by Robert York
“One moment,” she said without looking up.
Barnabas placed the enchanted Detroit Bus token into his cloak pocket. – I’ve got to get me one of those little beauties, it’d definitely save a lot of travel time and opening of portals - I watched the receptionist lift her left hand to touch something just in front of her on the counter. A few moments later the tinted glass doors on both sides of the desk swung open. Two tall and dangerous looking men dressed in dark suits emerged from what I assumed was the office, letting the doors swing shut behind them. They positioned themselves in front of the doors, blocking the entrance.
Behind us two similar looking men entered the main doors of the office assuming postures not unlike their associates. I could see bulges under their jackets, which could only mean that they were armed. All four were wearing dark sunglasses so it was difficult to get a good look at their eyes. That really didn’t sit well with me. You see the eyes as they say, “Are windows into one’s soul”. In many respects that’s true. You can tell a lot about a person through body language, but some people can learn to train their body to fool a person’s observation skills. That’s not the case with someone’s eyes. No matter how hard a person tries, the eyes will always give you away. Which is why quite a few people in the business of security and law enforcement wear sunglasses. Of course they’ll say that the glasses are for protection or for looking cool, but in reality I think they know the eyes are unreliable and wear them to prevent someone from getting a good read on their state of mind.
I smiled a toothy grin; you really had to admire this red head behind the counter. It took a lot of discipline to sit there calm and collected. The Vampires seemed to take choosing their employees seriously and invested the time in training them properly to deal with the unusual. If she were scared or startled she didn’t show it. The sight that she was presented with should’ve at least caused her to arch an eyebrow.
But it didn’t.
Barnabas and I stood before her in full Wizard battle gear, staves held confidently, ends resting on the floor. Race to my right slightly behind, holding the two Vampire twins bound, gagged and one held over each shoulder, their rears presenting forward. He wasn’t even inconvenienced by the added weight. Werewolves are powerful beings. When in human form they have heightened strength, senses and recovery from injury. It’s not until they transform into the wolf that their true power is revealed. Most normal people would have pissed their pants when a group of people dressed like us just appeared out of a swirling red door of magical energy. It seemed as though she’s had seen it all before and we were only boring her. That sort of hurt my feelings. Here we were all dressed up to impress, all magical, all imposing and bam!
Nothing.
Barnabas and I glanced sideways at one another waiting. The red head put down whatever she was working on raising her head. She was cute. Full pouty lips, oval face, bright round blue eyes framed with long dark eyelashes and her cleavage. I could stare at that all day. In all honesty I was doing just that. She cleared her throat in an amused yet charming fashion. My eyes connected with hers and she gave me a patient-reproving smile.
“Good afternoon gentlemen. Is there anything that I can help you with today,” she asked politely?
“Good afternoon young lady,” Barnabas replied.
“My associates and I seek a meeting with Ms. Adrianna Thorne, if of course that wouldn’t conflict with her busy schedule.”
Before she could answer the door behind her to the right opened and a short, thin man in a black suit stepped into the waiting room. He moved with purpose. His face was long and thin. Which complimented his baldhead. The only hair I could see anywhere on his face was a little soup patch on his lower lip and his eyebrows. A pair of thin silver oval shaped glasses rested on his hawkish nose. Everything about him screamed obsessive-compulsive disorder. His appearance was meticulously honed and crafted, nothing seemed out of place. Except for his expensive shoes. There were beads of water on the highly polished black leather. Given his manner and appearance it’d be difficult for me to believe that he’d have accidentally dribbled water on them without removing his shoes and re-polishing them. He moved between the receptionist’s counter and us. He stopped a few feet away going completely still. I mean statue still. I couldn’t even see him breathing. His eyes were a shade of deep green. This man was a Vampire.
I was sure of it.
After a short moment he turned his head to the left, never taking his eyes off us speaking to the young woman.
“Morgan,” He said. “Could you excuse us,”
Morgan didn’t reply she stood immediately without question. She picked up a smart phone off her desk heading for the door this man had entered. I know this might be a bit crass, but a man has to appreciate beauty when it comes his way. I’m stuck in a little storefront surrounded by magical tools, supplies and other oddities. How often do you think I get to see someone like her? Not very often would be the answer. You know this is one of those key moments that I’ve read about so often. If I let it slip away I’ll be kicking myself in the ass for years to come for not saying anything. I thought to myself what the hell.
“Hey Morgan,” I called to her as calmly and with as much cool as I could gather from my deep well of nerd.
She paused turning toward me.
“If you’re not doing anything later, I mean when we’re done talking with your boss, would you be interested in grabbing a cup of coffee… With me?” I asked hoping I wasn’t sounding too much like a dork or at the very least, desperate. I could see Barnabas turn toward me in my peripherals scowling. He huffed out an impatient breath, turning his attention back to the bald guy. Behind me I heard a mocking laugh.
“Really Sol? You’re trying to get a date now?” Race said amused.
