Cody blinked. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the unfamiliar window, hitting his face and rousing him out of his dreamless sleep. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings and remember where he was. The soft female snore made him turn his head. He simply stared at the naked back and long blonde hair of the girl next to him.
What was her name again? Jennifer? Cassidy?
He couldn't remember and frankly didn't care. She'd been a means to an end - a way to shut up the weird murmurings in his head. It didn't always work but it had last night and that's all that mattered.
Rubbing his face, Cody felt the cold metal of his rings scrape against the roughness around his cheeks. He probably looked about as good as he felt, and right now he was feeling like warmed over roadkill.
Figuring he was probably late for something, he rolled out of bed and immediately regretted the decision. Groaning and staying hunched over, he searched for his clothes while trying to keep from puking. The bright sun wasn't helping his massive hangover, but the ache in his skull tended to banish some of the weirder thoughts he'd been having lately so he wasn't complaining.
Finding his clothes among the mess on the floor, he quickly pulled his t-shirt on over his head. Straightening up, he pulled his jeans on while keeping one eye on the sleeping form of his one-night stand. He had no interest in getting into some long, drawn out conversation about last night, getting breakfast or anything else she might try to bring up. He was all about living his rock star dream and that meant not sticking around for anything after the deed.
Even if she had been good enough to keep the voices in his head from invading his sleep.
His dreams, always on the weird side, had taken a dark turn over the last few weeks. He couldn't remember much after he woke up, but knew they were pretty twisted. More than once he'd woken up in a cold sweat with his heart beating a staccato rhythm that was downright gnarly. What was worse was the uneasy feeling that whatever had been pursuing him in his dreams bled over into his waking world, like a shadow that darted out of sight whenever he turned his head.
It was a creepy feeling and he didn't like being alone at night.
But today was a new day.
Finding his shoes, Cody grabbed them and made for the door. He touched the knob and looked back one more time. The room looked like a tornado had hit it - clothes were strewn all over the place and gathered in haphazard piles. Textbooks, papers, a gray laptop and at least half a dozen empty Diet Coke cans took up the top of a small desk on one side of the room. Against the far wall, Greek letters painted in soft pink stood out against the white paint.
College student.
Cody's eyes fell on his date from last night but this time he could see her face. Her mascara and eyeshadow were both smeared and oily looking, but she had the kind of golden hue that belied a weekly tanning appointment. Slim with heavy breasts, she looked nothing like the darker emo girls he usually dated. She was the kind of woman his old girlfriends would sneer at and make fun of, while he secretly thought they were out of his league.
Things were certainly changing for him.
Last night had only been the start. After the show, they'd partied with a real music executive at a major record label until they'd been thrown out of the club - the fact that he took a swing at Carl may have precipitated the bouncers' actions but he didn't care. Carl was a scumbag who'd tried to welch on their deal for half the door earnings - at least until he'd grabbed him by his fat, sweaty neck and gotten their money.
Out in the street, Terry or Jerry, whatever the label guy's name was, had invited them all back to his hotel room. Cody and his friends had jumped into the dude's SUV, while half the club followed in their own cars.
They'd spent the rest of the night drinking and partying hard.
He couldn't really remember leaving the hotel, but got flashes of stumbling into dark room, and fumbling his way through drunken sex before passing out for the night.
As he searched his pockets for his cell phone and cigarettes, Cody wondered where the hell he'd ended up. His car was parked down by the club on 9th Street, which meant he was probably going to have to hoof it back if he couldn't get a hold of Ricky or Tim.
Reaching into his front jean pocket, Cody pulled out his cellphone and a wad of cash - last night's pay. He'd planned on splitting it four ways with the guys, but now that he was looking at it he wondered if that was such a good idea. Ricky was terrible with money. He was too much like his old man and spent any extra cash playing poker down at the casino. Tim wasn't much better, but usually had to give all his money to his mom who threatened to throw him out every five minutes. She wasn't a gambler but she could drink any one of them under the table and hadn't been able to keep a real job since Tim was in grade school. Bo had already been arrested twice for DUIs - did he really want to give any of them enough money to get themselves into trouble before signing a deal? They were so close to breaking through and he wasn't about to let any of them screw it up.
Deciding he would be doing what was best for the band, Cody shoved the money back into his pocket and found the door. He stopped in the hallway to put on his shoes before making for the exit. He ran down the front steps of the sorority house (another first), and looked at his phone. It was just after four in the afternoon and he'd missed five calls - four from Ricky and one from Tim. The calls had come in over three hours earlier.
