rescue…rescue…Angell Memorial, PETA…okay. Here it is. Lahar gave Enlil the number. Do you need any help, buddy? I could be there in half an hour.

  Thanks, Lahar. If I can’t find the right people out here, I might take you up on your offer, but I think I’ll be good.

  Keep me posted. Lahar signed off and Enlil dialed the phone. Candy listened in.

  “…so I need someone local, near LA, who can come help with these animals.” His voice shook with emotion. “Do you have any contacts here?” Enlil listened.

  “Hooves and Paws Animal Rescue? In Littlerock? Thanks.” Enlil took a deep, cleansing breath for the first time since he’d seen the imprisoned animals. His chest leaned into the bull’s neck and he must have conveyed his relief to the animal with body language because the animal gave a chuff. He dialed a new number, gave someone on the other end the information necessary to effect a pick-up, then hung up looking relieved but drained.

  In a daze, Candy witnessed Jake, Gramps, and Flick insinuate themselves into the ring. Then slowly but surely JP, Z, and Cub showed up with clowns in custody.

  Sure enough, they found several pounds of K, packaged and awaiting distribution, as well as Ketamine in its liquid form to keep the animals knocked out when they weren’t being used for the show. The DEA was all over the bust, as well as the local MSPCA and eventually the good folks from Hooves and Paws, who arrived and began carefully leading the abused animals onto transport trucks that would carry them to safety. By the end of the day, there would be numerous arrests.

  She approached Enlil and put a hand to his back while he had what she perceived as a long, final talk with the bull. When his bovine friend finally got led away, Candy raised a questioning brow.

  “I let him know that from now on, everything will be all right.” Enlil told her with a sigh. “He’ll have a green pasture, full meals, and,” the corner of his mouth tipped up, “perhaps a willing female to mount.”

  Enlil’s eyes looked longing down into Candy’s. “When everything is said and done, that’s all a bull really wants.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ishkur sat on the porch steps and witnessed the sunrise. Almost seven. He’d decided on a course of action, and if it backfired, that was on him. Stirring occurred inside Dunsky’s house, and he wondered how long it would be before Charlie and her daughter emerged.

  The god of spring rain sighed. His first duty should be to let Marduk know a woman had turned him corporeal, but he’d be selfish for a few days and keep it to himself. He wanted to find out about Charlie, get to know her before he shared. Of course, there was also the issue of whose Chosen Charlie would be, and running down the list of possibilities―which included Lahar, Dumuzi, Shamash, Absu, Ninurta, and Kulla―he realized that none of them would hold it against him if he lingered just a little longer before bringing her in.

  He reveled in the sound of Maitlynn’s exuberant squeals. It had been a long time since he’d been a part of a family, other than with his fellow gods and now goddesses back at the compound. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that kind of connection until he’d given the baby a spoon full of plums yesterday. His heart had nearly burst in his chest, and it had been all he could do to retain the presence of mind that enabled him to flee before Charlie appeared. Now he had to god-up and risk an introduction.

  Normally a very patient man, the waiting this morning seemed interminable. He tapped his foot, he fidgeted with his hands, and eventually he got up to pace while watching for the two to emerge from the house. Surely they wouldn’t stay inside all day? It was a beautiful morning, shaping up to be sunny and warm. Funny thing for a New Englander, right before Christmas. A feeling of nostalgia gripped Ishkur.

  Tomorrow night would be Christmas Eve. He remembered the years of joy he’d had with his own wife and daughter back in the 1600s, celebrating the holiday amidst hip-deep snow, roaring winds, and the ubiquitous smell of pine. Ishkur shook off his melancholy. He shouldn’t feel sad. Things were finally turning around for the gods. After hundreds of years of bleak holidays―mourning everything they’d lost―they would be celebrating this year with new beginnings, new Chosen, and in a few short weeks, new life when Tess and Marduk’s baby boy entered the world.

  He snapped from his reveries when the click of a lock let him know that Charlie and Maitlynn were coming out. Ishkur stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, legs shoulder width apart, trying for all intents and purposes to look guard-like.

  “Oh.” Charlie gasped, a small sound of distress escaping her rounded lips. Quickly she closed herself and her daughter, who was perched on one hip, back behind the screen door. “Who are you?” she asked, shakily.

  The protective warrior in Ishkur didn’t like that she hadn’t slammed the main door and retreated back inside to call the police, but he’d remedy that soon. She’d learn damned quickly to protect herself under his tutelage.

  “I’m a friend,” Ishkur’s voice came out rougher than he would have liked. Damn, but he should have been practicing with his vocal chords. After hundreds of years dormant, they were barely under his control. He cleared his throat and tried again.

  “Your brot
her sent me here to watch over you and the little one while he’s on the East Coast,” he assured her. “Dunsky. Uh, Ken didn’t want you to be alone, especially on Christmas Eve, since you told him you were going to your ex-husband’s house.”

  Charlie narrowed her eyes. “That could be true,” she allowed, “or you could have been sent by my ex. How do I know which is the case?”

  Ishkur smiled. At least she was savvy enough not to believe everything that came out of someone’s mouth.

  “I’m with a group that is…similar to Dunsky’s here in LA, only our base is just outside of Boston. Your brother and I have effectively traded places. He’s training with my guys and I’m here with his.”

  “You’re with the DEA?’ Charlie still didn’t seem convinced.

  “Not the DEA.” He pondered what he should say. “A different branch of protective services.” There. That sounded okay.

  “I think I should call Ken’s boss and find out if you’re for real.” Ishkur, happy Charlie had decided to be cautious, couldn’t let her call Jake. His undercover status would be blown.

  “Call Ken instead,” Ishkur went out on a limb, but he couldn’t think of a better solution.

  Dunsky had asked Marduk to set someone to watch over Charlie, and Marduk had chosen him. Since Dunsky didn’t know Ishkur was in California, the agent probably assumed Enlil had been given the job. He hoped Dunsky would think that’s who had Charlie’s back. A long shot, but if shit blew up in his face, he could always call Marduk and sort things out.

  “Da.” Maitlynn called to him through the screen and reached a hand out to Ishkur.

  “No, sweetie. That’s not Da.” Charlie scrambled in her pocket with her one free hand and hit the number for her brother. She rocked her body to quiet the little girl, while never taking her eyes off Ishkur where he stood glued to the porch steps eight feet away.

  “Ken? Charlie. Yeah, merry almost Christmas to you, too.” She headed right into her question. “Did you ask some guy from Boston to keep an eye on me?” Her demeanor suddenly lightened. “Yeah, big guy? Extra big?” She laughed then. “No, he doesn’t look like too much of a hard ass.”