Hero's Curse (17 page)

Mina interrupted cheerfully, “Everyone, I want you all to meet Victor. This is Steve, Mary, Joe, Susan, and Elaine.” I caught Mina sharing a quick, pointed glance with Elaine. “He’s my new tenant.”

Steve, the center of attention, turned to me with a hearty smile, “Good to meet you. Name’s, Steve Willeso.” He made a point of enunciating clearly ‘Will-ee-so.’

He offered me his hand. I dropped Mina’s hand to shake with Boyfriend. He had the perfect grip—not too limp or too hard—of a guy who’s spent time thinking about his handshake. I politely said “Hello” and was about to make my excuses and go upstairs when he said, “You’ve arrived at the perfect time; we need your vote on a question. I believe our society’s lack of interest in ancient languages such as Latin is a tragedy. I can’t seem to convince the rest of these barbarians to agree with me.
Lingua Latina non mortua est quod eam loquimur.
^[7]
”

The asshole had been checking me out. He had obviously decided I was the uneducated type who would be intimidated by ‘book learning.’ His body language told me he thought Mina belonged to him. His air of absolute certainty that I had no idea what he had just said irritated me—especially since he was partially right. I knew lingua, Latina, and non mortua meant language, Latin, and not death, but couldn’t even begin to guess what the other words meant.

Well I could play ‘my brain is bigger’ too. I cocked my head and gave a polite smile, like I’d just heard a weak joke, and threw down one of few Latin phrases I’d memorized, ‘Veni, Vidi, Flati.’”

Willeso’s eyes narrowed. He understood what I had said.

Mina broke in, “I know Veni and Vidi stand for I came and I saw, but what the heck does Flati mean?”

Steve replied, “Hon, Flati means farted. Victor just said, ‘I came, I saw, I farted.” The rest of the group laughed. Willeso played along like he thought I was funny. His eyes told me different. He looked at me. “Victor, I’m always pleased to meet another classically trained soul, Loquerisne liguam latinam?
^[8]
”

It wasn’t hard to guess what he had asked. I answered, “Cacatne Pape in silvis?”

Mina and the rest of the group looked to me and then back to Steve. He gave me a tight grin, “I have to say, I have no idea, Victor. Does the pope shit in the woods?”

“Sadly Steve, unlike a bear, he does not.” I grinned back easily, making a no-big-deal motion with my hands, “I don’t know Latin, just a few words and phrases. I agree with you that it’s useful to have some knowledge of the classical languages.”

The group giggled at my little joke, and I could feel the focus of attention transfer from Steve to me. The laughter was attracting others, and I could see Ben, Andi and a couple of their friends come into the large kitchen from the back door.

My gaze settled on Mina. I allowed myself to really look at her for the first time since meeting her. She was wearing her long, golden hair loose; it was tousled, unstyled, and beautiful. Her eyes beckoned like crystal blue pools to a man dying of thirst; if I allowed myself to drink, I’d be lost. I refused to become a bumbling fool mooning over her. The fact I felt like an idiot didn’t mean I had to act like one. She felt my gaze, glancing up from listening to one of her friends talking into her ear; she tilted her head and smiled at me inquiringly.

I raised a brow and said in a low sexy voice designed to carry. “I know a couple other Latin phrases.” The others around us yelled encouragement for me to tell, laughing at my teasing. I took her hand again and got down one knee, my other hand at my heart and a mocking smile on my lips, “In imo animo stat pulchritude; beauty lies in the depths of one’s soul. Omnia vincit amor; et nos cedamus amori. Love conquers all things; let us surrender to love.” I turned her hand over and kissed her palm lingeringly, to the applause of the others.

Joe hooted, “Damn, I’m going to learn Latin!”

Even with her summer tan, Mina had the complexion of a natural blond. I could see the pink color rise in her cheeks. Her eyes were sparkling with delight at my supposed joke. She brought her hand up to her cheek, sighing as if to savor my kiss, then bubbled over with soft laughter. My mocking grin turned wry. I couldn’t lie; I was telling her the truth. I could feel Willeso bristle as I stole his thunder. I stood up, bowing theatrically at my audience. I could see the asshole put his arm possessively around the woman I was doomed to love. The show was over and most of the newcomers wandered from the kitchen.