He was about to call Ricky back when his fingers froze over the screen. Something inside Cody stopped him from unlocking it. He felt more than heard the sigh echo inside his brain.
Did he really want to deal with Ricky or any of his friends right now? Sure, he could get one of them to swing by and pick him up, but then they'd just bust him up about last night and probably ask for their money - two topics he had no interest in discussing at the moment.
Besides, he had more important matters to attend to - mainly swinging by the hotel and talking to Terry (or Jerry) about Broken Wonderland's future.
Reaching into his front shirt pocket, he found his sunglasses and put them on. Slipping his cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans, he whistled an old Cars song as he made his way down Curtis Avenue.
It was a good day for a walk anyway.
*~*~*
"Oof!" The breath left my body in one giant surge as my back hit the mat.
"Again," Dante ordered.
I rose to my feet. I'd been pounded into hamburger for the last forty minutes. My pride wouldn't be the only thing that'd be bruised by tonight. Thankfully we were the only two people in the place so I didn't have to worry about embarrassing myself in front of new people. When I asked Dante why no one else was ever around, he surprised me by admitting he owned the building and kept the gym private.
Good thing, too. No one in their right mind would actually come here - there wasn't a hint of anything even remotely modern in the place.
An old boxing gym, it housed only the bare essentials: a sparing ring, two full size punching bags and half a floor of thick black practice mats under a row of high, frosted-glass windows. That was it. There wasn't a single treadmill, elliptical or recumbent bike anywhere, but there was a halfway decent locker room with solid water pressure in the back so I didn't complain.
We'd hit Dante's gym several hours a day, every day since our battle with Wrath. Dante's training was intense but it was proving worthwhile. My sword handling and fencing were getting noticeably stronger, my flexibility was improving, and I'd mastered enough basic self-defense that we were moving onto harder stuff.
My hand-to-hand combat, however, still sucked and Dante was happily demonstrating the fact.
Over and over again.
When I was on my feet and in my stance, he moved in once more. In a dizzying series of hand movements, he had me backing up double-time in order to keep myself out of reach.
"Don't run, Eliza. Engage," he instructed.
Dressed in black, his face a mask of concentration, Dante's hands were nothing but a blur. Planting my feet, I used the technique he'd shown me to deflect each blow with my wrist, forearm, and elbow.
"Focus and breathe," he said.
I exhaled through my movements. Speeding up, he came in with a sharp right cross. Expecting my counter, Dante grabbed my hand at the wrist and turned me around while yanking my arm up and back in one smooth move. I dropped like a stone onto my knees as Dante held my wrist behind me in an excruciating hold.
"Ow. Ow. Ow. Let go!" I yelled.
He did.
"That hurt," I complained, twisting my wrist in each direction to make sure nothing was broken.
He bent down and grabbed his water bottle, taking a quick pull before putting it back down. His eyes never left mine as he spoke, "You're predictable, Eliza."
I rubbed my arm gingerly trying to get the feeling back into it. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
He didn't find me half as amusing as I did.
"Next time, you'll have to get out of that hold on your own," he warned.
"I can always tell you're serious when your eyes brows shoot up like that," I teased, before turning and making my way to the far side of the mats where I'd dropped my bag.
"Where are you going?"
"Calm yourself. I'm just taking a quick break. You can get back to manhandling me in a minute."
Dante let out a long breath but he didn't say anything else.
Crouching down, I dug through my bag until I found what I was looking for. I took a long drink of my Gatorade before wiping my face down with a spare towel. My green shirt was damp with sweat but at least it was cooler inside the gym than it was back at the shop. The humidity was turning into a bear and anyone who was smart would be enjoying their central air conditioning today.
I turned and looked back at Dante over my shoulder. "Hey, why don't we have air conditioning back at the shop?"
Dante shrugged. "Celeste didn't care for it. Guess it wasn't that important to her."
"But doesn't the heat bother you?" I asked curious.
He gave me a droll look. "Not really," he said shortly.
"Oh," I said, nodding in understanding. "It's the whole growing-up-in-Hell thing, right?"
Dante's face grew tight. "Don't, Eliza."
"Don't what?" I asked innocently.
"This isn't a game."
"No kidding," I muttered. There wasn't anyone more aware of that fact within a hundred miles. I'd had my butt kicked repeatedly, dealt with both Lust and Wrath trying to get a piece of me, and nearly had my back ripped open when a disturbing amount of demons tried to come through to party with Asher.
I tossed my stuff back into my gym bag and turned to face Dante once more, his last remark still buzzing in my ears.
