by Sara Bushway
Honey looked out at the officials at the front of the room, passing glances back and forth, deliberating. Then, as if expertly coordinated, they began firing again. Honey felt the sting of a lightning spell hit him in the shoulder and screamed. Kage dragged him behind a pillar, still keeping a tight hold on him, and pointed his cane out into the fray. Honey could feel the heat coming off the cane, even at arm's length, as the black metal of the cane turned red and balls of burning magic fired out of the end at the warwizards.
Honey looked up at Kage, wanting to ask him about his unusual magical prowess and "wand," if it could even be called that, but every movement sent lightning shooting through his veins again. Even tightening his grip on Cinderella sent strings of pain down his arms and through his fingers.
If I could just aim this gun, he thought, but at whom? Do I injure him and make him let go, or do I fight back at the wizards?
Honey struggled against the pains shooting through his arm. He raised Cinderella, took aim at the wizard, and fired. Every nerve in his body fired signals of pain. Before he could see the ball hit the wizard, everything went black.
*****
Honey felt himself slowly regaining consciousness. First, there were the muffled sounds of voices trying to talk to him. Then there was movement like hands carrying him for a great distance. Then there was light. When the fog in Honey's mind had dissipated enough, he clearly heard the voice of Andy.
"What the hell happened?!" Andy screamed. "Why do you have him?!"
"It doesn't matter what's already happened! He needs help!" Kage's voice sounded strained. Honey gasped and coughed as he desperately tried to explain who had saved his life, but the words just would not come out. "Easy, boy. Easy," Kage said comfortingly, patting Honey's chest. "You're alrigh--You'll be alright if these lunks will help me find you a healer!"
Andy and Torq looked at one another. "We can deal with him later," Torq said. "Honey needs our help."
"Well, we can't just stand here behind the outpost all day! I mean that's--" Andy pointed at Kage, who glared back in response.
Kage quipped, "Never mind why he was with me or what it is you think you know about me! He needs help now!"
Andy frowned and shook her head. "There are no healers here now. A plague broke out up north, so they all left this morning. This outpost doesn't sell potions, either."
Kage looked from one adventurer to the next and sighed. "I know where to take him." He turned to his well-dressed crew. "Get a cart. It's a fair distance, and I don't want to get 'got' by another moon-eyed adventurer that can't see my good intentions past the bounty on my head." Andy opened her mouth to argue, but the feeling of Torq's hand on her shoulder stopped her cold.
Honey faded in and out of consciousness, only gleaning enough to know that he was carried a little further, bounced along in a carriage pulled by mustangs, and then carried again in Dane's big arms to somewhere that was darker than dark and smelled like yeast. It was a familiar smell, but Honey couldn't place it until the flicker of candlelight opened his eyes.
There she was. He had thought of her, dreamed her, prayed for her and to her. And there she was.
"Loretta..."
She smiled, and the world went dark again.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The cold of the stone cellar floor seeped through Honey's duster and into his skin, shocking him awake again. It had been nothing like the shocks he suffered at the hands of the warwizards, but it bit his nerves and made him uncomfortable just the same. He looked around and found himself in the basement pantry of Beaumont's House, where food could be stored in a cool, dry place and kept for a lot longer than it would last up in the kitchen. He had only ever seen this room a handful of times when Betty needed to restock the kitchen to feed people in the lounge.
I'm really here, Honey realized. Kage brought me here. But why?
The cellar door opened, and a pair of young, beautiful feet with toenails painted the color of polished rose-gold descended the steps. Then there was a lacy hem of a colorful dress. Then her face came into view.
"Loretta," Honey said, pushing himself up into a seated position. She closed the cellar door behind her and joined him on the floor, barely managing to put the little basket hanging from her write on the floor before he threw his arms around her and held her tight. They sat in silence for several minutes. Honey silently cried into the cap sleeve of her dress as he took in her smell and her warmth. The rose oil she wore danced through his nostrils and into his brain like opium smoke, making him feel foggy and unstable but in a good way.
After some time, she whispered, "I can't believe it's really you. I'm so glad you're here."
