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He clucked his tongue. “Vampires, necromancers, and now angels? What next?” He shook his head. “At least the werewolf knows how to grill a good steak.”
“Sure. But he eats them raw, too.”
Dad chuckled and shook his head again. He had moved back to Valero, which was a damn sight better than the shack in the boondocks he had settled for some months ago when we’d tracked him down. He’d gotten his drinking under control, which was great news, and he had work again, which was even better. It did mean another channel, however tiny and unlikely, for potentially, hypothetically discovering the location of the Tome of Annihilation.
But how was I going to broach the subject?
“Hey dad,” I said, happy to shift the discussion away from angels and demons. “Anything odd going on at your school lately? You know. People dying, janitors eating kids, places where it only rains upwards?” Nailed it.
I didn’t think it was possible but Norman Graves’s face screwed up even tighter. He looked more confused, and almost angry.
“What the hell are you even asking me, Dust?”
“Just saying. If there’s anything weird going on, you’ll let me know, right? Also. Is there any chance you could get me access to your library?”
Dad set his beer down on the table, printing another wet circle on the wood, and shook his head.
“Why would you want to go there? The city library’s way better.”
I thought it best not to give him any reason to panic, so I tried to sugarcoat it. Well, a little. “Oh. There’s this book, see, and it has a mind of its own. After it’s read, it likes to travel someplace else.”
Dad ran his hands through his hair. In my very professional opinion as a full-time son and former teenager, I assessed that he was about to hit his breaking point very soon. But hey, I needed the guy to be receptive about what I did for a living. He had to learn about these things sooner or later.
“This is nuts. Just nuts. You know how I’m going to deal? I’m gonna write a novel. Shop it around, or hell, I’ll self-publish it if that doesn’t work out.”
I took another sip of my beer, chuckling to myself. It was great to see dad develop new interests. This was a far cry from when he was in the dumps emotionally over losing me and mom, so this was just awesome.
“Oh yeah? And what would this future bestseller be about?”
“Picture it. It’s paranormal fantasy, you see, and it’s set in modern day California. It’s about this guy who learns how to use magic. Like, he can walk through shadows and stuff. Really freaky shit. It’ll sell like hotcakes.”
I shook my head, groaning. “You’re seriously going to write about my life and pass it off as fiction?”
“It’s brilliant,” dad said, beaming. See, all those parts and pieces of my personality that made me a little bit of a rogue – all the petty theft, the cons, the charm, and the false bravado? I finally figured out where I got it all from. “It’ll make a killing. They’ll want to do a TV series, or a movie.”
I rolled my eyes and tipped my beer back. “No one will want to read that shit, dad. It’s depressing. And boring.”
He breathed in deeply, his chest puffing up as he wound up. “It’s not boring,” he said, impetuous. “Life is only as boring as you make it. Remember that, kid. Besides, I can always embellish.” He buffed his nails on his shirt, preening. “Maybe in my version of the story you can fly. Shoot lasers from your eyes.”
I put my empty beer down and laughed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“We’ll be rich, Dust,” he said, gesticulating and narrowly knocking over his own beer. “I’ve even got a name for the main character.”
“Please. Just stop.” But I was curious. I didn’t mean that. “Okay, fine. What’s his name?”
Dad spread his fingers out, making an entirely overenthusiastic display of jazz hands. “Justin Braves.”
I massaged my temples, half-laughing, half-groaning. “You’re the worst.”
A knock came at the door, and I guess I was relieved that we could at least end that ridiculous bit of the conversation. I shook my head, glad that he was finding something to keep busy with, but still perplexed.
Sure, I guess my life had its interesting moments, but a whole book? Huh. I grinned at my dad, watching fondly as he opened the door. The big goof. It was good to have him back.
Chapter 11
“Dust,” Gil called out. “You already here?” He lifted a six-pack of bottles, a craft beer that he knew dad liked. He also had a cooler in his other hand.
“What is this? Are you guys hanging out behind my back now?” I looked at my father, feeling utterly betrayed. “Have I been replaced?”
