Fallen Stars (The Demon Accords) (21 page)

Ignoring my discomfort, she launched into a detailed account of my life over the past two years while I worked my way through the mound of food, occasionally throwing a tidbit of sausage or bacon to the big beast on the floor who was decimating ten pounds of cow.

“So let me see if I got this right:  I interrupted a Hellbourne who was killing a vampire princess.  She sucked me near dry but gave me a dollop of her own blood to heal me.  It did that, but a whole lot more on account of my grandfather on my mom’s side having spent time in an experimental Nazi war camp.  Then she decided I was her boyfriend while the police found out I was an exorcist and assigned me to a secret unit after I helped a werewolf mom and her kid.  We raided a drug lab and found a Hellbourne with a… Damnedthing?  I freed it, and it was my new BFF.  An Elder vampire kidnapped me and was all set to kill me, and the super spirit bear intervened.  Then I caught my vampire girlfriend fooling around on me, only she wasn’t. It was actually mind control.  I stormed off and ended up on some strange Homeland Security mission to Vermont where I stopped a rogue werewolf, only it managed to bite you before I killed it with my
bare
hands?  Then I beat up three werewolves at the same time that were trying to haul you away to their gang or cult or something.  The government decided to grab me for experiments, but the bear spirit stopped them, then the cultish weres got up in the face of my vampire princess and I went all badass on them.  After that, I hunted the furry bastards down, working with the government, killing hundreds in some massive battle in Mexico, then Tanya and I worked as troubleshooters for the secret vampire organization that secretly runs the world, only we got caught up in politics and I had to flee down here with you ‘cause they’re a big bunch of haters.  While we were here, we helped some children of the corn and closed a door to Hell, plus helped solve a serial crime.   Oh, and I have a split personality that is like a cross between Hannibal Lector and Wolverine with a little bit of Chuck Norris mixed in.  And you want to date me.”

“Yeah, sorta,” she agreed.  “What do you think?”

“I think it sounds like a peyote-fueled comic book plot dreamed up by some author wannabe who couldn’t write bad B-grade movies for the Syfy channel!”

“Maybe a little,” she agreed.

“But it’s all true,” another voice said from the open doorway.  Katrina was standing there, arms crossed, staring at Stacia, a frown on her face.

“There’s no way that’s all true,” I objected.  Katrina pulled back from whatever mental evaluation she was giving Stacia and looked at me with an ever-so-slightly pitying smile.  Instead of answering, she just wove around the furry hulk to my duffle bag.  She glanced at both ends, then spun the bag to show me an emblem that was sewn on the far end.   It showed a black robe-wearing reaper figure with a skeletal hand and a purple scythe.  There were no letters, numbers, or words around it, but it definitely had a military unit look to it.

“This is the group emblem from your Loki hunting days.  Only a couple dozen of these patches were ever made,” she said, as if some stupid patch was the trial-winning evidence of the century. If the patch fits, then you must acquit.   It did shut me up as I studied it, though.

“We need to get going while it’s still dark,” Katrina said.  “So get dressed. We’re heading out.”

“Where?” I asked.

“We,” she said, pointing to Stacia and then herself, “—came to an understanding last night.  We retrieved all your stuff and today we’re taking that bad ass Volvo you drove down here back to the City.  It’s either that or Tanya will fly down here and hunt your ass down.  So go get dressed.”

That one was bossy, and I didn’t like her making decisions for me.  But ultimately, I needed to get back to New York State and I needed answers, so their plan was as good as any.  Whether I would stay in the City or head back to my family farm was another story.

I changed clothes quickly, putting on the familiar cargo pants and a black Glock tee shirt that I’d gotten from a factory rep years ago.  As I pulled the tee over my head, I became aware of an odd necklace that I had been wearing without noticing.  It was silver, shaped like a tear, and with an inky black gem bigger than a fifty-cent piece set in the center. I had no idea what it was or how I got it.

