Mid-Arc Page 5

  That elicits a “Goddamn!” from Beer Belly. It mobilizes his table too.

  Shey immediately spins around Beer Belly and grabs both his legs out from under him, depositing him on the floor. Of course, instinct being what it is he tries to brace his fall with arms out. When the broken one hits the ground, another round of screams and curses come forth out of his mouth.

  Three of the guys from the table make a beeline to Shey. Mr. Middle Finger stalks toward our table. Arix and I start to rise. We are greeted by a handgun pointed right at Arix courtesy of Mr. Middle Finger along with, “Sit the fuck down!”

  Pffif is gone; slippery little guy he is; he has this trick where he can go invisible if nobody is looking at him. Sil seems unconcerned. She just smiles hungrily at Mr. Middlefinger. Arix sits down calmly.

  I call out, “Pffif… No!” Someone was would end up with a knife in their back if I didn’t. That earns me the attention of the gun.

  “I said, sit down and shut up!”

  I do.

  On the other side of the room, Shey is in full on combat mode, which is not good. The first biker to arrive in her territory is promptly met with a punch to the pants followed by a grab to the belt, which spins him into the second biker to arrive. In that moment of confusion, she lithely jumps on the first guy’s shoulders and grabs the second guy by his ears smashing his nose with her knee, causing his head to snap back and gouts of blood to rush from his face as he falls backward to the ground.

  Shey rides guy number two down to the ground followed by a roll taking her away from the second biker. She spins around to face him, squaring her shoulders. She pulls her fist back and points at his face with the other hand, followed by a full-on charge into him.

  “Bring it, little bitch,” he says.

  They close on each other, and at the very last moment, Shey drops into a slide between his legs. Her hands reach into her sleeves and like magic; two daggers appear in each hand. Twisting in mid-slide, she pops up behind him on her knees, and with an inside-out motion of her arms and absolutely hamstrings him.

  He falls. She stands. There is a loud bang, and Shey flies back against the jukebox, her green blood spattering around her.

  Mr. Middle Finger just shot her. I bolt up from my chair, which earns me the barrel of the gun again. Then he spins around again and shoots Shey again in the belly. And just like that, the gun is on me again. Shey slumps down, holding on to her new wounds.

  “Dumb bitch bringing a knife to a gunfight,” Mr. Middle Finger proclaims. He looks at me down the barrel of his gun, “You got a knife you want to use?”

  “No.”

  I hold my hands up and sit back down. He looks over to his friends.

  “You bunch of pussies got your ass kicked by a little girl?” He spits out at them

  The front door crashes open from the force of the wolf slamming into it. Hjuul must have heard the gunshots. He slides along the slab floor from momentum, then turns to Middle Finger, snarling with teeth bared. At this point, I really wish he wasn’t in a normal wolf form; it would be over more quickly. But Middle Finger wheels around, smiles, and calmly puts a bullet in Hjuul’s eye socket. Hjuul rocks back from the large caliber weapon and reels. Mr. Middle Finger calmly puts another bullet into Hjuul’s head and turns back to us.

  Hjuul falls over then proceeds to liquefy into ectoplasm, which steams away into nothingness. That’s what happens to my summonlings when they die out here in the real world.

  Shey is being kicked to heck and back by Beer Belly who has picked himself up off the floor. Broken Nose Biker is getting up to join the fun. Hamstrung Biker just complains. I take advantage of Hjuul’s distraction and dismiss Shey.

  Beer Belly lets out a bellowing “what the fuck” and Middle Finger turns to him.

  “She goddamned disappeared boss,” Beer Belly says.

  Middle Finger takes a bead on Arix.

  “You want to tell me what the hell is going on here, old man?”

  Arix looks over to me, his hands on the table in a seeming display of compliance. But I know what he’s thinking… “Can I kill him already?” Of course, his looking at me gives Middle Finger the great idea of pointing the gun at me.

  “Maybe I put a bullet in your boy’s head, old man – huh?”

