Tales Around the Supper Table

 

Back in March I put up a snippet of a work in progress for an anthology that was slated for summer release. Took a little longer than anticipated, but it's live on Amazon HERE and available in both e-book and a dead tree version. Below is a snippet from the final version of the story.

You can read the rest of this story and others by Alma TC Boykin, Dorothy Grant, Kathey Grey, Pam Uphoff, JL Curtis, Jonathan LaForce, Peter Grant, Lawdog, John Van Stry, and Monalisa Foster.



     Trip hadn’t contacted his old mentor in over fifty years, but the old phone number was the only non-magical means he had of reaching out to the only person he could think of with the depth of knowledge he needed. Using magic would be a last resort because there was still a faction of hunters who actively looked for blood magic. Using that much magic openly would mean having to go underground again, not to mention endangering his old mentor as well. Trip was relatively happy with his life right now, so he decided to save that as a last resort. He really didn't even know if his old teacher was even alive, but it was all he had at the moment. Trip took a deep breath and dialed the number.

     On the fourth ring the phone was answered by a young girl, "Hacienda Garcia."

     Interesting. The old man hasn’t changed his name.

     "Hey there. My name’s Trip. Is Paulo around?"

     "Yeah. He's out in the back yard. Hang on I’ll get him."

     The sound of the phone rattling on a counter after being dropped came through Trip's earpiece followed by the young girl's voice flipping from English to Spanish. Her voice was as clear as if she were still holding the phone, "Oye! Viejo! El telefono es para ti! Es una hombre llamado Trip!" Trip heard the sound of running feet fading as they got further from the phone as the girl ran back to whatever she was doing before the phone rang.

     Trip heard the sound of an old screen door creaking as it was pulled open. It banged in its frame when the spring pulled it closed. He could hear the stomp of work boots approach across the old hardwood floor. A husky old voice with just a hint of a Spanish accent met Trip's ears, "Trip? How the hell are you? Haven’t heard from you in a lifetime. What brings you back my way?"

     Trip spent the better part of half an hour bringing his old teacher up to speed on what had been going on in his city, " I’ve dug as deep as I can with the resources I have, and I’m no closer to an answer than I was when I started. I hate not knowing what the hell I’m up against, so I figured I’d ask the only other person I know who might have a clue."

     Paulo was quiet for a minute, "Warlock covens usually only have twelve human members with whatever demon they follow as the thirteenth. If this coven has thirteen human warlocks, then you've got a very powerful, almost messianic, figure as their leader. Combine that with the child and the ten others that have been abducted so far, and it sounds like you’ve got a death cult looking to do some apocalypse level shit. I’m not surprised you couldn’t find anything."

     Paulo paused, and Trip heard the sound of a Zippo as the old man was lighting a smoke, "If what I’m thinking is going on, there hasn’t been anyone stupid enough to attempt it since just before the Dark Ages. If it’s what I think it is, they’re gonna need thirteen souls to pull it off. They'll collect and hold the souls of the first twelve in a crystal vessel, and the soul of the innocent child will be the final sacrifice to trigger the magic. Hers will be taken directly by the being they summon. You’d best track them down before they get to thirteen."

     Paulo being nervous spurred Trip to dig deeper, "What are you thinking? I don’t want to walk into this blind."

     "If it’s what I suspect, the leader of the coven is looking to ascend. They’ll gain power on the level of a lesser god and likely unleash Hell...literally. The last time this was tried, the ascended warlock unleashed several demons and set off a wave of cholera that wiped out a big piece of Europe. It would be best for all of us if they were stopped. You up for this?"

     Trip sighed, "Do I have a choice? Thanks for the info. If I pull this off, I may even come out that way for a visit. Say, who's the kid? New apprentice?"

     Paulo chuckled, "Yeah. She's not a blood mage, but just like you she was a scared little kid when she came to me. First in her family to have the gift. She seems to have a kind of earth magic that lets her speak to plants. When her mother's daisies asked her for water, it sort of freaked her out. She's been helping with my orchard and damned if she hasn't helped bring in a bumper crop of peaches. I'll tell you what. You save the world, and I'll make cobbler. Oh, and don't wait so long to call next time, Pendejo."

     Trip couldn't help but smile at the affectionate way Paulo had just called him a dumbass. That'd been Paulo's nickname for him for as long as he could remember, "I'll do my best, Viejo, and for some of your peach cobbler, I'll make sure I win. Talk to you soon."

     "Buena suerte, my friend," Paulo hung up the phone.

     I could use some luck. Trip headed for the shower to get ready to spend the night bar hopping in hopes of finding someone who saw something.