Race simply didn’t understand. How often does a guy like me get the opportunity to meet a woman like Morgan let alone have the time or the courage to ask someone like her out. Life is too short to just wait around for next time. Everyone says “I’ll do it tomorrow or I don’t feel like it right now,” Screw that. What’s the worst that could happen? I look like a fool or she tells me no? I weighed the risks and I went with looking foolish on taking a chance.
Morgan’s cheeks colored, her lips stretched into a flattered smile, she glanced nervously over to baldy.
“I’ll think about it.” She said amused.
Morgan bit her lip looking me over and then turned exiting through the door. Once the door swung shut it got quiet. Pin drop quiet, then baldy spoke again.
“Well gentlemen, Ms. Thorne’s schedule is quite full today, so I must insist that you all turn around and exit our office,” Baldy commanded in a voice void of threat or emotion.
I attempted to open my big mouth and ask him “Who the hell he was,” Barnabas’s free hand flew up covering it. So it sounded like a clipped muffle.
“Please forgive my ignorance, but whom might I be addressing?” Asked Barnabas.
Baldy leveled his gaze at Barnabas, still no emotion in his expression. This guy was good at giving absolutely nothing away.
“I’m called Bartholomew, I’m Ms. Thorne’s personal assistant and bodyguard.”
Behind Barnabas and me came a deep-throated belly laugh. Race was laughing at Bart’s employment credentials. Bart leveled his gaze upon Race narrowing his eyes. Then Race spoke while laughing.
“You’re her bodyguard? You? This is a joke right? You look more like her interior decorator or fashion shoe guru. When she has you fetch her coffee do you do it with a spring in your step? Or maybe when she’s out of the office do you try on her shoes?”
I didn’t see Bart move, one moment he was there standing in front of us, the next he had Race by the front of his shirt, a five inch double edged knife pressed against the left side of his neck. I could see an indentation on Race’s skin. Race simply stood there looking calm and unperturbed, staring down at Bart with the most cocksure shit-eating grin on his face. He was trying to get a
rise out of Bart and he got one.
“I guess I struck a nerve, huh leech?” Race said contempt in his voice, his smile never wavering.
As I’ve said before Vampires and Werewolves hate one another deeply and will go out of their way to kill each other if they get the chance. This blood feud has been going on for centuries and no one knows the exact root cause for it. I’ve learned to just stay out of the whole thing. Looking at the two of them in their pose of utter hatred for the other, I realized a few things. First, Bart’s speed surprised the crap out of me, he moved so fast. There are some very talented and fast people in the world, but this guy was lightening fast. The other thing that surprised the hell out of me was the fact that Barnabas had his sword unsheathed and the sharp point pressed against the base of Bart’s skull, right where the neck meets the head. I looked around the waiting room, the other security guards should’ve been pouncing on us or at the very least had their guns drawn commanding us to put down our weapons or something. Instead, all the security guards were hunched over fumbling with their pants, which were down around their ankles. Their firearms were on the ground in pieces. They’d simply fallen apart. It appeared that during Bart’s attack Barnabas magically pantsed all of them and disabled their weapons.
That was so freaking cool!
Do you realize the level of skill, concentration and spell control something like that takes to accomplish against one opponent let alone four? This is one of the many reasons I loved being a Wizard! I’d like to see David Copperfield try that one.
“It would be wise for you to remove that blade from my friends neck. I’m reluctant to spill your blood and spoil this rather beautiful and I assume expensive carpet but I’m not averse to it.” Barnabas said in an icy tone.
“I am not afraid of you Wizard or your kind. I’m only obliged to show you respect given that both our peoples have signed a nonaggression pact. This filth however, has no such protection under that agreement and I’m well within my rights to rid this world of one more abomination.” Bart said, hate and loathing woven into his words.
Barnabas raised his free hand opening it palm out leveling it in the direction of the nearest guard. He closed his hand into a fist abruptly and all four security guards were slammed backwards against the walls behind them. Barnabas raised his fist a few inches. All four guards lifted off the floor a good two feet held motionless.
“I’ll repeat myself one last time,” Barnabas said calmly, steel in his voice. “Remove the blade from my friends throat, now.”
“Or what Wizard?” Bart said through gritted teeth.
Barnabas didn’t answer in reply he increased the pressure of the sword point against Bart’s neck cutting into the skin. A trickle of dark crimson blood oozed from the cut. There was going to be a fight and someone was going to get hurt or perhaps worse. The thought that kept jumping around in my head begging to be noticed was the fact that I’d done absolutely nothing to create this situation, which for me was a huge accomplishment. Behind me, to my right I heard a glass door swing open. I turned to see Morgan standing there, a bewildered look on her face. She scanned the scene before her. I immediately eased into my suave debonair sex magnet stance, bobbed my head in her direction and very eloquently said.
“Sup.”
The side of Morgan’s mouth quirked up into an amused grin. She slowly shook her head biting her lip and then spoke.
“Mr. Hollander I’m sorry to bother you while you’re... working. Ms. Thorne has instructed me to tell you to please escort these gentlemen into meeting room three at your earliest convenience. She’s concerned that the time and effort spent remodeling the office might be wasted should this situation get out of hand.”