  A silky voice responds, “Pu-lease don’t shoot my brother mister.”

  Sil slowly spins one well-toned leg over the bench to face Middle Finger and looks him in the eyes. Those eyes make many promises to him wordlessly and the tongue gracing her lips is the punctuation mark. His attention is all on her, but the gun is still all on me.

  Middle Finger twists a lascivious smile back at her, nodding his head in the affirmative.

  “Okay, hotness, but I’m gonna fuck you right in front of your daddy there. What y'all think of that?”

  The gun waves between Arix and I. Then his attention goes right back to Sil, who at this point is just piling it on; going as far as to cup one of her breasts. Then she undoes a button with a ‘whoops, did I just do that?’ look on her face.

  Middle Finger is sold.

  Arix, seizing the moment looks over at me and asks, “Why not give the good man what he wants?”

  “Yea!” exclaims Middle Finger and with his free hand, he goes for his belt buckle.

  Sil looks to me – for permission. Some time ago, I gave her the order to never use her talents without express verbal permission. He pops the button on his pants. That gets Sil’s attention even more.

  I speak up in the most sheepish little brother voice I can muster, “Could you at least take her to the bathroom? You know she’s going to hold back in front of us, anyway.”

  Sil jumps in on that and purrs, “Pu-lease. Your guys can keep an eye on them.” She stands, steps over to him and whispers “Pleeease,” in his ear. She puts her hand on his belly, making little circular motions implying the promise of it sliding downward.

  He is all hers.

  “Jack, don’t let them go nowhere.”

  Broken nose produces his gun and walks over to us. Middle Finger takes Sil by the upper arm and makes tracks to the men’s room.

  “Sil,” I call out, “Don’t do him to death – but enjoy a satisfying snack.” She beams at me like a little girl whose daddy just bought her a pony. She had express verbal permission to do that evil thing she does. Middle Finger doesn’t care. If he only knew…

  They disappear into the bathroom. I’m glad I don’t have to watch; it’s not just the sex thing, it’s the soul-eating that gets to be really disturbing. Poor bastard.

  The bartender apparently took this time to grow some nerve. Pulling a double barrel shotgun from under the counter, he shouts out for Jack to freeze. Jack looks back over at the bartender.

  “You better hope you can kill us all with them two shells or we’re coming back with more to burn this fucking place down.”

  That takes the nerve out of the bartender. Damn it.

  Arix leans over to me and quietly whispers “Now would be a great time for you to use the wave of shock spell we’ve been working on.”

  Leave it to Arix to think of practice at a time like this.

  I lean back to him and whisper, “You first.”

  The bathroom door opens, and Sil comes out. There’s a huge smile on her face as she adjusts her mini skirt. Jack wheels around to her and demands to know where Geezer is.

  She meets his eyes, smiles and says, “He’s resting up, who are you?”

  Arix takes that time to stand, and projecting both hands toward Jack shouts, “Tznok!”

  A wall of force slams into Jack sending him head over heels flying into the bar. The wave continues, slamming the bartender into the back of the bar, shattering bottles, and the mirror behind it.

  Beer Belly, still looking for traces of Shey by the jukebox, looks over in shock at the trail of devastation. Pffif appears behind him and scoops his legs out from under him as Shey did. Again, he tries to catch himself with his broken arm. And again, he
bellows in pain. Pffif scampers up to his head and promptly acquaints it with the concrete slab floor.

  “See,” Arix says, “no fatalities.”

  I can tell he’s proud of himself. What a mess. I scan the bar for security cameras. This lunch doesn’t need to end up on the internet. I see one, two cameras. There has to be an office, and I figure it’s got to be off the kitchen behind the bar.

  “Sil, get the security tapes from the office.”

  She gives me a little pout and saunters off toward the kitchen. I go to check on the bartender. He’s breathing, and his head is lolling from side to side. I toss the shotgun away as we don’t need him coming to and being armed.

  I hear a door crash open followed by a crackling, dry voice. “What in the hell did that bitch do to me!”