My borrowed sweats were folded and placed back on the bed that the two girls had made while I was changing.  A little decorative pillow was lying on the floor, one of those useless ones that just sorta dress up a made bed.  Stacia bent over to pick it up, which provided me with an amazing view.

She’d be better in the bed rather than making it,
ran through my mind, the taste of her kiss still on my lips.

It was one of those instant sex thoughts that plague every guy under the sun.  We get them all the time, and they don’t really mean anything. In fact, I think girls get them, too.  But they
are
the sort of guess that is based on other experiences, so it made sense that the next thought was,
How the hell can I know that unless I have had sex? Holy Shit!  Am I not a virgin? Have I had sex?  Which I can’t remember!  Arghhhhh!

That, more than anything else, showed me just how much I’d lost to a split second and a .30 caliber piece of metal. I stared up at the ceiling and asked Him
why
for only the ten thousandth or so time in my life.  Then I grabbed my bag in one hand and the empty tray in the other and strode out of the room.

“What the hell was that?” Stacia asked, still back in the room with the vampire.

“It looked like he stared at your ass and then maybe cursed God.  Odd.  I would think it would be another woman that might do that, not a guy?” Katrina wondered.

“
That
has happened,” Stacia admitted begrudgingly.

“Are you kidding?  If I was put together like you, I'd crow about it night and day!” Katrina said.

“Maybe when I was thirteen.  But then I realized I had simply won a genetic lottery but lost the luck battle in a whole lot of other ways.  And once everyone starts treating you as just an object, it’s hard to get them to stop.  Besides, what are you talking about?  You’re pretty as hell.  You could maybe dress a little different, but that’s not big deal.”

“Really?  You think?”

“Hell yeah!  Just gotta move your wardrobe from high school to adult.”

“I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Oh, it’s not hard.  I’ll show you,” the blonde werewolf offered the brunette vampire.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Chapter 22

We said our goodbyes to Ned and his wife, Rose, and their two daughters, who acted like I was their new favorite uncle or something.  The big guy, Jep, got a little choked up as he almost crushed me in a man hug.  I couldn’t remember saving his kid, but he definitely did.

We loaded our small amount of luggage into the Volvo, then the big wolf, and finally a five-gallon joint compound bucket that sloshed with water.  “What’s that?” I asked.

“Stacia and I retrieved an important book that you found. It was in a temporary hiding spot and we grabbed it last night while you were sleeping and re-growing your brain and what have you,” Katrina said.

“You keep the book in water?  And re-growing a brain isn’t easy you know, but at least it shows I had one to begin with,” I said.

“Salt water – it hides this books magical scent or whatever.  And about your brain?  Let’s hope the new one is actually functional, okay?”

“Let’s go you two.  The sun will be up and you’ll be in a coma soon Katrina, so you might not want to antagonize him.  There are at least three permanent markers in the glove compartment.  Hate to have you wake up with a mustache,” Stacia said from the driver’s door.

“I better not wake up with
any
additions or deletions, you hear me half-wit?” Katrina said.

“We’ll see,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was studying the Volvo and wondering what had happened to my 4x4 SUV.  Stacia laughed at the look on my face.

“It’s not yours.  It belongs to the Pack.”

We piled into the car and took off, just missing the early morning Asheville business traffic.

Awasos took up most of the cargo area and Katrina hid herself in a lightweight mummy sleeping bag on the back seat, apparently not bothered by the heat and humidity of North Carolina but needing protection from the sun.  She closed down the hood of the bag after delivering dire threats of revenge on any and all transgressions I might make, but her words cut off in mid-sentence as the sun peeked over the mountains.  I
heard
her breathing all but stop, and there was blessed peace in the car.

Stacia drove well but seemed a little tense on some of the busier sections of road.  I offered to drive, but she shook her head.  “You’re a very good driver, Chris, but I prefer to wait until your brain injuries are a bit more fully healed.  You might not notice, but you freeze up here and there like an odd memory or thought has occurred to you.  I don’t want that to happen at seventy-five miles an hour.”

