by M. D. Massey
“You know, if I wasn’t familiar with the archaic language you use, I might’ve thought you said something entirely different. But yeah,” she said in a playfully annoyed tone, “I was suggesting that we go out and have some fun.”
My brow furrowed as I considered what she proposed. “Are you certain you’re talking to the right person? I’m not exactly known for being a—how do you say it—a party animal?”
Belladonna rolled her eyes. “And that’s exactly why I need to drag your ass out of that cold, lonely tower, and force you to have a good time with me—whether you like it, or not.”
I frowned slightly and nodded, trying to keep the skepticism from my voice. “When you put it that way—how in the world could I refuse? And where, pray tell, will we be having this mandatory fun?”
The female hunter opened the door of my car and motioned for me to get out. “That, sir, is for me to know and you to find out. Now, time for you to hop out of your bougie-ass ride. I’m driving.”
I did as she asked, walking around the rear of the vehicle to the passenger side. “Why do I get the funny feeling I’m going to regret this decision?”
Belladonna gave me a sideways glance that said I just might. “Oh, quit your bitching. Trust me, you’re gonna love this,” she said as she slammed the car in gear and squealed the tires out of my driveway.
12
Thirty-five minutes later, our journey ended in front of a pale blue cinderblock building that sat alone on a two-lane country road in the middle of nowhere, several miles east of Austin. The parking lot was a rather dusty mix of gravel, dirt, and weeds, and filled with all manner of vehicles that were decidedly and distastefully disused. Due to the gravel, dust, and apparent class of people who frequented this establishment, I hit the button to raise the convertible’s top in what was likely a vain effort to protect my vehicle.
“Well, this looks promising,” I said with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.
“Lighten up, Crowley,” Belladonna said. “You spend way too much time by yourself, locked up in that tower of yours, with little to zero human interaction. And trust me, you need human interaction. So, why don’t you just agree to have an open mind about this and loosen up so we can have some fun tonight?”
“Normally, I would object to just about everything you just said,” I replied as I watched a drunk stumble around the corner of the building. Wincing involuntarily as the sot began to retch in a rather loud and wholly uncivilized manner, I turned my attention back to Belladonna before continuing. “However, I trust your judgment. Although, I have to say I feel somewhat overdressed for this establishment.”
I glanced down at my outfit for emphasis. The dark blue Manolo Blahnik loafers, matching Prada dress slacks, white collared Versace shirt, and stainless steel Söhne watch on my wrist comprised my most casual attire. Sadly, the nuance of this evening’s sartorial pairings would most certainly be lost on the saloon’s patrons.
“Meh, nobody will even notice. Most of them will be too drunk and too caught up in their own business to even pay attention to us.” She reached in her purse and pulled out some lipstick, then she spent several moments looking in the rearview mirror and touching up her face and hair. “All right, that’s about as much effort as I care to put into my appearance for this crowd. Now, let’s go get some drinks and have some fun.”
I followed as she exited the car and headed to the entrance, noting the rather unsavory stains on the concrete slab that ran the length of the building’s façade. There was no sign to denote what this establishment was called, although a neon “OPEN” sign flickered on and off in the window like a firefly suffering a grand mal seizure. As we approached, a rather rough-looking woman with big blonde hair, too much makeup, and too little clothing opened the metal front door of the building, exiting just before we entered. A rowdy country tune blared from inside the building, rolling over me in a sonic wave that represented just about everything I hated about modern music.
I grabbed the door, holding it for Belladonna as she walked inside, following close on her heels as she paused to take in her surroundings. Apparently satisfied by the pall of cigarette smoke and stale beer that hung in the air, the neon light that cast a sickly blue lambency over everything it touched, and the cacophony of music and conversation that beat against my skull, she nodded. Then she strolled up to the bar, elbowing her way between two rather large, unsavory types who were dressed in the latest fashions one might find in the men’s clothing section of the local thrift store. Each had suspicious bulges underneath their long flannel shirts and canvas ranch hand jackets, which I noticed without comment.
While Belladonna waved down the bartender to order us a few drinks, I took a moment to scan the bar’s patrons, making note of who else carried weaponry hidden on their person in this establishment. As it turned out, just about everyone was armed here—even the various young women walking around in short shorts and midriff tops. I also noted that none of the bar’s patrons were of the supernatural variety. That’s when it occurred to me where Belladonna had taken me.
My friend turned around to face me with a mug of beer in each hand and a large grin plastered across her face. “Crowley, you’re starting to get that sourpuss expression that tells me I’m about to have to force you to have a good time.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, looking down my nose at her in a way I hoped was not too terribly imperious. “You didn’t tell me you were taking me to a Hunter bar,” I said. “You know how these people feel about me, since that whole mess with Maeve.”
“Bah, nobody’s even paying attention to us,” she replied as she shoved a beer in my hands, splashing the contents over my fingers and my virtually irreplaceable watch. “Now, let’s grab that empty pool table before somebody else jumps on it.”
She bustled off, again forcing her way through the crowd despite her short stature and relatively petite figure. Being a serpenthrope, she was actually quite strong for her size, and considering the training she’d had before her transformation, she was a force to be reckoned with even without her supernatural powers. Thus, she had no problem making her way to the billiards table to stake her claim.