  I stand up and see who I think is Middle Finger standing there pointing his gun at Arix; he looks about seventy years old now and on very wobbly legs. Sil must have taken more than a nibble. He sees me and becomes distracted. Pffif appears behind him and takes his legs out using the same trick. Middle Finger goes down shooting, letting loose his last two rounds. One of the rounds bounces off Arix and into the wall.

  Wards and shieldings. One of Arix’s specialties. No wonder he seemed so indifferent.

  Middle Finger struggles with Pffif now sitting on his back and manages to wiggle himself out from under the leprechaun’s seat. Pulling himself up by a picnic table, he finds himself face to face with Arix, who is not pleased with Geezer at all for having graced him with a bullet. Arix drops his glamour, takes him by the chin, and forces him to meet the gaze. Arix’s awful glowing third purple eye opens.

  Middle Finger begins to shake and mutter “no… no... no…” – culminating in a woeful scream.

  Arix releases him, and he falls to the floor, curling into a shaking, fetal position.

  “Damn, what did you do to him?” I ask.

  “Damn, what the hell are you?” comes the voice behind me. The bartender has come to. Crap, more to deal with.

  Arix smiles to the bartender and closes his third eye. The bartender looks over to me, frozen in fear. I step over to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s okay, we’re not the bad guys.” I guide him to a bench seat. “Why don’t you just sit down? We’re getting all this under control.”

  Arix, in his to the point way, says, “I’ll need to wipe his mind like I did this one – maybe a little more gently.”

  “No way,” says Bartender.

  “It’s alright, Arix won’t do anything, I promise.”

  I summon Shey, who, after letting loose with some expletives and fully taking in the situation, looks up at me.

  I whisper in her ear, “The bartender over there is a good man who needs to take a nap and not remember any of this.”

  She smiles and looks at me with her pupil-less golden orb eyes.

  “I’ll go make a friend.”

  She walks over to him. He is scared at first, but Shey can be very disarming when she’s not having a psychotic break. I leave them chatting, knowing at some point a little kiss on the cheek and some fairy dust will make all this go away for him.

  I instruct Arix to wipe the others, more gently, and I summon Hjuul. Sil comes out from the kitchen, digital recorder in hand. Arix restores his glamour and transforms Hjuul to wolf form.

  I can’t imagine the questions that will be running through their minds when they come to. At least most of them; Arix tells me there might not be much left of Middle finger’s mind.

  So we leave. Hungry, as Pffif reminds me, but, we need to put some miles between Hondo’s and ourselves.

  I make an executive decision; no more stops unless that exit has a chain I recognize. Local cuisine has lost its sparkle.

  Chapter 6

  The rest of the trip is blessedly uneventful. We stop for the night at a name brand hotel in Houston, and our meals were taken in room service. Two adjoining rooms did the trick; girls in one, guys in the other. Shey, of course, threw a tantrum having to share quarters with Sil. In her mind, it is much better to let Arix and Sil share a room.

  After all, they are both demon scum in her point of view.

  And it would be much better if she could snuggle with me, in her point of view.

  We get an early start, so we arrive at my building just a shade under two o’clock. Our fine building complex takes up about a quarter of a block on Decatur Street. One building is rental retail on the first floor, boutique offices/studios on the second with residential on the third. The adjoining building also has retail on the first floor, but the two remaining floors are mine – all mine. The third floor is the renovated living area – more than enough apartments for our band with a huge common kitchen and entertainment room. The second floor is opened up and left mostly unfinished to serve as a work and training area.

  Not to mention a little buffer from the noise below.

  We pull through the very tight alley space. I get out of the truck and punch in the code for the garage door. After entering, we close the door behind us because I have to summon our heavy lifter back – Vets. We all pile out, and I send Pffif to cover the doors to make sure nobody comes out while I fetch her.

  I step behind the van and roll up my sleeve. I run my finger along Vets’ sigil and call her forth. The air ripples, distorts, and there she is. Clad in black spiked ornate armor with a death’s head helmet. I had no idea that she was even a she for the longest while until I picked up the clues from the rest of the gang; she’s just that intimidating – and I’m not one for gender verification.