That stung a little.  It would be different if I had a physical injury to my leg or arm that prevented me from doing something.  I wouldn’t like it, but it would make sense.  But when your very brain is considered suspect, well, that creates a whole different level of self-esteem issues.

She must have sensed my mood, maybe she smelled it or something, because she said, “Hey, it’s just temporary.  You’ll be good in no time.”

“Except for the fact that I left part of my brain and a big chunk of my life spattered on the Grangers’ doorframe.”

“Doctor Peterson thinks you may recover your memories over time.  He said something about cellular memories.”

“Stacia, if the part of a computer that holds information is blasted out of existence, it’s not coming back.”

“But if that information had left copies of itself in other places around the computer, it can be retrieved.  He said that there is evidence that supernaturals record a lot of information at the cellular level.  There’s doubt that humans do it, but sups are different.  The thing is, it just takes time for the information to get found and reorganized again.”

Katrina had an iPad with cellular connectivity tucked in the back seat with her.  I grabbed it and started to research cellular memories and the theories behind them.  That kept me busy for a few hours till Stacia pulled off the highway and parked outside a restaurant in Virginia.  It was a little place, JC’s Bar and Grill, with the emphasis more on the bar and less on the grill, but it was open for lunch and I was starving despite the half box of granola bars that had vanished down my throat.  The other half box had disappeared into my furry friend in the back.  I let him out to stretch his legs and water the scruffy vegetation on the edge of the parking lot.  I left the tail gate slightly ajar for him, and Stacia and I headed into the food joint.  Plank wood floors and walls, a big beat up bar, and a ceiling full of business cards, cut off neckties, and not a few pairs of women’s underwear.  The bar area held a handful of tables, but the designated eating area was in a separate section.  An older couple was seated further down, and beyond them were two booths of guys who looked to be on lunch break from a construction job.  Dirty jeans, heavy workboots, and stained ball caps made up most of their uniform.  They all paused in mid-banter to check us out, virtually all of them dismissing me and focusing on Stacia.  We grabbed a table near the doorway, as far from them as possible.  A thirty-something waitress brought us menus, not saying too much after taking in my eyes and Stacia’s movie-star looks.

She brought us drinks and then took our rather large order.  I got two cheeseburgers (the bacon special and the mushroom burger), both with fries.  Stacia ordered a pulled pork sandwich and sweet potato fries and asked for three orders of chicken strips to go for Awasos.  The waitress left to place our order, and I headed to the men’s room.

Four minutes later, I came back to find my seat and the other two all occupied by the construction guys, who were trying their luck with Stacia.  The big guy occupying my chair didn’t bother to look up when I hovered next to him, but his two companions both eyed me with expectant grins. 

“Buddy, you’re in my chair.”

He glanced at me, then turned back to Stacia.  Something flared inside me and I got immediately angry.  Grabbing the back of his chair, I pulled it out smoothly.  That caught at least one guy’s attention, as the man in the chair weighed well over two hundred pounds, but the guy himself just surged to his feet as if he was actually hoping I would start trouble.  He put his hand on me and shoved, but I failed to move.

“Chris!” Stacia’s voice held a warning mixed in with exasperation.  I turned to look at her, but part of me felt the guy start another move.  When I turned my head back, the something in my chest made me freeze solid, letting his fist crash into my cheekbone.  He must have been an angry individual, frustrated with life and his lot in it.  Every one of his actions had been geared to starting trouble and now he was throwing a punch that wound up from the floor and aimed for the roof.  Every ounce of weight, every erg of energy he had was in this punch.  I heard bones snap and crunch under the force of it.  They were all in his hand.  My head, held in place by the thing inside me, didn’t even quiver, which should have been impossible.  I felt the touch of his knuckles but no pain, none at all.