I turned to Bart and Barnabas. I could see a perceptible relaxation in Bart’s posture. Reluctantly he lifted the dagger from Race’s neck, wiping the blade on the werewolf’s t-shirt before it disappeared up inside Bart’s coat sleeve. I noticed a cut on Race’s neck about a half inch long at the jaw line. I watched as a tiny drop of blood dripped from the wound. Within the time it took for that drop of blood to travel to the collar of his t-shirt the cut had healed itself. Only a dark red mark remained. Werewolves as I’ve said before can heal quickly. That’s why it’s not a good idea to provoke one. If you ever get into a fight with a Werewolf, you’d have to do a lot of damage to even put one out of commission. Silver of course being the only sure way of killing a Werewolf or immobilizing one. Fire can hurt them and possibly destroy a Werewolf, but if there are cells left alive within the remains they can regenerate the body over time. Barnabas removed the point of the sword blade from the base of Bart’s neck returning it to the sheath inside his battle staff.
“It would appear that there is an opening in Ms. Thorne’s schedule today after all gentlemen.” Bart said through clinched teeth, obvious anger in his tone.
“But in the future I would suggest Wizard that you muzzle this dog in the presence of Vampires, before his mouth gets him killed.”
“What’s the matter leech? Afraid that I...”
Barnabas raised a silencing hand.
Race is known for his loud abrupt manner and it was unusual for me to see him acquiesce so readily to a hand gesture.
“Out of respect for your Mistress I will honor her wishes and not spill blood this day.”
Barnabas took a step forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with Bart. A difficult task seeing that Bart was a foot shorter than Barnabas.
“But if you insult my friend again,” Barnabas continued in a lowered level tone. “I’ll let him tear you into a bloody mess, your Mistress’s wishes be damned. Do I make myself clear Vampire?”
Bart considered his response for the slightest moment before answering. His eyes shifted to Race’s, the Werewolf grinning happily, standing behind Barnabas.
“Perfectly.” Bart answered, no fear in his voice.
Barnabas acknowledged him with a curt nod then walked past Bart heading for the door Morgan held open.
“Wizard.” Bart called after Barnabas.
Barnabas paused, turning back to Bart.
“Release my men.” Bart gestured to his four security guards held fast against the walls.
Barnabas rolled his eyes in an absentminded manner.
“Where is my head these days,” Barnabas said as he raised his left hand snapping his fingers.
The four men dropped to the floor like curtains falling off a rod. They weren’t expecting the sudden removal of their magical bonds and Barnabas didn’t offer any warning either. They hit the floor with a thud. A slight smile of mischief creeping into Barnabas’s face as he turned back to Morgan. I leaned close to my mentor asking in a whisper.
“You enjoyed that didn’t you?”
He leaned toward me and replied confidentially.
“Most certainly!”
After a moment of amazed wonder, Morgan’s warm inviting smile returned she leveled her gaze at me then Barnabas.
“If you gentlemen will follow me I’ll take you to meeting room three.”
Morgan turned, walking in front of us gesturing to follow her. Barnabas moved first followed by me with Race and the twins bringing up the rear. We entered the main office area of Thorne enterprises. The layout was not unlike any other high-rise office I’ve ever been in, except the atmosphere in this place. It felt cold and I’m not talking about the temperature, which was comfortable even in my battle gear. You know how you can walk into a home or restaurant and feel a welcoming vibe like there is life, not only in the people that frequent these places or the delicious food and drink that is consumed there but in the building itself. Here there was no life, just a feeling of stagnation and danger. I couldn’t explain it, it felt cloying. Sure the place looked nice but death felt like it leached from every corner.
Morgan was like a flower pushing up through a crack in the sidewalk reaching for the warming rays of the sun in this place. She was human, in that I had no doubt at all. There were quite a few of the others th
at I saw darting in and out of offices that lined the wide hallway that were human as well. Most were not paying us any attention; they were going about their day-to-day business as usual, talking on phones, having meetings or just typing away on computer keyboards. But here and there spread around the office like weeds invading a well-kept lawn, I could see faces far too beautiful and far too pale to be human. Predatory eyes tracked our every movement. It struck me that they were not unlike wolves disguised amongst the sheep waiting for their chance to attack.
Chapter 13
Morgan opened a set of wide double doors gilded with gold in intricate patterns directing us into a spacious conference room off the main office area. The room was at least twenty five hundred square feet and decorated in a style not unlike the waiting room. The room was rectangular in shape with an impressive glass and metal table situated in the center of the room with ten rather comfortable looking yet expensive chairs symmetrically placed on either side. One single imposing chair rested at the head of the table, presumably for the boss, Ms. Thorne. Above the table mounted on metal swivel arms were seven, forty-inch flat screen monitors. All were turned on and the THORNE Enterprise logo appeared and disappeared randomly in different spots on the monitors as the screensaver. On either side of the table against the walls were two long buffet cabinets with sliding glass doors matching the style and material of the conference table. Each buffet had four glass water pitchers filled with ice water and six matching tumbler glasses placed in a loose half circle around them. At the far end of the room was a window that spanned the width as well as the breadth of that side of the room. You could see a great part of the city’s skyline even from our vantage point.