I arrived there shortly after she did, setting my beer down nearby without taking a sip as I searched for a napkin or something I might wipe my hands on. Finding nothing, I instead used magic to evaporate the liquid from my fingers.
“Stop that,” Belladonna chided as she playfully slapped my hand. “If you don’t want to attract attention to yourself, you probably shouldn’t be using magic in here. Most of the people who come to this joint are freelance hunters, and it’s rare that they have a magic-user on their teams.”
“Unlike our old place of employment,” I said as I casually scanned the crowd around us. “The Cold Iron Circle always had magic-users on their teams.”
“Exactly,” she agreed, setting her beer down on a coaster next to mine. “We’re here to have fun, but I also need to make some contacts among the local hunter community. If I’m going to start my private investigation agency, I need to keep an ear to the ground for business opportunities. And nobody has their finger on the pulse of the local supernatural community like hunters do.”
“Fine, but I refuse to drink this swill. You think they might have a decent bottle of Scotch behind the counter?” I asked.
She giggled at me. “Oh, I think they probably have Scotch, but I doubt it’s any better than this beer. Now, grab a pool cue and I’ll rack them up.”
I did as she asked, grabbing a pool stick from the stand on the wall nearby, making at least some attempt to find one that wasn’t terribly warped. I knew little about human games, but I did know how to choose a proper weapon, and these narrow shafts of wood would make a decent spear in a pinch. Best that I chose one that would serve me well should the need arise—since I was not supposed to use magic here, after all.
When I turned around Belladonna was leaning over the pool table, racking up the balls and rolling them so
the point of the triangle was positioned over a black circular mark on the table. Behind her, a small group of male hunters observed her closely, and not in a gentlemanly fashion. In fact, they were elbowing each other and making lewd comments as they each undressed her with their eyes.
She was a beautiful woman, exotic and fit in the way that many American men found hard to resist. So, I was used to men taking notice of her. However, I was not accustomed to seeing them do so in such an unsavory manner.
Be that as it may, I also was unaccustomed to navigating the ins and outs of human relationships. My previous foray into a male-female relationship with Belladonna had been disastrous, to say the least. Granted, I had sabotaged that relationship on purpose, ostensibly to save her from being endangered by my adoptive family from Underhill.
Since we’d reconciled and become friends, I had no idea how to categorize my relationship with Belladonna. Was our relationship edging itself toward a more romantic bent? I really didn’t know. Was this a date? Again, I had no idea how to answer that question. As these thoughts swirled through my mind, my temper simmered while I observed the three brutish men ogle my female companion.
I must have been gripping the pool cue a bit too tightly, because Belladonna cleared her throat. “Let it go, Crowley,” she said just loud enough for me to hear. “They’re just guys being guys. If you were a woman, you’d know we get this all the time.”
I took a step toward her as I kept my eyes on the men. “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t have to.” Keeping my gaze level and my voice calm, I walked past her, taking time to set the pool cue down on the table as I approached the group.
“Gentlemen,” I said with a nod as I addressed them directly. “We’re about to play game of pool. I don’t suppose you three would care to challenge us as a team?”
“Crowley…” Belladonna warned. A warning which, of course, I ignored.
“Shit, this pansy thinks he can take us in a game of pool,” their apparent leader said. He was tall, but not as tall as me, standing perhaps an inch shy of six feet, with broad shoulders, a slight paunch, and an unkempt beard down to the middle of his chest. His beady blue eyes assessed me from beneath a furrowed Cro-Magnon brow. “I’m not sure you want us to take that bet, city boy.”
“Hell, we can take him,” one of his companions said. This one was of the same height as his leader, but whip thin and wiry in the way of someone with a fast metabolism who does a great deal of physical labor. He was surprisingly clean-shaven, but that was the extent of his personal hygiene habits, as his long, stringy brown hair looked as though it hadn’t been washed in days.
“I say we play for stakes,” the third one said. He was a giant of a man, maybe six-six, with a bald head, a shaggy brown beard, and wearing enough denim and flannel to outfit a Canadian lumberjack crew. He spoke with the same Texan accent that his companions did, although he had a slur in his manner of speech that told me he had imbibed a great deal more alcohol than the other two. “Lez make a bet—make this insure-esting.”
“For money, then?” I asked.
“Nah, we got plenty of money. Just got paid for a big job,” the leader said. “I got an idea. Let’s say if we win, you leave but the girl stays.”
I could practically hear Belladonna gritting her teeth behind me. Now, I faced a dilemma. I felt that, by most standards of male decency, I had a definite obligation to at least make some attempt to defend her honor in this situation.
However, Belladonna could take care of herself. If I forced the point, I was certain I would lose her respect—if not whatever small amount of affection she had toward me as well. I had to choose my next words carefully.
“While my companion and I are friends, she is a grown woman and quite capable of speaking for herself. For that reason, I will defer the decision to her and act according to her wishes.”
“Lotta’ words to say something simple,” the leader said. “But okay, city boy. Let’s hear what the filly has to say.”