  I hand her a bundle of clothes – army fatigues, of course, and ask her to get changed. Arix is there to cast a spell to ensure her human appearance. I step away because I have no need to be a peeping tom.

  Once we’re all together, we head to the elevator, and I pull open the gate. We ride up to the third floor and pile out.

  “Okay everyone,” I say, “My apartment is the one with light green walls. You all figure out your quarters, no fighting… please.”

  I make sure to make eye contact with Shey. Pffif takes off running down the main hall, cackling something about getting the best one first.

  Sil looks over at me in her usual way.

  “Any with doors into your bedroom?”

  “No.”

  Sil again gets the blank, emotionless stare.

  Shey pipes up with, “Back off, slut,” and steps in front of me as if I need defending.

  I don’t need defending. I’ve rebuked Sil’s advances for well over seventy years. There were only a few times where I came close to falling for her succubus wiles, and those were very early on in our relationship before I truly knew what she was capable of.

  Sil rolls her eyes and smiles. “Fine. But you know I won’t stop until I get what I want.”

  Her eyes turn down to Shey, and I sense real menace there. It’s like the temperature drops twenty degrees. Shey squares up, balls her hands into fists and is ready. Then Sil looks back up at me, smiles that smile of hers, laughs, and sashays toward the hall to pick her room.

  Shey whips around to me. She’s ready to go off. I put my finger across her lips to tell her to shush. She so wants to go off, but my finger acts as a dam to that pending river of rant. Her lips are so warm and soft, they make my finger tingle. I pull it away slowly.

  “Pick a good room, Shey.”

  “I will!”

  She skips down the hall like nothing ever happened.

  From psycho killer to cutie in two seconds flat. That’s our Shey.

  It seems like I’m wrangling kids all over again – except for Arix and Vets. Arix has been standing off to the side, silently watching all this nonsense unfold. Vets, I can only presume, is guarding the elevator entrance. I walk to the lift.

  “Arix I’m going downstairs to check out the shop. You coordinate the move and make sure the kids play nice.”

  “Of course, my wielder.” He turns to Vets. “Vetisghar, come and
select your quarters – we have work to do.”

  She looks over to me, and I give her a wink.

  “Pick a good one.”

  They head toward the hallway where the apartments are.

  I reach into my shoulder satchel and pull out my file on “The Hidden Eye.” It has my information on staff, inventory, and of course the profit/loss statements. With that in my padfolio, I raise the gate and head back down to the garage. At the garage, I look at the rear entry door and think better of it – I should mystery shop it. So I make tracks out the back, around the block, and then down Decatur toward my little shop of horrors – my dollars go in, but they don’t come out.

  First things first, I take in the storefront. The logo could be bigger on the sign, the type at least. I consider the display window and find it full of all the same old tourist trap crap in every other store. I try to relate the bourbon street T-shirts and Café du Monde coffees to the “Hidden Eye” and fail at the effort.

  Change the name or change the merchandising? Considering how much we paid for the dang-blasted logo, signage, and stationery that decision makes itself. So, I grab the handle and enter. I hear a brass bell chime on the door and smile – I hate those electronic customer alert, bing-bong makers. They’re a bunch of baloney – and besides a good brass bell can clear the air of negative energies too if properly attuned. I quickly check the doorway for the blessings I instructed to be painted into it, and of course, they aren’t there.

  A sunny, happy voice greets me from behind one of the racks.

  “Anything I can help ya with, hun? Our tee-shirts are all buy-one-get-one-free today.”

  It’s Chanika Jones, one of my two store managers. She looks just like her picture – a chocolate brown cherub’s face on a five-foot-two-inch two hundred and eighty-pound frame. And I love the pitch – tee-shirts are buy-one-get-one every day.

  I return her smile and say, “No thanks, just browsing.”

  “I’m Chanika, hun. If there’s anything you need, let me know.”