Honey squeezed her tighter. "I don't know what happened. I don't really know how I got here, but I'm here."
There was another long silence before she asked him, "Are you in any pain?"
"No."
"Good. Your wound wasn't bad, but the magic was difficult to dispel. I must have spent hours casting over you. You must be famished."
He held on for a few more seconds and finally let go. He looked at the soft curvatures of her face and the fiery curls that draped down her neck behind her ears. She had matured ever so slightly since he had been gone but only in the best of ways. She was still pale with a perfect complexion, but it seemed as though her features had become more pronounced, more womanly. She looked stronger somehow and wiser. She looked up from the basket of goodies she was carefully putting out on display.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
Honey shook his head. "Nothing," he managed in a raspy voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Nothing. It's just--How did I get here?"
Loretta finished putting each of the items from the basket out and said, "You were brought here. There was a small army of people here to present you. Some beef-cake named Torq came in and asked for me. He told me what had happened and that Kage, the rebel, had brought you here because he thought I could help you. I had Kage and his groupies bring you to the cellar door and down here so that none of you would be seen. I can't imagine the hell we would all pay if Mr. Beaumont saw you or Kage standing in his foyer." She picked up a small loaf of bread and began to cut it with a serrated knife. "Kage said he needed to go because he can't be found. He's on a mission, after all. And the adventurers followed because--Well because it's their job--your job too, I suppose." She smiled at him and held out the sandwich she had made. "They said there's an outpost nearby and left me the coordinates to give you when you're ready."
"How long have I been here?"
"Two days," she chirped. "Not bad for the hit you took. I've been coming down here to check on you and try to heal you every few hours. Mr. Beaumont might think I have a bathroom problem going on, the way I've been running up and down the stairs all day."
They both laughed and trailed off. A glimpse of a bruise peeked out from her skirts as she itched her knee. She saw his eyes lock on the spot and smoothed her skirt down. Honey wanted to ask her how things had been since he left and for her to lie to him and say everything had gotten much better, that the Master had a change of heart and started being kinder and paying better. But that bruise on her leg was too much to ignore.
"Is he here?" He asked.
She shook her head as if to say no but instead said, "Honey, it’s not worth it. It’ll only make things worse. At the rate he’s been stepping out to hit the opium den, he’ll be dead in a year."
He blinked at her. "So, he is here?"
"Don’t do this, Honey. Your team isn’t here, and I’m not a warwizard."
Honey sighed. "Fine. I guess I’m well enough to go."
She smiled, "I suppose so. Maybe next time you come back to visit us, it won’t take you a year to get here, and maybe you won’t be in the arms of another man."
Honey laughed. "Oh, yeah. Dane. He’s a great guy. Kage wasn’t so bad either. I don’t know the others."
Loretta did a double-take. "Its bodyguard was an actual man, not a Nobody?"
/> "Yep," Honey said, "He's a real man, a good man too. And Kage opts to go by 'he.' I'm guessing they have a lot of citizens as allies. After all of this, I'm starting to think I'll be one of them."
Loretta nodded. "Kage explained to me his mission and how the government twists his words and actions to make him the bad guy. In truth, what he wants is a dream from long ago, freedom."
Honey nodded in response. It seemed all Kage really wanted was the choice to be someone and to be better than he was, a choice Honey himself had fought to obtain. But Kage could never be a citizen, not without surgery.
What strange things we value, he thought.
"Well, I have to say goodbye to the girls before I go, "he said, returning to his previous statement. "I guess I’ll get myself together and go." Loretta nodded and sat quietly while Honey dressed himself.
"I wish you didn’t have to go," she whispered. "I hate this."
He pulled her up to her feet and hugged her tightly. "Me too," he replied. He left it at that, but inside Honey’s mind, he was steeling his nerves for battle.