"Do you really think I think this is all some kind of game?"
He regarded me silently.
I snorted in disbelief. "Seriously? You of all people should know I get it. I mean really, really get it."
"Then act like it!" he said and the fury that was always just beneath his surface showed itself. "Nothing about me or Asher or where we're from should be used as fodder for your incessant need to make fun of whatever makes you uncomfortable. You should be uncomfortable. And scared. No, you should be terrified. You won't survive this otherwise."
I felt my face grow hot. "I am terrified, Dante! All the time, but joking about it is how I deal with it. Would you rather I freak out like Andy or Chase?"
"I want you to handle yourself like an adult," he snapped.
"I'm being as adult-like as I can," I snapped right back. Stopping, I took a quick breath to calm down. Yelling wouldn't do either one of us any good but he was being unreasonable.
We were both quiet for a minute as we stared at each other. Dante was the first to fold this time.
"Fine, but just know that as of today we're ramping up your training. I will not take it easy on you anymore," he said tightly.
"Easy?" My brain stuttered on the word. "You're kidding, right?"
"No."
I closed the distance between us trying to read his face. His jaw was clenched tight enough to hurt my own teeth just by looking at him. "You're not kidding. You really think you've been taking it easy on me?" I couldn't hide the surprise in my voice if I tried.
"Yes," he answered simply.
"But now you're not," I said, trying to make sure I understood.
"Right."
I crossed my arms over my chest as I looked at him. "Or what?" I asked. "You'll break my arm?"
I watched the vein in his temple throb a little as he looked down at me. "Don't tempt me. I can fix it when I'm through breaking it if that helps drive the point across."
"Geez, I never took you for a sadist."
"You have no idea what I am," he said cryptically.
I held up one hand. "Don't go all Marilyn Manson on me. I may not know much about you but I do know one thing..." He gave me a dark look as he waited for me to finish, "You could learn something about properly motivating your students from Mr. Miyagi."
"Did you really just say I needed to take lessons on properly motivating you from the old man in Karate Kid?" he asked incredulous.
I shrugged. "Why not? I mean, I am sort of like Daniel Larusso...you know except I'm from New York instead of New Jersey, which is way better if you ask me. I fight sins instead of misguided teenage boys, but there's a lot to be said about Mr. Miyagi's methods." I balanced myself on one leg and raised my arms up in the familiar Crane stance. "Did you see how badass Daniel was in that last tournament fight with Johnny?"
Dante just looked at me before stepping forward and swiping one leg low and across before I could do more than flex a toe.
I landed flat on my back.
Again.
He looked down at me. "Looks like your Crane kick needs work, too. Again."
I groaned.
Two hours later, we were walking down 9th Street in Columbia, a picture perfect Midwestern college town if ever there was one. There was no denying the artsy, young, and collegiate feel that permeated the air like the aroma of a fresh cut football field. Quaint artisan coffee shops rubbed up against student art galleries and chain subway shops that delivered 24 hours a day. Staples like Shakespeare's Pizza and The Peace Nook welcomed new students every fall with tantalizing smells and great funky jewelry. Restaurants, eateries, and shops lined the streets in complimentary awnings, while every kind of bar was present and accounted for: frat havens, dive-y hole in the walls, high-end taverns, craft breweries, frozen tropical drinks, and more. There was a place for everyone, and through it all was the hopeful excitement of young people out on their own for the first time in their lives or older adults who enjoyed feeling young and relevant.
Columbia was a melting pot of every college cliché and stereotype ever presented in film and print, but its appeal was strong even for a jaded city kid like me. People were friendly and smiled freely, waving and saying 'Hello' as we passed by. Most wore black and gold t-shirts with the University of Missouri emblem front and center.
"I guess people really like the tigers," I remarked as another car drove by with a fake tiger tail hanging out of the closed trunk.
Dante smiled a little. "You could say that."
It was a little after five in the afternoon but the sun was high above us. I was still trying to get used to all the sky in Missouri. There was so much of it. The sun seemed bigger, brighter and the ridiculously fluffy clouds were close enough to touch. It felt like time didn't move the same here as it did for the rest of the world - it was slower, almost lazy. Maybe it was the lack of large, obstructing buildings coupled with the fact that people didn't rush from place to place in a desperate need to be somewhere. Plenty of people worked and had places to go, it just didn't have the same vibe as New York. Everyone was taking the time to enjoy the day as much as they could - this wasn't something that could be done so easily back home. I didn't know a single person who stopped in Central Park to smell the roses.
