As Bert rolled back to his feet the whip hit him from behind, wrapping around his throat and cutting off his breath. He swung the sword toward the whip, trying to cut it, but before he made contact he was yanked into the air again. This time she wasn’t as gentle, and hurled him against his blazer like a rag doll.
He was aware of the thump, which had to be his impact, then he had only a moment to wonder if his neck was broken before he felt himself sliding toward unconsciousness. Just before the darkness took him he thought, I’ve really got to watch out for that whip.
***
For the third time that day, his eyes opened to a world full of pain. It felt like he’d been hit by a train. There was a tightness in his throat, and he realized the whip was still firmly secured around his neck. He was sitting propped up against the tire of the Beast.
His new friends stood around him nursing their wounds, but as his eyes opened they tensed, each taking a defensive posture. That made him feel a little better.
To Sharp he silently asked, “How long was I out?”
“Just a couple of minutes, no worries,” Sharp assured him. Then added, “Though Pretty Boy may have fondled you.”
“Huh?”
“I mean... I didn’t see him do it, but he has that vibe.”
He ignored Sharp’s comments and focused on his enemies.
“Wakey, wakey,” Pretty Boy said, crouching down to get eye level with Bert. Great, he thought, dick head’s feeling arrogant again. Bert wished he could vomit on this asshole, too.
“Oh, good, I thought we’d gone too far for a moment there.”
Bert attempted a reply, but the whip was too tight to speak.
“What? Would you like to say something?” Pretty Boy asked, grinning. “Ease up, Jacqueline. Our new friend wants to talk.”
The whip slackened, allowing him to breathe.
“There, is that better? You had something you wanted to say?”
“Yeah.” Bert smiled despite the pain and looked up at Whip Chick. “Jacqueline, is it? That’s a pretty name... You single?”
The whip tightened again.
“Stop,” Pretty Boy said. “We don’t want to kill him, yet.”
Jacqueline’s lips twitched. “Whatever you say, Chance.”
As the whip loosened once again Bert chuckled.
Chance’s grin turned into a scowl. “You’re awfully arrogant for someone who just got his ass whooped.”
Bert sighed and shook his head. “You call that an ass whooping? You should’ve seen how bad I got thumped this morning. You kids are about as mean as a bucket of kittens compared to that guy.”
The whip tightened again. “You should be thankful we took it easy on you,” Jacqueline said.
Bert smiled at her. “I just have to say, you are gorgeous.”
The whip tightened again, but only for a moment.
“At any rate,” Chance said, “we found you for a reason.”
Bert gave his best stunned look. “Oh, you mean you guys don’t just attack random strangers for no reason?”
Chance looked over at the Mohawk. Mohawk shrugged at him. Pretty Boy obviously wasn’t expecting this much resistance.
Bert focused on Jacqueline. “So, what do you say? You want to go out sometime?”
She didn’t reply, but rolled her eyes and looked away.
Chance said, “We’ve heard all about you, Waylon Drake.”
Bert ignored him and said, “Maybe something simple. Dinner and a movie? Have some drinks? Maybe do a little slow dancing? See where the night takes us? What do you say?”
“Shut up and listen to me!” Chance screamed, getting down in Bert’s face and grabbing the front of his shirt. “I said we found you for a reason.”
“Yes, I heard you. Now if you’ll get over your childish theatrics and stop being so damned dramatic, you could probably tell me why.”
“Listen, you redneck piece of trash—”
“Redneck?” Bert said, cutting him off. “Now there is no need for name calling. I’m not sitting here calling you Pretty Boy, am I?”
“What?” he asked, with a look of confusion.
“Are you kidding?” Bert asked. “Have you looked in the mirror? At first, I didn’t know whether you wanted to fight or have a dance off. The whole lot of you look like bad anime characters or cheap Sunday morning cartoon super heroes.”
Chance’s face contorted with rage and he slapped Bert.
“Slapping? Really?” Bert said, cackling. “I’ve had farts with more impact. Careful, you might ruffle your pretty hair.”
Mohawk and Jumpsuit stifled their giggles.
Bert figured they were dropouts from wizard school, but he doubted they were capable of hiding from the Hand on their own. Which meant they were either part of a bigger group or serving a much more powerful wizard who was still hiding in the shadows.
Chance had finally had enough. “Fuck this, maybe we should just kill you, Hillbilly. What do you think about that?”
Bert met his furious gaze and said, “Maybe you should, but you won’t complete the job before your nuts burst into flames.”
At first Chance’s face showed confusion, but that quickly evolved into fear as he felt the pressure of Bert’s staff against his groin. While they’d been bantering he’d carefully summoned it back to his hand.
Chance gulped. Bert could make good on his threat before he’d have time to react and Pretty Boy knew it.
“Now then,” Bert said, grinning, “why don’t you tell me what the fuck you want before I roast your boys like a pair of marshmallows.”
Chance took in a breath, trying to regain his confidence. “Something powerful is moving through the area. We want you to find it for us.”
Well, doesn’t this sound familiar, Bert thought, but kept his poker face. “What is it?”
“We don’t know. We just know it’s here, or will be, soon.”
