Friends Down Low (ONC2022)

Chapter 8 - The Saint

"She hasn't cracked the code for hair growth though I see." I'm not sure where this bravado came from. Maybe I was just too tired to care. "Where are your buddies?"

Baldie smiled. "She deemed them to be unfit for continued service." He made a demonstrative show of searching the empty air around me. "Where's your big friend?"

"He'll be meeting us here any minute," I lied.

"You better hope he hurries. For your sake. I don't think you'll be able to count on much help from a blind, old man."

"Oh yeah?" I couldn't think of anything to say so I conceded. "That's a fair point."

Baldie suddenly stood, like a soldier snapping to attention. The other patrons copied him, sliding from their booths and turning to face me. The waitress ceased cleaning and did the same. Spines ramrod straight. Shoulders square. Eyes unblinking. Stances perfectly mimicked, they stared at me.

"She's here. Your new Saint has arrived."

The kitchen door swung open and the Saint entered the room.

Her entrance was not at all what I expected.

She wasn't a monster, nor did she wear witches' robes. She stood about five foot six and had wavy brown hair loosely tied from her face. Despite the chilly early-spring day, she wore only a white sundress and no shoes. She possessed a farmers-daughter-about-to-go-walking-through-the-meadows vibe.

Until I saw her eyes. There was something dark there. Predatory.

The Saint sat down at the counter and spun playfully on the stool to face me. Next to her, Baldie grinned maniacally as I'm sure he imagined how badly this situation was going to go for me.

"Finnigan Walsh," she said.

I was really starting to hate my name. "Hi."

"How's the pie?"

I looked down at it, as I couldn't' remember eating any. I hadn't. I set the fork down. "Looks great."

"Is the blind man in the bathroom?"

I nodded, it's not like I could lie about him going someplace else.

"Want me to fetch him?" Baldie asked.

"No. I don't care about him enough to drag him off a toilet." She cocked her head, bird-like, and studied me. "Let me establish this right off the bat—I hated your uncle. Absolutely hated him."

After all the stories of Simon being a wonderful guy, I found this opinion a bit refreshing. Too bad my fear overwhelmed it. "I barely knew him."

"Now see, that's odd. There was a very believable rumor floating about that said you were his apprentice. If that had been true, then you would have inherited the unlucky mantle of being my most hated person."

"That's kind of the way my inheritances have been going."

The Saint smiled. "Now, I did find it strange that I never heard of you until around the day your uncle died. So, I sent Preston here," she patted Baldie on the shoulder, "and some other followers to check you out. Guess what? While their snatching of you was interrupted by a large violent thing, it sounded very much like you possessed absolutely no power or knowledge at all. In fact, Preston claims you have no defensive abilities whatsoever."

I felt that assessment was overly wimpy but figured what the hell did I have to hide. "I'm not his apprentice."

"I gathered that. I wonder why Simon spread that rumor to me and your three mislead killers? It's almost like he wanted me to rush here immediately and kill the lot of you."

Damn. It did kind of sound like that.

Before I could ponder that further, the Saint pounced. In a blur, she dashed from the stool, yanked me by my jacket out of the booth, and lifted me into the air. Her dark eyes swirled, pits to nothingness. Despite her lithe build, she may as well have been made of iron, as I twisted futilely, my feet dancing on the air.

After holding me aloft for thirty or so seconds, she dropped me back into the booth and returned to her stool.

"You are most certainly not a magician. Your uncle would have burned me to ash just now."

"What are you?" I stammered.

"There is really no easy explanation for that. A wielder of shadows. A sorceress of the night. An ageless vampiress. All are equally true." As unbelievable as that was, there was a slew of darkened windows to attest to it. She leaned forward. "And if not an apprentice, what are you?"

"Pisces."

The Saint giggled. I couldn't help but notice that she had a beautiful laugh. It lingered in my ears like the twinkling of bells. "The question now is, what do I do with you? Do I need you to open your uncle's secret door? Or are you a ploy, some form of distraction? I could bring you into my fold." She waved a hand at the people around us, standing at attention. "But your lineage makes you too unpredictable. Sadly, it's best to kill you."

That's when the toilet flushed and McGavin came out of the bathroom. 

Chapter Words - 2117

Total Word Count - 15,269