We'd parked close to the University of Missouri's main campus. It was hard not to be impressed by the six Ionic Columns, Jesse Hall and the rest of the school's sprawling campus. Dante had let me take it all in, parking further away than necessary so we could walk and look around since we had some time to kill.
As we passed a small family eating what appeared to be black and gold tiger striped ice cream, my curiosity got the best of me.
"Did you ever go to college?" I asked.
Dante laughed and there wasn't anything guarded or fake about it this time. "I did. Once. Back when the Columns were still part of Academic Hall."
I turned to look behind us, but the tall columns on the main campus were already out of sight.
"You mean those columns back there were part of a building once?" I asked, using my thumb to point behind my shoulder.
He nodded but never stopped walking as he explained, "Academic Hall. It was the first building built for the University."
"What happened to the building?" I asked curious. The six columns stood in the middle of a small hill on their own. People had been playing frisbee and picnic-ing around them but the actual campus buildings were separate and a little ways away from the structure.
Dante's face grew sad and his eyes held a faraway look. "There was a great fire. Everything except the Columns was lost."
His solemn tone made me wonder at the actual cause of the fire. If I wanted a real answer, I knew better than to ask a direct question. I went with something a little easier instead,
"What year was that?"
"1892."
I didn't say anything else as I processed that bit of information.
Ten minutes later we were sitting at a small table inside a half empty karaoke bar. The place wasn't much to see - an old wooden bar with a few stools, some faded concert posters and movie memorabilia from the 80s on the wall, and a couple of waitresses in tight fitting shirts wiping off the bar and tables.
"I didn't take you for a karaoke kind of guy," I said, taking a sip of my Coke. It was cold and sweet and tasted great after walking in the hot sunshine. I took another sip but tried to pace myself as it was already half gone.
"I'm not," Dante replied. He'd ordered two dark beers, telling our waitress we were waiting on someone. She'd flashed him a saucy smile and brought over our drinks quickly, but then had taken her sweet time leaning over and placing them in front of Dante. Her long dark hair brushed his arm as as she made sure he got a nice view of her cleavage.
"Des-perate!" I'd coughed, reaching over for my coke and taking a large gulp. The waitress narrowed her eyes and threw me a dirty look. "Sorry. Must've had something stuck in my throat," I'd apologized.
She'd turned and huffed off but not before giving Dante one last glance, letting him know to 'just holler' if he needed anything else. Dante for his part had only smiled and nodded.
"Think your friend will show up?" I asked now. Looking around, there was only one table with a few people nursing their drinks, chatting low.
Maybe the place was livelier at night.
"Yes," he said simply.
Still glancing around, no one seemed to be very interested in us. "Should you text him or something to let him know we're here."
"He knows we're here."
"Really?" Just as I finished getting the word out a figure materialized in the empty seat between us.
I yelped and nearly jumped out of my skin as I half-darted, half-fell out of my chair. Dante was quicker and placed one hand on my shoulder, pushing hard enough to keep me still and holding onto his beer with his other hand to make sure it didn't topple over.
The ghost spoke, its voice low and raspy, "Take it easy, sweetheart. Never seen a ghost before?"
My eyes took in the specter before me. I blinked twice trying to make sure I was seeing correctly. Sure enough, the image didn't disappear, if anything the ghost looked even more solid than it had a second before.
"Dante...why does your friend look like something out of a bad Mötley Crüe video?"
The ghost of what could only be a dead hair metal rocker cursed and rocketed out of his chair, sending our glasses flying clear across the bar. The waitresses shrieked in high pitched voices as more glasses and liquor bottles shattered around them in a symphony of chaos and alcohol laden destruction.
Dante glared at me. "Great, Eliza. Just great. Way to piss off a restless spirit."
"Uh...sorry?"
The framed concert posters rattled against the walls until they came off and slid down in a violent rush. The low hanging bulbs exploded around us one after the other. The few customers in the place ran out the front door in a hurry, while the waitresses high-tailed it out a side door.
Dante sat back down and by the black look on his face, made it clear we weren't going anywhere anytime soon.
When my eyes caught his, he only shook his head once in disgust. "Musicians," he spat out before moving his head and narrowly missed getting beaned with a whiskey bottle.
With no choice but to weather out the storm, I sat down and covered my own head with both arms while the deceased rocker continued his undead rampage.
I made a mental note to keep my big mouth shut around dead people, too.
They were even touchier than the living.
*
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*A/N:
Image Credit: University of Missouri-Columbia. Posted by mjhvgd. Courtesy of www.umsystem.edu
Song Credit: Let's Go - The Cars