*****
They crept together through the mansion, Loretta's hand in his, guiding him along. He knew the House well. It hadn't changed a bit, but it didn't feel like home the way it once did. He recognized the smells of the different perfumes and lotions as they came down the hall of the discount dames. Beneath all of those smells was the white sage Betty burned every morning as she walked through the House. He was never sure if she was smudging to keep the bad spirits out or trying to cover up some of the less pleasant smells of the business. It was still early in the morning, and many of the dames were still readying themselves in their rooms. Honey was somewhat relieved. He had never bonded with them anyway. He just wanted to see his second-floor girls again and perhaps the master too if he wasn't too far off his rocker.
Loretta pushed through the doors at the end of the hall into the foyer. Nostalgia came over Honey like a wave of warm water over his skin and soothed him. The staircase was just the way he had remembered it, but it seemed more beautiful now that he hadn't been looking at it every day for quite some time. The decorative handle of the door seemed more regal than he had remembered. The light fixtures seemed more elegant than old and rusted. It was all the same but looked so different after everything he had been through.
Honey spotted the girls coming out of the second-floor wing, primping their hair and smoothing their skirts, and smiled to himself.
"Ahem," he said, drawing attention to himself. "How much might it cost to get a hug from all of you?"
The girls squealed and tiptoed down the stairs in their pumps. Before Honey knew it, he was surrounded by their arms in a giant huddle. They giggled and cooed over his new look, how big he had gotten, and every other detail of his adventures.
"Girls, keep it down," Loretta chided. "You're going to wake up-"
"Too late," Beaumont's raspy voice called out from the second floor. "Get off my property."
Byron Beaumont came forward, wobbling to keep himself level with the rest of the world. The opium hadn't been good to him over the years anyway, but Honey could see that this was a whole new level of stoned that the man had never reached before.
"Go to bed, sir," Honey calmly commanded. He thought it would feel good to dole out some condescension, but all it did was remind him of the last thing he said before Beaumont decided to destroy him. It made his scars start to hurt again. The girls all backed away, except Loretta, who took his hand.
"Honey, don't do anything stupid," she advised.
Beaumont leaned over the rail and pointed in Honey's general direction. "Don't tell me what to do, boy. Ain't your place. Never was. And this is my place. Pay your whore and get out."
A fire burned in Honey's veins. "Her name is Loretta, and she deserves better than that. You apologize to her."
Beaumont let out a throaty laugh and doubled over, grasping the banister of the staircase to keep the wobbling ground from dumping him over. "I don't apologize to my chair for sittin' on it. I don't apologize to my table for knicking the grain with my knife. And I don't apologize to no woman no how ." All manner of humor left the man, and he stared Honey down. "Give her the money and leave."
Honey tensed. His team was elsewhere. Loretta was mere inches away. His marbles weren't enchanted yet, making them just white, smashable marbles like any other. He wasn't prepared for this fight, and he knew it, but that wouldn't stop him. He wrapped his arm around Loretta and spun her behind him. Beaumont widened his stance and slide his knife from the sheath on his belt.
"Well, come on. Come and get it!" Beaumont goaded. Honey brushed his duster back and ascended the stairs in the blink of an eye. Even with a few meters between them, Honey could smell the stench coming off of him. Beaumont shook his head. "You don't wanna do this, boy."
"On the contrary," Honey said and retrieved his boot-knife. "I've been waiting a long time to come back here and settle up with you." With his free hand, he drew open his duster and unfastened two buttons to reveal some of the scars on his chest. "I owe you one, sir. In fact, I owe you a lot more than that. These are just the scars you can see, but there are so many more. I'm going to pay you back for each and every one. Right now."
Beaumont stood there, staring and salivating like a rabid dog. Without turning, Honey commanded to the girls, "Go. Hide. This is going to get ugly."
They took him on his word and ran for the safety of Betty's kitchen.
Beaumont bent his knees and shifted the blade in his hand so that his punches could leave more slices in Honey's body. Honey, by contrast, turned his body so that he could use his left arm as a shield against the blade when it came at him and could use his body-weight to push his own knife into Beaumont with the full force of his body when the time was right, like throwing a good punch that starts from the back foot of a poised fighter. They stared at each other a little longer before Beaumont's opium took the reins on the carriage of his sanity and came flying at Honey, the knife dancing around out in front of him. Honey deflected the blade with his own and pushed Beaumont back against the wall.
