Balance - Book 2

by Marc Dickason

  *****

  The taxi dropped me outside the apartment just after noon. I trudged up the steps, mind set firmly on tossing back two painkillers with more coffee. But as I opened the front door I took my second metaphorical chop slap for the day.

  The first thing I noticed was Benny reclined on the living room couch, smiling. This in itself would have been shocking considering recent circumstances. But what really dialled the chop slap up to a healthy ten was the girl sitting beside him. Clara Anderson.

  My eyes bulged and jaw suddenly hung somewhere between my nipples. ‘Perhaps I’m misunderstanding the situation,’ my brain babbled, ‘Maybe she’s not here as a guest. Maybe she’s here assisting him, helping re-establish his stability…’

  But a second later came the sound of her musical giggling. My stomach plummeting into a bottomless pit

  “Oh shit,” I heard myself mutter.

  Numb legs carried me into the apartment, stomach tightening with each step. The girl, Anderson, dressed in girlish casual clothes and sitting cross legged, looked up. Her glowing smile faltered.

  “Oh, you,” she said flatly.

  Benny followed her gaze.

  “Jet! Welcome home,” he beamed, “Was just wondering where you’d got to. I see from Clara’s scowl you two have already met. Whoa, feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

  “My hand is killing me,” I replied distantly, “Yes, I’ve met Clara, in the canteen just the other day.”

  “Great!” he exclaimed, “Then I don’t have to bother with the formalities. Grab a glass of wine and take a seat, buddy. We were just discussing the tragic events that occurred at the Academy.”

  My eyes drifted to Clara, wondering how much danger she was in, wondering how capable she was if faced by an aggressive Bethany or Brent-Demon. My gaze then flicked to the window on the far side of the apartment, still cracked and bowing outwards. Then, finally, my eyes settled on the telephone to my right. My brain jumped from one level of acceptance to another, horrified at the prospect I was considering calling the D.O.M on a friend.

  Seconds before making an excuse to use the telephone brakes slammed on and brought the chain of thought to a screeching halt. Benny was looking at me calmly, pearly teeth exposed in an enormous Cheshire cat smile. Not the faintest sign of instability was betrayed.

  “Sure, I’ll join you,” I said at last. Clara rolled her eyes. “But first, could we maybe have a word, Benny?”

  “Sure. Speak away.”

  “In private. In the kitchen.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “In the kitchen? Why? Speak your thoughts. Clara is a friend. Aren’t you Clara?”

  She nodded, eyeing me like I was the proverbial beach bully stomping on her sand castle. “I’m a friend, yes.”

  I hesitated. “What the hell are you doing, Benny?’ I snapped, voice fiercer than intended.

  He blinked. “Having some wine.”

  “You’re putting this girl in serious danger.”

  His smile widened. “Are you talking about the thing last night? Don’t worry about that, Jet. I have it under control.”

  My jaw again took up residence between my nipples. “You have it under control? No, Benny, you do not have it under control!”

  “Yes I do, Jet,” he said matter of factly, fighting back laughter as if I was hilariously overreacting to a forgotten cup coaster.

  Anderson’s eyes drifted between us.

  “What are you talking about?” she spoke up.

  “This man is not stable, Anderson,” I said firmly, “He’s been slipping, and your being here is very likely to worsen the situation.”

  She turned to Benny, who had thrown back his head to bellow laughter.

  “What is he talking about?” she asked.

  “Jet’s just a little emotional,” he replied jovially, “He’s been in some difficult situations lately. It’s understandable. Come now, Jet. You’re ruining the mood. Grab a glass of wine. Have a seat and tell us about it.”

  Clara’s eyes returned to me. I gave her a stern look. One which I hoped conveyed the seriousness of the situation.

  “Maybe I’ll just come back another time,” she said, standing and straightening her skirt.

  “No, don’t be ridiculous,” Benny insisted, “Sit, relax. It’s all just a big misunderstanding. Tell her, Jet, for God’s sake. You’ve got the poor girl rattled, you silly bastard.”

  “Another time,” she declared, heading for the door.

  “Wait! Clara,” Benny called after her, “Really, it’s okay! Jesus Christ, Jet, will you tell her? Clara!”

  She stepped out the door and it clicked shut. His eyes turned to me.

  “Well I hope you’re happy,” he muttered, shaking his head. But there was no menace in the words. Just playful mock disgust. “You know how long it took me to get her back here?”

  “What’s going on with you, Benny?” I said, perching on the couch across from him. “How could you bring that girl in here after what happened…?”

  “I told you, Jet, I have it under control.”

  He leaned forward and started rolling a cigarette.

  “You don’t Benny. I’m telling you, you don’t have it under control. Bethany, Brent, either one of them could have attacked Anderson. And you…” I struggled to meet his gaze. “You could have killed me last night, do your realise that?”

  “Killed you?” He frowned. “Now you’re just being melodramatic.”

  I gestured to the window. “You nearly put me straight through that glass. Do you even remember? I saw you, Benny. I looked in your eyes. You were God damn terrifying. That demon is tearing your mind apart.”

  He glanced at the window, “We really should get that fixed, shouldn’t we?” then back at me, “Look, Jet, maybe I slipped. Maybe I scared you a little. And I’m sorry about that. But let’s not forget who was blowing up various buildings just a couple of months ago, okay? You’re overreacting. I am in complete control, I assure you.” The rolled cigarette was raised for approval. “See? Nothing else is going to happen. Let’s just forget about it, please. The whole thing is a little embarrassing. And really, if you liked Clara you just had to say so and I would’ve backed off. No need to scare her away.”

  His words sounded genuine. I felt myself relaxing. But the pit did not leave my stomach. “Benny…”

  “You look like you’re in rather a lot of pain, buddy. Don’t you have meds for that hand?’

  “Yes. Look, Benny…”

  “Well don’t take any yet,” he cut in, placing the finished cigarette between his lips, “I remember you saying something about wanting to learn this…” A flame sprang to life from between his pinched fingertips. “You still want to learn or what? Basics coming up on Tuesday.”

  I hesitated at length. “Yes, I need to learn the spell.”

  “Then let’s get busy, buddy.”