Belladonna stepped up beside me wearing a smile that did not reach her eyes. “The problem is, I don’t see what you three could offer us in return if we win.”
The skinny one laughed like a braying donkey, showing his crooked buck teeth and an overbite that could’ve easily been repaired by a decent orthodontist. “Oh, we ain’t gonna lose. But I bet Buck here can think of something to offer in return.”
“Hmm—I would have thought you would be the one called ‘buck,’” I said, addressing the skinny one but turning to their leader before he could catch on to the jibe. “So, tell us, what do you have to offer in return?”
Buck shrugged noncommittally. “Like I said, we just got paid. Willing to put up our pay if we lose. That’s fifteen-grand, minus what we spent on drinks tonight.”
Before I could speak, Belladonna piped in. “Deal! Balls are racked, you challenged us, so we break. Let’s get this show on the road.”
I pulled Belladonna off to the side, whispering in her ear. “I’m perfectly willing to maintain the charade, if you are. But I know little if anything about the human game of billiards.”
Belladonna gave me a wry grin, glancing over her shoulder at the three men who were chuckling and joking amongst themselves on the other side of the pool table.
“When I break, I’ll sink a couple of the solid balls. That’ll make us solids and them stripes. We have to take turns shooting, so I’ll miss my next shot to make it look good. It doesn’t matter if you miss your shot, as long as you don’t down the black ball marked with an eight. Got it?”
“Yes. I can handle that.”
“Alright. I have no idea how good these guys are, though. So if it comes down to it, just make sure they miss a shot so I get a chance to clear the table and sink the eight ball.”
“Hmm.” I nodded as I studied the three hunters, noting where they hid their weaponry, the set of their stance, whether they had martial artist’s or shooter’s callouses, and so on. “Consider it done. But if things happen to go poorly, I want you to know in advance that I am not leaving you—for their sakes.”
13
Belladonna did exactly as she’d promised, driving two of the solid-colored balls in a side pocket and corner pocket on the break. And according to plan, she missed her next shot. Now it was the other teams’ turn to play, from what I gathered.
Their leader strutted up to the table with a cocky grin on his face. “Too bad, sugar, after that lucky break. But don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you—for now.”
From past experience I knew that Belladonna was fuming inside, but her expression was neutral as she replied. “Your shot, pendejo. Make it count.”
He succeeded on his next two attempts, moving around the table to line up each shot with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. If he continued in that manner, we might very well lose the match. Deciding it was time to intervene, I used the barest touch of magic to nudge his pool cue on his third shot, causing him to hit the cue ball at an angle and miss.
Buck scowled, his brow furrowing as he examined the cue. “Looks like it’s your turn, pussy boy. Best not miss.”
Ignoring his crude remark on principle, I stepped up to the table and did my best to sink another of the solid-colored balls into the side pocket. However, missing the shot was a foregone conclusion. I couldn’t use magic to cheat while I was playing, as all eyes were on me and it would be difficult to conceal any such effort.
When I missed, the three men tittered and guffawed amongst themselves. “Your turn, Bobby,” Buck said as he nodded to the tall skinny man with the stringy brown hair.
Bobby stood off his barstool, rolling his shoulders out and cracking his neck as he deftly fingered the pool cue in his hands. “Alright, fellas—let me show you how it’s done.”
I leaned over to Belladonna, speaking under my breath. “I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“Just make sure there’s at least one striped ball left on the table at the end of his turn,” she whispered back.
>
Bobby sauntered over to the pool table, calling his first attempt in advance. “Nine ball, corner pocket.”
The felt tip of his pool stick struck the cue ball like a bullet, driving it into the nine ball with a resounding crack. The nine then ricocheted off a side bumper, angling around two other balls to sink itself in the corner, just as Bobby had promised.
“Fourteen, side pocket,” he said before making good on that promise. “Eleven, corner pocket.” Again, he did exactly as he predicted. In under a minute, there was only a single striped ball left on the table.
Belladonna elbowed me as she whispered out the side of her mouth. “Do something, mago.”
As Bobby lined up his final shot, I scanned the scene for a not-so-obvious way to intervene. That’s when I noticed a waitress who happened to be walking by with a tray full of beers balanced on one hand. Rather than attack Bobby’s shot directly, I used a small tendril of solidified shadow to make the waitress stumble, causing her to pour the beers all over the hunter’s back.
Just as I’d expected, he missed the shot, standing up and cursing loudly like the drunken fool he was. “Dammit, bitch—you made me miss my damn shot. And look at me, I’m soaked.”
“You can say that again,” I remarked.
Initially the waitress was apologetic, but her apology quickly turned to anger as Bobby continued to rant. “The beer was my fault, Bobby, and that’s a fact. But you keep talking to me like that, and Elroy is going to kick your ass right out of this place.” Tossing a bar towel in his face, she stormed off.
“I say it’s a do over,” the big, brutish hunter said. “Weren’t his fault he missed.”
Belladonna shook her head. “Uh-uh. This isn’t some kid’s game of foursquare on the playground. I let Bobby shoot again, and what’s next? Are you guys going to ask for take backsies and renege on our bet?”