Beaumont was breathing hard, holding on to the wall for balance. Sweat and spit flung as he said, "Come at me, dirty little cum-dumpster! That's what you are and what you always were! No little patch or gun can change that. It's what you'll always be! You're nothing and nobody! In fact, you should have been a Nobody, but I saved your skinny, little hide. Now I wish I hadn't! Come at me, little boy! Come at me and see how the power that saved you and gave you everything can take it all away just like that!"
Honey's anger got the best of him. He rushed Beaumont, slashing and parrying, the knives sparking and singing as they tussled against the walls of the mansion. The battle raged on through the halls of the mansion, leading this way and that. Honey pushed Beaumont into a little table with flowers on it, and Beaumont stood up and threw the broken table at him.
Good grief, that opium has killed his nerves, Honey thought. It's like he can't feel pain anymore or something!
Honey thought he had given the table a wide birth to pass by him and hit the wall, but instead, one of the remaining legs whipped against his shin, spinning the table against the wall and causing it to explode in a cloud of splinters. Honey gasped and grabbed at his leg. It was bleeding something fierce, having sliced through his pants and chaps. Still, he wasn't going to let that stop him. He watched Beaumont stumble away from him, down the hall toward his office.
His gun! And here I am without any standard bullets or enchanted marbles! Damn!
Honey hobbled after him, occasionally picking up toppled-over vases and furniture to throw at him in an attempt to slow him down. Nothing worked until Honey pulled a painting off of the wall and flung it like a frisbee at Beaumont's ankles. It slammed his leg into the doorjamb, and Beaumont let out a shriek of pain. Honey thought he had him, that he could pin him and subdue him then, but Beaumont's resolve was too strong. He crushed the painting under-foot and continued into the of
fice. Honey chased him in, and in an unexpected turn of events, Beaumont turned and slammed him into the doorframe, causing him to drop his knife. Honey watched for the shimmering silver of Beaumont's blade, half-expecting it to pierce his torso before he ever saw it. He spotted it on the floor, but only moments before Beaumont's fist split his cheek open, and Honey saw his hat flutter down to the floor. Honey reeled from the blow that had sent the back of his head bouncing off the doorframe. It was a good, dizzying blow, but he shook himself back to reality and shoved Beaumont away, landing a strong kick to the man's torso to push him further away, hoping it would give him a few more moments to regroup after that headshot. Beaumont grabbed both of the knives on the floor and started to get to his feet. Honey spun sideways and kicked Beaumont in the head, sending him rolling over to a bookshelf against the wall. The shelves wobbled, and books came clattering down on the man, seemingly timing their falls so that every time he tried to push himself up, they knocked him back down. Honey panicked.
He'll never stop. His nerves are dead, and he'll never stop coming at me. The opium is just going to let him keep going and going. What do I do?
The books stopped falling, the few that were still on the shelf resolute in their position, and Beaumont scrambled to his feet again. Honey straightened.
"I don't want to kill you, Beaumont. For a long time, I thought I did, but I don't. Good guys don't kill people unless they have to. I think you should leave and never return. If you leave here and promise to dedicate your life to doing good for other people, I think I could live with letting you go...and forgiving you."
Beaumont sneered. "Let me go? Forgive me? Ha! Oh, Honey! You're precious, soft heart! Giving me a chance at forgiveness and repentance! But I don't need your forgiveness! And I definitely don't need you! Your good heart? It will be the end of you! I will make sure of it!" Beaumont threw Honey's knife at him, sending Honey crouching to the floor to avoid being hit in the face. When he stood back up, Beaumont was rifling through his desk, pulling drawers off their tracks and throwing them to the ground, searching for the gun he had hidden long ago in case of an emergency. Honey sprang into action. He ran at the desk, kicked up his feet to slide across the top, and landed on Beaumont. They scuffled on the floor, throwing punches and slamming each other into the desk as hard as they could while attached to one another. Beaumont's eyes lit up, and even though Honey couldn't see what Beaumont had found under the desk that had made him look so alive, he knew in his heart what was coming. He had found the gun.