     He came out the front door of his apartment building about half an hour later to find Danny sitting on the ground, leaning against a Fed-Ex drop box on the sidewalk waiting for him. When he saw Trip, he got to his feet, "Another lookout went missing tonight right after dark."

     "Shit! That's twelve. I need to see the place where it happened. Take me there."

     The two of them set out for the site of the last abduction. It was only about four blocks from Trip's apartment building, so it didn't take long to get there. As they walked, Trip let the smallest trickle of power into his senses. He felt the blood on the ground a few steps before Danny stopped and pointed into an alley, "This is where she was. She was the last of the outer perimeter watchers. Hey, are you ok?"

     Trip didn't acknowledge Danny because his focus was completely on the four tiny droplets of blood on the alley floor. He walked over to where they were and went to one knee. He touched one of the drops, and it lifted away from the pavement with his finger like steel stuck to a magnet. He let his power touch the blood and the memories of its last moments in the body it belonged to flooded into Trip's mind.

     In his mind, Trip saw the street in front of them as it looked at sundown. He heard footsteps from behind and felt hands grab clothes. The watcher didn't go peacefully. She had heard them coming and was ready. She lashed out with a hand and scratched the neck of one of her abductors. Trip believed one of the memories must be a delusion; because, it looked like one of the assailants had the head of a snake. The last memory was of being hit by the one she scratched. One of the other assailants put a hand on the watcher's head and she fell unconscious. The magic of the sleep spell left a faint metallic taste in Trip's mouth as he broke his trance.

     Trip spat on the pavement trying to get the coppery taste out of his mouth, "That's just fucking great. Just great."

     Trip nearly spat on Danny's shoe. Danny took a step back from Trip, "Hey! Watch where you spit. What's the matter?"

     "Nothing you can fix kid. Sorry if any of that got on you. I need you to go back to Duke John and tell him to pull his people off of the street until he hears from me. This isn't something you guys can fight. Dammit. I need a drink to get this taste out of my mouth. Maybe someone in that bar over there saw something else, like which way they went. Get moving!"

     Danny took off at a run down the alley and Trip made his way across the street to the bar. He opened the door and was met with a really off-key rendition of Queen's 'Somebody to Love'. He did his best to tune it out as he worked his way through the crowded room. Ugh, karaoke. Just what I needed to make this night perfect. He finally got to the bar, flagged down the bartender, slapped a five-dollar bill on the bar, "Bourbon. Don't care what brand."

     Trip took a mouthful of the rotgut and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing it. After the third time the foul taste of that spell finally faded. Trip ordered a second drink and asked the bartender if he'd seen anything odd happen across the street tonight.

     The bartender thought about it for a second or two, "Yeah. You know what? Now that I think about it, there was a little bit of a scuffle in the alley across the street earlier. Eventually they all got up and walked off together like they were all friends. They got into a black SUV and drove off. I really didn't think too much about it. Hell, people scuffing outside of a bar isn't anything new."

     "They walked away together?"

     "Yeah. Was odd that one of them looked like a homeless person, but we don’t choose our friends, right?"

     Trip sat sipping his bourbon. Walked away. Not a sleep spell then. Mind control maybe? That would explain the nasty aftertaste the magic left in my mouth. All the blood would know was everything went black.

     The next singer started their turn and the first few chords of Shania Twain's 'Still the One' drifted over the room. It wasn't the music that caught Trip's attention, even though he'd always liked that song. It was the voice that came next that would not be ignored. Trip couldn't help but look toward the stage. The singer was not what he expected to see.

     She was tall and lithe with very short cut spiked blonde hair. She was wearing form fitting jeans that were tucked into knee-high, black leather boots. Her shirt was one of those things that looks wrapped on, crossing in the front. The v-shaped neckline ended somewhere between her navel and her breast bone exposing the white skin beneath. He could just make out the lines of a tattoo that could be an oriental dragon, or maybe a snake, that ran inside of her left breast and up over her shoulder. Once he made eye contact it felt like she was singing only for him, and Trip kind of just sat there until she finished.

     After she was finished, she walked straight through the crowd to where Trip was sitting. She smiled at him, "Mind if I sit here?"

     Trip motioned to the stool next to him and she sat down. She waved the bartender over and ordered a beer and another drink for Trip as well. Small talk ensued and the next thing Trip knew he was headed for the door with her on his arm. He knew there was something important he should be doing, but the smell of her and the bourbon in his belly were keeping him from remembering. That funny taste had returned to his mouth too, but that didn't really seem all that important at the moment. The last thing Trip saw before he blacked out completely was a black SUV pulling up to the curb.