As I was about to leave, Elaine, the recipient of Mina's earlier pointed glance, came up to my side and put her arm through mine and asked, “Victor, do you go to the U?”

Elaine was dressed in the preppy librarian look of a liberal arts grad student. I’ve always been partial to women with glasses. In her own distinct Mediterranean, black haired, brown eyed way, she was physically as attractive as Mina, but she didn’t have the spark that made Mina mesmerizing.

I gave a self-deprecating smile and answered, “I’m sorry to say, I’m mostly self-educated. I never finished high school.”

I saw shock in the eyes of those listening. Upper middle class students and professors rarely socialize with high school dropouts. Elaine, however, looked like she wouldn’t be opposed to go slumming. She asked, “So, what do you do for a living?”

“I spent the last few years testing bank security systems. Now, I provide security for a religious organization.”

“So you’re a security guard?” Steve had given up on trying to play it cool. Elaine and Joe looked pained. I saw Mina step away from his arm, frowning like a thundercloud.

I laughed with true delight at his loss of control. Call me petty if you like, but I enjoy helping rectums look like assholes. “That’s a good description, Steve.”

Jumping to my defense, Mina said, “Come on Victor, I get the feeling that’s not quite all the truth. You don’t actually patrol buildings, right?”

I replied, “I’m responsible for operational security throughout the city” with all the fake humility I could muster.

Elaine laughed and pulled herself closer. It could have been my imagination but I thought I saw Mina frown again. Yeah, it was my imagination. Elaine asked, “So was your career change an upgrade?” She invited me with her eyes. “I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

I shrugged, “My pay went up but I’ve lost my ability to call my own shots. I wouldn’t call it an upgrade. I got an offer I couldn’t refuse.” I threw a polite grin at Elaine. At another time and place when I didn’t have so much shit on my plate, she would have been worth cultivating. In fact, she was more my usual type than Mina. As it was, I wasn’t interested and I needed to figure out a socially appropriate way of getting rid of her. “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t think my work clothes qualify as a uniform. I’ve got no shiny badges.”

I was rapidly losing interest in the conversation. It was time to hand back the focus of attention to someone who wanted it. “Steve, what do you do?”

He brightened at the opportunity to talk, “I’m a professor of Anthropology at the U.”

Mina smiled and with a proud tone said, “Yes, the youngest full professor, ever.”

I’ve never seen a man preen before. “Oh, Mina, he’s not interested it that.” He was right.

“Victor, my lecture tomorrow is going to be filmed for a PBS special. It’s called ‘Man’s Irrational Need for God’; you should come.”

If you can’t tell a lie, there are times where you can’t say anything. I raised an eyebrow and gave my best Mona Lisa smile.

I guess my smile wasn’t enigmatic enough. Steve put on a happy, incredulous expression, “Don’t tell me you’re a believer and I’ve offended you?”

I shrugged. Now, I was completely bored. “Yeah, I’m a believer; wish I wasn’t. No, I’m not offended. Well guys, glad to have met all of you, but it’s been a long day for me. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

I turned to Elaine. She hadn’t taken the hint and was still glued to my arm. I couldn’t say, ‘It was nice to meet you’; I’d start puking. I didn’t have the energy to deal with the awkwardness of forcibly prying my arm from hers. I was tired enough that I operated on pure instinct, moving straight into my default response to unwanted attention. I’ve always gotten more notice from women than I deserve. There is a subset that is pathologically attracted to arrogant men who don’t give a shit. I’ve learned if I turn the tables on them—come on too strong, freak them out, they’ll reject me. It’s always better when dealing with feminine insanity to have them reject you.

