The windows of the diner were dirty and smeared. Obviously, the reach of the Arcanes didn't quite reach this sleep little town. There were a few guys at the counter and a cook serving up whatever at the grill. Grateful for the blast of warmth when I opened the door, I slid into a booth, watching the front door and windows. The cook pulled around side, flipping another ticket in his notepad, when he regarded me with a curious stare.
"Never thought I'd see you back here so soon."
I looked at the guy. Old, fat, and greasy, yeah, but he didn't look to be squinting particularly badly. "Uh yeah..." I lied about the last meeting. Obvious enough that the guy took another look at me, and decided I wasn't who he thought I was. However, this piqued my interest. I'm a little paranoid, yeah, but it was not entirely impossible for those hunting me to use a lookalike to draw out any supporters, any of the resistance.
I ordered a coffee to go. "Hey, which way was this other fellow headed?" I inquired. The cook jerked a thumb up the provincial highway, northwards. I regarded the truckers at the bar.
"Anyone headed north?"
I rounded the back side of the truck when the driver screamed. Scrambling up the top of the trailer, I peered down to the other side of the truck. The driver lay in a pool of his own blood, a large black beast hunched atop him. A gruesome motherfucker, by all description. I pulled my knife from my coat, and leapt downwards, thanking gravity for the assist as I drove the blade right into the base of its... neck, I guess. It went down, hard.
No time for celebration, though. Another such fiend rounded the backside of the truck, where I had been; I turned to face it. And yet another surprise as another something plowed into my back. I scrambled and flailed for my life until the several near-deafening explosions rang near me. The weight was lifted from my back, and I rolled under the truck to watch the other beast's legs scamper into the scrub.
Another pair of human legs showed up. More of the figure was exposed as whoever it was checked the driver's pulse, and closed his eyes. Never ingrateful, I hissed out at him.
A man 's voice responded, "Who's there?"
"Santy Claus. Under the truck, chummer."
Not to mention the truck wasn't going anywhere.
We were not in Gaia anymore.
The hairs rose on the back of my neck, even more now than from the fireball attacks earlier. My aversion to things mystic was kicking in hard, and I was trying not to blow my top. I calmed myself down chopping off some branches to put together a makeshift crutch for Benny. He didn't like me calling him that. Somehow I knew that...
He stopped once, staring at large, strange-looking playing cards. One had a castle motif that looked a bit familiar, and the other was a man dressed in some kind of Renaissance fair gear. You know, the guy who makes the leather mugs? He had green eyes and a black beard and a swarthy complexion, and he stood at a dock. Ben looked as if he would burn a hole in that card, he stared so long. Finally, he shrugged, frowning, and put them back in a pocket.
I didn't buy his communication story. More than likely they were some material component of his spellcasting. It was taking a lot from me to keep with this guy. Another time, and I'd of stole his gun and jacket just so I could live a few more days. But he'd saved my life, and something in me made me think I'd feel a bit *too* badly about jacking Benny. Plus, he'd said enough to jog a few things in my head.
Like some bad trid, the bad guys jumped from the woods in front of us. I sighed and flipped the safety off Ben's Roomsweeper. "Okay, who's first?" said I, and then I did that which I do best -- kill. Minutes later, I look ed around me, half splattered with ichor and blood, and check out the carnage I had created. Of course, one of the bodies had to be human. Ben's, to be more specific. Fuckin' A.
The knot on his head was the size of a walnut, and his leg was bleeding
again where I had bound it previously. Great. I turned him over, rifling
through his pockets for the one thing that I thought might save him.
Caine took Ben up to a bed, and I was left with Gwyn, for that was her name. She was youngish, and definitely a looker, yet she was wearing a wedding ring. I decided not to ask. We chatted a bit. She seemed to think I'd find my place here soon enough. The best I could answer was with some shrugs and self-deprecation. I mean, we talked about God a bit, and she seemed a bit distressed by the subject. Damn, if just talking about beliefs bothered her, it'd probably be best she not know about the kinds of things I've done over the last few years.
The whole situation bothered me. I was so unlike these people -- family, friends, aiding and comforting one another. It made me wonder about arguments of upbringing. Was the something inside that made the man? Or was it purely reaction to environment? I abandoned the thoughts when Caine returned and started talking about the Pattern.
And that's when the hornet stung me
I was a boy at the gates of Amber, holding a toddler's hand in mine, and I knew that it was Ben. He was near tears with excitement and fear...
And I had a feverish dream
Now running through the trees of Arden, higher than I could see, crouching behind the oak in the hopes that Gwyn nor Ben would find me...
With revenge and doubt
My mother, light attached to her when we moved into Shadow to avoid the oncoming troubles...
Tonight we smoked them out
The Storm that tore everything away...
Caine helped me to the bed. The last thing I remembered was the vision of
the Pattern swimming in my head.
Eventually I came in, and told of what had happened. My cousin was happy for me. My brother, ecstatic, perhaps a bit too so. I patted his back and cringed, and Gwyn smiled. Reintroductions had to be made, and the three of us would have to find something of ourselves we'd lost -- parts of ourselves that hid like children behind trees, and are just now being sought again.
I was in no more better company to do so.