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According to the archival records, pre-Shift Market Street was a busy place, a typical small-southern-city kind of road. Hotels, auto parts stores, restaurants, little plaza strips, most buildings one story, maybe two, flanked by generous parking lots. Some of that was still there, but the landscape had changed. Buildings occurred in clumps, with wide killing zones around them in case something weird crawled out of the encroaching woods and decided to sample some two-legged cuisine. A lot of parking lots had fences.
I reached a Food Lion with a large parking lot defended by a guard in a tower. The place was probably about to close—most stores didn’t stay open after dark. There was a small restaurant adjacent to it, lit up by blue feylanterns. The sign on it said, “7 to 11.” A smaller sign offered breakfast all day. Perfect.
I rode into the parking lot, tied Cuddles to the rail put in front of the restaurant for that purpose, and walked in. The restaurant was tiny, only five tables, all empty. A fast-food style counter cut the kitchen off from the dining area. Above it hung pictures of the dishes with prices: eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns…
A middle-aged woman, with black, curly hair put away into a round bun and cool tint to her brown skin, came to the counter and gave me a friendly smile.
“What will it be?”
I put $50 worth of silver onto the counter. “Can I use your phone?”
She picked up the silver, reached below the counter, and set the phone onto it. “Got a long night ahead of you?”
How did she know? “Probably.”
She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
I tried the phone. Dial tone. Score.
I dialed Hugh’s number. The phone rang. And rang. And rang…
There was a click and Hugh’s voice said, “Yes?”
“It’s me.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Did you know the bone-breaking command can explode krakens?”
“Yes.”
What the hell. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“Did you blow up a kraken?”
“Maybe.”
He laughed into the phone. “Is Wilmington still standing?”
“Last I checked.”
The woman returned, put a cup of coffee with creamer in front of me and a plate with a small apple Danish, smiled again, and went away.
I took a whiff of apple, cinnamon, and coffee and almost cried with happiness. I’d have to remember this place.
“I went to see Barrett.”
“Why?”
“Something came up.”
“Does he know who you are?”
“No.” I bit into my Danish, poured too much cream into my coffee, and took a big gulp. “I might have pretended to be one of your people.”
“Run that by me again?”
“I let Barrett think I was a former Iron Dog.”
He guffawed.
“Laugh it up, why don’t you?”
“Why?” Hugh managed finally.
“He ran a vampire at me at full speed and I forgot to flinch.”
“Aha. And why did you leave my stellar leadership?”
“Apparently I have a problem with authority.”
“That checks out. I’ll add you to the roll. Lennart or Daniels? Or make something up?”
“Make something up, please.”
I took another bite.
The humor drained from Hugh’s voice. “Barrett is only dangerous when he smiles and when he doesn’t.”
“Ha-ha.”
“I mean it. Stay clear if you can.”
“How good is he?” I took another bite.
“Better than a few Legati I knew.”
During my father’s rule, the Golden Legion consisted of the best Masters of the Dead, the most talented and deadly, and the Legatus that led it was the strongest of all of them. My father promoted rigorous competition and prioritized strength and talent. The position of Legatus had large turnover, and nobody had yet to retire from it.
“Your buddy Ghastek,” Hugh said. “Powerful but too smart for his own good. He thinks too much, and it makes him predictable. Barrett’s a thinker too, but nobody knows what makes him tick. He doesn’t form alliances. He doesn’t respond to threats. It’s very difficult to provoke him on purpose, but sometimes he reacts with overwhelming violence to minor shit. If he found out who you are, it might be ‘you killed my master, prepare to die’ or ‘the King is out, long rule the Queen.’ I have no idea which he’ll pick, and I wouldn’t bet a dime either way.”
I sighed and drank more of my coffee.
“What does he say about it?” Hugh asked.
“Nothing. I haven’t asked him. I try to not involve him in my business.”
“That’s for the best.”
“Does your wife know of any water gods active around Wilmington?”
“Why is it that any time a freaky deity pops up somewhere, all of you call my wife?”
“Do you really want me to answer that question?”
“…Good point. Hold on, I’ll ask.”
I held the phone away from my ear.
“HEY, HONEY? DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ANY WATER GODS IN WILMINGTON?”
How Elara put up with him I would never know. Then again, I married a man who occasionally turned into a lion in his sleep, so I had no room to judge. I finished my Danish.
“She says she doesn’t know of anything recent. With Wilmington being an international port, it’s hard to say.”
