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TWENTY-TWO
DEIMOS
Deimos had already been at the tavern for an hour, having a couple rounds of beer. What most people didn’t see was how he poured some out in the side plant every few moments. Every movement was deliberate.
Seated at the end of the bar, he talked to the occasional person that walked by. Not many stayed to chat, which he was fine with because there was only so much he could take. The goal was for everyone to have eyes on him, and they did. Even the guy running the bar was throwing daggers at him every time he spoke.
Careful to remain in his role, he appeared calm, and as the time ticked, he was sure to continue on his beer. After an hour and a half, he started to act like he was intoxicated. He knew any normal person would be after the amount of beer he’d ordered.
That’s not why he was here, though. This tavern was frequented by Tura, and it was where all of his people went. Which meant everyone would let Tura know that Deimos was here, being an idiot and looking like a fool. It was all part of his plan.
They had decided it was the quickest way to bring Tura to him. Tura wanted to ruin him, and what better way than just handing himself over, already ruined and on a platter?
The guy running the counter walked by, glancing at his empty glass. “Another one?”
“Of course,” he said, slurring his words. He shifted himself on his chair, half falling off. “And bring me a shot of the hardest tequila you’re carrying while you’re at it. I’m having a good day.”
The man glared at him for a moment, rolling his eyes before he took his empty glass. He looked away, swinging back in his seat harder than he needed to. He caught himself before he fell off.
He swayed on purpose, looking around at the various people seated around him. He noticed a group in the corner, eyeing him with narrowed eyes. He gave them a smile, being sure to wink.
That’s right. Call up Tura and let him know that I’m making a fool of myself. Tell him I’m drunk and that he should act now while I’m pulled apart.
The man came back with his beer, placing it down. He set the shot down, spilling half of it onto the bar top. He looked up, giving the man a smile. “Thank you. Been so busy these days with the cows. I almost forgot about relaxing.”
The man turned, but he could hear what he said under his breath. “Yeah, worry about the fucking cows because those are the biggest issues the dragons are worried about.”
It took everything in him not to pull himself up and beat the man. He’d been working his ass off for everything and everyone, and it seemed it wasn’t enough for some people.
Remain calm, Deimos. If you do anything stupid now, you’re going to blow your cover.
It didn’t matter what he said or did. Everyone in here was on Tura’s side. He could hand them the world with no problems, and they would still hate him.
He continued to dump his beer into the plant, glancing around the bar as he did. The longer he sat, the louder others became. And the louder they grew, the more he made himself sway.
One thing he had been anticipating was the loose tongues that frequented a bar. With his apparent drunkenness and the increasing levels of alcohol flowing, everyone around him was soon whispering about him … though he could hear them just fine.
“Look at him. Drinking like that when he should be busy working.”
“Tura was right. We need someone better for the job. Look at the jackass. He acts like everything is fine, but there are serious things that need his attention.”
He ground his teeth together, forcing his eyes at the window. He gripped hard onto his glass, taking a deep breath in.
Remain calm. Don’t do anything stupid. This is all for Hope. This is to find Hope.
He looked over his shoulder at where Qev was sitting. He was wearing run-down clothes and sitting by himself in the corner. He was in disguise, but he had his eyes on him. Thyone was outside waiting patiently. He was keeping an eye out in case anything happened outside when he left.
Both were ready to jump in if he needed them, but he hoped that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want this to fail because he wouldn’t get a second chance. If he failed, he wasn’t getting Hope back, ever.
He leaned back in his chair, taking everyone’s words in.
“That’s his eighth beer. Man is completely wasted. Someone should call Tura. Tell him he’s here.”
“This idiot has no idea what’s coming. Tura is going to rip him apart piece by piece.” He heard a group laugh, and he faked a sip of his drink.
He thought of Hope instead and of taking her back home with him. He looked forward to sitting with her outside and watching the cows again. He thought of them enjoying the view together and holding her in his arms. He thought of anything that would keep him calm.
He needed to stay stoic if he wanted this to work. Which meant every word they said, he had to ignore. He had to act like he didn’t care about every insult, every jab at who he was as a person.