Without thinking, I raised my free hand to her chin and gently tilted her head up until her eyes met mine. Staring deeply into her pupils, I slowly and inevitably moved my face close—my lips on the verge of touching hers, daring her to move back or to push me away. Elaine froze at first, then relaxed dropping her stranglehold on my arm—her eyes closed, mouth slightly open, and body limp waiting for my kiss. ‘Shit!’ This move had never failed before; I’d forgotten about my new look. I’d just learned the hard way, it made a difference. Beads of sweat appeared on my forehead and my skin got clammy. If she had pushed forward to kiss me back, I could have vomited down her throat. It would have been bad for me, worse for her—a faux pas for all concerned.

I quickly brought my mouth next to her ear. In a whisper so low only she could hear I said, “Goodnight, Elaine.” When she froze again in confusion, I made my escape. I turned away and waved at the group at large. I was too relieved by my narrow escape to bother checking out Mina’s reaction, or anyone else’s. I was done with playing games. I walked up the stairs, slow enough that I wasn’t running, too fast for anyone to try to convince me to stay. It was a relief to be alone in my small apartment. I felt a five hundred pound weight lift from my shoulders. I undressed and took a quick shower. I threw myself on the bed and tried to sleep.

I was too tired to be at a party making small talk but I wasn’t tired enough for sleep. After lying in my bed for what seemed like hours, I pulled out Paul Swenson’s journal. The first entry was January 1
^st
of last year, “No minions sighted.” This sentence was the most common entry. It was repeated over and over again. It looked like for the most part the life of Paladin was uneventful.

Flipping through the pages I found the log for March 18
^th
, “Met with Emissary from Vlad Tepes. Tepes wanted safe passage through Salt Lake City. I refused.” If I wasn’t mistaken, Vlad Tepes was better known as Vlad the Impaler or Dracula. Vampires existed. My curiosity was piqued and I would have liked to have learned about the meeting, but that was all there was written.

For May, there were five entries in a row about an infestation of ghouls. The fifth indicated Paul had killed seven of them.” On June 1
^st
Paul wrote, “Cahill got message from Denver Brotherhood. Their paladin is dead. Norse suspected.” From then on, until the last message on June 17
^th
, was the usual, “No minions sighted.”

I needed a couple more deserving assholes to beat upon. What the HELL? Would it be too much to ask to get something useful out of the journal—to get a fricking clue about what I had to face with the Norse? Lying in bed was doing me no good, so I got up and paced. The pacing drove me nuts, too. I opened my laptop to start my own journal. The instant I began to type, I felt better. I was really getting sick of all the penny ante compulsions that came with my job.

I considered encrypting my digital journal. I decided not to bother. Anyone who read my journal would think I was writing fiction. When I started, I had planned on pulling a ‘Paul Swenson’ using ‘I killed twenty-six Redcaps’ as my full entry, but the sentence by itself didn’t feel complete.

I’ve never considered keeping a diary. It was what girls and artistic men did. It also would have been a security nightmare. All my life, I’d had secrets that were too risky to reveal. Secrecy was no longer an issue. Law enforcement wouldn’t believe what I wrote and the heavenly bureaucracy was already watching everything I did.

It felt good to vent my frustrations on my keyboard. I wondered what it would be like to trust someone enough to tell them what was happening to me. I lost track of the time. I started my entry with the first Jotunn I had killed and ended with the bikers I had terrorized. It dawned on me; I had taken two wallets and a cell phone from them without a problem. I guess telling lies and sex outside of marriage was forbidden but confiscating shit from dirtbags was okay.

I finished my journal entry for the night. I hadn’t realized how helpful it was putting my thoughts down outside my own skull. I almost felt at peace. I pulled a fifth of Glenfiddich from one of my bags and poured myself a triple. I slammed it down and crawled into bed ready to pass out. The noise from the party had been white noise in my ears while I had been writing. The party had wound down and there were only a few people left. Mina and Steve were talking. It sounded like they were in her room. FUCK, like I needed to listen to them making out. I told myself I didn’t want to eavesdrop but that thought was worse than useless. It was impossible to ignore their conversation.

“Steve, we need to talk.” Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to eavesdrop.

Steve gave a low laugh, “Oh-oh, a conversation that starts with that line is never good. No, come here instead.”