“So why are you bothering me? You guys can handle yourselves.”
Chance shrugged. “Someone recommended you to our boss.”
So, someone had dropped his name to these ass hats too. He forced his cool and asked, “Your Boss?”
“What, you thought it was just us?” He smirked. “There are a lot more of us, and if you don’t come through, we’ll be in greater numbers next time. And we’ll be playing to kill.”
“So, you don’t have any other useful information for me to go on?”
“No, that’s all we know.” As he said it he handed Bert a piece of paper. “You can contact us at this number when you have it.”
Bert nodded and Chance continued, “Don’t try to play games with us, Waylon. We’ll be checking in.”
They turned and started walking away but Chance stopped, looking down at Sharp.
“That’s a pretty nice sword. I’m a bit of a fencer myself.”
“You don’t say?” Bert replied, then mumbled, “Fucking rich kids.”
“I think I’ll take it.”
Bert shrugged. “I’d advise against it.”
“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”
“He doesn’t like being fondled by strangers. He’s got this whole attitude thing.”
Chance stared at him for a moment but must’ve decided Bert was messing with him. He scooped up the sword and held it in front of him.
“It doesn’t seem to mind,” he said with a chuckle.
A moment later he dropped the sword, screaming as the skin on his hand melted away. He fell to his knees, tears running down his cheeks.
Bert shrugged. “I tried to tell him.”
Jacqueline shook her head, taking charge. “Someone get him up. Let’s get out of here.”
They began walking away once again.
“Hey!” Bert shouted. “Jacqueline! What about that date? You can even bring the whip if you want!”
Jacqueline shook her head and they disappeared into the forest.
Bert sat there for a few seconds, then glanced over at his sword. The handle dep
icted the scene of Bert dropping to the ground as the other wizards hit each other with their powers. It transitioned to the image of Chance grabbing the sword, then showed him dropping to his knees and crying.
Bert smiled, got up, and dusted himself off.
Sharp said, “So, we’re totally screwed, right?”
Bert sighed. “Yup.”
Chapter 8
Bert didn’t like driving the Beast without a door, but at least he wouldn’t get trapped in it again. He cruised along the windy mountain road until he found himself in the town of his birth, Eureka Springs, Arkansas.
Eureka Springs was a small Victorian tourist town nestled away in the Ozark Mountains. A popular destination for family vacations, biker rallies, and art festivals. It offered a little bit of something for everyone, and had a rich history of ghost stories. The official population was around two thousand, but that didn’t include the tourists or alleged ghosts.
The supernatural community was spread around the world in every city and town, but some places tendedto have a higher population than others. Eureka Springs, with its history and culture, seemed a welcoming home to many supernatural individuals seeking refuge from a cruel world which denied their existence.
Bert didn’t have an attachment to the town, but despite living an hour away in Missouri, he always found himself coming back. It was easier for a freelance wizard to find work in a place where supernatural trouble was more common.
His first stop was the office. The company he worked for was called ‘Falcon Eyes Hands-On Investigations of Privates.’ It was a name that would only be acceptable in a town like Eureka. The owner was proud of the title, despite his wife’s concerns about being taken seriously. Employees and townsfolk simply referred to it as the Falcon’s Nest.
The owner was a fifty something year old man who went by Falcon. Bert didn’t know if that was his real name, but it was what everyone called him, including his wife. Bert didn’t know a lot about the man, other than that he’d been a Marine and a detective. Most people found both hard to believe. He didn’t have the rough-cut attitude of a Marine, nor was he the self-important businessy type. He didn’t take anything too seriously, and always had a joke to crack, though they tended to be corny. Bert had never even seen him get upset. He was one of the most laid back people Bert knew. His wife used the term ‘immature.’ Bert and Falcon got along great.
The company’s primary function was private investigation, but they also specialized in bounty hunting, security, transporting, personal protection, and occasionally served as back up for local police and fire. The county wasn’t large, but emergency services were under staffed. They were happy to get any professional help they could find, even if they had to pay a hefty price for it. In other words, it was a mercenary-for-hire business. Being that it was a small county, the services they offered weren’t always in high demand. So, they also did security installations, handy man work, bar bouncing, and occasionally even yard work for the elderly. Falcon believed in helping people, even if they couldn’t pay.
Most of the people who worked for the company were part-time, and did it to make extra cash. There were a few who were considered full-time, Bert included. That was only because Falcon wanted to get benefits for the most loyal employees. Being full-time didn’t mean they had to show up for work every day, though. They still picked the jobs they wanted to be involved in. That was what Bert liked the most. It wasn’t easy for a wizard to hold down a normal job. Bert could only imagine having to explain to Dasfarus, or those other jackasses, that he couldn’t do what they’d demanded of him because he had to go to work.
Bert also held a prestigious position, which was created just for him. He was the director of the Unusual Cases Department. Anything they got involved with that didn’t have a normal human explanation became his responsibility. This was not the most glamorous of jobs, but it did give him an opportunity to keep an eye out for strange occurrences. It was one thing to go looking for weird happenings, but when people called them into your voicemail, it made it much easier. Most of it was garbage, or people blowing things out of proportion, but occasionally he found a real supernatural event he could look into. Mostly, though, it was calls about UFO sightings, missing cats, and children with monsters under their bed.
He still helped with various other tasks in the company and occasionally served as a volunteer consultant with the police department. That was Falcon’s idea, and his recommendation was the only reason the local detective unit let him anywhere near a crime scene. Carter couldn’t have agreed less, and didn’t want Bert anywhere near the human police force.
Falcon knew Bert was a wizard, and understood some of the supernatural world. Bert didn’t know how much Falcon knew, but he was certainly better informed than most. Bert had met Falcon when he was working as a bounty hunter. When a bounty got put out for a supernatural entity in the area, Falcon was often contacted as a middle man. His job was to find a contractor equipped to handle the situation. When Bert worked with the bounty hunters, Falcon had passed them hunts occasionally. Falcon still contracted hunts, and usually the hunter was Bert. He loved the hunt, and it gave him the opportunity to feel like his training, both wizard and hunter, wasn’t going to waste. A lot of the time he worked alone, but he brought his friends along when they were willing. These days, though, the only one who’d even consider it was Kevin.
Shortly after recovering from his split with the bounty hunters, Bert found himself without purpose. Falcon had approached him and offered the job. He’d said he could use someone with Bert’s skill set, not to mention having a wizard on staff could have its uses, and yes, he’d intended the pun. Bert, having no clue what he was going to do, happily agreed. He still wasn’t sure if Falcon had really meant what he said, or if he was just trying to help him out. It didn’t matter either way. He couldn’t imagine working for anyone else, much less doing anything else.
The office wasn’t a large building, and it wasn’t particularly nice. Falcon wasn’t one for being fancy. It was a simple brick building piled in a row with the other old buildings of downtown Eureka Springs.
Beyond the double glass doors was a small vestibule that was locked off from the rest of the building by two steel bullet and bombproof doors with a state of the art locking system. It also had an old-fashioned bolt, just in case any magic users decided to zap the system. In their business, they tended to make enemies from time to time.
Beyond the second set of double doors was a room that served as a lobby, filled with couches and recliners. Not many customers had to wait long, but when they did, Falcon believed in having them wait in comfort. There were several flat panel TV’s with remotes and all the sports and movie packages. Falcon’s wife had cut him short of providing them with the adult entertainment channels. There was a set of very clean restrooms, and a refreshment area with fountain drinks, coffee, tea, and snacks, all for free, which Bert really appreciated when he didn’t have time to eat. There was also a large round desk against the wall that served as the reception desk.
As Bert walked in he was greeted by the sincere smile of Falcon’s wife, Farrah. She was a gorgeous woman in her mid-thirties, with bright red hair that floated above her shoulders. She had some of the most intense green eyes Bert had ever seen. Many of their customers just stared at her instead of watching TV. She was an outgoing and very friendly person who was easy to talk to. There was an ongoing joke that if anyone ever tried to hold up the place, she would sweet-talk them out of it. What most people didn’t know was that behind that kind smile was a hardened warrior who carried a .45 caliber Glock in her purse right alongside her lipstick. Under the desk was a mounted 12 gauge with incendiary buckshot. Next to it was an M-4 with a thirty round clip filled with ballistic tips. Bert had seen her handle a firearm and would’ve felt sorry for anyone who tried to hold up the office. There were also a few panic buttons under the desk. One of them sent a signal to everyone’s office and phones. Another filled the entire building with
garlic smoke and caused a concentrated garlic and pepper spray cloud directly in front of the desk. Falcon and Farrah believed in being prepared for all forms of enemies, be they human, vampire, or otherwise.
As Bert strolled up to the desk Farrah squinted at him and said, “Bert! What happened to you, honey?”
Bert knew her concern was genuine and he wished he could tell her the truth. Farrah always worried about him. She and Falcon were people he trusted, and usually he felt comfortable confiding in Farrah. It wasn’t like she gave him much of a choice. Usually she could read him as well as Tony. This time was different, though, since he was under strict orders not to divulge any information.
“I got hit by a deer,” he replied. “Do I have any messages?”
“Do you expect me to accept that answer?”
He gave her his best innocent look and threw up his hands. “It did a number on the Beast. Is anyone in the garage today who might be able to fix it?”
She shook her head at him. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“You going to tell me if I have any messages?”
“Don’t be like that,” she said, glaring. “You know I worry about you, hon.”
“I know.” He couldn’t play hardball with her. “Honestly, I’m fine.”
“Okay.” She scowled. “But you’re not walking out of this office until you tell me what happened.”
Bert rolled his eyes. “Messages?”
She rolled her eyes back. “Yes, several, actually.”
“Anything important?”
“Well, I guess that depends on what you consider important,” she said in a friendly tone. The venom under her words would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know her as well as he did.
He waited.
Finally, rolling her eyes again, she said, “You’re not any fun today. Which means everything is not okay and I want to know what’s going on. But you’re obviously in a stubborn mood so I’ll let your hatefulness go for a few minutes. Your mother called and said you haven’t been returning her–”
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